Last week my boss brought in some delectable chicken enchiladas to a work potluck. She had even used low carb tortillas which made my diabetic heart happy. It is so rare that I find a form of chicken that I considered edible that I felt inspired, and was determined to make delicious Enchiladas for my family.
Be warned what comes next is a tale of woe and disappointment. You should probably stop reading.
Still here? Well okay.
I typically consider myself to be and adequately skilled chef, but I have a grave weakness. Meat. Meat is my culinary kryptonite. Unless the meat has been ground into a pink blob, seared over an open flame, nestled on a wheat bun with a crisp piece of lettuce, and a succulent summer tomato, I'm not interested. I don't enjoy it, so I don't often cook with it. But I was feeling adventurous, I took a chance.
I used a recipe from our family cookbook, tried and true, and well liked by the household populace. It stared off simply enough. Peppers and onion sauteed. These two ingredients make the basis of many family favorites. So easy. However as I stood over the stove, singing showtunes at my highest volume, I heard the faint plink of our most pitiful doorbell. It was a solar guy here to turn on the recently installed solar panels perched on our roof. The time between answering the door and opening the garage for the solar guy, was enough to scorch my peppers and onion. Oh well, mixed with chicken and smothered in sauce no once will notice. I set them aside.
The next step was the chicken, my nemesis. In my haste to move the process along the chucks of chicken were too large, but the clock was ticking and I was supposed to meet my gym buddy for a self-inflicted torture session. I tossed the oversize chunks into the still warm pan and seasoned gleefully. once done through I tasted it and was generally pleased with the flavor. I combined the chicken with my slightly charred peppers and onions, then added green chilies and pepper jack cheese.
Next I needed to make the sauce. I added a little butter to the cooked chicken juices then flour to make a roux and this is where things really started falling apart. Instead of joining to fats obediently the flour instantly clumped into gobs that would not even be tamed by the likes of the gravy whisk. I was beginning to feel the onset of distress.
Eventually I decided what I had was good enough I added chicken broth. And I waited. Grew a beard. Pulled my hair. Paced. Kept trying to knock the clumps out of my gravy. Fretted. Pulled my beard hairs, and texted my gym companion that things weren't looking good. I felt very guilty.
The sauce wasn't thickening and the tiny accidental dumplings simmered mockingly. I might have said some unladylike words. I decided to add more flower but this time with the whisk in high gear, and while the flour blobs grew a little, slowly things started to look like a proper sauce and I dumped in the cheese and lowered the heat.
By this time it was soundly past gym time and every surface in the kitchen was strewn with cookware. I sighed, turned back on my showtunes, filled my tortillas with the blackened peppers, overcooked chicken, mixed with a small measure of lumpy cheese sauce. I lined them up in the pan and by the time I was finished and the remainder of the sauce poured over the top it looked like it might be slightly edible.
I put the conglomeration of misery into the fridge, where it would wait until it would go to the oven at dinner time. I scraped the dishes into a slightly more organized pile and prepared for work.
Several hours later.
It was the 7 o'clock hour and I trekked home on my dinner break hoping that perhaps time and a tour in the oven might have improved things. Perhaps my botched meal was not as terrible as I remembered. I should not have dared hoped.
While the sauce was flavorful and only a little lumpy, and I didn't mind the slightly burnt onion, the chicken was not good. If possible it was rendered tougher and dryer and I could not eat it without the aid of a steak knife. I choked down my meal, defeated. I had worked so hard.
Enchiladas - 1, Janell - 0
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