Revenge is a dish best served cold. Chicken-Cilantro-Avocado-Mango-Fresh Burnt Ginger- Fresh Burnt Garlic Rice and Salad Invention (TM) is a dish best not served to your extended New York City family.
Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen, 1998. Well, technically speaking, a Kipp’s Bay high rise in Manhattan, 1998. I brought my betrothed with me to New York City to stay with my Grandma Jo in her 15th floor apartment. The temperature averaged 95 degrees in the fun-sized kitchen. I had 1.25 pounds chicken to serve 7, and Grandma’s knife blades sliced as cleanly as rubber mallets. The guest list included Betrothed, Grandma Jo & myself, my cousin John—a TRAINED CHEF—his wife, and my very well-to-dine aunt and uncle.
The meal planning began naively enough. Accustomed to cooking for a boyfriend who loved anything I put before him ending in “o” and insulated with sour cream, and in an attempt to pull my weight as almost-someone’s-wife not just a granddaughter, I offered to cook dinner one night for the three of us. For the THREE of us. I figured Grandma Jo might enjoy having someone cook for her, and I didn’t fret over impressing her. For a grandmother accustomed to traditional fare like beef brisket and poached salmon, Chicken-Cilantro-Avocado-Mango-Fresh Burnt Ginger- Fresh Burnt Garlic Rice and Salad Invention (TM) made for the obvious choice.
That morning we went marketing to retrieve my list of ingredients. Grandma Jo said nothing, but an aura of eyebrow-raisiness pervaded. How many avocados? Oh? And what will you do with that?
That afternoon the calls came in.
“John and Keren will join us for dinner, do you mind?”
“Not at all” I replied, with the confidence of someone who knew how to cook watery tofu and burn eggs.
“Good news, Uncle Bob can come too! Do you think we have enough food?”
“Of course,” I denied, teeter-tottering the chicken into bite-sized pieces.
In my defense, on prior occasion when produce ripeness met non-garlic/ginger-burntness the Chicken-Cilantro-Avocado-Mango Rice and Salad Invention (TM) result struck a satisfying balance of buttery, fresh, and tangy. Sadly, on this particular occasion my results ended up more ballistic than balanced. But what could be better than a tropical cooking failure? Not enough tropical cooking failure to go around!
**RECIPE**
When we sat down to eat, each person had before them 3 chunks of bitter-morsel-encrusted chicken, 2 scant tablespoons of rice dusted with 2 generous tablespoons cilantro, 3 mangled mango chunks (have I mentioned the knives?) and 1/4 an avocado, all served on a bed of wet greens (note the proportions on your recipe card). For the salad dressing I used an infusion of deep regret, julienned humiliation and just a spritz of fresh lime.
I could hardly look up from my plate as I watched my relatives pick around their paltry poultry, and I have no recollection of the conversation. I imagine my family bid their goodbyes and went directly to the nearest diner. Grandma likely went to bed hungry to spare my feelings. Betrothed ate every bite and claimed to like it. Even without the sour cream.
***
It’s a cooking disasters blog hop! Hop on over and turn off your taste buds at these fine blogs:
Sounds like it was pretty successful overall. A former girlfriend once took me on a similar adventure.
Three hours after the end of the meal I discovered said adventure included a 5 hour GI adventure at no extra cost.
Ho boy, when it was all said and done I weighed 34 pounds less and was missing half an intestine.
Ok, that last part isn’t true, but at the time I was certain it would be.
more ballistic than balanced.
to honor the b theme…that’s brilliant.
I chortled at least six times. Out loud.
Infusion of deep regret and julienned humiliation…I especially love that.
Kudos to your betrothed!
The recipe is priceless. Why don’t we do a whole cookbook of dishes seasoned with regret and humiliation(plus sour cream)?
I like to make that salad dressing too! Hysterical.
Nancy’s idea is genius. I have several recipes to contribute. One is a horrendous ode to summer in the form of a peach cobbler in which baking soda did duty accidentally for baking powder. (Seasoned with bitter regret, that one.) The other is a gourmet something-or-another encrusted tuna that was spectacular the first time around and so hideous when I tried to replicate the effort a few months later that the only recourse was to scrape the plates into the sink, melt some chocolate and consume it using vast quantities of fruit as the delivery devices.
Your husband is a gem. And Kips Bay, ah yes. This was fantastic, Ann – I felt like I was at the dinner table. I wonder – do all the other characters in our bloghop recall our “worst” meals worse than we do? Nevermind. I think I know the answer.
oh, my worst meal: too gross to even put here.
But I will tell you that my husband gagged.
As in held back vomit
xo
oh this is priceless…as well as tantalizing!
Love julienned humiliation, it’s my favorite!
“an infusion of deep regret, julienned humiliation”! I think I serve those every week!
What pairs well with a “tropical cooking failure”? Probably a piña colada, right? Those were clearly Nouveau Cuisine portions. No sweat!
I can’t even laugh (except I totally did). I’ve so been there.
I read this out loud to my husband and we chuckled loudly together. We also used to live in NY so it was easy to conjure up the infusion of deep regret in the fun-sized kitchen.
How I wish there was a picture on the look of their faces when the dishes were served…it would have been priceless…