Last night I attempted to cook some chicken from the freezer. Not wanting to wait for it to thaw, I stuck it in a pan and tried to cook it slowly until I could shred it and eat it plain on something. Charley came in and shook his head at me. He went to the refrigerater to see what we had to enhance my dish (I'm guessing out of fear of having to eat it). He started pulling ingredients onto the counter, but when he grabbed the orange juice I protested, "gross!"
Charley: "don't you trust me?"
Me: "no"
Grumpy looks were thrown my direction. He put the chicken in a small dish and tossed some orange juice, a chopped onion, some ginger miso dressing, chicken stock and WHO knows what else. I should have paid more attention. He roasted it slowly for about three hours in the oven. We plopped it on some sushi rice and voila, "orange juice chicken". It was quite good, citrusy sweet but balanced by the chicken broth and onions. Live and learn I guess, he was right after all.
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