Chicken breast, potato with sweet corn

A frozen chicken breast is thawed, coated with seasoned flour in a single layer and fried in vegetable oil flavored with bacon fat.

A small potato is precooked and mixed with whole-kernal corn and onion and then fried.

A pan gravy is prepared.

The chicken breast is one of a dozen or so that is marketed frozen in a family-size zip-lock bag.  It looks very unpromising, forlorn and coated with freezer frost

When I was a rambunctious little sprog held in fealty to the heavy-handed guidance of parents that valued discipline as much as they valued kids being kids, I wasn't allowed to play with my food. God, I hated that word, discipline. Whoever invented discipline must have been German or something, possibly Nordic. I was not cut out for it. Naturally, I played with my food anyway, surreptitiously. Mounds of mashed potatoes were mountains, gravy was lava, the mashed potato volcano inevitably poured out onto the corn town, the asparagus trees and Brussels sprouts bushes were all destroyed. It all ended up ineluctably in one combined mess on my plate from which I partook in recombined bits. I appreciated potatoes with corn and other various things mixed in it. It seems natural. 

My sister, the disturbed neurotic little minx, the troublesome one, not the lovely balanced one, could not have the elements on her plate touch each other. She would completely flip out if the gravy was on the meat or on the potatoes. Salads were kept separated and not touching on another plate. Something happened in her unique development somewhere along the line because she is no longer weird that way. She is still a bit toxic, and it is wise to maintain a healthy distance, but she is no longer dramatic in that particular way. Somehow she outgrew it. 

I never did outgrow my own childish ways, in fact, I am a lot worse. 

The scale wouldn't stop vacillating between 12-something and 13-something ounces, but whatever it is exactly, it is big. Half this size would have been fine.

The potato is half the weight of the chicken breast

This is a sweet onion, and Man, it is really sweet too. The potato-corn mixture tasted like sugar was added. 

The frying pan will have triple duty tonight. First the chicken, then the potato mixture which is basically already cooked, then a fast gravy.

Two plastic grocery bags were used to prepare the chicken. The breast was pounded flat in one bag and dusted with seasoned flour in another. Air was blown into the second bag like a balloon to check for holes before the flour was added. Three guesses as to how I learned to employ this precaution. Go on, guess. 

Here, a baked potato is microwaved then smashed in its skin and combined right in the frying pan with sweet corn that is processed, like a pre-masticated aid to digestion of those difficult kernels. Masa harina is included in small amount, hydrated by the moisture in the potato, to bind the combination so that the whole mixture becomes similar to a gigantic rustic rough fried monster gnocchi. With onion. It is an experiment that harkens back to childhood fooling around with my plate, but now there is no one here to monitor my behavior and tell me to knock it off. 

ARTS ! 

Conclusion: potato with processed corn, masa harina, and onion is a fantastic combination. I do not know why this is not famous. I can see how it can be easily refined to something suitable for service. 

Processing the whole-kernal corn is a good idea. Whole kernels are nice visually, but come on, they do take an excess of serious chewing to be thorough about it. The other day I tested to see how thoroughly I could actually chew whole-kernel corn and each mouthful I kept chewing and chewing and chewing and chewing and chewing, grinding away between my molars until finally the remainder was reduced to something akin to cud that wouldn't reduce any further. The whole time I was thinking, this is ridiculous. There has to be a better way. 

* ding * 

EQUIPMENTS !