Conceptually this is the same as slop. It’s something I’m making because I’m lazy and it’s easy. These are chicken breasts I grilled when I was at my cottage and engrossed in a book I was unwilling to put down. I have a garden and there are herbs but I was too lazy. So I rummaged around and found some spices. Garam masala, to be exact. And chili powder. I really have no idea how old these are but they have certainly spent several winters in the freezing cold out here. Although I doubt that cold harms them much. The chicken tasted like pumpkin pie. Not great but I’ll eat anything. Just about. The book, by Edna O’Brien, is great.
When I arrived earlier that day I was greeted by something that looked pretty much like a black widow spider. And if I had to bet my life on it I’d say that is exactly what it was. I rest easy, though, knowing that I will not get bitten because my brother in law (and nearly every one else I’ve told) acted like I was off my meds. And I will be denied the pleasure of seeing him (all of them) standing at my coffin daubing at his (their) eyes saying dramatically, “I really didn’t believe that was a black widow.”