Conservation, meet boredom: AKA what to do with six pounds of chicken chunks?
Today's First World Problem: what can I do with grilled chicken after having ate it for five days straight?
At work, our management is in love with the Lunch & Learn concept. It was my turn to present the topic (What's New in Office 2019, fwiw) and such I got to choose the menu. "Let's have taco bar from Diaz Taco", and right at noon, our tables were laden with Mexican-American goodness. This included four pounds of grilled steak, four pounds of Al Pastor spicy pork, and eight pounds (?) of grilled chicken. For about 35 people. We barely made a dent. Usually, leftover lunch food ends up being taken home by the various usual suspects, but...
...it was stashed in the various company fridges instead, and was brought back out at noon for anyone interested. By the end of lunch, most of the popular steak and very popular Al Pastor was spoken for. But six pounds of the relatively bland but equally tasty grilled chicken cubes remained.
I am usually among the last to leave, and on the way out I checked the fridge: nobody took anything. Six pounds of perfectly good chicken cubes packed in three styrofoam containers. A plan formed. I took one of the containers, along with some of the leftover shredded cheese as well as some leftover pico de gallo, and using about a pound of the chicken, made some Chicken Tortilla soup for dinner:
With some of the chicken we had left, made some taco salads. The puppers got some toppings on their dinners, too.
I typically drop into the office to see if the Saturday shift left anything running, and noticed that nobody touched either of the chicken containers. I took another one home. After a visit from my mom, my wife informed me that a) she had lost her appetite and b) she wasn't eating any more dang chicken. I made Chicken Salad with Bacon and Dill:
The puppers got even more toppings.
I made BBQ Chicken Pizza with bacon and red onion:
I tried to top off the dogs' dinners again, but they turned their noses at it.
PSYCH! They ate it.
Since one of my unwritten duties is to monitor the fridge, I opened it again and was nearly overcome by stench. I started pulling out trays one by one with my eyes closed and my head turned, out of instinct. I tossed out the beef/pork (whoo sooey!). I tossed the cheese (bleah!), and the other cheese (urp), and the pico (already fermenting), and the cremosa (now more closely resembling cottage cheese). The stench was gone. The last container was the third and last chicken container.
It smelled ok. I asked if anyone wanted it. No takers. I am now in possession of two more pounds of grilled chicken chunks. I could just chuck it but I figure that two or three chickens died for this container of chunks. And before you say 'freeze it' one of my many faults is that I cannot wrap food for freezing without it getting freezer burn in about a week. As far as my doggies, they don't need any more toppings.
Wrigley; Lily. Where's the chicken?