Thursday, February 24, 2011

I only like Chicken gravy

I was having a good day, making a yummy dinner, kids were cleaning, we were listening to good music, and then it all went wrong. 

For dinner I was making “chicken rolls” or maybe you could call them home-made hot pockets.  Canned chicken combined with cream cheese, wrapped up in Pillsbury crescent roll dough, and cooked till golden brown.  I love it- the first time I had it was in the hospital after the birth of one of my little ones (one of the first 3 cause I was at the yucky hospital).  I had already eaten my completely forgettable hospital dinner when my mom brought these in, leftovers from what she fed the fam at her house that night.  And a little container of chicken gravy to go with it.  So simple, and yet so delicious. Now it is on my list of ultimate comfort foods that I don’t make as often as I would like. I enjoy the chicken rolls as left overs plain, but the first night the gravy is what makes it for me.  So like I said above- everything is going great- rolls turn out perfect: 100_0603

and then I go to make the gravy. I opened one packet (yes- packet, only store bought mixes make the cut in my house. I want nothing to do with that made from scratch nonsense!) and it was fine, opened the second packet to dump in the pot. It wasn’t till I dumped it in, forever mixing it with the first,  that  the smell reached my brain and I realized  it was the wrong gravy.  Why on earth did I even have a packet of Brown gravy in my house?  (Chase!)  And if I had realized that one of them was wrong, I would have only used one and we would go light on the gravy and it would be fine. but it was to late, and we had “Brown Chicken gravy”  that made me gag, 100_0604and no car to get the right stuff.   Chase and Brad insisted it was fine, the other kids usually eat it plain anyways, but I couldn’t do it.  I had mine plain and was very disappointed in myself for the rest of the night for ruining my own dinner by not looking at labels.   Bleh.  It wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.   The agony of it was eased a bit the next morning when I had my leftover plain chicken rolls for  breakfast and they were exactly the way I wanted them then.

Brad’s plate:


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