chicken tenders, salad

Chicken tenders dusted with flour and seasoning, a la meuniere, in the manner of the miller’s wife, because she was always most likely to have flour around given her husband is in the business.

I intend to eat mostly chicken and seafood for a while and to that aim I bought a metric ton of chicken tenders. ← possible exaggeration of 725%. It was really a 4LB bag or something like that, but it's huge I tell you. Chicken tenders, or supremes, are the lean tender strips found on the underside of the chicken breast. It’s a separate portion from the breast but attached to it with connective tissue. I suppose they’re analogous to tenderloin on beef or pork. I’ve never seen a whole bag of them before, much less a gigantic bag, so I bought them, instead of chicken breasts which sometimes are too big. They're frozen. They cook within minutes.

The tenders were cooked with the glowing warmth that I feel for the industrialists that bring battery chickens to our tables and sizzling butter on a medium hot stove top, but mostly with sizzling butter on a medium hot stove top.

Salad with the usual vinaigrette but with garlic and ginger powder added because I’m lazy tonight and didn’t feel like grating those things. I probably used a little too much rice vinegar and mustard. If this were a competition on Top Chef one of those guys would ding me for that. And you know what? That kind of pisses me off sometimes because those judges who are so judgmental in their judgements, not just on Top Chef, but on Chopped, Iron Chefs, various other challenges, you never see them cook anything. Maybe they run a magazine or wrote a book or two or ten, but damn, we never see their mad cooking skillz in action so how are we to accept they're qualified as judges. Just say'n. Sometimes cooks we have seen in action become judges on occasion so they're not the ones I'm remarking on. Although, they've all had their own disasters. It's those snotty nose little know-it-all pissants saying what they like and what they don't like that get me. It's all so arbitrary. I'd be a terrible contestant, I'd be all, "Well, let me see you do it, Bitch." At home, I imitate their voices. I exaggerate their vocal foibles then imagine words they'd never actually say just to ridicule them unfairly. It's impulsive and if I did that within a competition, well, I'd never be asked back. Confirmation dog shows are completely arbitrary too. The biases present are astounding. The judges never ever pick a Belgian sheepdog for best of show even though there's always a Groenendale and a Tervuren right there in the ring, and often a Malinois or Laekenois, and they're always totally mind-blowingly awesome.