The Most Dangerous Thing I've Cooked So Far

Some bitch named Stella came down from the heavens and decided to sneeze six feet of snow onto Boston in the middle of March.

(I'll let you figure out which part of that is an exaggeration.)

Knowing I'd be trapped in the apartment and wanting comfort food, I thought I'd cook and decided on this One-Pot Creamy Chicken and Tortellini, which, depending on how I made it could be One-Pot of Creamy Salmonella.

You might think that's the danger part, but it's not.

Here's where the REAL danger comes in. And it's a two-fer.

I decided to make this on the eve of the blizzard (last night), meaning that if food poisoning were to kick in, I'd be TRAPPED since I'm incapable of driving during a flurry let alone a nor'easter while heaving.

Now, I have to add a gross addendum, so if you're squeamish and don't like hearing about bodily functions, just move on to one of the so-so pics below and keep reading.

Not only is Stella on her way, but so is that other bitch, Aunt Flo.

Listen. My period has changed a lot since turning 40, which likely means I'm peri-menopausal. One thing that hasn't changed, however? 

Period poop.

I only learned about period poop within the last few years. Apparently for the other three decades of my life, I experienced the symptoms in silence like the good Catholic I used to be, assuming I was either weird or had some slow-moving death thing that would eventually knock me out for good whilst sitting on the can. 

I never talked about it with my girlfriends. In fact, talking about pooping is not something I do period (ha!), but I'm older now and the filter is obviously decaying, because I recently wrote about bodily functions waking me up in the middle of the night, and now my lead-in to a chicken recipe is period poop.

Does this qualify as progress?

In the warped world we find ourselves in today, perhaps.

Anyhow. Period poop. It's a thing. As in you go more during your period. Sometimes a lot more. It has to do with hormones, anatomy, and your overall constitution.

My point: Me deciding to cook a chicken dish when I'm already feeling icky thanks to Aunt Flo is Danger Zone. Because NOW if I have to spend the evening in the loo, do I blame it on my cooking or the period poo?

You see my dilemma?

But I decided to go for it anyway, in my quest to be a badass cook like Carol from The Walking Dead.

I am happy to report that 12 hours later, I feel fine. And the dish was quite yummy. I'd call it a Regular Rotation Dish, although it can't be too regular since eating this every week (and the leftovers) wouldn't be good for my weight or my heart. 

LOL. Who cares about my heart? I just want my jeans to fit.

OK.

So, below is a pic of my Dutch Oven. 

What's a Dutch Oven? Honestly, it's just a Big Ass Pot, one you can use on a stove top (the ones with the coils) AND in the oven and it has a tight-fitting lid. 

I'm not even convinced this is a real Dutch Oven (my mother gave it to me from her endless Collection of Shit). And the reason I say it might not be real is because, according to Wikipedia, Dutch Ovens can come in a variety of materials, but it doesn't mention glass, which is what this thing is.

I think.

But my mother has used it on the stove and in the oven, and it is big, and it does have a lid. So that's what I used.

In the Big Ass Pot, you'll see two-ish tablespoons of butter. I sorta eyeballed the butter because I was scooping it from my whipped butter container, wondering the whole time if the fact it was whipped was going to change things (and I still had the pound of stick butter that expires on March 15 in my fridge BUT I DO NOT TRUST IT).

Anyhow. 

The recipe calls for 20 ounces of chicken. Thank dog for smartphones, because when I was at Stop and Shop, I googled "20 ounces to pounds" (actually, the query automatically filled in with those words, so I'm not alone), which comes to 1.25 pounds of chicken. I found a package of 1.20 pounds and called it a win.

I chunked it into one inch-ish pieces right in the package (without washing it, because you don't need to, fellow Idiot Cooks!).

You're supposed to rub a tablespoon of Italian seasoning, 1/2 teaspoon of Crushed Red Pepper Flakes, and 1/4 teaspoon of salt.

Rubbing. 

I need to bone up on this. 

What I did was I mixed the seasonings together (don't ask why the bowl is so big; originally, I thought I was going to toss the chicken in there). 

I sprinkled some of the mixture onto some of the chicken chunks, rubbed it in WITH MY FINGERS, sprinkled some more, rubbed it in, etcetera, until all the pieces were covered.

Then, I had a nervous breakdown and disinfected my hands for ten minutes. 

You're supposed to cook the chicken without moving the pieces for 3-4 minutes on medium-high heat (GRRRRR). Then, stir and cook for another 2 minutes.

If you've been following this blog, you know I always add a little extra time BECAUSE IT'S CHICKEN. 

Then, you add a 1/2 cup of heavy whipping cream and a 32 ounce thingie of chicken broth (I used low sodium—more on this below).

You bring it to a boil and add in a 20 ounce package of refrigerated cheese tortellini. Bring to a boil again. Then simmer for 14 minutes (random! Why not 15?). 

Then you add a cup of thawed frozen peas. Cook for a few minutes more. Add in a 1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese and stir. Sit for a few minutes. (As in, let the dish sit, although you can sit too, I suppose.) Garnish with some fresh basil.

Voila!

This is called PLATING, bitches!

It was a yummy dish. I may have had a second helping. You know. Since Aunt Flo was here.

That said, the chicken had a BITE to it. I like spicy, but it was definitely noticeable, and I'm wondering if the fact I used low-sodium chicken broth had something to do with it? Perhaps the extra sodium would have balanced the bite? 

If I make it again, which I probably will, I'm going to go with a 1/4 teaspoon of the Red Pepper Flakes since I prefer using low-sodium chicken broth and the dish definitely tasted salty enough to me.

Idiot Cook Rating: Five Stars

• Easy
• Tasty
• Tons 'o Leftovers
• I DID NOT DIE OR GET SICK