Today, I decided to try out a recipe I found on Pinterest.
It was easy. Chicken, steak sauce, honey, onion powder. Crock pot. Cook. Pull. Done.
Sounded good, sounded easy, sounded exactly like my kind of cooking. I opened the raw chicken, placed it in the crock pot, then went to grab the ingredients.
Honey, nice. Onion powder, wow, I have onion powder. Steak sauce. Shit.
I don’t have steak sauce. How could I overlook the key ingredient in a four ingredient dish? Adulthood at its finest. I had to roll with it. I scoured my fridge, and found two near-remnants of different BBQ sauces, and some ketchup. That’ll do, right? I didn’t get much more adventurous. I threw it all together, drowned my chicken, set the timer, and left.
My apartment smelled like Dinosaur BBQ. It was the best sensation.
Recently, I haven’t been rolling with nearly anything in my life. I’ve been uptight and stressed, ensuring everything is just so. Who cares if you don’t have steak sauce? Make your apartment smell like Dinosaur instead.
P.S. – the chicken is delicious.