Last Thursday I put together what was supposed to be a Chicken Cordon Bleu casserole. Ham, chicken, swiss cheese, cream of chicken soup, milk. I thought it sounded like it would be pretty good. However, the recipe called for breading each bite size piece of chicken and then frying it, and I simply did not have the time. I decided to just put it all in a dish and slap it in the oven for an extra 15 minutes. Guess what? That did NOT work out very well. The chicken was most definitely NOT COOKED. It was at this point that Clark, in his husbandly wisdom, told me that sometimes dinner just doesn't work out, and it's no one's fault, and you just say, "Well, I guess we're going to Wendy's!" And we did just that. And I put the casserole in the fridge, to be cooked more thoroughly at a later day.
Yesterday was fast Sunday. And, it just so happens that Julia is now weaned. WEANED. I really wasn't sure when I'd give it up for good, but then we had our anniversary weekend, and, well, I haven't fed her since. So this means that for the first time in almost 2 years, I fasted! It wasn't nearly as taxing as I remember it being. Apparently being a mom has toughened me up? Anyway, so I decided to stick the ill fated casserole in the crockpot, thinking that surely it would cook through, and then we'd have a delightful dinner.
WRONG. Well, maybe half wrong. It certainly cooked through. It burned through. So it was not the main course of our delightful dinner. Instead we had hot dogs, because those are fast, and we had been fast-ing (see what I did there?).
I've decided that I will never make this casserole again. None of you should make it either. Unless you want to go to Wendy's for dinner.