Last Sunday, Rick and I were finally able to get in a cook. It’s been a minute since the two of us have co-piloted on a cooking project.  Something about 7,800 miles of the Pacific ocean and these United States of America between Taipei and New York. The cooking was a classic affair with an old friend, complete with a series of minor mishaps requiring creative solutions but resulting in a tasty meal.

We decided on a Mexican theme.  After perusing a few cookbooks, we settled on arroz con pollo and zucchini and corn with cream.  Rick took the lead on chicken dish as I worked on the side. Brothers in arms in the kitchen. Just like old times; if only a few others from Minnesota were able to stop by.

The tribulations started with the ingredients and continued until the meal was on our plates. My roommate Nick kindly agreed to add our groceries to his stop on the way home from a Sunday in the office. Unfortunately the store was out of cilantro.  My dish called for a lot of cilantro: one cup, chopped.  The watercress the grocery employee of the month pushed on Nick wasn’t going to cut it.  I would have to do without.  My next surprise came in green flecks growing on the top of my Mexican crema.  I was forced to sub in some yogurt.  The result was a more liquidy dish than might be desired.

Rick’s arroz con pollo started out well.  But 10 minutes after the listed cooking time, the rice was still hard, the chicken still under cooked, and much liquid was unabsorbed.  Another 10 minutes did little to improve the situation.  (I rarely use the cookbook the recipe came from because I don’t trust it.) But this was Rick’s time to shine.  He proved once again that he is a god damn MacGyver in the kitchen.  After brain storming, we pulled out the chicken, shredded it, and pan cooked it as Rick cooked the rice like a risotto.  Another five minutes and boom.  Dinner was served.

The result may not have been what we had in mind when we set out.  But it was adventure to get to the end and a satiating end it was.

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