My kids will eat chicken, ham, fish and sausages. The other white meats. Meat isn’t allowed to be red (or pink or brown) because that’s ‘yucky’.
So my kids eat a lot of “chicken”. Notice the inverted commas… “chiiiicken” which between you and me, can be anything from beef to pork to veal and anything in between. As long as it is disguised, usually by a layer of crispy crumbs.
|Hone-made fast food (image courtesy Jason Thomas)|
|Any dinner that require shaking food around in a snaplock bag has to be a winner|
It certainly is quick. Beat an egg with some milk, dip the tenderloin, then throw one at a time into a zip-lock bag which has flour, garlic powder, paprika and sesame seeds.
|Is that food Mum? I want it. I don't care if it's raw chicken...|
Then I started showing off. Despite the fact that the baby was hollering at the gate (it had been at least ten minutes since she ate and was – apparently –starving) I decided to double-dip my chicken. What? I didn’t want to waste all the leftover egg.
The recipe then suggests tipping half a cup of melted butter over the battered tenderloins. Now I love butter, I’m a great fan, but even I baulked at the thought of half a cup of melted butter on half a kilo of chicken. I opted for the spray oil instead.
By this stage though, all three of the kids were wailing that they were staaaaaarving. I had a banana cake baking in the oven but the prospect of listening to the terrible three moaning about how sore their tummies were for another half an hour was too much. And I had already poured my first glass of champagne.
|It's not really that much... it's just the angle of the camera. Right?|
So I put the tenderloins into the oven with the banana cake, which subsequently ended up with a lovely savoury garlicky flavour.
In 15 minutes they were done.
This was how they turned out.
|Just like the book!|
Well, if I must be honest, those were the three best ones that I served up for my husband. This is how the rest of them turned out.
|Not quite so much like the book|
Maybe I should have opted for the butter, then they might not have stuck quite so much when I turned them over.
Regardless, I really thought I was onto a winner with this one. They looked like they might have come out of a fast food box, but they were 100% home made.
This was the verdict:
Miss almost-six: What’s this crunchy stuff? There are bits in it? Are they nuts, I don’t like nuts. What’s this red dot? Is that chilli. I don’t like chilli.
Miss three: where’s the tomato sauce? Can I take the crunchy skin off?
Miss one: gronf gronf, nope, I’m going to chuck it on the floor
Husband: needs sauce
Me: you people suck, I’m going eat your leftovers
And so I did.
My kids are spoiled and it is entirely my own fault.