March 21, 2011

Thanks to the Mister, My Weekly Menu is Set

As usual, The Mister went out of town at zero dark thirty yesterday morning. In addition to his clothes, he took my beloved laptop and some food for lunches. The Mister works in a remote location, a full half-hour (or is that half a full hour?) from the work site. 

Coincidentally, he gets a half-hour for lunch. Because of the time constraints (and the high cost of gasoline, and the iffy quality of food in the area), he takes food with him to reheat while at work.

So at 5:20 am on Monday, he was rooting through the chest freezer in the living room (yes, the freezer is in the living room). We're making a design statement here. The statement we am making? "Gee, June and The Mister are clueless about style and the taboo about white, boxy appliances in a main living/entertaining space." I blame it all on The Mister. The freezer was in the living room when I arrived...not my fault.

Oh, and I also blame it on the fact that we live in a trailer (Ok, a 'mobile home' for you insecure trailer dwellers).



Anyway, back to the freezer. The Mister had a hankerin' for a Banquet chicken pot pie. Our chest freezer is almost full - he had to pull things out to find his crust-topped treasure.

Source of Yummy


At 5:30 pm on Monday, a full TWELVE HOURS after The Mister's departure, The Boy innocently asks, "What is this bag on the floor by the freezer? Oh, it's chicken! Why is there chicken on the floor by the freezer?

My reply? DamnedIfIKnowIJustGotHereIWasAtWorkAllDayRemember.


I asked The Boy to bring me the bag of as-of-yet unconfirmed animal flesh.

The Boy was correct. Not only did the plastic shopping bag contain chicken, it contained a ten-pound bag of previously frozen chicken thighs.


How long does it take for a ten-pound bag of frozen chicken thighs to defrost? Let's do the math, shall we?


Time to defrost (in hours, let's solve for WTF) = Weight of package times ambient temperature of the room, minus the number of hours The Boy has the A/C running. Add a factor of 8 for for each degree of difference between what The Boy's Acceptable Temperature when the furnace is running and the Boy's Acceptable Temperature when the A/C is running (represented by BAT); divide by an indeterminate number of hours of sunlight (represented by MAN).

WTF = 10 lb x 76 degrees F/( -7 x (8*6)/?
WTF = 10 x 16 (oz. in a lb.) x 76 oF/BATMAN
WTF = 160 x76 o/BATMAN
WTF = 12160/BATMAN
E=MC2 I only include the Theory of Relativity here because, since our marriage, I am now related to The Mister.

WTF BATMAN = 12 hours


There you have it, Junior Kitchen Scientists. A bag filled with ten pounds of frozen chicken thighs will defrost in twelve hours when sitting on a carpet in a room whose average temperature is 76 degrees Fahrenheit, and The Boy is controlling the A/C.

Oh, and we're having chicken thighs for quite a few dinners to come. 

Suddenly, I am channeling Bubba Gump, the only difference being that I'm listing all the ways to cook chicken thighs.
And I don't have that accent. 


Wanting to hear the brilliant answers The Mister had for my dilemma, I called him. He was eating CHICKEN. His response when I told him he forgot to return the chicken to the freezer?

"Oh well. I guess you need to cook it all." Oh well, indeed, BATMAN.

While said chicken is baking, I am going to be looking at invisibility potions so that I can cover said baked chicken and return it to the refrigerator and not have The Boy devour all ten pounds before dinner today. 

What are the odds that I find a potion that tastes like BBQ sauce?


This time, YOU do the math...I'm tired.


5 comments:

  1. Subconciously he knew you wanted to cook up all that chicken so really he did you a favor.

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  2. Better discovered said chicken in the house than in the car a few days later. Chicken salad, chicken fajitas?

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  3. Hope he will leave something for you! Those boys (and Misters) know how to mess up our dinner plans, don't they?

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  4. Love your equation. Try not to turn into a chicken this week!

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  5. I'm tired, I have a headache, and I really need a coke zero after TRYING to understand that math shit.

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