I had a thoroughly unenjoyable meal a few days ago and haven’t been able to eat since. It all started when I asked Adam to boil some chicken breasts for me because I generally like plain chicken breasts and we are running low on keto-friendly food. He brings me a plate of it. I take a bite, and it tastes…off. I spit it out and look at the piece of chicken and it is slick looking, nearly pink, and very squishy. It’s not done! I keep spitting, for good measure, and have completely lost my appetite, so I go back to working. When my husband asks me how my chicken was, I told him I spit it out and threw it away because it was raw. He told me he checked each one with the meat thermometer and the lowest was around 178° F. Okay. My tastes change depending on my mood or medication, so it’s probably me. NBD.
The next day, I make chicken parmigiana with zoodles because I’m still on that kick. I filet the breasts thin and check the temperature multiple times and most readings are around 200. I start eating, and everything is cool. Good chicken, good zoodles, the store-bought sauce isn’t the best, but whatever. I take another bite of chicken and it just tastes bad. I remove the breading and tear it apart and it’s shiny and squishy and pinkish. I toss the chicken, pretty miffed because it’s not cheap anymore, and decide to eat the zoodles so I don’t waste food, but they taste gross now because my brain says so since the chicken tasted bad. I finally just give up.
Since Google is my friend, I searched something along the lines of cooked chicken looking raw and feeling spongy, and I was not disappointed. Apparently, there is this condition(?) called woody chicken breast, which causes external hardness (chicken was fried and grilled, so couldn’t speak on that), pale color, and icky texture. Some have likened it to looking raw, like I thought it was. It seems this happens in the bigger-breasted chickens, and the breasts that we got from Walmart were massive – I commented on their size several times to Adam. There is a debate as to why this occurs, but it’s not a new thing, from what I’ve read. I’m thinking growth hormones play a big part. So, that happened, and the mystery was solved, though I’m out a lot of chicken breasts.
The chicken issue, along with the fact that I just bought 10 zucchinis, knocked me out of my chicken parmigiana kick, I guess. I get on these food “kicks,” as I call them, where I eat the same thing every day for days, weeks, months at a time. I never know when they will happen or what food it will be. If I don’t have access to that food, I will not eat. The two worst kicks were the knockoff Cup o’ Noodles and popcorn. The noodles kick lasted the longest, and I can’t even look at them now. The popcorn kick lasted around 6 months. I didn’t eat for four days when I ran out of popcorn and couldn’t get more at the time.
Even if I get tired of the food, that doesn’t stop me from eating only that food, and I don’t know why. Oh, and it never fails that when I stock up on my kick food and have plenty in the house, I’m done with it. That has happened with noodles, popcorn, beef jerky, ribs, and now zucchini/zoodles. After Mom died, I fell into a pizza kick and ordered it for weeks. I also watched Frozen every day, which was weird because it came out after Mom died, so there wasn’t a connection or nostalgia component. Adam knew Let It Go by heart by the time I moved on to something else.
One fun thing about me and food is when I’m done, I’m done. Whether I’m full, my food kick is ending, or I don’t like the taste or texture of a food, it’s coming out. It is either spit it out or choke it down and then vomit, and spitting it out is much better for me and those around me. Most of the time, when we’re out, I can spit my food into a napkin, but it’s a little more difficult if we’re at a restaurant that has cloth napkins. In those instances, Adam quickly finds me an empty dish, or I spit on my plate and cover it with something. There’s never enough time to get to the restroom.
Cari R Esta 