There has to be such an entity, somewhere. Take one squiller. Fashion it into a jambalaya. Declare job done. That was not difficult. It only took faith, hope and dyslexia. And the greatest of these is... no, I won't finish that thought. Squiller Jambalaya. Earth hinny onythin tae Bowmore Fair.
So, you arrive home late from the bar, having stopped off at KFC, the only open food place on the way. You've not eaten KFC for ten years. Maybe it's improved. Hope springs eternal.
You open up your Crispy Strips Meal and reel backwards at the smell of fat. OK, there's possibly a hint of chicken in there too. You carry out a quick survey: three large fried things (probably the chicken), a small pot of coleslaw, a cone of chips (fries, if you prefer), four small sachets of tomato ketchup and a pepsi. A few other bits and pieces that are even less edible than the food.
Anatomy of a KFC Crispy Strip
Crispy Strips don't look like chicken. In fact they look like deep fried teddy bears. Their thick coat is a way of selling less chicken and more batter. And more fat.
You seize the ugliest one and bite into it. You get a mouthful of hot oil and bugger-all flavour. You realise that you're not going to finish one of these, never mind three. But you're still hungry. The chips are a lost cause, having wilted inside the steamy box. What to do next?
You wander into the kitchen in search of inspiration. An idea surfaces slowly through the receding mists of beer. It is a kitchen, after all! You select a medium sized pan. You know it's medium sized because you have one that's bigger and one that's smaller. Cooking is easy.
You throw the chips in the bin.
You take the four sachets of tomato ketchup and squirt their contents into the pan.
You grab a lemon, halve it, and squeeze the juice of one half into the pan. It's offended by the ketchup but you don't care.
You chop one small green chilli as finely as you can be bothered, and do the same to a piece of fresh root ginger about the size of your great toe. Into the pan with these.
You empty in the contents of the coleslaw tub, using the forefinger of your right hand as a scraper. You're cooking for yourself, so this is just fine.
You add one teaspoonful of garam masala. If you don't have this, you can use curry powder, but you do, you see, because you're me in this narrative!
You add enough water to make it wet, and let it simmer slowly, because simmering quickly isn't simmering, OK?
Take three KFC Crispy Strips...
You brace yourself for what you are about to do, and with thumb and forefinger you prize the pieces of chicken free from their foul coating.
You squidge the coating into the KFC Meal box, shut the lid on it and chuck it in the bin, the only place it is fit for.
You remove any bones and obvious gristle, cut the chicken into sensible sized pieces and add them to the simmering sauce. They jump up and thank you.
The chicken is already cooked of course, so you give it only a few minutes to come up to heat and absorb some flavour. It's beginning to smell just great.
And that's about it
You try the Pepsi and find it warm, flat and disgustingly sweet, so you pour it down the drain.
You pour a glass of water instead, except you use a steel tumbler which works every bit as well.
You serve your fresh chicken dish on a proper plate and eat it with a metal knife and fork, like the civilised chap you are.
You don't bother taking photographs of it because you're too hungry. You just enjoy the fresh tastes and scents of lemon, ginger and garam masala spices. And your heart is grateful too.
Eat your heart out, Colonel Sanders!
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