"Do you want to get a rotisserie chicken?" I asked my husband Saturday as we passed the deli-counter in Walmart, to which he ventured, "Will we have it for dinner tomorrow?" I had already planned Crock-Pot Lasagna for Sunday, so we would keep it till later.
The chicken was delicious when I heated it in the oven on Monday! Of course, there was plenty left, although it was a rather small bird, I realized. We had sandwiches from it a couple of times, and finally I found enough meat on it to make a chicken salad. With chopped celery, apples and grapes added, it made wonderful chicken salad sandwiches.
Late the next afternoon, Howard was hungry, so I warmed some of the left-over lasagna for him before he went to do his farm chores (recreation) of feeding chickens, cats and goats. "I want to make chicken soup for supper," I said, knowing he would want something light later.
"Well, you might be mad at me," my husband confessed, "I ate some off the chicken today." Oh well, stewing the carcass would still yield plenty of flavor, I hoped.
After adding carrots, celery, onion and rice to the pot of bubbling broth, I tasted it and found it rather bland. If only I had some chicken bouillon, I thought, but no amount of searching revealed it in the cupboard, validating my memory of using the last cube on something else.
The last of the meat fell easily from the bones as I removed them from the pot. Giving the cupboard a one last once-over, I couldn't believe it when my hand touched a small packet at the back of the shelf. I squinted at the blurry print on the foil square to read "Chicken Flavor"! Thank you, Lord, I breathed!
The soup was yummy and just enough! Howard even left a little in his bowl. I felt like the widow in the Bible (II Kings 4) whose oil did not run out! God is our provider!
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