Chicken Kiev

Or, an evil I blame on Mike.

I'd never heard of Chicken Kiev when Mike first asked me if I would like to partake in said food item with him. He, as I recall, was amazed, and proceeded to extol upon me the virtues of a boneless chicken breast wrapped around a stick of butter and garlic and then heavily breaded. This was sometime in the mid-90's. Forever I will have a year book inscribed with an invitation to his home to play video games and eat Chicken Kiev.

After working on writing a business plan for the past couple of hours, I realized that I hadn't actually eaten anything of substance today, and figured it would be good to remedy that situation. As it turned out, there was a pair of plastic wrapped Chicken Kievs in my freezer.

Now that I've eaten them, I remember why I should hate Mike for ever introducing me to the terrible substance the Schwan's Man used to bring to the white freezer that sat in their attached garage at the end of the winding driveway along the Mississippi River. Of course, I can't hate him, because, well, I love the bastard. But, I still feel a tinge of anger whenever I think about the fact that he turned me into a sometimes Chicken Kiev junky.

Admittedly, I probably haven't eaten these in many months, but whenever I do, I feel that I've done something horrible to myself. Oddly, this feeling is absent whenever I light up a cigarette.

Of course, I've no intention of not eating Chicken Kiev ever again, and, still somehow feel it's an oddly under-appreciated food item. I recommend that the next time you're in your grocer's freezer section, you find yourself a decent Chicken Kiev, and go right ahead and shave a couple of days off your live. Just be sure to avoid the molten butter that could potentially mar you for the rest of your existence if you don't let it cool long enough when removing it from the oven.