After two hundred thirty-seven cupcakes* and ensuing outbreak of something that felt a lot like the diabeetus, I'm giving my KitchenAid a break.
I went to the grocery yesterday and didn't buy butter. Not one stick.
Get that side glance out of here.
Drowning in one of those clicky-listicle time sucks (a la BuzzFeed but with food) - HOW TO COOK PERFECT FLUFFY QUINOA! TEN SIMPLE KITCHEN TIPS TO BLOW YOUR EFFING MIND! - I got inspired to go savory.
(Get Inspired to Go Savory. Dibs. Tagline dripping with Martha potential.)
What screams Sunday supper, I asked the soup aisle.
The nice lady stocking gluten-free pretzels was all, "Pot roast and potatoes." I appreciated the gesture, because she didn't look like she ate meat... but really, I only had eyes for cream of chicken.
Tossed two cans into my eco-tote (Austin, forever frowning upon paper and plastic) and drove home windows down, blaring Ray - Charles, not Sugar - because Y'ALL, I had a plan.
Chicken spaghetti.... just like Mom used to make. Except spicy. And no mushrooms allowed. (I've been known to pick out every last gloppy fleck by hand in protest.)
It's not the original - scrawled on card stock and tucked inside an ancient, dog-earred Southern Living - but it's Pioneer Woman. So it's close.
OTHER TIPS, THE LIKE AND SUCH AS: Instead of green peppers, chop a couple jalapenos. Don't rub your eyes. Crush a cup of Lays and sprinkle atop for bonus good times. (Because all good Southern children know, a casserole sans smattering of Ritz Cracker or salty potater chip layer is NOT a casserole.) Don't bother plating. Stick the fork in, bubbly and oozing cheese. Give half away. Or eat a bowl for breakfast. Boom. You did it. Here are some pictures.