Originally published in The Clifton Courier, May 16, 2018

You’re perhaps becoming a little sick of my shithouse recipes by now, and I don’t blame you. I am too. I’m also currently reading Heartburn by Nora Ephron, which is quite laden with recipes. So I understand your fatigue. 

However, it’s important to note that I drank a very, very cheap bottle of rosé – among other things – last night, so today wasn’t the most productive of days. I mean, sure, I achieved things. I listened to Kanye’s new album. I created a very sad Instagram post that attracted 20 plus (plus! I say!). I showered my body. 

Looking back on that list, I realise now that I did manage to do a lot of things.

Which is perhaps why my mind is so fatigued now, weary from a day of ticking off extremely achievable goals. 

And so, rather than dazzling you with a well-crafted, revenant piece of writing, I’m just going to slap another reheated recipe in front of you, telling you “ya git what cha givin – don’t be so bloody ungrateful”. And, yes, it is chicken nugget related. Again. 

I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got in the freezer. 

Of course, no autographical cookbook of mine would be complete without an ode to crumbed chicken.

But I’ve already gifted you with the secret to the best schnitty ever (make your own breadcrumbs) and the culinary masterpiece that is a trough of nugg-chos (nachos, but with chicken nuggets instead of corn chips).

Thankfully, I have another nugget-related recipe up my sleeve.

I can’t remember when I started making these, but I do know it was born from a desire to both eat chicken nuggets and be healthy.

As someone with neither a dependant child nor a job that requires me to use spreadsheets, I can’t comment on If Women Can Have Both (a question no one seems to really ever ask men).

However, I can say that, when it comes to nuggets and health, women (and men, for that matter) really can have It All. It All does, however, come with compromises.

This isn’t a clean eating recipe requiring coconut oil or something that can only be grown at a particular altitude in the Amazon. But it’s also not exactly the same as what you’d get from a drive-thru at a fast food restaurant.

It’s like KFC but it isn’t, and you have to accept that.

It’s at this point that I’ll drop the disclaimer I’ve learned to apply to my everyday life: expect the worst.

It sounds negative, but years of disappointment have taught me that lowering those expectations to the very bottom rung is an excellent means of protecting yourself. If the outcome is as disastrous as you expected, then you at least get the satisfaction of knowing that you were right. But if things turn out great, then you get to enjoy the fact that things aren’t terrible and, as a plus, that good outcome will seem even better when you compare it to the train wreck of a situation you were expecting.

And with this, I’ll launch into the recipe.

Step 1: On a wide dinner plate, dump two or three heaped tablespoons of wholemeal flour. Now, I have neither the power nor the resources to force you into using slightly healthier flour. Domestic flights are expensive, so I can’t come to your kitchen to personally shame you into using a particular ingredient. Perhaps one day I will be able to communicate with birds and send a fleet of magpies to monitor you on my behalf, but I have yet to win their trust.

Step 2: Crack in a bunch of black pepper and a good sprinkling of salt.

Step 3: Mix together with a fork, trying not to get flour everywhere, because wiping up flour with a wet cloth can coat your bench in a filthy paste that lingers for days.

Step 4: Grab two unnaturally large chicken breasts, cutting them into slices no more than 1cm in thickness.

Step 5: Realise that chickens don’t really have actual breasts because they aren’t mammals, and wonder what other lies you’re being fed by The System.

Step 6: Press each slice into the dry mix, coating each piece in as much flour that will stick to the moist, sticky chicken-goop.

Step 7: Pause for reflection.

Now, I’m going to level with you – this isn’t actually that healthy of a recipe. The next step is going to involve a lot of oil and delusion. If you wanted to be healthy, you could place the chicken on an oven tray, coat the chicken in a light cooking spray, and bake. But I choose to say yes to life, and that means saying yes to shallow frying and lying to yourself.

Step 8:  Say yes to life.

Step 9: Pour a good tablespoon/ladle of extra virgin olive oil into a frying pan, warming to a medium heat. I say extra virgin oil because it’s something I’ve told myself is healthy for years and don’t want to do any research that might suggest this isn’t the case. Besides, it’s probably better to cook in olive oil than a mixture of butter, lard and milk chocolate, right?

Step 10: Once hot, place the first batch of chicken in the pan, turning once the edges are white, firm and curling up slightly. This shouldn’t take too long as the chicken pieces are quite thin.

Step 11: Cook chicken on the other side until they reach your ideal level of golden-brownness.

Step 12: Repeat the process, making sure to keep topping up the oil levels.

Step 13: Serve to your friends, making the case that the wholemeal flour and lack of “highly-processed ingredients” makes this meal healthy.

Step 14: Avoid any follow up questions, changing the subject if necessary – bringing up the Kardashians generally does the trick.