Chicken Salad

My wife's chicken salad is so good it deserves its own blog. Not only is it delicious, it's also visually appealing and presented with something I like to call "savoir care".  More on that later.

For starters, the texture is outstanding. It's creamy, but not in a pedestrian, mayonaisse-y kind of way. Rather, it's the smoothness of yogurt that's responsible for the silky mouthfeel. This subtle but critical innovation also provides a bit of high twang instead of the customary low egginess of less accomplished offerings.

The chicken was oven roasted and I was compelled to partake as soon as it emerged. It appeared golden and tender, with various herbs and spices encrusted atop. It was then diced neither too large nor to near-shreds, a key "Goldilocks" aspect of the dish that proves to be the undoing of many. You don't want it getting stuck in between your teeth, and you don't want to be found slumped in your cubicle next month with a large chunk lodged in your throat. There should be just enough chicken to cordially enter your mouth, hang its coat and graciously await your greeting. As understated as a wallflower, but as unquestionably present as Bluto Blutarsky.

Like any great piece, the harmony needs meter. This is where the supporting cast really shines: Bits of red onion crack through the creaminess in a bawdy strut, with small, precocious pieces of carrot tagging along like Grover Dill. Ringing high above it all like tinnitus are notes of fresh-squeezed lemons. This was not only an unexpected whimsy, it also provided an intuitive counter to the codetta of pepper and olive oil.

That's a perfect segue into the savoir care I'd mentioned. She didn't use bottled lemon juice, she used the actual fruit and incorporated nary a seed. She put pieces of wax paper between the salad and the bread so as not to prematurely soak the slices. Then, like some julienning Jochebed, she seated it tenderly on a bed of foil, wrapped it with care and sent it on its way. It's this kind of je nais se quoi - on top of the already supreme feat, no less - that truly sets the dish apart.

Score: 

I was going to take a picture of it for you, but I ate it all while writing this. I think there's still more in the fridge, though, so I'll snap one before sneaking the rest while she sleeps tonight.

Going forward, I'd like to share more of her culinary prowess here, if you'd be interested.

Thanks for reading,
-Vince