Mystery Meat

In our quest to expand our dinner menu, we look for chicken that comes in assorted sauces, meaning more flavorful meat with less work for us. Unfortunately, recently, Jaime went to the packaged meat aisle only to discover that almost all the chicken packages were open and leaking, and had to search elsewhere. Resorting to the meat counter, she ordered, with broken Finnish and pointing, two filets of "broileri," the word that's on many of our chicken packages. And they did look like chicken, despite being rolled up and spiked with a toothpick. Jaime just figured that was a pretty way of presenting them.

Later that evening, it was Elizabeth's turn to cook dinner (if Jaime has her way it's always Elizabeth's turn to cook dinner hehehe - and conveniently our kitchen only has room for one chef), and she began setting up, chopping vegetables and getting out pans, preparing the broth for the risotto and beginning to sauté the onions. As the vegetables cooked and the risotto simmered, Elizabeth headed over to the refrigerator to pull out the alleged chicken-in-sauce. Setting the paper-wrapped package on the counter, she turned back to her other work. Several minutes later, it was finally time, and she unwrapped the small package to reveal two little red-sauced cutlets of... something. With some kind of filling. White filling, maybe the consistency of soft cream cheese. It totally looked like a meat canoli.

Perplexed by this foreign style of meat preparation, Elizabeth took a moment to consider her options: 1. slip mystery meat back into fridge for Jaime's night, and try again, or 2. stay the course. Given the fact that there was no other unfrozen protein source available, Elizabeth resigned herself to option 2: determined not to let the meat get the best of her, and not being the daughter of a restaurant manager for nothing, Elizabeth cooked it. And cooked it. And, finally, cut it, to reveal... pork?

Actually, we really just hope it's pork. We have no idea. Laura, if you're reading this, please assure us that we did not accidentally ingest something icky. Though, it having tasted fine, and this having been a few nights ago, we think we're okay. (We made the executive decision not to write about this until we were sure we would survive.)