Really, What I am Doing Here is Saving you from Yourself

America—okay, all 4 of you who read this blog—you should be thanking me right now. Because my story will prevent you from cooking this appalling recipe and enduring the ensuing trauma. No need to thank me, I do this because I am a GIVER.

So, here’s the thing: I need to wrap my head around the slow-cooker concept. I keep on thinking I can use it to make wacky ethnic dishes, and you’d think I would have learned by now that I just don’t have the knack for them. I need to stick to things like chili, pulled pork, stroganoff, that sort of thing. But I am a massive dillhole and keep on thinking, Oh No, This Time Will Be Different. NO IT WON’T, YOU GIANT CLOMPING PEASANT.

Long story short: do not, under any circumstances, attempt to make the Moroccan Chicken in a Slow Cooker recipe from Better Homes and Gardens because it will make your house smell…disturbing…and it will look…disturbing….and it will taste…disturbing. Let me explain.

No. No no no no.

Smell: in theory, something Moroccan should smell like a mix of spices, the kind of thing you’d expect to smell in the hot desert, wearing something filmy. Wait. Is Morocco desert-like? I am pretty sure it is hot. I know it has a rep for being the home for expatriate closeted writers. Yes, I’m looking at you, Mr. and Mrs. Paul Bowles. And I know that some Moroccan food is cooked in these cool triangular things called tagines, and a tagine is also a toothsome spicy savory stew. Yeah, I said toothsome. Wanna fight? Anyway. What I smelled was something like boiled foot with a drizzle of cinnamon. Well, those few times I’ve had boiled foot with cinnamon, this is what it smelled like, is what I am saying.

Look: I used chicken thighs. This, combined with a brownish red sauce, made the whole thing look like something Hannibal Lecter would eat. Again, like boiled foot. But, you know, redder and browner.

Taste: see above.

So we had French Toast instead. The end.