The great thaw continues. Any item recently chipped free from the primordial ice cliffs of the freezer should be considered a candidate for either a salad, a casserole, lasagna (deconstructed or traditional), or a soup. The key is to bury its freezer-burned faults with a barrage of supporting ingredients, a host of scrappy alternates who, together, can obscure the truth of its origin.
In this case, Tamalehawk battles through a clutch of frozen chicken parts. Peaked with icy terrain and bearing sell-by dates that harken an altogether different season, he decides to try for chicken salad. After defrosting, prying apart, splaying, and rotating, he poached them all in chicken stock. When they were cooked, he shredded them, added mayo, dijon, BBQ seasoning, and really anything else that seemed up to the task. Cheesed and lettuced, he decided to pose them in a dramatic angular fashion, as though the sandwich was going to eat you. He eschewed the industry standard sandwich pose, where the corner of one half is stacked gently atop its brethren in a jaunty fashion, as though it were clamoring to find its fate in the first willing maw that came along. In the end, the series of select staples rallied to reveal a rewarding finale.
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