Yesterday, though, the chicken acted like a big baby fighting me tooth and nail getting into that nice warm bath. I had two packages of thighs that I had bought fresh two days before and promptly stuffed into the freezer, right next to some leftover containers of I-Can't-Even-Recognize-It-Anymore. I took them out and started my usual, hassle free, cook-blog-worthy prep. I pulled the plastic wrap off the chicken, and started to pull the styrofoam packaging off the chicken but that crap wouldn't budge. I ran the frozen rectangle of protein and foam under some cool water and finally, I was able to claw chunks of the perimeter of the bedding off. I still couldn't get a big portion of the container off the bottom of the thighs, which were also still stuck together. Water and chicken juice had become frozen glue.
After ten minutes of scraping, I decided to dunk the chickenberg into a bowl of water in the hopes of everything just coming apart. That worked for the remainder of the styrofoam, but the chicken maxi-pad was still stuck to the bottom! I tugged at it, and pulled at it, and clawed at it. I was not Martha Stewart anymore. My hair had come out of it's neat ponytail and was flying around my face. I was grunting and growling. It was becoming a fight to the death. OK, maybe not that dramatic, but it took me what seemed forever to pull the top plastic layer of the maxi-pad off of that chicken along with some skin (not sure if it was mine or the chicken). Once that was over, I started washing off the spongy layer. I felt good. I felt like I was getting somewhere. OMG, what in hell is that? My sink stopped draining and started filling up with water. I fished for the drain net thing and pulled it out! It was filled with a ton of clear pink goop. It was absolutely horrifying. Here, I'll share the horror with you.