Normally, I would title this post, “In Preparation For Marriage …” but marriage isn’t the reason I’ve been cooking or putting pictures of it up. More so, it would send the wrong message. So back to the swag meat, don’t try to find its recipe online because it doesn’t exist. Swag meat is something I made up one day, nothing serious. Igwe loved it. We didn’t know what to call it, so he named it swag meat. This is my third time making it, and I’m waiting for The Food Network to call me anytime soon.
The chicken: Six pieces of raw, skinless drumsticks. I boiled the chicken with little water. It literally cooked till the water dried because I did not need the broth. I don’t save broth in the freezer either because the flavor of the broth depends on what I need to cook with it.
The carrots: I had a bag of baby carrots sitting in the fridge that refused to finish, and I got tired of crunching like a goat when I was supposed to be sleeping. So voila. I found a way to finish them. I boiled them for a few minutes.
The potatoes: 3 russet potatoes.
The veggies: sweet bell peppers, habanero peppers, onions, and tomatoes
And then, when all was said and done ….
I did not cook the potatoes for too long because I did not want them to get mushy, knowing I was going to mix them with the veggies. I could have left them unmixed, but Igwe would have eaten half the potatoes with all the veggies, and then, I would have been left with plain potatoes and a bottle of spring water.
I really, really like this swag meat thing, but it takes longer to prepare to cook it than it takes to actually cook it, especially for me. I love chopping all the veggies up nice and pretty, and then, staring at them for a few minutes: my pride and joy. I was going to skin only two pieces of chicken instead of all six because Igwe likes the skin (eww), but I thought, what the heck, I’ll skin them all.
Note to Igwe: When you ate the food, you said (and I quote), “This is goooood!” And then your eyes fluttered and rolled to the back of your head. Your facial expression was somewhere between oh-my-days-this-food-is-good and can-I-have-more-please. Therefore, you have lost all rights and priviledges to complain about the missing chicken skin. You didn’t even notice. Your complaint will only be considered if you provide the four pieces you ate — in the form they were before you ate them.
P.S. My friend, Uzo would especially love this post. I’m honored to show her what she could be eating — if only she would just buy me that big, black bag.
P.P.S. I have deliberately left the recipe out as this post isn’t intended to teach anyone how to cook this, but rather to torture the already famished, growling stomachs reading this blog. You’re welcome.