I'm Still Jenny On The Crock

Week Three felt like, I don't even know. Like you're at the end of a pie-eating contest, and you already know you're not going to win, and the only thing you're really going to take away from this is five extra pounds, but you can't just quit like a little bitch, either.

I had a strong Week Two, score-wise, and don't get me wrong, that felt great. But I wasn't feeling it anymore. I wanted to make some wraps. I wanted to have eggs over easy and avocado slices. I wanted to have a night of cookies and ice cream. I wanted my old standby, the jar of Peter Pan Creamy with Honey and a spoon.

But then again, this wasn't just about me. I had a child to feed. He might be 18, and a little too judgy for my liking, but he was still my child. So I couldn't just blow this one off.

Even though I wanted to. A lot.

Let us begin.

Week Three, Night One: Chicken Bacon Chowder

I was PROUD of this one. I mean, it was exciting enough to think about consuming that I felt like I was back in the game. I cut up fried chicken tenders, I cut up fried bacon, I added bacon bits (the real ones, for class). I added my old standbys, garlic and green onions. I added a can of chicken broth, lots of sour cream, and a brick of cream cheese. Then I threw in some random stuff, like a little onion powder. I added shredded cheese later, because come on.

And it was amazing. I mean, to me, this was a slam dunk. I couldn't wait to see what Hunter scored it.

A seven. The little punk scored it a damn seven. Oh, I'm sorry, is chicken and bacon and cream cheese bad this week? How can I possibly keep up!?

Whatever. I loved it. And I decided I'd show him. The next night would be both chicken and bacon-free.

Week Three, Night Two: Cheeseburger Soup

I like cheeseburger soup, but what I never understood is why most recipes billed as cheeseburger soup have potatoes. There are no potatoes in cheeseburgers, amirite? Well. Maybe in fast food cheeseburgers, but nobody will ever know the true ingredients. Even when we think we do. The industry is full of lies, people.

So I made a cheeseburger soup that kind of turned into everything that looked good in my kitchen. I added hamburger and ground sausage both. I added like three different cheeses. One of them was a jar of "beer cheese" that I had recently found in the chip aisle at the store. I was pretty pumped, because I have this incredible Guinness and Cheddar fondue when I go to Springfield, and this was the closest thing Nevada has to it.

So yeah. It was largely meat and cheese, with, of course, a little garlic. And I cut up some tomatoes, because cheeseburgers have tomatoes sometimes. This was truly cheeseburger soup. It looked and smelled delicious. The problem was, I had allowed a little too much grease in when I added the meat. But sometimes you have to have a little grease in your life.
Hunter was working, so I took it to him. He took off the lid and said something like, whoa, how much garlic is in here?

There was like, half a spoon. I considered that the inclusion of beer cheese and garlic both may have been too much. Whatever. I ate some and thought it was great. He grudgingly decided it wasn't bad.

Here's where this whole thing goes south. I put some in a container to take to work. I left it in my car. I came back out to my car for a quick lunch, realized I had left it in the car, and thought, eh. I took it home, heated it up, ate it quickly, went back to work.

That night I had designated as leftover night, because we had leftovers. However, I felt a little guilty about that, so I went to Dairy Queen and got an Apple Pie Blizzard and a Pumpkin Pie Blizzard, because Dairy Queen had been billing this match-up as one of the most colossal in Blizzard history, and I had to know. (For the record, Hunter declared Pumpkin Pie the victor, and I remained undecided.)

About an hour later, I got really, really sick. The next morning, Hunter got even sicker. It turns out that he, too, had some of the cheeseburger soup. I could blame it on bad ice cream, but in my heart, I knew that it was the 'Crocking what did it.

Week Three, Night Four: Chicken Gyros

Screw the Crock. I made wraps. Cut up chicken, added spinach leaves, shredded cheese, Greek yogurt, and dill. Put it on flat wrap bread. Called it good. I took it to Hunter at work, wrapped in foil. He took one bite and said, "You MADE this?" incredulously.

I call that a win, and at the end of the day, isn't that what really matters?

So, while I have returned to the Crock tonight due to being seriously, horribly, head-cold-like sick, I think the challenge is close to over. It actually is, either way, as this begins Week Four, aka the "OHMYGODTHEENDISINSIGHT" week.