By skyforbes 
I’m bored, so let’s have some fun!
Hello, and happy Saturday, everyone!
I’m really wanting to get back into writing, creative writing and poetry, so I’m going to bring some of that back into the posts I publish here. Lately, I’ve just been doing the sports thing, as not only do I love sports, but I’d love to get back into that field, so I’m doing everything I can to put my name out there and to make an effort to land something fun.
For some fun, I decided to hop on over to the ChatGPT to have that platform either give me ideas or give me exactly what I want.
My goal with some of the “I used ChatGPT to…” posts, is to use a voice/style of a person or persons I either admire or find funny and, for the time being, throw in a recipe and have the generator write out a story of sorts using that voice of the person I am requesting, so there’s that introductory paragraph most recipies have, the ingredients and step-by-step instructions on how to do it, concluding with the final statements.
Besides, who doesn’t love food and trying out new recipes? I figured food would be the best way to start out and test the waters to see how my lack thereof audience takes it. Ha!
So, without further ado, please enjoy the Chat’s generated version of David Sedaris instructing you on how to make a slow cooker Cajun chicken Alfredo pasta dish.
Oh, and I highly recommend you try it out. It’s absolutely delicious!
Slow Cooker Cajun Chicken Alfredo Pasta
(An adventure in low-stakes self-destruction)
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who own slow cookers and those who have been gifted one out of pity. I fall into the latter category, having received mine from my sister, Lisa, after a brief but dramatic conversation about how “I really should eat more actual meals.”
She said this as if my diet of hummus and almonds was a gateway drug to intravenous pudding.
I’d been living under the delusion that a slow cooker was a kind of adult crockpot therapy — you just throw things in, close the lid, and several hours later it rewards you with dinner and a faint sense of moral superiority. “Effortless,” the cookbook said, which is the same adjective used to describe both supermodels and liars.
Still, I was determined. The recipe I chose was Cajun Chicken Alfredo Pasta, a dish that promised excitement (“Cajun!”) and comfort (“Alfredo!”) while also containing both dairy and poultry, two food groups that historically do not like me.
Ingredients:
- Three to four chicken breasts, depending on how much you hate yourself.
- Four teaspoons of Cajun seasoning, or more if you enjoy eating pain.
- A smattering of lemon pepper, salt, basil, garlic powder, and actual pepper — because apparently pepper needs both a first and last name.
- A red bell pepper and a green one, which sound festive until you realize they’re just there for color, like parsley’s extroverted cousins.
- Two cups of heavy cream — which is code for “the thing that will make your arteries write a suicide note.”
- Eight ounces of uncooked pasta, because nothing says culinary suspense like trusting a slow cooker to boil noodles.
Directions:
- Put all the ingredients in your slow cooker and cook on high for two and a half hours.
During this time, you can reflect on all the ways your life has led you to this exact moment — particularly how you’re about to ingest a dairy-based swamp. - Add the pasta and cook until the noodles soften. This will take approximately ten minutes, or three years if you’re watching. If you’re like me, this is when you’ll open the lid forty-seven times to “check on it,” which releases all the heat and adds a subtle undertone of disappointment to the dish.
- Serve. By “serve,” I mean spoon the lumpy, bubbling mass into a bowl, call it rustic, and pretend it looks exactly like the photo online.
Conclusion:
When I finally sat down to eat, the pasta clung to the chicken like an overzealous fan. The sauce was thick, defiant, and oddly beige. Still, it tasted fine — good, even — in that way all heavy cream-based foods do.
The slow cooker, though, had the last laugh. As I washed it out the next morning (a process requiring tools typically used in archeology), I noticed a faint smell of Cajun regret.
But I’ll probably make it again. Because that’s the thing about cooking: much like family, or writing essays about family, it’s a mess you keep returning to — hoping it’ll turn out a little better this time.