I hate Sunday. And I particularly hate this Sunday, because so far all I’ve accomplished is oversleeping, regretting the amount of money I spent at the bar last night, and feigning enthusiasm over a football game—aka background noise to my Instagram scrolling sesh.
Upon realizing that this pattern of lazy-Sunday self pity is doing nothing for my life, I decided to take some time out of pretending to care about football to pretend to care about being domestic, and create this somewhat healthy version of my favorite guilty pleasure—buffalo chicken dip (or buffalo chicken anything, really).
I altered the original recipe a tad, swapping in rotisserie chicken for the canned stuff (chicken just doesn’t seem like something that should come in a can…) and cutting the amount of cheese and ranch dressing in half (‘cause I’m healthy like that). I also turned the cooking process into a one woman drinking game, for the sake of…absolutely nothing.
Step One: Arrange your ingredients in front of a fake floral arrangement because everybody knows that if you didn’t Instagram it, it didn’t happen.
One of the perks The only perk of unemployment is that my mom still takes special grocery requests, and actually knows what Neufchatel cheese is.
- 1 rotisserie chicken
- 3/4 cup of Franks RedHot®
- 1 (8 ounce) packages Neufchatel cheese, softened
- 1/2 cup light ranch dressing
- 1 cup reduced-fat cheddar cheese, divided
Step Two: Try and resist punting your beggar of a dog out of the kitchen as you tear the chicken off the bone and shred it into strips.
Yeah, the whole remaining skeleton thing is kind of skeevy, but you have to pick your battles and canned chicken looks like cat food, so…
Step Three: Combine the shredded chicken and hot sauce in a large saucepan, and mix it all up for about five minutes.
I’m sure that there’s a more legitimate instruction than “mix it all up,” but culinary blogging isn’t exactly my forte—I’m much more accustomed to writing graphic accounts of other peoples’ sex lives, so cut me some slack.
Step Four: Drink your beer and pretend to care about the game for five more minutes while your chicken soaks up all of that red hot deliciousness.
Go Jets! Lolz
Step Five: Add in the Neufchatel cheese and the ranch, and mash it all together until you get something that resembles day-after-Thanksgiving hangover puke but smells like heaven.
You were warned.
Step Six: If you’re a patient person, at this point you’ll transfer the saucepan ingredients into a slow cooker for 30 minutes. If you’re me, you’ll pop it in the oven at 350 for 10 minutes, because you can’t possibly be expected to be patient AND domestic on the same day.
Step Seven: You feast. But not before taking a picture and Instagraming the shit out of it. #FOODPORN
And that’s all she wrote (er—cooked). I’ll be filing this one onto my working list of reasons boys should date me, somewhere between “Nice Rack” and “Karaoke All-Star.” Now, please excuse me as I pat myself on the back for being domestic as f*ck (DAF).