I’m a little too fond of writing Olé Miss so it’s Tex-Mex once again for our annual game against the Rebel Black Bear Ack-Landsharks.
It’s my stupid little dad joke and while I may someday tire of it, that day is not today.
In fact, I’m very glad not to have tired of it because after trying the final product in all its South Western inspired glory, I’m looking askance at my long running distrust of marinades, especially ones with a particularly acidic component. Having suffered through one too many pieces of marinated meats that had their exterior mushified by acidity I swore off the whole idea, even of mildly acidic concoctions, opting to apply sauces at the end instead. This chicken has me…
