Step 1: Have the best of intentions.
Step 2: Buy 1kg of chicken breast. 500g of broccoli. 10m of aluminum foil. Pretend you’re a bodybuilder.
Step 3: Leave ingredients in the fridge for an inordinate amount of time. Allow bacteria to multiply exponentially in the raw chicken breast. Wonder how far you can take it.
Step 4: Take ingredients out on the last feasible day of respectable use. Question your value as a human being.
Step 5: Preheat the oven as you wonder how to flavor your raw ingredients. Consider flavor profiles, complementary spices, and herbs, micronutrient density.
Step 6: Decide on a jar of premade pesto. Pour pesto all over the chicken and call it done.
Step 7: Begin to cut broccoli. Cover your kitchen with tiny tree fragments. Get broccoli in your hair. Underneath the cupboards. In the cupboards. In the cupboard crevices. In your crevices.
Step 8: Put everything in the oven and slam the door in a fit of despair. Jostle the trays enough that broccoli falls onto the bottom of the oven.
Step 9: Pull trays out. See that chicken is swimming in the murky water it has exuded, diluting the store-bought pesto you poured over it. Fight the urge to end everything.
Step 10: Dutifully transfer everything to containers as you brainstorm ideas for your new meal prep Instagram. Write down your hashtag ideas on a Nandos napkin.
Step 11: Get murky chicken water everywhere. Tear the aluminum foil and get trays dirty, defeating the purpose of buying aluminum foil. Get really angry. Get really, really angry.
Step 12: Clean up. Use your organic multi-purpose cleaning spray. Feel momentarily congratulatory towards yourself.
Step 13: Taste your food. It tastes bad. Why does it taste so bad? You had the best of intentions.
Step 14: Buy KFC. Consider joining a meal prep subscription as you enjoy your well-earned trans-fats and exogenous estrogen.
Step 15: No, you’re too poor for that.
Step 16: Buy more chicken breast and broccoli.