After the beef tore through my system like PETA in a fur store, I decided that broiled chicken might be a better option. That and because out of the six steaks I had purchased, my roommate ate four and I still needed to save one. So much for "I have extra, help yourself to one." Ass hole.
Since it was now the weekend, and this diet doesn't take into account and therefore eliminates any kind of social life, I had lots of spare time to get creative in the kitchen: I started by soaking my chicken in a pear cider-based marinade (I would have done with beer but this was the closest thing I had). I added a pinch of this, a dash of that - basically including any spice or herb that was in my kitchen and sounded good for poultry. Oregano? Sure! Thyme? Why not?! Rosemary? By all means! Vanilla extract? Extna.
After soaking for most of the day, I created a rub with the same mix of herbs and spices, added a little of this and that, some wet, some dry, bada bing, bada boom...I'll call it my Crusty Chicken Paste. Looked really disgusting and was hard as hell to spread on a slippery chicken cutlet. Broiled - for the first time on the actual broiling rack which I just learned what it was for, might I add - both sides for about 6 minutes.
For my side, I cooked up some spinach. And by some, I mean an entire box that took up an entire shelf in the fridge. I cooked it down on low heat in a large sauce pan with some olive oil, butter and salt. Popeye was onto something, this has to be one of my favorite ways to consume leafy greens. 
Voila: The finished product.
When it was finally time to eat my rations for the day, I was famished. Call me crazy, but I feel like I've heard somewhere to ear small portions throughout the day. Well, this one big meal would have to do. Again, the longevity and healthiness of this experiment really isn't my concern.
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