“When did we have this chicken?” you shout to your roommate or partner as you crouch in a deep squat in front of the refrigerator. You look over your shoulder, tilt your head, wait for an answer, and hear nothing. You hold the container of cooked chicken up in the light, peering around all four corners, before bringing it back to your heart’s center, opening the lid, and giving it a sniff. It doesn’t necessarily smell bad, but something is a little off.
“Is it safe to eat this for lunch?” you wonder to yourself, hoping to avoid having to cook something new on an already busy workday. “What if I shred it and toss it with mayo and celery for a quick chicken salad? Is that okay? What if I shred it and cook it in chicken broth with veggies and egg noodles for a speedy soup?”
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