A microwave dinner you assemble yourself? Like Cheesy Peas, it's nearly food. Being a sucker for anything with three chillis and a "Hot!" warning on the box, I lunged for the Sainsbury's Chicken Fajitas. A little four-stage illustration describes the construction of your dream fajita in the style of the emergency disaster cards you find down the back of aeroplane seats.
In an office kitchen still reeking of someone's Asda economy curry, I blasted the carton of "chicken and pepper mix" (yum!) until the inside of its plastic covering was sweaty with condensation, then gave the plastic bag of tortillas the requested 30 seconds on high power. Here was disaster: a tortilla must be lovingly warmed by pressing against a hot, only slightly oiled pan, not tortured with alien energies until it begs for mercy. The tortillas which I first covered with chicken and pepper, and then drizzled with passable salsa and sour cream from little pots, were sweaty, floury horrors which coated my tongue like fear does. The filling? Heatwise it was pitiful, but then supermarkets worry that anything stronger than a pickled onion will trigger a lot of whooping and screaming and the desire to cram your mouth with ice afterwards. To be honest, you'd be better off with a packet of chilli-flavoured Kettle Chips.
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