The Chicken Salad Chronicles: Beach Edition

Sand in my croissant? Maybe. Regret? Never.

Let me set the scene.

The tide was out, the sun was high, and my family was on the brink of mutiny. We had officially hit that crucial point in every beach day where joy begins to unravel, kids are hangry, sunscreen has entered eyeballs, and someone (me) forgot to bring more snacks.

James was trying to coax a kite out of a tree (don't ask), one kid was digging a hole to what I assume was Australia, and another was loudly declaring that if we didn't eat soon, they were going to "eat a seashell."

So I did what any resourceful mother on vacation would do: I marched back to the rental house like a woman on a mission. I had no plan. Just vibes and a vague memory of buying croissants two days ago.

I swung open the fridge like it owed me money. And there it was: a cold rotisserie chicken and suspiciously smushed pack of croissants.

In less than ten minutes, I had whipped up a chicken salad that tasted like I knew what I was doing.