This was me, last night, as I took on my latest cooking endeavor; butchering a whole chicken before roasting it. I've never butchered anything, except figuratively. It started out so innocently; my meals programmed into a grocery list on my iPhone (btw, my grocery shopping will never be the same due to a cool app that sorts my grocery list into aisles and prices...genius!) I strolled with my cart of goodies to the meat department. I scanned the whole chickens to see which looked the freshest, and finally made my prize pick. I got it home, so excited to try my new recipe, and quarantined my chicken prep area. I took it out of the bag and that's when it hit me; I felt bad for the chicken and even worse for what I was about to do to it.
The next 20 minutes I can most closely compare to the Indian ambush of the retreating English in The Last of the Mohicans.
When I finished, I wasn't hungry. I roasted the chicken anyway, and it turned out to be delightfully delicious. I'm kind of scarred from the whole thing though.
So tonight I'm making ground turkey with peppers. I'm looking forward to this recipe, mainly because the turkey is already ground.
kiki san
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did you put any chicken blood on your face or features in your hair?
ReplyDeleteoops...that should say feathers not features. haha
ReplyDeletei happen to not be a fan of raw meat in any form...so kudos to you for tackling that one :)
ReplyDeleteWell, a teeny bit of your Cherokee blood has finally sprung forth except the scarred part. This is why farm kids are probably a little more balanced in life about what they eat and they don't have too many pets of the fowl or hooved variety!
ReplyDeleteChingukchuk would've laughed, I think!
Padre