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It?s Hard Being a Chicken
I have just taken a pair of heavy duty scissors and cut open a chicken. Right down its little back. I am horrified and pleased in equal measure, so I thought I’d present this as a teaser for next Sunday’s Sunday Suppers. I was sitting here getting my Glittery Alien Prince fix, when The Beloved called. Out loud, I was all, “Sweetie! How was your day? Drive safe.” In my head, I was all, “Well, hell, I have wasted a perfectly good day panting over Adam.” Pathetic, no? And now, I get the Bad Wife Award for not doing something with The Chicken after I said that I would. But I wasn’t going to let a little thing like Extreme Idolatry get in the way of putting my Best Face Forward to The Beloved. In an effort to maintain my status as Best Wife Ever, I whipped that chicken out and decided to Saw It In Twain in order that it might Fully Roast in Under an Hour. To add insult to injury, from the chicken’s point of view, anyway, I also shoved some different Tasty Items up under his skin. You know how, when you do a lamb roast, all the books say to cut wee slits in him and shove in a shard o’ garlic? Well, that’s so the flavors can get all down In The Meat, but it’s also because we don’t cook lamb with the skin on. Too woolly (with apologies to Mary). If we did, we could just tuck that garlic up under the skin and let tasty happen. Chickens come with their skin on, so we can use that to hold any sorts of flavorings–herbs, spices, butter, what have you–against the meat. So, there you have it. It is hard to be a chicken, especially This Chicken. Too bad for the chicken, but yay for us. Stay tuned for The Rest of the Story, with full Photodocumentation (!) on Sunday. ![]()
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