Today, for the first time in my life, I cut up a whole chicken. I'd like to say I did it because I'm thrifty and whole chickens are cheap (which they are), or because I'm on some sort of back-to-nature foodie kick (which I'm not), but the truth is that the grocery store employee put someone else's bird in my bag, and when I went back to return it like a good citizen they said they couldn't accept it. It's been sitting in my freezer for weeks now, and by golly I wanted my freezer space back, so I decided today was the day.
The internet site I looked up made the process look quick and simple. I estimated it would take me five minutes tops. It took me over an hour. I sweated; I squinted; Daniel made fitful, bored noises in his rocker until naptime finally rolled around. We won't talk about the utter mess I made of our kitchen (thank goodness for disinfecting wipes). I take some solace from the fact that I ultimately achieved my poultry-related goal, but I'm not sure I'll attempt it again any time soon.
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4 comments:
Yes, this is why I firmly believe in paying more for the boneless, skinless chicken breasts. That's really the only part Ian and I eat, anyway. :)
Wow. I'm impressed. My mom only cut up whole chickens when I was a kid (we raised them) but I've never attempted it. You are my new culinary hero.
[blushes]
I have an amazing picture of my Honduranian trainer cutting up a chicken in our squalid yellow kitchen in Guatemala. Counter space consisted of a rickety table that we'd never get clean again. If memory serves, she's cutting it while it's suspended in the air dangling from one hand. What did I do? Er...took the picture, I suppose. Not very useful.
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