Adventures in Chicken Cooking....

Harriet Flies Once More

Today was a day of great accomplishments. I cooked achicken. I had made a deal with myself earlier that day- if I could
cook a chicken I could accomplish almost anything since my cooking skills are yet to be desired. Subsequent to the fact that I am indeed a vegetarian this opportunity knocks only once I suppose. You areprobably questioning why there would be a chicken in my house in the first place. I had it in my freezer for a roommate who had now moved on and left it (who in the hell leaves a frozen chicken behind?). I made my way over to the freezer and opened the door. It stared back at me clear as day with disgust as if knowing that this would be a challenge indeed. There she lay a frozen chicken the size of a football. I gently tugged the chicken out from the back through the masses of frozen vegetables, Tofu wieners, orange juice concentrate and anything else that doesn’t contain dead animal products. All of which I am sure where cursing at the chicken because it budded in line. Surely of course not knowing its fate and expecting a simple relocation to KC’s apartment -it didn’t know what was coming. I ran the water in the sink until it burned my hand, stuck in the stopper and let the water rise to half way. I picked > up the chicken from the counter top and looked at the label. " Granie Thriftee" Frozen frying chicken -Canada Utility Grade -Limit of Four $3.71. Interesting... what do they really mean by utility grade? I placed the chick! en in the hot bath and left it alone for a good 4 hours. Upon returning I stared at it. How nice it must feel to float in water all day...part of me wanted to join the poor soul. It was then that it hit me... this chicken needed a name! For some reason I called it Harriet. I poked at her for a few more minutes and relished the thought of how she bobbed up and down in the water. I gathered up some courage and did the unthinkable - I dunked her. Yes, the poor chicken went under. Now not nearly as firm and boisterous as she was at the beginning she was a tad bogged now and it was easy to make indentations
into her skin. I played with her for a while longer than and decided that it was time. I pulled the stopper and let her plunge to the bottom if the sink. I turned on the oven to 450 degrees (is that to high?) and returned to my new playmate. It was time to strip her down. She had been wearing this damn bag over her for to long. I retrieved a knife from the drawer and slowly but carefully cut around the top of the bag. She would not let go! Harriet apparently loved that bag so much cause she wouldn’t let go of it for the life of her. I made another incision ( by this point I was feeling much like a surgeon) down the belly ( or was it the back?) and she flew out of that bag in a hurry. I guess maybe she was feeling shock at this point- who knows. I tossed the bag aside and looked at Harriet. What a disgrace! I have never seen such a ugly specimen in my whole life. She had far to many wrinkles I could not tell which side was her breast and which was the rear let alone which was the neck and which was the ass. I inspected her for a considerable more amount of time just poking and prodding at her. I don’t think she minded very much but when I picked her up she sure was quick to jump back in the sink. Slippery little bugger she was! Then I saw it. A little opening. This must be the ass end! I flipped her over and their lay a flap at the other side. Curiosity
struck me. I wanted to know what was inside so I carefully lifted the flap, secretly fearing that something may jump out. Nothing. Just ahole. Curiosity struck me again. I ran the water and drowned poor Harriet in it. Out it came through the other side. I tell you, that is the quickest I have ever seen anything digested in my entire life. I took Harriet by the wings and spanned them out. I let her fly once more. After landing, I retrieved the pot from the cupboard, topped her off to the halfway
mark, cut up and onion, shed a couple of tears (mostly due to the onion but some for Harriet as well) and plopped her in. What a sad looking creature.
"Don’t look at me like that - its well past due for your time!" I told her.
I think she would have begged to differ.
She needed something else. SPICES! Of course. How could I forget? But what on earth do you frost a bloody chicken with???
Salt... Pepper.... and? I twirled my spice rack. Rosemary? No.. Oregano?.. not a chance. Basil? It couldn’t hurt could it? savory? What else do you use it for? I sprinkled away. If it was to much it didn’t matter anyhow because I wasn’t going to eat the poor thing. I made her look as best as she could then said my last good byes. On the top went and I stuffed her into the oven. Its not to hot for her is it? You idiot! It’s a frig’n bird! I sat down on the kitchen table and replayed the events in my head. What would it feel like to be Harriet? To be so brutally beheaded, then plucked and skinned, then tossed into a bag into a freezer? Then I thought about it more and realized I didn’t really care because I am a Vegetarian and I was the friend - not the enemy. I was the one who took self-glory in restoring any remaining pride the poor broad had left in her. She would make her final pass into the belly with dignity and respect. But the final question still lays.... Who
will eat her?

this is my blog... my very first blog.... yeah ha!

HI EVERYONE.. THIS IS MY VERY FIRST BLOG SESSION AND I HAVE NO CLUE HOW TO WORK THE BLOODY THING....