He hardly struggled as I carried him around the side where we had been completing the circle of life with a basic kitchen knife. The trick is the wings, always hold tightly under or over the wings. And between Yolany, Gipsy and me (knife, wings and legs, respectively) the third chicken was dispatched from his happy, healthy chicken life.
|Yolany looking a bit murderous and me looking a bit too muscley (it's the shadows.)|
I mean, this food had a fabulous life. They lived in a nice, airy coop with lots of space and lots of food, with a beautiful meadow view of both sunrise and sunset. Three of them feed over 30 people, a great spread of nourishment and deliciousness.
Preparing them takes a lot of time and so you finally realize how much effort it takes to get those little cluckers plastic wrapped and on sale of 2.99 a pound. Boiling water helps take off the feathers but it's still an arduous process, trying to get every little hollow feather stalk out of the pimpled skin. All the guts are still there, not just the ones in the complementary plastic bag. I kept marveling to my accomplices, Do you realize that this is someone's job? Some one does this all day!
The girls were patient with me as I hacked away at the feet and neck (no fancy tools, just a fairly blunt knife) and I asked a lot of questions. Mostly I waned about the poultry industry in America and how we always have to worry about diseases when we cook them. Can you imagine, plucking, gutting and slicing a chicken with little to no fear of illness? Sign me up for this way of living!
And so these chickens came to contribute to my fabulous life, marinaded in puree of onion and pepper, with mustard and cumin, then lightly battered in flour and fried over the fire by sweaty me, dripping and happy. Call me crazy, but not even the Farmer's Market can beat this connection to nature, food, and graciousness for life.