New post here.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
So, on days that I tutor, I typically throw something in the Crock Pot (well, one of the days...on the other, Husband is left to his own devices).
Today, it was a whole chicken. Have you ever cooked a whole chicken in the Crock Pot? Well, it rules. Here's a really good recipe.
I bought a new brand of chicken this week b/c it was on sale at the supermarket and I didn't feel like waiting until we went to BJs because I'm impulsive like that.
Yes, I do live on the edge...thanks for asking.
After lunch today, I had to start my Chicken Preparation. Of course, the Crazies wanted in on the action. Hailey pulled up the step stool and Matt bellowed from the other room for us to wait, dragged in a dining room chair, slammed it into my new cabinets, ambled his way up (I do believe that's the second time I've used the word "ambled" in as many days), and demanded that I get this party started.
So, I start measuring out the spices...answered the "what's dat?" question five million times, stirred it all together and got started on the chicken.
It's tightly wrapped in plastic which always reminds me of something caught in a condom, so I'm typically freaked out already anyway...I hate condoms.
I grab the scissors and start to cut carefully away at the
Matt says, "oooh...it's dripping" and immediately touches it like it's hot fudge oozing over the top of an ice cream sundae.
I completely freak out and tell him he could get deathly ill from that chicken juice and not to touch anything ever again in the kitchen without asking...EVER!
He got the message.
I continue to cut away at the
condom plastic. I ease the carcass out of its casing and start to visually search (because I hate touching raw chicken) for the plastic bag (yet, another condom) that holds the innards. The Crazies are continuing to ask me what I'm looking for and I wonder if they're traumatized by this whole scenario yet.
That's when I see it...the neck...and the assbone.
Wait, these aren't present on my regular chicken...WTF?
And WHERE IS THAT FUCKING CONDOM THAT HOLDS THE INNARDS???
I'm digging and digging and digging...which is when I realize that it's still half frozen. AWESOME! That should make it SO much easier to drag the guts out of this carcass.
Matt is still bugging me about what I'm asking for and all I can come up with is "something that's not supposed to be in there."
The Hailey, my wanna be omniscient one, asks why they would put something in there that wasn't supposed to be in there...gotta love that girl (BTW, I have no idea...who actually uses the innards?).
I'm still digging though and getting closer and closer to becoming a vegetarian as I'm skimming ribs and brushing the top of my hand across the chicken's spine (gack, puke, gag).
The Crazies are still so psyched to be "helping" that they just can't wait.
Then it dawned on me. There.is.no.inner.
The guts are in there...frozen to the inside of the carcass...and I don't even know how many there are or what they look like.
So, I try to read the package (as I yell at the Crazies to get out of the kitchen because being confused while cooking really frustrates me and makes me sweat).
The package does not have the diagram of chicken organs that I was hoping for, so it's back to digging.
At this point, I'm near puking because I know I have to touch a heart and a kidney and some other shit that is gross (and probably has something to do with filtering waste and creating poo).
So, I grab the tongs...tongs always help, right?
Except that chickens are small...and when you can't get enough room to actually open the tongs, they're fucking USELESS!!!!!!!!
Oh, and did I mention that the inside of this fucking chicken was frozen? And that my fingers were frozen? And that I was about to puke? DID I MENTION THAT SHIT???
Anyway, I finally get everything out (or I think I did...I lost count after the heart...fucking gross) and I notice that the neck is still on there.
Can you really cook a chicken with the neck?
This totally reminds me of the duck in A Christmas Story...fa ra ra ra ra...
What do you do? Do you pull it off?
Yes, apparently, you do...or you try to.
I grab hold of the neck and start to pull and twist and yank that fucking neck in every possible direction to try to get it the fuck off of my dinner!
As I'm doing this, Matt is screaming, "PULL MOMMY!!! GET IT!!! PULL HARDER!!"
So, I start laughing and give up. Who says you can't cook a chicken with the neck on?
At this point, I am drenched, near puking, and laughing because my children will never eat dinner now.
As a matter of fact, Matt literally said, "I am not eating this chicken." Nice, right? All my hard work...right down the drain.
So, I take the carcass, stuff it in the Crock Pot, put the lid on, set it to high, and hope for the best.
After all, I'm not going to be home for dinner...good luck to Husband!
That chicken schooled me...seriously...