Wednesday, October 29, 2008


I hate chicken. I love chickens though. There's a difference. When I say I hate chicken I'm talking about those huge chicken breasts I buy frozen at the grocery and then spend an hour defrosting, cutting, chopping or dicing, flattening, marinading or dredging. Some days I feel it's a position I should list on my resume: cooker of many (many) chickens. The only thing I spend more time doing is laundry (see previous post) and ok, (yippee!) dishes.

I like chickens. You know the original live ones, the ones that cluck and peck. I find them funny and entertaining with their little chicken walk and big chicken attitudes. They come in so many different colors and interesting plumage. I've also toyed with the idea of using chickens in my decor but I don't think I can look at a chicken cookie jar while I'm chopping up a once real live chicken. Nor could I have them as pets or I would never be able to look a chicken breast in the ah, breast again. It would be chicken sacrilegious or rather chickrilegious. And let's face it, it would be just plain wrong. Chicken wrong.

I use to buy more pork but I find it unappetizing when I cook it. I don't like the smell. And then there's the fact that pigs are suppose to be smarter than the family dog and Jewish people don't eat pork so I thought maybe I shouldn't eat it either. It's believed that my great-great grandmother was Jewish, so there you have it, somewhere deep in my genetic makeup is a chromosome saying "don't eat that sausage!"

Then there are cows. They're not smart like pigs or pretty like chickens and cow comes in lots of different varieties. My favorite being meatballs. Although beef is red meat and red meat has a lot of health stigma right now. Not that I think we should avoid it altogether but chicken is generally cheaper and the pan doesn't fill up with grease when I cook it. That makes chicken more appealing. And I don't eat veal because I figure you have to give an animal a chance at some kind of life before it becomes a la something. Right?

Then there's fish. I like fish. I'm leary of fish though. I've eaten some less than stellar fish and that's never a good thing. Fish aren't animals they', I think. So I don't have a lot of sympathy for them when I'm frying them up. Of course, I don't really need to be around when someone is cleaning fresh fish. I'm not a pioneer. They're not cute and I could still decorate my kitchen in fish and eat fish.

I really don't know. I'm torn I guess. There are parts of me that could do without eating meat (mostly the part that has to prepare and cook it) and then there's the part of me that doesn't want to live on beans and bean curd. There's the even bigger part of me that doesn't even want to attempt to get my kids to eat even a single bean. I'd rather chew tinfoil.

So I guess I'm back to chicken. I'll just have to sharpen my butcher knife and grease up my meat mallet, refresh those finger-licken good chicken spices and cut, chop and pound out a little chicken a la something. Mmmm-goood.

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