I go to the store, pick out a chicken and come home and place it in my freezer. This is a typical, normal rather predictable pattern of events. However, what occurs mere days later in my kitchen in nothing short of a MMA fight- me vs. frozen chicken innards.
I have taken a frozen chicken and placed it in my sink at 7a.m. and come back at 5p.m. to a thawed chicken and still frozen solid sack of innards.
I have run hot water in the chicken-- innards, still frozen.
Every time I try to prepare a chicken for the oven I end up giving it some sort of twisted gynecological exam. I have ripped and pulled at the bag of gross, only to end up with a hand full of innards. Sensory memory still gives me the pleasure of remembering what a raw, cold, chicken liver feels like in my hand
Sadly, P is usually within earshot. Thankfully, he is usually watching Yo Gabba Gabba or chasing Abby around the house.
Because of this, and for a few other reasons, we are not having turkey at our thanksgiving. Instead the Phillips fam will be noshing on; ham, mac and cheese, collard greens and oyster stuffing. Have I mentioned that Josh's family is from Tennessee?
Since we are not having turkey on Thanksgiving we decided having chicken on Sunday would not be too redundant. Josh took on the chicken tackling and cooking efforts. Here is the conversation we had as he prepared the bird. It should be noted that in our house, if someone is in the kitchen and the other person is in the living room, the two people cannot see each other, but can easily carry on a conversation.
I was in the living room. Josh was in the kitchen.
Josh "What is this, the neck?"
Me: "Yea...there's more too. Haven't you ever done this?"
J: Uh-huh, but ...really is this the neck?
M: That's not all that's in there. Keep digging.
J: Do I take it now or after
M: After what
J: After it cooks
J: Oh opps, I was at the wrong end.
After my silent giggling from the couch subsided I asked for clarification. It seems Josh was aware that innards were in the chicken, just not clear on exactly how many innards. He was also trying to pull them all out of the top of the chicken, not the butt portion.
Oh sweet Lord.
After bit I went into the kitchen to actually see what is going on. By this time he had removed the innards and he was seasoning the chicken.
On it's back.
When I pointed this out he said, "Oh, I thought that was the breast part..."
So many things are wrong here.
In the end we were making beer butt chicken, so the seasoning issue was a non-issue since all areas of the chicken were exposed.
Josh took his violated, seasoned dead, raw chicken to the grill. Then he ran out of propane.
I cannot make this stuff up.