Just Call Me Chicken

So, I have this "thing" about chicken. It goes all the way back to my childhood on the farm. Well, more technically, the visits to my grandparent's farm.

You might not know it now, but way back then farmers had this thing about eating what they raised. Yes, yes, I know, farmers don't do that now... Work with me.

So, our farm had pigs and a big garden. (And corn, but that was sold as feed- it wasn't edible for people.) I'm talking HUGE garden. Acres of growing stuff. If you can think of it we grew it. We also had Nubian goats for a while. I can honestly say that I know how to milk a goat. And, yes, we drank it.

My grandparents farm had dairy cows (I can milk one of those, too), beef cattle, a few pigs, and lots of chickens. I can also take eggs out from under a chicken without losing a hand.

But, anyway, back to the chickens. Of course there was no point is raising the chickens if you weren't going to be eating the chickens. They only lay eggs for so long, you know. So, quite often, we kids would accompany grandma outside to kill us some dinner.

You've heard the expression "running around like a chicken with it's head cut off"? Have you seen it first hand? Nasty, bloody mess, it is. But oh so fun to see as a child. But my grandma didn't cut the head off her chickens. Nope, she slapped a pole down across their heads, stood on it and pulled that birdie by the feet. (Back off, PETA, no more chickens there to save) Off popped the head and you were left with a headless chicken running around.

Then, of course, it had to be cleaned, which- if I recall correctly- involved putting the body in boiling water to make it easy to remove the feathers, cleaning the insides out - I think I must have blocked that out, thank God- and then dismembering the bird for frying or preparing it for roasting (and don't forget the neck, gizzards and liver -gag!)

Ok, so now you have my visual of chicken. And you might understand why I have a real problem eating chicken off a bone. Skeeves me out. {{shudder}} But tonight I tried something. I thought I would treat my hubby and roast a chicken. Not only roast it but place a savory bit between the skin and the meat.

WHAT WAS I THINKING???

I had to separate the skin from the meat with my fingers. Gah! And then stuff in the savory herbs in cream cheese and "massage" the mixture in to all the crevices. Touching... Slimy... Chicken... Skin... Gah!

But I did it. And I shoved it in the oven. And Doug and the girls thoroughly enjoyed it. Brenna ate and ate and asked for more. Doug said it was really good. Caelan enjoyed the potatoes. And I... Picked at it. It was too moist for me and I still had the skeevies from seeing the meat come off the bones as Doug carved it.

The recipe is here. Three out of four geeks say it's quite tasty.

And me? I'll have a chicken breast, no bones about it.