we were visiting my family on the weekend and, one thing having led to another, we went home with a frozen organic free range chicken. (which isn't nearly as dirty as it sounds.) now as you well know, i am a lacto-ovo-pesco vegetarian (which, as i explained before, means i can be all morally superior and still eat the stuff i like). mister monkey, on the other hand, is a passive omnivore. by this i mean that he will eat meat, and he will occasionally cook meat, but for the most part he goes along with me. this weekend he got to craving chicken soup. hence the chicken: to make chicken soup (and good god, he makes the bestest chicken soup!) so you could say that this chicken was heaven-sent. (if heaven posted chickens, that is. which, it is my understanding, they do not as a rule. but then if you were god, would you follow rules? i sure as shit wouldn't!) ANYHOW (sometimes i really annoy me), back to the chicken at hand (which, i am told, is worth two in the bush!).
mr. m got fairly detailed instructions from my aunt as to the proper dismembering of said bird (while i stuck my fingers in my ears and sang the smurf song). but we didn't get to the chicken till the following day (and when i say "we" i mean mr. m acting entirely alone), and it was really funny because i sat in the dining room pouding away on the keyboard, and mr. m stood not one metre away from me at the kitchen counter, dismembering the chicken and casting worried glances in my direction. part of the problem was that, as mr. m put it, "look, the chicken ate another chicken!" which was the way he chose to explain the chicken feet (!) and giblets that were stuffed inside the chicken's...ahem...cavity. (i figure it was a chicken mafia hit, but what do i know.) at any rate, mr. m kept standing in such a way that his body shielded the chicken mutilation process from my dainty vegetarian eyes, and if ever i should get up and wonder to the fridge he shuffled along and kept the carcass covered. it was quite funny, actually. and every once in a while he'd call out, "don't look!" it got to the point where i WANTED to see the carnage.
well, short story needlessly long as you have no doubt gotten to expect from me and who am i to fail your expectations, one chicken part was baked with lots of onions and garlic and it smelled heavenly. that is the one strange thing about me (yeah, aha, the ONE strange thing, you say, and i say, shut up or i won't let you play with my barbie collection!). i like the smell of pretty much all cooked meats (except raw-ish beef which smells like used feminine hygiene products and don't go all grossed out on me, cause blood is blood and that's that!) provided they are cooked well. and the baked chicken a la garlique was deeeee-licious smelling. similarly whenever mr. m eats a nice sausage or pork roast, i always ask for a sniff. that's all i require of meat now, just a sniff.
he will make his amazing chicken soup today if he has time post-condo hunting. and maybe, just maybe, i will have some.
the end of the chicken story.
in other news, the movers have been sighted entering the prairies and should bring their donkey cart round tomorrow at 8 am. two words: down duvet. yay!