Rotisserie Chicken

I don't know if I've told you this recently, but I attacked a bird savagely last week with my bare hands. A large, rotisserie chicken chicken flavored with honey. It was a pretty good sized bird. They charged $7.50 for it but I was under the impression that it was $8.99. I would've bought it at that price. I made an excuse to myself that maybe chickens were getting expensive too to rationalize this totally unnecessary purchase. Nothing was going to stop me from getting my little bird to the table.

This eating of food with the bear hands. I'm totally cool with for things such as pizza, french fries (though sometimes I fork those), burgers, sandwiches, hand held appetizers...and such. But for a whole rotisserie chicken? When I do this it's because I'm repeating what my mother has done all her life. She used tear those things up like crazy. And what used to make me upset is that she'd only eat the dark meat. And then for some unknown reason, she'd shred (pull into long strands) the breast meat and not eat it. I couldn't eat it after she'd done that. So I'm somewhat disgusted with myself for having this attack.

I open the box. I have to sigh. It's not always a site of beauty - all these dead things. I look at its breasts. They look succulent. I tear a piece off. It's eh. And I really wanted a good wing on a bird. I got severely overcooked ones. They were inedible. The leg & thigh were alright. Moist. Tender. A little sticky. The skin, though no longer crispy, still had a tremendous amount of flavor to it. Yes, I ate me some skin last night. Post savage attack - half a bird left. (Ok, maybe a little less than a half of a bird left.) Still, a large portion (perhaps even 2) for the Widney. He enjoys his chicken as much as the next animal will. Ok. Now. Using your bare hands (and you have my blessings), Be barbaric and Eat Something Good!