I swear Officer, she was dead when I found her. Over by the docks (The Ferry Building Farmer's Market, specifically). She was lying face down in a box of ice, wrapped in a plastic bag, naked and drained of blood. Poor Bird. If a crime has been committed here, it has been a crime of passion. When I am done disposing of the body, you will find her stripped bones in a compost heap."
I might possibly contract chickenella, or end up cooking some of the bits that weren't supposed to make the cut, as it were. It won't be the first recipe I have butchered, and most certainly not the last, but it will be the first chicken.
I like to take pictures, see, of the bodies. After pulling their guts out and breaking their joints, I cut them, with almost surgical precision (almost). I ritually soak them in salt water and anoint them with olive oil and precious herbs. Then I make them burn. Or at least brown to a golden finish. It makes me want to eat them. With potatoes.
Stop me before I cook again.
I can see this is going to be fun read! Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteWhat? You've never done a bird whole? See, you're like me, we do the fancy stuff and then realize we don't know how to bake a potato properly. I have a great cookbook for you to peruse....
ReplyDeleteI am a killer from way back. My uncles used me as child labor to pluck the feathers from pheasant and quail that they had shot. I could roast a dead creature before I had a driver's license. You may call upon me as a hired gun, when ever you have need of me. For the low low price...just a taste of the flesh of the innocent.
ReplyDeleteIt is so heartwarming to see experienced mass murderers stepping up to impart their knowledge and wisdom to the next generation of Wusthof-wielding psychos. Our larded hands salute you.
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