A Whole Chicken

Something you may not know about me:

I am afraid of dead things.

When I pass a dead bird lying on the sidewalk, I scream.

When I see goldfish floating at the top of the aquarium, I shudder and walk quickly by.

When I'm served cod with the eyes bulging and the scales perfectly intact, I feel queasy.

And I certainly can't break a chicken's legs.

Today, the folks who deliver our fresh organic veggies also brought us a chicken. We asked that he be delivered in the Western style - no head, feet or inner organs. It should be easy from there, right?

I checked The Joy of Cooking. What, exactly, does one do with a whole chicken? The Rombauer women went into great detail about how to choose a chicken, the difference between a broiler and a roaster, and how to prepare the various types and sizes. Unfortunately, my chicken didn't come with a label and I've never been skilled at eyeballing poundage. The only thing I could tell for certain was that my little bird had little hairs sprouting out from his little skin. And this was the one thing The Joy of Cooking warned me against.

I tried.

I really did try.

I told myself its just chicken, and I've held chicken before.

I told myself they're just little hairs, and they'll just come right out. All chickens probably have little hairs, I told myself.

To avoid the hairs, I tried to skin the chicken . Just typing that made me cringe. This went alright around the breasts, but as I had to maneuver the wings and get around toward the poor little guy's rear end, I lost my nerve. The chicken, all of his hairs, and his skin covered little rear ended up in the garbage - which went immediately to the hallway dumpster.

I'm lucky my local grocer sells chicken breast for cheap. Cheap because who would want to eat the easy part? The neck and the feet come at a premium - now that's hard work. Oh my gosh.