Something snapped and I am so over roasted chicken.
This was supposed to erase the memory of the unfortunate chicken braised in milk but instead put me off baked chicken entirely.
This was supposed to erase the memory of the unfortunate chicken braised in milk but instead put me off baked chicken entirely.
Over the whole thing, the crackling skin, the bountiful aspic, the opened carcass, the macabrely saved bones, the giblets, the gross extra neck piece, the multi-step process of broth production, dry breasts, the disposal of mess.
I ate one third of this half breast and threw away all the rest, the entire baked bird, the whole pot, and it is perfectly good too, an unacceptable waste that breaks every rule, but I am so totally over it.
Not over chicken, just over baked whole birds.
For now on it's simple little things for me, pounding a chicken breast, fry it and be done with it, leave the mess for the cooks especially with Tony's right there with their own excellent broth. Seriously, there is no point in bothering.
Merry Christmas, here, have a holiday crafts project for children, a nativity pop-up card, skip to the end to see how it looks if you care to see.
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Something serious happened and everything is different now.