Monday, July 31, 2006

Chicken Meat

The nice thing about the internet is that you can get into as many cliques as you want. Some people actually go way overboard. Of course, avoiding chat rooms is a good way to keep from wasting too much time.

A few years ago, I got invited to a Christian email list that's a spin-off from the list for Christian parents of ADD/ADHD kids. It's a really great list because of the loving fellowship and the total lack of strife and flames.

It also helps that we're all just a bit nuts. But hey, what do you expect from a list that's spun off of a list for ADHD parents.

Somehow, we got on the subject of animals and meat and how to turn live animals into dead meat... or something like that. It's common knowledge that factory farms are more like concentration camps than places designed to nurture life. Also, while most slaughter houses do a good job of killing the animals humanely, there are enough bad ones to give a certain animal rights terrorist organization plenty of ammunition for making a really bad video.

But we got past that. Someone made the mistake of asking exactly how the animals are killed. heh heh

Now, please understand that the apples don't fall too far from the tree. My kids managed to pick up the same sense of humor that I got from my dad. With some of Mary's sense of humor thrown in... well, they have their fun.

Since we all enjoyed Chicken Run, we call our meat chicken "pies". We don't talk about going out to the broiler pen or the cornish rock pen. We go to the pie pen and feed the pies. Paul likes to pick up one of those fat heavy things, pet it, and say "What a nice pie! You're going to be tasty!"

A little humor helps with the fact that we are raising those birds for our table. A few people had some bad experiences as kids -- eating a meal, then finding out that they were eating what they considered to be a pet. In some cases, it couldn't be helped. In others, it was rather insensitive of the parents.

But as for the pies... well, they are pretty generic and white. They are as about as smart as a stalk of celery, and have less personality. They reason we get them is because they grow so quickly, and because they have big breasts, and great thighs and legs. The wings are pretty good, too.

So, what did this stodgy conservative bunch of Christians think of that remark?

Well, they all tried really hard to come up with an appropriate reply, but most admitted that they couldn't think of anything that they would repeat. [snicker]

Hey, who says we can't have fun?

Of course, all this mayhem is going on at the same time that prayer requests are being made, and also when we are encouraging each other.

But on the local front, I actually did cook up some of those birds that I so gallantly slew this past Saturday. I cooked four thighs and drumsticks (I keep them attached), plus some mashed potatoes and peas. One of my dear children complained about the meal and wouldn't eat it (there was no gravy), so he ended up going to bed without eating much.

As for me, I had some home-made bread, and I might eat some peas. I'm not much of a fan of dark meat. I guess I'm more of a breast man.

So tomorrow, the rest of the chicken meat ought to be relaxed enough. It'll all go into the freezer. I put one drumstick/thigh in a small zip lock bag, and the huge breasts (gotta love those cornish cross birds) go into recycled cereal bags. The people who manufacture breakfast cereal like to put it in bags that you need a knife to break into, so I use them in situations where I need a really tough bag.

I started the dinner early, but we ended up eating it way late. Mary came home from seeing some patients, and picked us all up and took us to Lake Missaukee. She dropped us off and went to see her last patient for the day. By the time everyone was done, it was late. Most of us ate, anyhow. The picky often go hungry, though.


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