Bitch on the Blog

March 29, 2014

Chicken Maryland

Filed under: Animals,Atmosphere,Fairy Tales,Food — bitchontheblog @ 07:57
Tags: , , , , ,

There was a time when I knew how to bone a raw chicken. Yes. Really. Without so much as ripping the chicken’s skin. It’s an art. Which I mastered in an instant. I am still in awe of myself.

Now? I don’t know. Give me a chicken. Will I have the patience to bone it? I’ll probably just roast it whole. Help yourselves. Knives and forks optional. Kitchen tissue (in lieu of linen napkins – don’t tell my mother) in plenty supply. As an aside: For some reason, other than a dearth of washing up liquid, washing powder and toilet paper, absence of kitchen tissue does make me nervous.

And then there is Chicken Kiev. A couple of days ago the Angel and I had dinner together. Not that I mentioned Chicken Kiev. Instead he mentioned Putin. And then smiled. When he heard me expound that ¬†sometimes politics or absence of hair does NOT matter. It’s where men have one over women. Not that my politics have ever mattered to anyone. but dare say if I lost my hair no amount of power would make up for my loss. Oh to be a man. Yes. Power. Such an aphrodisiac. Who’d have thought it.

Where were we: Chickens. Yes, John is getting married. To my arch rival Chris.

I don’t trust chickens. I was once attacked by one. To be fair to the chicken – a veritable Chickorous Rex to my three year old self – it was nothing personal. Just took a shine to the apple I was munching. Still. It was the first time my trust in the good in the world was shattered. Closely followed by one of the neighbours skinning a rabbit – in my line of vision. Leaving aside the beauty of the white Mink coat I recently mentioned I can’t stand fur. Obviously it does have allure. Particularly if you wear little or nothing underneath. I do remember one of my mother’s jackets. Hated it. Not that I told her. Yes, fox collar. And then there was my first teddy. I was very fond of him. But couldn’t bear the feel of his fur. So I’d grip him by one ear and drag him with me through the mud. It’s tough to be loved by the wrong person.

If I keep going it’ll be only a short matter of time till I mention tar and feathers. Yes, to be tarred and feathered. One of these days I shall extol to you the benefit and virtue (make that delight) of history, folklore and fairy tales.

Hugs and hisses,




  1. And I am from the land of the Tandoori Chicken and Chettinad Chicken Fry!

    Comment by Rummuser — March 29, 2014 @ 14:32 | Reply

    • And there I was hoping you’d take up that rather witty line of mine “It’s tough to be loved by the wrong person”.

      Maybe Shackman will oblige where you left off.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2014 @ 15:19 | Reply

  2. So John and Chris getting married really bothers you, does it?

    Comment by friko — March 29, 2014 @ 15:04 | Reply

    • No, Friko, it doesn’t ‘bother’ me. I am very happy for John. Anyway, he is gay – that’s me falling at the first hurdle. And I am not the marrying kind. Obstacle if ever there was one.

      However, I always fancied myself as a farmer’s wife. I’d be good that way. Fresh bread. Milking cows and the goat. Kitchen garden. Full of herbs. Lots of Le Creuset casseroles doing what Le Creuset casseroles do. Instead of which …


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2014 @ 15:17 | Reply

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