The Big Chicken

I made the kids fried chicken yesterday. I told them they better enjoy it because to get chicken here, I had to go to a LIVE CHICKEN STORE.  I had to tell the guy how many kilos I wanted. He picked a chicken, tied a string around its feet and hung it on a scale to weigh it. Then he  said Bismillah as he cut off its head, doused it in scalding water and put it in an automatic chicken-plucker. (An automatic chicken plucker--who knew?) Then he cut off the head and feet, gutted it, rinsed it off a couple of times and put it in a bag.

I had to take the chicken home, rub the whole thing inside and out with salt and rinse it with water. The salt kills the chicken smell. I'm not sure if that's dead chicken smell or live chicken smell. Better not to dwell on that point. Anyway, I put it in the fridge for a couple of hours while I recovered from the trauma.

When I took it out of the refridgerator, it looked and smelled like supermarket chicken. Hooray!!!!!

So then I fried it.  Yummy.