thekristydave

So we bought a chicken today with the hopes of roasting it tomorrow. We are spending Christmas day with a Frenchman and our favorite Palestinian and I wanted to make something a little special. So we went to the butcher and stared at the giant ducks and pigs’ heads and rabbits with the fuzzy feet still attached and remembering our tiny “fournaki” or literally “little oven”, decided on a chicken. (Ok, it wasn’t only the small oven that made me decide on a chicken. What do they do with pig’s head anyway?)

Here the chickens come with everything but the head, and I was a little worried about what was left inside. Barely able to speak English today, I decided not to ask the butcher in my terrible Greek and just bear the brunt myself of whatever cleanup was left. After we told him what we wanted, the butcher took the chicken out of the cooler loosely wrapped the bird in some paper and shoved it in plastic. As I dug for the money, we watched him grab some pork chops out of the other cooler to give to another customer. With the same ungloved hands, he took my money and handed me change, which I gave over to Dave. He looked down at his hands with the coins, then back at the butcher and, as we were walking away, said with great enthusiasm “Thanks for the meat money.” After a few more trips here and there to get the other fixings, we found our way home and opened up the chicken. Thankfully, the cavity was empty save a few giblets and all I had to do was pluck off some stubborn feathers and cut off the neck (which I need practice at, since I think I broke some ribs.) Since the bird looked hairy, I thought I would take the advise of a few of my chicken tender friends and try to burn them off. With shoddy results and when the smell of singed hair started to get to me, I stopped. Hopefully the chicken won’t taste fuzzy after it’s roasted.