There is a saying ... just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should do something.
Can you come home at six thirty at night and start baking a chicken? Of course you can. Should you come home at six thirty at night and start baking a chicken? No. No, you most definitely shouldn't.
I don't know what County Market's malfunction is ... but we're gonna have to have a talk. Normally, when I get off work at 5:30, if I run into County Market on 6th Street, they have a half dozen deliciously browned rotisserie chickens available for sale in various flavors to choose from. For the last two ... three ... maybe even four weeks, when I go in after work, there isn't a single chicken left.
Today I asked them if they started making less ... or if they stopped selling them earlier now ... and the woman assured me that they're just very popular right now. She said that, for some reason, when there is snow on the ground, you can basically guarantee that all the chickens will be gone before 5:00. I asked her nicely, "Well, then shouldn't you make more?" and she laughed and said they already run the ovens at full capacity ... that rotisserie chickens are just famously popular when the weather is cold.
Okay, well ... hey ... knock it off, you cold weather chicken-eaters! I happen to love chicken year-round ... and you are taking my chicken.
I have been craving it for weeks now ... and tonight was the straw that broke the fat camel's back. I walked over to the poultry aisle ... grabbed a big ol' roaster ... and made for the checkout. You guys eat all the County Market chicken? Fine! I'll make my own.
I drove home, pre-heated the oven, and got my bird all ready for the oven. So figuring the time at the store ... the drive ... the prep time ... it probably didn't start cooking until six thirty at the earliest. Um, did I mention I bought a rather large chicken? I finally took it out of the oven at eight thirty and let it rest while I made dressing ... and at 8:45 ... it was time for dinner.
Epic fail.
For some reason, I accidentally picked up cornbread stuffing ... which I don't care for ... but it was all I had in the pantry. So I had dressing ... which I didn't like ... and a chicken ... which I was too tired to eat. Jesus Christ ... it's like the Gift of the Magi ... with chicken ... and no other gifts ... or people. Fuck it, it's nothing like Gift of the Magi but work with me.
I give up. I don't know what the universe doesn't want me to have rotisserie chicken ... or why it took my chicken such a freakishly long time to cook. For what it's worth? I cook a mean chicken and what I ate was delicious. But after maybe half a breast and a couple bites of dressing, I gave up.
I took a shower ... and I'm going to bed. I'm not lazy ... I swear. But Goddamnit it people ... stop buying my chickens!
Before you break my heart
Stop in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Think it over
Think it over
The Supremes -
Stop In the Name of Love
(and chickens)
Consecutive posts about breasts. I like the trend here.
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