Pickin’ A Chicken
As I mentioned in my previous entry, I also picked up a roasting chicken at the Farmer’s Market.
When I arrived at the market, I felt uneasy for some reason. I’m not sure I know how to shop without pushing a shopping cart and selecting prepackaged food. I brought along my soon to have a birthday son. He informs anyone, whether they ask or not, that he’ll be seven in so and so days. Oh to be young again, when aging was exciting! Now the years only bring a few more aches and pains in muscles and joints I didn’t know I had.
I approach the farmer’s booth and timidly ask, do you have any chicken and eggs left? Half heartedly hoping she was all out so I wouldn’t have to go through with this transaction. Getting my food here is just wierd. She happily reached down into an ice chest and presented me the bird in a zip closed plastic bag. No styrofoam plastic wrapped pre cut chicken at this Farmer’s stand. I gave her the money and quickly placed the eggs and the chicken in my reusable shopping tote. I’m trying to be green all the way of course.
By the way, trying to shop at my local grocery store with reusable bags is an adventure as well. The baggers at the check out look very confused and take twice as long to bag my groceries in my reusable bags. It’s like trying to order a la carte at a fast food restaurant. They get off kilter if you don’t use the meal deal number.
Back to the chicken, I have it in hand and I grab a loaf of bread from another vendor. Then I high tail it out of there. I’ve got to hurry home. I don’t know how long this chicken can last outside the refrigerator because there is no “expiration date” on the package. Why do I have anxiety over this bird sitting in the back of my mini van?
I get home and move fast as lightening. I throw the zip closed plastic bagged bird way in the back of the fridge, hoping my husband doesn’t come into the kitchen while I’m doing it. I spent a pretty penny on these things and golly he is going to eat them. Knowledge is power and so is keeping others ignorant. Discretion is of the utmost importance to seal the deal. I’m going to roast that chicken and have my family eat it.
A couple hours pass and the family is distracted. I sneak in the kitchen and pull the bag out to inspect the bird. I’m freaked out a little, there are either a few feathers left or those are bruised follicles left behind after plucking. I can’t deal with it right now while my family is home. I haven’t even opened the bag. I’ll have to wait till they are out of the house. So I throw the chicken back in the fridge. And then under my breath quote Vivien Leigh “After all tomorrow is another day” from movie the Gone with the wind.
Roasting to be continued later…