Gnawing at the Bones
The inspiration for this morning's post comes from "No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog," by Margaret Mason. Face it, people: sometimes you're stressed for content and the well's run dry. Sure, you could, I don't know, point out REALLY OBVIOUS stuff about other bloggers that everyone already knows ... but let's be above that.Here's Margaret's idea, reprinted word-for-word. Consider this an ad for her superlative book -- the t-shirt at that link is good, too.
#30 -- Be Yourself
"Things I like -- dogs, reading, movies, hanging out with friends."
Honey, who doesn't? As long as you're writing one of those ubiquitous list de likes, at least make it worth reading. You readers don't care about whether you love kittens, they care about the quirky things you love, the things only you love. Say something surprising.
Hot rotisserie chickens bring me closer in spirit to any dog that's ever drooled on a lap at the dinner table. Once I have one in a filmy plastic shopping bag, I have to head straight for the nearest private place and immediately devour its limbs. The breast meat can wait. I'm talking here about leg and thigh meat hanging off the bone and that delicious wet sucking pop you hear when you pull the thigh from the body.
If I'm alone with a hot chicken, I get to hear that wet pop twice.
There's this weird little triangly bit at the back end of the chicken, between the place where the legs are bound with that weird elasticy rubber band. I call it "the nut." It's delicious, whatever it is.
I love to find the oysters, those two tender little meaty ovals of chicken muscle that have never been exercised and savor them, but quickly. The chicken is cooling, you see. And cold rotisserie chicken is never as fun.
Here's where my hot chicken lust gets weird: I like to eat the bones.
Bird bones are so soft and savory, and they've been marinating in chicken broth pretty much since the egg hatched. I love the gentle cracking you get from gnawing the cartilage off of the end and the calcium-rich broth that results from carefully, thoughtfully chewing chicken bones. It takes a little time, but man, it's worth it.
I'll eat the rest of the bird's bones when I get around to seperating the breast meat for use in pasta, burritos, whatever. Cold chicken bones make for a decent appetizer, as long as nobody's looking.
This whole exercise, gobbling chicken extremities, takes maybe half an hour, and is always conducted while standing over the kitchen sink.
Then I wash my hands and put the rest of my groceries away, taking a shower if necessary.
As a matter of fact, I am still single, ladies. How could you tell? Feel free to get in touch.
posted by Jeff Simmermon @ 8:30 AM
19 Comments:
while the description of you eating chicken was impeccable, i was throughly grossed out.
personally, i love popcorn chicken.
Simply sexy. For a minute there, you made me want to eat meat again. Then the talk of the bones made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
Wait, Jeff, do you have to microwave the bones after eating to make them more brittle? If I recall, chicken bones are pretty hard---making the eating process really uncomfortable.
I'm honestly going to try this, but I need your technique.
Rotisserie bones are pretty soft -- slow-cooking marinates 'em in juices. Just chew SLOWLY and CAREFULLLY.
MM -- if you ate meat again, would it have to be raw, too? Like, Kobe beef sushi or something, or would you just take it down werewolf-style? That raw food stuff is for the birds, man.
So this is really what you single guys eat.
All that talk about mayo sandwiches...
my grandma used to eat the bones, too -- it never stopped bewildering the grandkids.
there's a joint out here in alexandria off of mount vernon called senor chicken (yeah, hokey name) that does some of the most ridiculous fall-off-the-bone chicken you've ever had. check it out sometime, you'll fall in love.
The triagular bit is called the pope's nose or the parson's nose depending on which side religious line you fall.
Very sexy. Music to my french ears.
Clotilde
The pope/parson's nose is almost pure fat, which is why it is so tasty.
For me, the real gratification comes after the family has had a run at the bird. Then, I get to stand over the sink and pick every last bit of meat off the thing. I'm pretty certain it's the time of the week when my wife reviles me the most. No matter. I quickly devour the really fatty pieces and put the rest into a blue tupperware container. Chicken salad this weekend, baby. Chicken salad.
OMG (and that from an atheist meat-eater). Let me guess- do you weigh more that 200 pounds? Like maybe, much more? Do you have fat-for -brains? Just a guess. I'm sure there is someone out there that is just as disguting as you although, unless you buy 3 chickens the food fights may prove fatal.
Actually, I do weigh more than 200 pounds. It's not the chicken habit that's doing it, though. My doctor has narrowed it down to two possible causes:
1)a glandular disorder, or
2)the fact that I eat two large cheese pizzas rolled up like burritos every morning, for breakfast.
The part you call "the nut" is commonly referred to as "the Pope's nose". No shit.
Nah, if I ate meat again I'd go for the cooked variety. But the were-wolf style you speak of is very tempting....
"weird little triangly bit"?
THE TAIL.
That's it. The parson's nose. My Mum loves it too, though I always call it "the chook's arse."
as a matter of fact i am eating chicken leg bones right now.
i like the dark spongy stuff in the hollow.
i am married and pregnant
I am a SouthAsian. Among meat eaters in south asia and many other countries around us eating bird bones is a common practice--especially the softer ends of the bones and the marrow inside harder bones. These are very delicous--sometimes more delicious than the meat itself. Bone marrows of bigger animals are also very popular. If you never ate these, once you taste them (porperly prepared and cooked, of course) you will know what you have been missing!
Found this through Google. I eat chicken like this just as well! Glad to know I wasn't the only one.
(For some odd reason, I'm not single.)
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