Beau Wann, Jr.
STOP ME BEFORE I COOK AGAIN ! ! ! ! ! I am a confessed serial COOKER ! ! ! Lordy lordy lordy miss clawrdy. It all started with the almost 7 pound chicken I bought. Man she was a beaut! Ha, 7 pound chicken got nothin on me. Everyone loves a tender chicken dont they! Yeah, I thought so, and I'm no perception eyether. I tried to stuff it in the pressure cooker, and all the liquid was displaced by my beautiful 7 pound chicken. Before long, water was everywhere. (always remember to add the water after you put the chickent in)
Didnt slow me down moren an hour cleaning it up. I finally got the glorious 7 pound chicken stuffed into the pressure cooker sans most of the water. Decided to add a stick of butter for flavor and all, dontcha know. This wasnt no hucklebuck butter, land O Goshen, it were Land O Lakes! Turned on the pressure, and 30 mins later it was still trying to pick up steam whilst pushing more water and chicken juice out onto the center island.
No worries, that's what they make paper towels for. I think they should make a little larger roll though, cause the puny rolls they give you wont hardly clean up diddly chicken juice. Ok, pressure cooker is out, but hey, this is a multi purpose pressure cooker, and will do a slow cook, HA, no stoppin me now. I set the controls on auto slow cook for 6 hours. In hindsight, that was about 3 hours too long.
Reason I set the controls for 6 hours, one memorable occasion popped up in my rocket surgeons head of an incident well past and long since forgotton. I remember my mom and grandmom and aunts and anyone else with a license to cook, telling me that when I bought a chicken to cook, "GET AT LEAST A 3 POUND CHICKEN". The chicken incident I'm referring to, happend sometime around 79 or 80. My boys were 10 and 12 around abouts thereof.
I wanted to have fried chicken and mashed taters and gravy and all the trimmings for my boys. (I were a bachelor back in them halcyon days, single father and mother) So, me and the boys went to the store and I spied some puny chickens around a pound or two, and then I heard a voice in me punkin haid saying, "when buying chickens, get at least a 3 pound chicken". Well, I'm one of those folks that if a little is good, more is bettter. 3 pounds translates into twice as good when you purchase a 6 pound whatever.
Well, I cooked this fine Sunday dinner, did I mention that it was for my boys, I'm sure I did, me being the fine father and all that I was and am. Called my mom and got her recipe for crust and gravy etc, oh man, Im on the way to greatness! This dinner could go down in the annals of culinomics as a dinner fit for the Queen mum herself. I'm here to tell you that the chicken turned out golden brown and for once the crust stayed on like Church's chicken does. The colonel would a been so proud of me! ! !
One small detail I forgot to mention, had a grease flare up and it caught the upper kitchen cabinets on fire. Once again, "if you fail to plan, you plan to fail", had me a fine fire extinguisher that put the fire right out, and didnt even disturb the cooking. What the heck, I really didnt like the color of those doors anyway, and was planning to change them, eventually. Now of course, sooner than I had anticipated. I've never really made "blackened" anything, on purpose, just sort of happened from time to time. I wonder if anyone else has made blackened kitchen cabinet doors?
Anyway, once the smoke had cleared, and the fire alarms shut off, the chicken was done and beautiful, all the trimmings were wonderful as well. We sat down at the table and before we partook of our fine sunday dinner, we gave thanks to the lord for all our blessings, to which I might add, I believe I heard both boys in unison give thanks that we had a fire extinguisher. An aside here, I held weekly fire drills at our house, so the boys would know what to do if such a calamity should befall us. I just know they were groaning inside that now since the fire, I would probably step those up to twice a week. One cant be too careful can one!
Ok men, dig in! The charge of the light brigade, taters to the left of me, gravy to the right of me, peas all over the place and glorious golden brown fried chicken in front of us, and blackened kitchen cabinets behind us. We all filled our plates and started talking and eating, taters and gravy etc when I noticed the boys were'nt eating the chicken. I hadnt tried it yet, I wanted them to enjoy it first. "Why men, you're not eating your chicken, why? " "Uh dad, it's kinda tough" I believe they said in unison. "TOUGH? FRIED CHICKEN AINT TOUGH".
"Here watch a master of fried chicken eating", I bit down in a chicken leg, and my teeth bounced off, having made nary dent. I checked all the chicken parts, and you could barely cut them with a knife. So, I chunked it all out and we went to the health food store, Dairy Queen and had burgers and frys, something I should have done to start with. Most expensive dinner I have ever had. I asked my mom later what I did wrong, and she said, "you cant fry a 6 pound chicken, it's for roasting", "But mom, you said always get a 3 pound chicken, so I thought one twice that size would be better..." she replied, "son, next time, go to KFC and see the colonel"...
Back to today, I've learned my lesson, maybe, 6 hours later, that ol 7 pound chicken was ready to come out. It was kind of tender, and mostly falling off the bones, so had to get a speghetti thingamabob to fish the chicken out seeing as how it was falling apart in my fingers, and did I mention it was still hot? Ok, got the strainer under the chicken and pried er loose from the cooker and just about to put it in another container, when my hand slipped and so did the chicken and it went sliding across the center island like it had a motor. "Houston we have a problem"! ! ! !
I quickly ran around the other side of the island, slipping and sliding as I run, and caught that ol chicken before it hit the floor. Did I mention it was still hot. My hands are really mad at me as we speak. Fianlly got that ol monster bird, RODAN into a fridge container, when you know who shows up...the little woman.
It's a good thing I'm almost deaf, I thought I heard, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING"? or woids to that defect.
"Why honeybunch, I'm cooking dinner" I said right proud. "COOKING DINNER? she said. "Well, I had a slight set back here and there" I said. "A SLIGHT SET BACK ? LOOKS LIKE THE ST VALENTINES DAY MASSACRE! At least you didnt burn the house down!" Ha, see there, always a silver linning!
Well, we got it all cleaned up, and I asked her what we could do with all that chicken that was so tender, bordering on chicken mush. Not to worry, my beloved saves the day, and whuuped out her rolling pin and commenced to making a pie dough and lined one of her pie pans and is at this very moment making a chicken pot pie. I asked if I could help with anything else, and I'm not sure if she was being facetious or not when she said, "why dont you get on the "forum" and say howdy to all the folks, and tell em your wife wasnt injured in the 7 pound chicken massacre".
Ok, fine, about that time I Heard Dixie-Belle barking at the door, and directly the little woman hollared at the dogs and the cats, now it's me, two dogs and two cats banished to the office. Here's a piece of advice for all youse youtes...leave the cooking to someone qualified, a card carrying fully licensed chef! I dont think my soup and canned veggie expertise has suffered at all as a result of the 7 pound chicken meelee. Think thats' what I'll stick to, canned stuff.
Ok, time to deplane, the dogs eyes are big as silver dollars and bugging out, why?, the two cats are starting to growl and yowl at each other, and both dogs are deathly afraid of the two saber tooth tigers in our happy little family. "Ok you two, take it outside" I grabbed both of em and chunked em out on the screened in porch..
Keep the sun at your six and stay out of the kitchen...
your frien and resident psycho chicken killer, ChefBeauCephus esq...
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