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The dilemma of a lazy cook

 


So, I was lamenting to my good friend about how tiring my week was turning out to be. And he, trying to be supportive consoled me by reminding me that Saturday was just around the corner and I could rest. 
When I ‘lamentatiously’ reeled of my list of chores for the weekend. few of which include but are not limited to unbraiding, washing and re braid my daughter’s hair, hovering and washing the car, laundry, cooking, cleaning the house, school work, Work work, prepping for next week and grocery shopping. 
He sweetly offered to take the shopping task of my hands. No doubt he was tired of hearing my ‘a single mother in Europe has no help’ speeches.
I was so grateful and relieved.

Within seconds I Whatsapp him my list.

On that list was chicken. I wanted to do a little chicken stew. I didn’t specify after all one of the little conveniences the modern woman has is that our foods come to us processed.

Ready to eat. 
Ready to cook. 
May God bless the inventors of industrialization, mechanized farming, and mega supermarkets. 
Yes, Lord Bless them all!

Especially in this Germany, that has a world-famous reputation for butchering and processing meat. Look if there is a way to slice and dice meat on this planet it was definitely invented here in Deutschland. 
I got an inkling of that when I was little and my Uncle who lives in Germany gifted my mother an electric knife. 
Hmmm yes o an electric knife! 
True story.
I remember thinking they must really like to cut meat over there.

So imagine my shock when the shopping came and there was a whole chicken in the bags. 
A whole chicken, uncut, undiced, unsliced chicken?

Don’t get me wrong I was super grateful to receive the shopping but a whole chicken? 
Why now?

So he passed by the already cut chickens arranged according to body parts, ready to put in the pot and cook and got me a whole chicken.

Come on.

I know I didn’t have to kill and pluck the damn thing but in this day and age a whole chicken is just one step away from me going to the coup to catch the damn bird.

But I didn’t say anything to him. I just popped the bird into the fridge.

Two days had passed and anytime I looked in the fridge there was that bird mocking me and taking up space.

Today was the day ooo! That bird had to go and I was not cutting it up. So I washed it and pooped that bird whole in the pot. Put an onion up its ass and steamed it with my blended spices.(As shown in the photo) Then I roasted it.

I am here to testify that that turned out to be the best chicken I have ever made. In fact, it was so good that we finished it before I even thought to take a picture. Me and my child tore the flesh from the bones with our hands like in ancient times. There was no knife involved.

And now you cannot convince me that this is not how roasted chicken was invented. 
Once upon a time an ancestor of mine couldn’t be bothered to cut up some chicken and decided like me; to hell with it lets roast the whole bird.
You know what they say necessity is the mother of invention.

 

 

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