A certain text message had me heading to the liquor store and to get my very own Chicken in a can this morning.
I saw something unimaginable yesterday….. and I may be job hunting this afternoon.
A little history is definitely in order.
My daughter is a natural vegetarian. From the time she started to eat solid food, she would pick the meat out of every meal and push it to the edge of her plate. She’s never liked it, it’s always been a struggle…. and I’m a pretty awesome cook.
I have a PB&J policy. If you hate what’s for dinner, you can use your PB&J card once a week. She would happily hum and make herself a sandwich at the first hint of barbecued chicken.
So imagine for a second, the horror of what we saw at Super 1 Foods last night.
I- That is just WRONG. EWwww Naaaaaasty. $6? How much is a chicken OUT of the can?
J- Not much more… I’m tempted to buy it, just to see.
I- I’ll tell Grandma on you. No. I’m not eating that. Grandma will give us a happy chicken and you can’t beat free. Let’s buy ice cream instead.
My mom grows her own meat birds, and if you’ve never had happy chicken? Find one. I promise you it’s worth whatever exorbitant price you’ll pay for an animal raised with respect and love.
You shouldn’t eat homicide victims. It’s just wrong.
But…. curiosity got the best of me and I went back this morning to buy my very own Chicken Ready. With absolutely no intention of eating it. Honestly after seeing the horror first hand? I feel like giving the poor thing a proper burial.
I opened the can and the smell hit me just like when someone vomits next to you. Uck. It’s so bad I had to put it in the oven just to type this. It’s nastiness is invading my home.
It really is packed in broth. Nasty, greasy gelatinous broth. The horror is unspeakable. The smell is nearly as bad as the idea of a whole chicken in a can.
and to add to that horror? It’s face down, ass up….and not in a good way.
Oh dear GOD in heaven… this is nothing short of poultry abuse. Truly. Have you seen Food Inc? You have to know this poor thing lived its extremely short life in a dark smelly barn with a couple hundred thousand of her fellow hens… living just long enough to be murdered and shoved head first into an aluminum can.
I think I have to bury it. I don’t think I can throw it away like I really want to. Even though it smells so so bad. My Buddhist upbringing calls for me to right a few extreme injustices for this poor mistreated creature. Talk about a violation of one of God’s children… chicken or not. This poor thing has been violated on an epic proportion.
We’re talking about a gelatinous bowl of disgustingness. Oy vey & a half.
Ohhhh the smell. Nothing could prepare me for the horror of the odor that escaped from the Ready Chicken in a can.
Close your eyes and imagine for a second… if you can stand it… the cheapest dollar store can of chicken feet, combined with over salted pigs feet. The smell has me spraying Febreeze all around the house while my poor little dogs hide in the kids rooms.
Smart little beasts too. I keep wishing I hadn’t thrown out my nose plugs. It’s that bad.
And I’m too nice to throw it’s poor dismembered body in the trash. I just can’t…. but I don’t want to touch it either.
Uck…. and Ouch….
This takes my free-range dedication to a whole new level.