Actually, Mrs. HM had a bad leg before The Pony turned up lame. At least HER bad leg was not a personal appendage.
Once Farmer H left on Wednesday, and I was footloose and fancy free, I picked up some Country Mart fried chicken. Farmer H is not a fan. I got the 8-piece, with the intention of feasting on it over several days. The Pony, after all, would likely be working those 10-hour days, and picking up something for himself on the way home.
The first supper of fried chicken was fine. I got home with it around 4:30, and set some on a pan to warm in the oven while I changed clothes and cherry-limed my magical elixir. The next supper was not so good. I saw that my 8-piece chicken had been born with one wing and three legs! I bet that really led to some teasing in the chickenyard.
Anyhoo... whereas my first meal had been delicious, this one was not. That third leg was dry as a bone! I took a bite, and a chunk tore loose in my mouth. A chunk of chicken leg that might as well have been JERKY! So dry and tough. Not at all satisfying. I got a picture of the bone that remained.
Seriously. That's after ONE bite. Which I had to pull out of my mouth and see if it was actually edible. I ate a bit of it. Pretending like I was on that ALONE show, and it was the only meat I'd had in 30 days. I did not even want to gnaw the rest of any desiccated meat off that bone. I put it in a baggie so it would kind of steam and stay moist, like decomposition makes a compost pile. So it wouldn't be splintery for Juno the next day. I'm 100 percent certain she enjoyed that chicken leg more than I did. Of course I pulled off the tiny needle-sharp bone first.
That chicken must have belonged to Methuselah's grandpappy. It was no spring chicken, that's for sure. Of course I kind of forgot about my bad chicken leg when The Pony got home with his own bad leg. Juno did not get a taste of THAT one, but Jack was jumping all over the freshly-wrapped ankle when The Pony tried to get out of his car.
Things around the Mansion have gone south at an exceedingly rapid rate. Like "The Summer of George," this vacation from Farmer H does not seem to be panning out as planned...
4 comments:
Awww, you have my sympathy. I SO SO hoped you'd have a delightful time while Farmer H was gone.
I guess when the cat's away, the mice don't play too much...
I bet that dry leg was one they found in the fryer at the end of the day and set it aside for the next day's 8 pack orders. Ugh!
Maybe it is me, but fried chicken doesn't taste as good as it used to. Could be that I am too tired to care what I am eating. It is not recommended for a heart healthy diet, but not much is.
Sioux,
I SO SO hoped myself! While the RAT'S [fixed it for you] away... the mice should be playing all willy-nilly, without a care in the world.
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River,
That's exactly why I should have stood at the counter and tapped the little bell sitting on top to call a deli worker to fill an 8-piece box for me! My knees talked me out of that, in favor of grabbing an already-prepared 8-piece box sitting in the warmer.
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Kathy,
I think you're right. The BEST chicken was from the Gas Station Chicken Store, but since the VIRUS, they can't get people to work in the kitchen. They can barely keep two cashiers. I certainly don't eat the fried chicken as a health food! It's very salty, and I could moisturize an entire elephant hide with all the grease.
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