raw chicken

Sometimes I like to think I can cook.

And then I whip out the pre-cut, pre-boned chicken breast out of the fridge.

Illusion spoiled.

Well, today, I helped to cook a full on chicken. 

As in, a whole chicken in the bloody bag, with everything still inside it.

Aaron, who was in charge of this entire food science dinner, gave us (Holly and me) full responsibility of this particular chicken, as he had five other chickens to cook. Brave man.

We had to rinse it out in the sink. Holly gingerly touched it as I cut the bag away from it. She took a deep breath, and then picked it up and held it over the sink. We both squealed a little bit, I think. Raw meat is just so gross sometimes. I started running the water. 

"Um...Aaron, should we take everything out?"

Before he could turn around, the chicken excreted (nasty word, isn't it?) its neck out of its back side. Holly gasped, and I started laughing so hard I couldn't breathe, as the chicken kept popping out giblet after giblet. 

By this point, I had tears in my eyes. I felt like the boys sitting behind me in nutrition100 the other day who couldn't stop giggling while the teacher discussed constipation. 

After I had regained control, we proceeded to clean the chicken out, baste the inside with butter and tarragon, and browned it nicely on all sides. We poured broth all over it and then popped it in the oven.

It sure smelled lovely.

Mission completed.

P.S. I also helped to cook custard. I'm well on my way to becoming a chef.