Boiling a Chicken and if I were a Stalker

Last Saturday night Rick and I had dinner at Matt's Tex-Mex. I didn't want to eat a lot so I ordered their chicken tortilla soup.

oh
my
goodness

It was soooo delicious. It had everything in there I use to not eat like broccoli, zucchini, squash and cauliflower. I know what you are saying, "Broccoli and cauliflower in chicken soup??" Well, it was and it was delicious. So it inspired me to make my own chicken soup. Problem was it needed shredded chicken. Why is that a problem? I don't cook chicken. In fact, I hate touching raw chicken. It makes me gag. And if I see any pink on a chicken? I won't eat it. Nope. Might as well throw it all out.

Sure I could have used ground chicken or cut up some cooked chicken breasts but I thought it would be better to use "real" chicken. I asked Rick to pick up a rotisserie chicken at the store and he did and put it in the fridge when he came home. Knowing how I am about touching meat, I saved the worst task for last: deboning the chicken. I got a big pot of water and chicken broth going, cut up my veggies (I forgot zucchini and squash so am using green beans and corn) and added that all to the mix.

Then it was time for deboning the chicken. gag. I open the package and it just looks gross. yuck. Yes, it's fully cooked but it's gross. eww. I'll save you all the details but I ain't doing this again. After my fingers slipped through the rib cage I lost all composure squealing in a high pitched voice that got the dog's attention. I certainly did not need any attention as I grimaced through this ordeal.

While I'm picking meat off the bones, I am reminded of a conversation between Stacy and I about cooking a chicken. I was asking for a simple chicken and dumpling recipe and Stacy gave me hers and it included boiled chicken. So I asked "Where do you get this boiled chicken? In a can?" She laughs and says "No. You boil it." "Ummm, you mean a whole chicken?" "Ummm, yes!" Well, Stacy dear, you didn't provide directions on that. Duh! So I asked "How do you boil a chicken?" She laughs again (I get laughed at a lot, it seems) and says "You boil it! Haven't you ever boiled a chicken?"

I don't know. It seems like growing up in the South with a grandmother who lived off the land and would go to the chicken coup in the morning to pick up some eggs from the hens for breakfast and then in that same day go to said chicken coup and grab a rooster and ring its neck to be cooked up for dinner, it just seems I would have seen her boil a chicken. I hadn't. Ever. I have used an aluminum dipper to drink well water out of a bucket. I have bathed in a wash tub in the middle of the kitchen. I have slept under a mountain of hand quilted blankets in the winter because the wood burning stove was in the other room. I have snapped peas on a warm summer's eve. I have used an outhouse and a pee pot. But I ain't never seen someone boil a chicken.

But I still get ribbed about it by Stacy. I think the reason why she knows how to boil a chicken is because she grew up further South than me. She's part Cajun, you know. She probably eats crawfish, too. Yuck...

So anyway, fortunately I got through the set up process fairly easily. I didn't chop off any fingers even though I tried that fancy mincing technique they do on the cooking shows. You know, it's the chef with a big blade and they just go chop chop chop chop really fast and everything is cut up real fine. I did that and surprisingly did not injure myself. There's always a chance when I handle a knife. Once I sliced my finger wide open while cutting an onion. Went to the fire house to see if I needed to go the ER - and to check out my boys. I don't mean it like that. I'm appalled you'd even think that. Some are like brothers to me. ;) Anyway, no injuries and I look forward to having it for dinner. It smells really good.

Speaking of chicken. My friend Manny took a photo of a large group of white pelicans migrating to Lake Lavon about a week ago while he was fishing. He told me where they were so Sunday I took a little trip out there. I didn't find any pelicans but I did find Manny's truck at the boat ramp sans boat. I thought about putting a note on his truck to say "Hey, I was here" but thought it would be even funnier if the note was a little more stalkerish. I'd write something like "You look so hawt in your Dallas Cowboy hoodie. Yes, I'm following you. Look around. Do you see me? Muwahahaha."

I thought better of it because it'd be my luck the truck wasn't Manny's but someone else's and they would end up being a victim of some horrible crime. The police would analyze the note and find my fingerprints. And then I'd be hauled off to jail and I'm just too pretty to go to jail. I decided against leaving a note all together.

Manny's truck:


Well, I'm off to stir my pot of chicken soup. Stay warm and safe!