Since marring Brian, I have learned a lot of things about life, about agriculture, and about myself. For instance, I have learned that I am way stronger in many ways than I ever thought I could be and way less of a feminist than I thought I was. I can hunt my own food (turkey would be my favorite, clean and dress what I shoot, and then cook it too) then turn right around whining and crying till Brian changes my tire. See, it’s the perfect balance of self- reliant dependent woman.
So, today Brie and I conquered a goal and personal fear – we dispatched a Rooster from our flock and had him for diner. I had to do the ahem, dispatching, but it wasn’t so bad. I elected to go with the wringing neck technique. Then, for good measure, and a leftover from my turkey hunting, I stood on the head and pulled till I heard a pop.
See, earlier in the year Brian and Brie went and bought some replacement hens, but we ended up with 5 roosters and 3 hens. So more boys than girls means more meat and less eggs.
Well, after the deed was done, I finally got to use my Great-Grandma’s scissors to ahem remove the head and drain out the blood before removing the innerds of the bird.
Above, Brie is waiting till all the blood had drained and we can start plucking diner. From here our diner was off for a quick dip in scalding water. Then to plucking. That was fun. Brie, Cord, and I had feathers everywhere and it didn’t smell the best – maybe like wet dog??? But still fun to do with kids.
Then, being the kitchen nerd I am, I have a small kitchen blowtorch to crisp off the remaining feathers. Sorry I didn’t get a picture of that step. It was hard enough hold a bird, a blowtorch and everything. Then the final removal of internal organs (remembering to save the liver, heart, and gizzard as my Mom kept repeating for me too) and trying not to be to big of a science geek and analyze the organs instead of prep them. Now, clean up the front porch and head inside for final prep to get diner in the oven.
And we were such ravenous little piglets that we dug in before I got a nice picture. I know it looks a little pink but that was the lighting in my kitchen – I checked the temperature twice before cutting into the bird and the juices ran clear. But that bothers me about the picture.
Anyway – Brian had a good laugh about his diner tonight because he was remembering one of our very first diners together. See, I did not grow up on a farm. I did not grown up hunting and growing my own food. So, one night as a new wife I ask him to stop and get some chicken for me to cook for diner. He came in with a chicken cut up in pieces but still it had skin and stuff – I freaked !!! The biblical phrase – there was wailing and knashing of teeth would have been an understatement about my reaction. I remember telling him that what was I supposed to do with that – that was an animal, and I had ask him for a chicken. See, I grew up in a house where chicken meant a package of chicken tenders or at worst a few breast but never did anything come in my premarital home that reminded me of an actual chicken. So, there I was a new wife with little money to buy something else and food to cook that look like it could get up and walk. It was a long night for Brian.
So, for me to be able to help care for (Brie does most all of the day to day care for the chickens) and ahem dispatch the chickens when needed. I think I have managed to come a long way. Tonight while I was finishing supper Brie talked her Dad into putting a layer of sand into the outer run of her coop and calling a friend that he knew to find her some more laying hens. Now, if I could just convince her to get him to fix the front and back doors and install the piece over the stove.