Many many years ago, Dad and I were sitting in the KB KFC, eating a chicken. I had a drumstick and breast, as was typical. And one of the oysters--Dad had just showed me how to find those gems.
"When I was young" he said, "I used to eat the drumsticks and breast, too. But as you grow up you learn to eat the back and neck and let other people have the big pieces." Something like that. I think he also brought in Gram. The storyteller in me wants to re-imagine the scene, but the nonfiction writer cringes and the realist says, "Remember, Dad will read this," so we'll go with that reconstruction.
I thought he was nuts. What could be better than a chicken breast?
And then Thailand happened.
One of the great local customs is for butchers to sell chicken carcasses: hack off the wings, breasts, and legs, then sell the remainder to a cart vendor to deep fry, along with the hacked-off bits. And fun factor aside--how much more fun is it picking out all the juicy bits than having a ready-cut hunk of meat? (yes, I live and eat alone, remember)--a nice breast chunk costs more than a fried carcass. What's not to love?
And then there's breakfast. Organ meat soup with leaves collected that morning. For some reason, farangs have issues with intestines and livers and bowels and spleens. And locals are surprised when I enjoy them. About all I can say is, "Bring it on!"
"When I was young" he said, "I used to eat the drumsticks and breast, too. But as you grow up you learn to eat the back and neck and let other people have the big pieces." Something like that. I think he also brought in Gram. The storyteller in me wants to re-imagine the scene, but the nonfiction writer cringes and the realist says, "Remember, Dad will read this," so we'll go with that reconstruction.
I thought he was nuts. What could be better than a chicken breast?
And then Thailand happened.
One of the great local customs is for butchers to sell chicken carcasses: hack off the wings, breasts, and legs, then sell the remainder to a cart vendor to deep fry, along with the hacked-off bits. And fun factor aside--how much more fun is it picking out all the juicy bits than having a ready-cut hunk of meat? (yes, I live and eat alone, remember)--a nice breast chunk costs more than a fried carcass. What's not to love?
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