My First Chicken and Other Silly New Year's Attempts
Anyone else tired these days? I'm so tired that sleep has become a hobby, stollen only on weekends and spare bits of evenings not otherwise booked to capacity. A few months ago I found my first "grey" hair. It was black, thick, and awkwardly kinked at odd places. It stood straight up on the top of my head---my own mini antenna broadcasting, "Hey, this broad's gettin' old!" Justin got his first white hair sometime in these last months too. It's small, peeking out from behind the rim of his right ear. I love that little hair; he's my friend and co-conspirator.
What does all of this have to do with cooking my very first whole chicken? Absolutely nothing.
This year I'm attempting to cook one meal every week. It's been awful. I am NOT a cook! I don't enjoy it at all and the process, with its myriad of steps gives me anxiety.
Here was my first attempt: