Due to health concerns that exploded last spring this summer I decided to transition to a gluten free, lactose free life style. If I thought the dietary transition was a bit tricky in the States, then here in Egypt it could be a part time job. The life of a full time student and full time volunteer barely leaves time to cook however my digestive track insists that I eat “special- not-found-on the street” food thus I must essentially cook everything I eat. It’s a lot of time.
This past week I tried a new curry-honey-mustard baked chicken recipe. The recipe calls for a whole chicken and whole chickens are readily available in the markets, so I decided to try one. One time, I helped our domestique in Senegal, prepare a whole chicken. I have never prepared a whole chicken by myself. If you know me and my phobia of blood, bodies and everything associated with raw fleshy things you are correct to ask, what the heck was I gonna do with a chicken!
Got the chicken home—I chose the one that was already dead, feathered and cleaned. Ahamdililah! The recipe called to break/cut the chicken into smaller pieces. If the recipe wanted smaller pieces why did it originally call for a whole chicken? This is a recipe from the US- butchers regularly offer already cut up chicken…
I pinched the little leg- it bent like a real leg. I dropped it and my blood pressure followed suit. I turned around the pan—big whole in which I could see a backbone and blood. I turned the pan again- something that looked like a chicken’s anus. I began to prepare the marinade as the naked chicken sat on my counter.
After mixing the mustard and honey, I mustard up (yes, pun intended) the courage to snap off the back legs. I quickly washed my hands and fled the kitchen to catch my breath again. My head was spinning.
My guest was to arrive in 40 min. The chicken required 90 min to cook and in our nasty Cairen oven that means 2 hours and the naked chicken anus was still pointing my way. I called my friend for support and advice. She had none but told me to go buy already cut breasts. No. I debated calling my Grandma—but really, she’s in the States, she can’t break this chicken. I debated if could I just throw the whole bird in the pan and cook it? I mean that what they do in the movies for Thanksgiving. Then walked in my roommate! Thank God, for roommates!
About 4 min, a few grunts and sawing like sounds later, the chicken was in pieces in the pan. It turned out delicious! And of course I played the, “you don’t understand the sacrifice I went to w/ this dinner”…and he did the dishes! :)
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