Obviously, this post isn’t going to be book related. I know, the “rules” say I’m supposed to keep my posts related to all things ‘my books’, but I feel accomplished and want to share that accomplishment.
I cooked a whole chicken for dinner. And my kids ate it. My daughter actually ate more than I did. Why, you may be wondering, do I feel the need to boast about cooking a whole chicken? Because I’ve never done it. I’m forty-one years old and I’ve never cooked a whole chicken. Which is kind of weird, because I eat a lot of chicken (a lot, a lot).
I always thought it would be so much harder than it was. Maybe because we make such a production out of cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving…Are we going to bake it or deep fry it? What time does it need to go in? How many pounds do we need? Did you see you can wrap turkey in bacon?
I’m pretty sure my grandmother roasted a chicken for dinner every Sunday. When did we lose that tradition? When did we lose those basic skills? I fully admit I ate Weight Watchers meals right up until I had kids. As a single person, it was easier than cooking an entire meal and having to deal with the leftovers & the cleanup (okay, it was all about not having to deal with the cleanup). Anytime my friends and I got together for dinner, I’d offer to do it at my house so I could cook since it’s something I actually enjoy doing.
I feel like I’ve hit some adulting milestone I should have reached much much sooner. And now that I know how easy it is and that my kids will actually eat it, I see it happening a lot more often in my house.