Gallus gallus died for your sins. Or because of mine, it's unclear.
I was going to try to make this outing into horoscopes, but it turns out I don't have it in me. It was a weird mix of sweet and tender and sad and studly, so let that be your plan for the week.
|The chicken gizzard is just beautiful. Did Georgia O'Keefe know about these things?|
|This is the interior of my refrigerator. I know. Only one beer and a bowl of elderly chicken.|
|One horrible part that I was involved in of removing the feathers. Apparently I missed a few.|
|Does this look a tiny bit religious? It is quite possible, dear readers, that this chicken died for your sins.|
|I just thought I should put her in here, since she dangles above the soup pot.|
|Eight chicken empanadas. I believe there was about 18 hours of labor involved, making these quite valuable. And now there are only six.|