Gallus gallus died for your sins. Or because of mine, it's unclear.

My little vegetarian daughter talked me into assisting with murdering moving some chickens into the next life. She convinced me that this is a karma neutral activity, and that if you lived a long life as an organic free-range layer hen in the Snoqualmie Valley, you've had a better life than most animals -- you've never had to apply for a job or worry about money or face rejection or suffer a weird random act of violence or deal with long lines or existential ennui or wonder what you should do with your life or get cornered at a party by someone boring, and last but not least, you don't have to write a book.  You just eat scratch and bugs in this beautiful valley with your little chicken friends, and then one day, before you get to the suffering achy failing part of old age, some random human arrives with a sharp knife...

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.


  1. Poor little chickies...ask not for whom the axe falls, it falls for thee.

  2. When we butchered a mean rooster, I stewed that thing for a day and then made chicken and dumplings. They were delicious.
    You have no idea how much this post delights me.

  3. I'm almost speechless - that will be the day. The gizzard is lovely, in an icky kind of way. I'm thinking your daughter is on to something. We're too disconnected from where our food originates, and it comes too cheaply and easily. I bet those empanadas were amazing.

  4. I used to get to pluck the chickens my father beheaded. I actually kind of enjoyed it. Now I'm a vegetarian, for unrelated reasons.

  5. I am just so glad you didn't show us the chicken pre-dispatch. Thank you for that.

    Highly entertaining - although I see only seven empanadas. I am imagining the eighth one, though, and how tasty they were :)

    1. Oops. Just came back and noticed the pre-dispatch chicken picture at the top!!!!!!

  6. I thought of Ms. Moon as I read this post and knew she'd laughed, and that made me laugh more. I also thought about what you must have looked like, walking around and taking those photos.



    Have you ever considered barnstorming with an engine modified to use the residual heat to cook a cake above each cylinder?

  8. I wish the carnivore son could have been there!


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