Fred is Dead...And Shall Be Dinner~

So here I am, in the kitchen, with The Little Chicken, my wonderful $10 bottle of wine, and a small wedge of Brie and some cocktail crackers. So in other words I am in heaven, pretty much. 

According to Thomas' recipe in the Bouchon cookbook, he advises you to brine your bird, but of course I was much too busy after this afternoon's shopping spree faffing around and reading my new cookbook "Splendid Soups" by James Peterson to notice I was supposed to be brining my Little Chicken, so I didn't. Fortunately, Thomas says even he just salts it and calls it a day. So will I!

I rinse off my chicken, whom I will call Fred. I pat him dry with paper towels, then place him on my bright red Ikea cutting board, which I only use for meat in the interest of preventing salmonella poisoning, as recommended by the US Food and Drug Administration Center for Food Safety and Applied Nutrition. I am supposed to truss him with twine, so I cut a long length of kitchen twine and approach Fred warily. 

"Cut a piece of kitchen twine about 3 feet long and center it on top of the neck end of the breast. Lift the neck end of the bird and pull the twine down around the wings and under the chicken," Thomas says. 

I gingerly lift Fred, apologizing for the imposition, which probably seems counterintuitive to Fred since I'm eventually going to eat him, then I attempt to position my twine on Fred's neck and pull it down around his neck.

Horrors!! Fred is crippled! One of Fred's wings has been chopped off! And not by me, although it's true I've been nipping off the bottle of grenache a little prematurely! I bought a crippled kosher chicken! I'm feeling a little flustered about this development, so I refill my wine glass and eat some Brie.