Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Don't Bake Chicken in a Tank Top is Some of the Best Advice You'll Ever Receive

Alternate Title: WTF is Wrong With My Chicken?

I often do battle with chicken in the kitchen. Sometimes bacon. I'm a magnet for splattering grease. Mr. Farklepants takes pity on me likes to watch and mock when he sees me dance and dart away from the stove top while I make those little sounds like "AAAh!" "YIKES!" "OH NO!" and "SHHHIT!". I thought I would be safe enough from baked chicken but I'm often wrong about these things. I have severely underestimated the chicken. She's wicked crafty, that hen. I opened the oven and pulled out the rack [the metal one in the oven as opposed to the one between and just below my shoulders also known as THE rack]. I should probably mention that it is March in Southern California so I'm sporting a tank top plus oven mitts. And just as I've got a decent grip on the sides of the pan; the chicken makes a sound like it has just shot the cap gun to start the race. That race would determine the speed of my reflexes and my ability to get my face away from the oven before it is met with projectile chicken fat. Hot, flaming projectile chicken fat. That was released like buckshot. Aimed at my face. My arms, however, were your basic cannon fodder. And my shoulders. I didn't say a word. Or make a sound. I set it back down and started to cry a little bit. It didn't hurt as much as it scared the fecking FECK out of me. I asked Mr. Farklepants to please help me and remove the chicken from the oven because? I'm afraid of it. Yes. I'm afraid of our dinner.

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Totally Unrelated Exchange

Girl-Child: Do you like dragons, Mommy?
Me: Yes. I think they're awesome imaginary creatures.
Girl-Child: I don't like 'em.
Me: Why not?
Girl-Child: Because they blow me.

I sincerely hope that "fire breathing" is pronounced "blow me".

27 comments:

Bunny Bunster said...

OMG! Killer chickens and blowing dragons.
You are just way too crafty with the word Ms. Farklepants.
Love ya!

Allie said...

Let me start off by saying yay for warmer weather. I hate the cold.

I tend to make silly noises while I am in the kitchen cooking, cleaning, anytime really, and Andrew always seems to get a kick out of it.

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

I've been cooking in a convection oven for 10 years now, yet I have never once remembered that when I open the door 400 degree heat will come blowing out and melt my mascara.

So I totally get your chicken attacks.

THE MOM BOMB said...

Thank you, thank you Miss Farklepants, for giving me yet another excuse not to cook: potential grease burns.

Tonight it's Chinese. You just can't be too careful.

Angie said...

I thought when they were dead and ready to be eaten they were no longer dangerous. I will remember this chicken attack.

KEEP BELIEVING

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

I think I want to move in with you. I would NEVER stop laughing!

I'll be adding "Chicken attacks" to my list of reasons I'm staying a vegetarian, btw. Thanks for the warning!

Melissa said...

Hell, I'd be afraid of your dinner, too! And your daughter is getting blown already! Wow, you have a full service house, huh? ;)

Ya... About That said...

Ah yes. The spitting chicken. People should blog about those. Oh wait... Anyhow, yes, I'm admirous (a word? prob not) anyhoo... I'm admirous of your rack. I have no rack. Things like clothing and hands slide off my rack. It's like there's the bumps to hold the rack, but alas, no rack to speak of. Damn those life-sucking kids who took my rack. I'm gonna get them.

Melissa said...

That's pretty much why I'm terrified of pork--the splattering, not the blowing.

tammy said...

I had a similar fat spitting experience last night with some bratwurst. Which I cooked on the grill (note: I live in MN which means cooking on the grill in March isn't done often).

I'm still ROFLMBO about dragon blowing. Hee hee hee!

HRH said...

sage advice. sweet little confused girl-child.

Karen said...

That dragon convo? Totally hilarious.

I have a huge scar on my wrist from chili. It bubbles up and spit on me. Cooking is very dangerous and we should be awareded the privilege of eating out more often.

EatPlayLove said...

My advice, buy a cute apron at Anthroplogie then on the way home pick up a pre-cooked chicken at Costco for $5.00, throw it in the pan...And dazzle your family.

Cooking whole chickens really does scare me and thanks Tootsie..you haven't helped my fear!

standing still said...

Ha ha ha. No, not the flaming grease, but Girl-Child's comment.

Jen M. said...

Shut UP this made me laugh. The blow me part, not your being maimed by hot chicken fat.

Angela said...

You know, Girl-Child might have given old Elliot Spitzer a head's up (no pun intended) about this. Mighta saved him a WORLD of trouble. Just sayin'.

jennifer h said...

I can't decide which one was funnier.

But I think that chicken blew you.

Pinky said...

That's one dangerous chicken! I'm not afraid of cooking, it's the cleaning up that gets me.

Buford Betty said...

OMG hilarious. Just stumbled upon your blog recently - love it!

Colleen said...

we've had exploding chicken fat, too...but it was when we did beer-can chicken on the grill and the old bird caught fire. Due to my bacon-makin' skills, I was able to dodge most of the flying flaming fat...but the hubs? not as much....hee hee!

a. beaverhausen said...

You need a Hazmat suit to make dinner.

Cheri said...

Oh my. You're frightened of your dinner and dragon blow your child. Too funny.

JCK said...

Unrelated exchange is CLASSIC. Chicken fat explosion is...TRAGIC. I hope you lathered yourself in aloe and let Mr. Farklepants take over the mighty chicken!

stu said...

I've cooked bacon in boxers on a Saturday morning. It is a reminder to wear a robe. Although bacon is worth getting burned for.

-Stu

smalltownmom said...

Yes, that darned chicken splatters and pops like crazy when I take it out of the oven. Chicken has never burnt my sagging late 40's rack, but I have burnt my stomach draining water from potatoes.

honeywine said...

And never make grilled cheese in nothing but your panties... Got the scar to prove that one...

Lulu said...

Um, since I don't cook, I have no advice nor can I relate to the attack hen. Word.