Okay, so my up north friends tend to think it’s hilarious to talk to me about the things they do that is somewhat different from the way we do things in the city (IE carry a rifle through the woods with a can of beer in the other hand).
They laugh at the food I’ve tried and haven’t tried.
“Have you ever had squirrel?”
“You mean to tell me people eat squirrels?”
That said, I’m sure they’re going to have a lot to say after I talk about what happened last night…
I started to make chicken stir fry. I put the chicken tenderloins in the pan and started to cut it into pieces. All of a sudden I found myself light-headed. It was weird because I’ve cooked chicken at least a thousand times before. Regardless, I’m putting the knife to the chicken and my hands are shaking and my head is spinning.
I hollered for my husband in case I was about to pass out. He came running in, asking me what was wrong with me. I said, “I might faint.”
“Why?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I see a vein.”
“It’s big. I think it could be an artery.”
I looked at him, then I put the knife down and had to walk away. The room was spinning. My hands were shaking. I could hear a whistle in my ear. I couldn’t handle it; it was just too much for me.
My husband cut the veins out of the chicken. He then cut the other ones out of the other pieces. As many times as I cooked chicken in my life, yesterday, my body decided it was done.
I think about my friends up north who gut deer, fish, and well I guess squirrel, and my respect goes out to them. I can’t fathom that. The last time I cooked a whole turkey or chicken, I had to drive the thing raw to my mom so she could remove the “innards” before I could cook it. Now, I’m close to fainting with a knife in my hand. Hmm. I can write books, sew quilts, draw pretty much anything, bake, but God forbid I almost die cooking raw meat. Sigh.