Thursday, June 24, 2010
summertime and the livin's easy
after work, we do what we have to do to get our butts to the river. the biggest problem of any summer day should be "where are my flipflops?"
b had requested fried chicken for our last picnic at the river. i meet any meal requests for the kids, but fried chicken made me hesitate. i hadn't made it in years. seriously, it was one of those moments of "what kitchen were we in when you made this last, mom?"
let's get this straight. i am a chickennurturer who names her chickens and clucks with them in the morning when i feed them. so, to have two huge tubs of chicken parts soaking in buttermilk was disturbing. your mind can't wrap its self around that is not chicken. v couldn't even look in the fridge. she would stick her arm in and feel around for her almond milk or fruit and quickly shut the door. s + b would look at that mixture and think 'when is dinner?'
once i started dredging it and frying it, i remembered my grandmother and all of the dinners that she made for her family and why she made it. more than likely, one of us begged her to do it and she did it.
and it tasted like chicken.