About a million years ago my sister wrote and told me she was grilling a chicken that sits on a can of rootbeer. I thought it was the coolest thing ever and then you started seeing it in magazines. If you fill the can halfway with something flavorful and aromatic, then stick herbs in the opening of the can, you can then basically, well you sort of, the thing is, you take that bird and you set him like he's just gonna sit and then you push that can up into his little hole until everything sort of just settles and he's lookin' rested.
It's a little weird. It's never good to get attached to your dinner but I sort of formed me a little bond with him and felt I could confide in him after I sat and studied him a spell. He was a roaster and on sale to boot. I shouldn't eat meat and sometimes feel terrible about it. I decided I'd celebrate him by making a nice little bed of soft quinoa and a beautiful cucumber, tomato and strawberry salad.
He was super juicy and if nothing else, I was very grateful that he came into my life and roasted up so nicely. There is no way to describe meat in a way that doesn't sound horrible when you know you have vegetarian friends. I have mixed feelings. A mix of denial and hunger. I gave up alcohol and drugs, I gave up what I sometimes feel was simply a lot of fun. Sure, there is all kinds of fun and as my sister reminded me last week, we were all bad ugly drunks in this family. Not the lively chipper party girls we may envision. But still, you only get one life and the only thing worse than being a mess, is being a bore. My evolution is very slow going. I feel I need meat right now and if it's a horrible thing then I'm sure I'll pay for it soon enough as I seem to do for anything I enjoy too much. I don't usually think this but sometimes it really sucks trying to live the straight healthy life. I can relate to the plight of this little bird.
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