It was inevitable. We suddenly had 3 roosters after hatching out 5 chicks- but now we're down to 2. And that fried chicken on Tom's plate? Yes, that WAS the teenage rooster.
I judged poultry in high school and processed chickens weekly. It's grotesque, but it's the way it is. I don't think I could have watched Tom, with the ordained chicken hatchet, (handed down from my grandma in law) send our teenage rooster to chicken heaven.
After plucking and gutting, here he is, on our plate. It's a reality and reminder that back in the old days this was the norm. You raised animals to eat them. This was my first encounter and won't be my last (our next Sunday dinner=fried chicken, one more to go), but boy did Tom love it!
To spoil him more, and since I get kinda queasy looking at that fried chicken and remembering where it came from, I make buttermilk biscuits with honey butter.
Now I know why I feed my chickies so well, Tom said he tasted delicious! (Still not sure if that settles my stomach.....)
The Farmer's Wife