Fried Chicken

Big Black Dog

Platinum Member
May 20, 2009
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Fried Chicken

(The Thoughts of Big Black Dog)​

There is lots to say about fried chicken. Most of it is good because when in your life have you ever heard anybody bad-mouth fried chicken? Fried chicken has been with us forever and they were frying chickens long before people ever wondered about which came first, the chicken or the egg. It actually makes no difference because both the chicken and the egg are meant to be fried. If you are an American, I strongly suspect that you love fried chicken. The best fried chicken does not have the name of a State in it’s title. Usually, really good fried chicken will have a name like Mama’s Fried Chicken or maybe Aunt Fanny’s Fried Chicken. Southern fried chicken is always better than something called anything else. Good fried chicken never has the name of a cartoon character in it’s calling either. That’s just plain wrong.

I’ve always had a fondness for fried chicken. It isn’t my fault that I like it. I learned to love it at an early age because of family history. I was raised Southern Baptist. Being a member of this particular church family had it’s advantages. There was always lots of fried chicken to partake of. You could never bury somebody without fried chicken. I doubt if anybody would even agree to perform the funeral. Usually, before the recently deceased has even reached room temperature, someone from the neighborhood has arrived at your house bearing a platter full of fried chicken. More will follow as the news makes it’s way around town that someone has died. No church pot luck meal is complete without several different offering of fried chicken, and if you’re under 14 years old, you get a leg or a wing. Older people get the better pieces. I never tasted a fried chicken breast until after I joined the Navy and left home. That selection was meant only for your father unless the preacher was eating with you. Then your father ate a thigh. Each member of the family is assigned a certain piece of fried chicken according to their age and to maintain family harmony, that assignment is best not tampered with. An additional thought on this matter is something I have always wondered about. Do members of the clergy know what any other portion of fried chicken tastes like except for the breast?

Another great thing about fried chicken is the fact that it can alert you to certain events. If you enter the kitchen and your Mother is fixing fried chicken, you can rest assured that it is either Sunday, you are going to have some company, you are going on a picnic, or someone has died. If none of these functions are happening, and your Father did not get a big promotion at work, it’s a safe bet that your mother wrecked the car. Under these circumstances, and if it hasn’t already been done, ask if you can set the table. Leave the kitchen quietly without asking a lot of questions. Prepare yourself for a fun-filled, exciting meal. Your father will most likely be full of conversation. Remember that sometimes it is better to be seen and not heard! Act surprised. If you just can’t stand it and are compelled to speak, tell your Mother how good the fried chicken is.

My final thoughts about fried chicken are these. Who invented fried chicken? How did something so wonderful find it’s way onto our tables, into our picnic baskets, and endear us to our Mothers, Grandmothers or some other special person because they fixed it best? Shouldn’t the first person to ever fry a chicken have a huge statue in a public park somewhere for us all to see and for pigeons to roost upon? Doesn’t this individual deserve some acknowledgement? The next time you are driving down the highway, you just might see one of those trucks ahead of you loaded down with chickens in crates, clucking with heads held high as they make their way to their final destination. As the feathers drift past your windshield, give thanks to the farmers and know that fried chicken always tastes best when washed down with sweetened iced tea.
 
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I am one of the few persons I know who does not like fried chicken at all. Eating chicken skin makes me gag.

Even the thought of it makes me....errrr....*swallow*....ahhh....gag.

I know most folks like it, though. I can't stand peperoni, either.


Nice piece, BBD.
 
I don't know who invented fried chicken, but I know more than I want to know about the history of cotton candy.

Good piece BBD.
 
I have a theory that a strict diet of nothing but carnival food can cure cancer.
 
Or was that cause cancer?

Empirical tests have been inconclusive, but I do know a fat midget with tattoos all over his body who claims he is 200 years old.
 

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