Friday, August 17, 2007

The Chicken Dance; Not Just For Weddings

Hugh has been cooking dinner a lot, lately. I credit that to the fact that he and his grill are still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship and, until the bloom is off that particular rose; I intend to milk it for all it’s worth.

So, a couple of nights ago, Hugh decided to break in the grill's rotisserie attachment and we agreed that Cornish game hens would be the perfect thing with which to do so. I was unprepared, however, for how vulnerable the poor little things would look as they were being impaled upon the rotisserie rod.

Sensing my discomfort, Hugh attempted levity by dancing one of the poor bastards across the counter top to the tune of Boogie Wonderland. It didn't really help. Nor did his baby-chicken ventriloquist act for that matter. I was totally sad for those little birds.

In fact, it was all I could do to eat one of the poor bastards after Hugh had basted it with his special marinade and roasted it to a fine, juicy finish.

I powered through though; I’m a trooper that way.

(It was delicious)

Tonight, we are meeting Younger Sister and her family in a neighboring town for dinner at the Olive Garden. They are on their way through to Denver where they will have the final walk-through on their new house before the closing on Monday. I’m so excited for them and can’t wait to see them.

Also, another night that I don’t have to cook and I won’t have to see my food dance across the kitchen before I eat it.



  1. My husband hasn't ventured into the rotissiere on the grill he bought me for Mother's Day.

    That chicken and corn looks so good.

  2. I like the chicken dance Hugh did for you. Now that is a supportive spouse! ;)