So what came first? A demonic rooster or the evil little egg?
Yesterday we talked in great length, I’m quite certain too much length, about my issues with the evil little egg. Today, we are going to talk about an evil rooster; A demon spawned Brahma named Clyde Boudreaux. Some of you had the pleasure of meeting ole’ Clyde up close and personal. He had a thing for spurring you right in the crotch. Who knew?
When my cherub Tiffany joined FFA in high school, I was very surprised to learn we were going to be the proud parents of some baby chicks. I was ok with this and actually thought it would be super fun. I grew up with plenty of chickens, a wood duck named Henrietta, a mallard named Henry, and an ornery old goose named Miss Lucy. When I was about seven, Miss Lucy came home with us after a fishing trip to Lake Murray with my daddy. I was thrilled when I saw a little gosling swim up to the boat. Daddy said, “Missy, do not dangle the hook in front of that goose!” So as was customary for Missy, what did I do? Yep. Dangle, dangle! And we got ourselves a goose. Boy did I regret THAT move after the third or fourth time she chased me around the yard flapping her wings and honking like an 18 wheeler with no brakes. Precious memories. Ugh.
Tiffany’s baby chicks were supposed to arrive in February. As is the story of our life, they did not. They arrived at the end of December. Two months early and on the day of my annual Christmas drop in. Of course. We had nothing ready, no coop, no heat, no nothing! After a few brief screaming fits and running around like a chicken with my….well you know…we finally accepted we had no other option than to put them in her room. All 50 of them. Fifty five to be exact, as the chicken growers were kind enough to ship EXTRAS just in case any died in transit. None did. How considerate to send us extras. Bless their hearts. In went the hay and in went the chicks. It turned out to be quite the highlight of the Annual Christmas Drop-in. Wow.
A good year passed and the chicks did what chicks do. They grew up. They grew into some very fine layers and roosters I might add. We had a great assortment of fancy feathers, Leghorns, Plymouth Rocks, Lace Wyandottes, Cochins, Rhone Island Reds, and then… well, then there was Clyde. Clyde Boudreaux. (Insert sigh and shake my head here.) It’s a long story on how the name came about. I will say there were copious amounts of whiskey involved. And a bonfire. And country music. And probably too much time spent on naming a rooster.
This is not Clyde, but perhaps a close cousin. They could have been twins. Yep, this closely resembles my horribly wicked boy.
Gorgeous wasn’t he? Yeah, don’t let those looks fool ya. One day I was cooking dinner and watching out of the window into the back yard. Tiffany was feeding the chickens when low and behold I saw Clyde in the corner of the yard, and Clyde saw Tiffany. I guess he was just in the mood as I watched him bend his head down and charge at her, leaping into the air like a Ninja rooster, spurring her right in the crotch! And he didn’t let go! There was my daughter running around the yard like man on fire with a rooster stuck to her crotch. Life is stranger than fiction. You can’t make this stuff up.
I ran outside to try and help, but, uh, HOW do you help THIS situation? After what seemed like an eternity of us both running around the yard in circles looking lost, me wildly wielding a broom and her screaming like a renegade banshee, Clyde finally let her go.
Very shortly after that neurotic episode, we awoke one fine morning to find only Clyde’s tail feathers lying beside his post on the fence. It seems an owl finally got the best of old, heinous, demon spawned Clyde.
I bet you thought I was going to say he met his fate in this fine pot of White Chicken Chili below. Or maybe in a nice bowl of chicken salad. Perhaps, one could find him in a savory chicken noodle soup or maybe he would turn up in a hearty cacciatore. I mean, after all of his shenanigans, I would be justified in taking an ax to his feathered hide right? Alas no, it was an owl. A great big, hooting owl twas the demise of old Clyde.
Really. A big old owl. I Promise. 😉
Rotisserie White Chicken Chili
- 1 roasted or rotisserie chicken
- 6 cups chicken stock
- 1 diced red pepper
- 1 diced green pepper
- 1 diced onion
- 2 cans white beans
- 2 garlic cloves, minced
- 2 ears roasted corn on the cob, removed from cob, or 1 package frozen corn
- 2 diced jalapenos (More if you like it spicier)
- 1 can green chilies
- 1 1/2 tbsp cumin
- 1 tbsp coriander
- 1 tbsp chili powder
- 1/4 cup Cilantro – chopped
- salt & pepper to taste
- sour cream, tortilla chips and limes for garnish and topping
- 2 tbsp. olive oil
Rinse and drain beans. Mash half the beans with a fork or potato masher. Place oil in a pan with all vegetables, garlic and chilies. Add spices. Saute until tender. Add chicken stock, and beans stirring well to incorporate all ingredients. Add shredded chicken and Cilantro last. Simmer for about 30 minutes. Serve with sour cream, lime wedges and tortilla chips.
I like chili. I hate crotch grabbing roosters. Bon Appetit y’all!