My Memories of Fried Chicken

Memories of my mother and grandmother and there fried chicken… First was my grandmother killing the chicken, with a broom stick and bare hands (won’t go into details, to gross)…? As the chicken flopped around the ground for awhile bleeding out my grandmother would get out the gas burner and prepare the boiling water, then the chicken would take a nice hot bath, so the feathers would come out easier… I watched my grandmother plucking its feathers then searing of the pen feathers… One thing I didn’t like was the smell of the wet feathers and the seared pen feathers, awful… After all the prep came out the cast iron skillet, Cisco, the floured, salt and peppered chicken… Time seemed so slow when you could smell the chicken cooking, but you knew dinner wasn’t far off, for by the time dad came home from work, washed up dinner was on the table… The deliciously fried chicken, side of vegetables and the mashed potatoes with pan drippings gravy, Oh, soooooooo goooooood. I am sure making myself hungry… ©2012