Tastes like chicken

We've been buying all of our food at the farmers markets.  My favorite vendor is Lisa from Lucky Pig Farm and her adorable 7-year-old son named Calvin.  Lisa is so friendly and talks lovingly of her animals and farm.

G-man and I rode our bikes to the market and I decided to get some chicken from Lisa.  Unfortunately I got a flat tire on my bike.  Luckily there's a bike store right near the market, so I left my paid-for chicken with Lisa while my tube was replaced. 

When I returned to get my chicken Lisa was busy.  I enlisted Calvin to retrieve my chicken, then G-man and I rode home.

For dinner we'd decided to cook the chicken and accompany it with roasted corn and potatoes from our yard. 

G-man roasted the chicken and I never saw it until it hit the plate.  When he served it I asked where the drumsticks were. 

"There weren't any," he told me.  "It was just the breast meat."  I scratched me head. confused: the chicken I'd bought had had legs and wings.  "It wasn't 2 pounds, either."  I'd bought a 2-pound chicken.  2+2 wasn't equalling 4.

Oh well, the meat was hot and on our plates, so we dug in.  It was good and tasted like chicken.

The next day Lisa called me: Calvin had given us another customer's rabbit loin.  Lisa had frozen it for us and would bring it to the next week's market.  She told me that Calvin was horrified and had cried because he didn't want me to be mad at him.  I'm sure that he has seen some people's faces when they walk by the stand and cringe at the "fresh rabbit" sign.

Calvin and I hugged and made up the next time I saw him.  I assured him I wasn't mad at all.  Hey, I've lived in France, home to equal-opportunity meat eaters!

Tonight we're going to eat that chicken I bought.  I've seen it: it has 2 legs and 2 wings and it's definitely a chicken.