Get you a good 14” cast iron Pan and season it well (you should already have one if you’re serious about cooking but everyone starts somewhere)
Go ahead and crush up four green crayons and add a fistful of the flavorwax to about 1 mason jar of high test and squeeze a lime in it; that’s a Fancy pants marteeknee for y’a to sip on.
Know, go get you a chicken, kill it, and clean it. We’ll start when your done.
sips green crayon martini
Okay, here’s what you do:
Flip that burd titties down and take a pair of scissors, don’t matter if they’re garden shears or fabric scissors unless meth or grandmeth are around to see y’a do it, and locate the spine. We’re about to predator this bitch but you wanna cut as close to the spine as you can. Startin at the ass end, run them scissors through the ribs on each side and pull the spine out. Crack it in half and toss it in a pot with some butter on low-low heat.
Before you turn that birb tits up you wanna run your finger on the equivocation of its sternal boner. Go ahead and score that deep with a knife, then flip the bird over like a Saigon whore and do what comes natural in these situations: karate chop it in the chest. You’ll hear a sound akin to the last time some Antifag decided to get to close to the Imperial Riot Shield of Fuckoff PD and tried to break it with their nose. That means the tits have been separated into halves, like the fractionated belief systems of the internet-grown Commie/trannie/imspeshul/weakness-is-to-be-rewarded brigade.
Make sure you adjust your Cookin gun to be most effectively reached with greasy-gory hands. Cooking is much like battle in that you’re gonna get covered in bodily fluids and pieces, you’re gonna need several drinks, and it will probably end in something akin to sex.
Okay your chicken is officially spatchdicked. Or spatchcocked whatever. From here we have a few options: you can pay the skin dry, season it, sear the skin side on the range, flip it, and then toss the whole pan in the oven for a roasted chicken. You could cut it right down the middle and do the same, or you could finish butchering it and fry the pieces like Paula Deen intended. Whatever you choose, make sure to toss any and all scraps in that pot you got with the butter and spine. Keep the stuff in their moving every so often, too.
We all know you fat phaggots are gonna fry it so we’ll continue as such. Go ahead and refresh your martini while I quote the Great Uncle to you: “The AK47 is the only thing communism has ever produced that actually works, including communism.” Ruminate on that. Drink a beer and then move back your martini.
The wings are pretty easily taken off: you can clip that last knuckle at it’s joint pretty easy and toss it in the spinepot. Go to the next knuckle and do the same to get you a good flat, then grab the drummete and twist it like that special move meth does with hands or zap until you hear a pop. Cut around the base of it and, if you did your job right, the drummette will come right out.
The leg quarter is attached only with skin so you can scissor right through that. Stretch the drum out and score the meat around the joint to find its knuckle, then work a knife in their and bend it paradoxical to anatomical intention. It’ll pop too and should pull off with a little coaxing from your knife. Think of how great knives are for coercing. Think of how commies are so fucking stupid they can actually believe in a utopian society where everyone is equal and the same government they hate right now is totally not taking advantage of them. Drink more.
The breast is sitting on a set of ribs and half of the sternal protuberation. Knife them off and Toss all your craps in the spinepot.
You need a bowl of beaten eggs, a bowl of flour mixed with beer into a smooth paste, a bowl of regular flour, and a bowl of bread crumbs. Get that frying grease in the cast iron and fill it near the brim; when the oil reaches 350ish or cusses at y’a when y’a spit in it, it’s good to go. Grab you a piece of that dead yard bird and do as such: egg, flour, beerflour, bread crumbs, oil. Fry a few minutes, flip it, repeat, repeat, pull and lay out to dry.
After you eat it, throw all your bone and meat scraps in the spinepot and cover them with water. Simmer that shit for a few hours and then pull the chunks and strain the liquid into containers. That’s some high test chicken stock for later.
So I killed me a chicken, but it doesn't have any of the anatomy you described.
Like it's got some sharp teeth in it's beak, and a long twirly hairless tail and gray fur. About the size of a large cat. Weird thing is that it kinda hissed at me. Don't chickens cluck?
Get you a good 14” cast iron Pan and season it well (you should already have one if you’re serious about cooking but everyone starts somewhere)
Go ahead and crush up four green crayons and add a fistful of the flavorwax to about 1 mason jar of high test and squeeze a lime in it; that’s a Fancy pants marteeknee for y’a to sip on.
Know, go get you a chicken, kill it, and clean it. We’ll start when your done.
sips green crayon martini
Okay, here’s what you do:
Flip that burd titties down and take a pair of scissors, don’t matter if they’re garden shears or fabric scissors unless meth or grandmeth are around to see y’a do it, and locate the spine. We’re about to predator this bitch but you wanna cut as close to the spine as you can. Startin at the ass end, run them scissors through the ribs on each side and pull the spine out. Crack it in half and toss it in a pot with some butter on low-low heat.
Before you turn that birb tits up you wanna run your finger on the equivocation of its sternal boner. Go ahead and score that deep with a knife, then flip the bird over like a Saigon whore and do what comes natural in these situations: karate chop it in the chest. You’ll hear a sound akin to the last time some Antifag decided to get to close to the Imperial Riot Shield of Fuckoff PD and tried to break it with their nose. That means the tits have been separated into halves, like the fractionated belief systems of the internet-grown Commie/trannie/imspeshul/weakness-is-to-be-rewarded brigade.
Make sure you adjust your Cookin gun to be most effectively reached with greasy-gory hands. Cooking is much like battle in that you’re gonna get covered in bodily fluids and pieces, you’re gonna need several drinks, and it will probably end in something akin to sex.
Okay your chicken is officially spatchdicked. Or spatchcocked whatever. From here we have a few options: you can pay the skin dry, season it, sear the skin side on the range, flip it, and then toss the whole pan in the oven for a roasted chicken. You could cut it right down the middle and do the same, or you could finish butchering it and fry the pieces like Paula Deen intended. Whatever you choose, make sure to toss any and all scraps in that pot you got with the butter and spine. Keep the stuff in their moving every so often, too.
We all know you fat phaggots are gonna fry it so we’ll continue as such. Go ahead and refresh your martini while I quote the Great Uncle to you: “The AK47 is the only thing communism has ever produced that actually works, including communism.” Ruminate on that. Drink a beer and then move back your martini.
The wings are pretty easily taken off: you can clip that last knuckle at it’s joint pretty easy and toss it in the spinepot. Go to the next knuckle and do the same to get you a good flat, then grab the drummete and twist it like that special move meth does with hands or zap until you hear a pop. Cut around the base of it and, if you did your job right, the drummette will come right out.
The leg quarter is attached only with skin so you can scissor right through that. Stretch the drum out and score the meat around the joint to find its knuckle, then work a knife in their and bend it paradoxical to anatomical intention. It’ll pop too and should pull off with a little coaxing from your knife. Think of how great knives are for coercing. Think of how commies are so fucking stupid they can actually believe in a utopian society where everyone is equal and the same government they hate right now is totally not taking advantage of them. Drink more.
The breast is sitting on a set of ribs and half of the sternal protuberation. Knife them off and Toss all your craps in the spinepot.
You need a bowl of beaten eggs, a bowl of flour mixed with beer into a smooth paste, a bowl of regular flour, and a bowl of bread crumbs. Get that frying grease in the cast iron and fill it near the brim; when the oil reaches 350ish or cusses at y’a when y’a spit in it, it’s good to go. Grab you a piece of that dead yard bird and do as such: egg, flour, beerflour, bread crumbs, oil. Fry a few minutes, flip it, repeat, repeat, pull and lay out to dry.
After you eat it, throw all your bone and meat scraps in the spinepot and cover them with water. Simmer that shit for a few hours and then pull the chunks and strain the liquid into containers. That’s some high test chicken stock for later.
Gun good. Commie bad.
So I killed me a chicken, but it doesn't have any of the anatomy you described.
Like it's got some sharp teeth in it's beak, and a long twirly hairless tail and gray fur. About the size of a large cat. Weird thing is that it kinda hissed at me. Don't chickens cluck?
Ah, no, that sir is a rat. Catch six more, tie their tails together and nail them to a stick. You’ll be able to beat any sickness from the Plagued.