A number of years ago, seven or more I’d guess, I went to dinner at my friend Sandy Taddeo’s place. His family was there and we had a great meal. I remember two things in particular about that meal. First, a coffee mug that became often quoted when someone other than I was doing something I deemed to be selfish: “Time for Me.” The mug was probably quite benign, but I thought it was funny. Second, something that I carry with me to this day…
As good memories go, this memory has probably changed a bit from the truth, but here it is. We were having chicken for supper — a tasty chicken too — and someone (maybe Chris, maybe Sandy’s mom, I don’t remember) had peeled the skin of their piece of chicken. The skin was brown and crispy, sure to be a treat. Sandy’s dad asked (in a very loud Taddeo kind of way,) “You going to eat that skin? I’ll have your skin, it’s the best part!”
Last night Jenn and I had a chicken supper. We often get one when we go grocery shopping. For $10 you get a nice roasted chicken, potato wedges and two salads. It feeds us for supper and lunch the next day and there’s still left-overs. The skin isn’t as nice as Mrs. Taddeo’s chicken skin, but it’s still good.
Jenn doesn’t eat her chicken skin and won’t let me eat it either. She let’s me eat my chicken skin, but throws the rest out. She doesn’t understand that it’s the best part.
post.meta.php