How to Cook a F&%@ing Chicken
A Reddit user recently was chastised for asking his neighbor- whose name he did not know- to make him dinner and he would pay her.
He is 31 and he wasn't sure how old she was- "in her 20s?" He had smelled her cooking and thought well, if she was cooking for herself, why not cook for him, too? I swear, I'm barely paraphrasing this.
She politely said no. He asked a second time. She said he was being creepy.
So a Reddit debate began.
First, he didn't know her. This wasn't a neighbor who fell upon hard times or sickness with whom she had a relationship and was happy to help. Other than "hi" in the hall, they were not friends.
Second, she said no. Let it drop.
Third- HE IS 31 YEARS OLD AND CAN'T COOK.
That's sad on so many levels.
I get it. Not everyone enjoys cooking. But here's the thing- it's part of adulting. You're going to need to eat. You don't need to be a chef, but basic cooking skills are part of the gig.
I pride myself on the fact that my kids are decently comfortable in the kitchen. My daughter even asked that I post a picture of her "perfect" fried egg the other day. Yes, my 13 year old can fry an egg. Last night, I taught my 17 year old the trick to making a good steak. He knows how long to grill it to rare/medium rare (5-6 minutes each side for a 1 inch steak- less for a thinner cut). He learned how to put the grill marks on and the steak rub I mix. He will probably only remember the time but it's a start. They can both scramble eggs. They can make chocolate chip cookies. They can peel vegetables. They will survive.
And I've shown them how to roast a chicken because it's my very favorite thing and ridiculously easy. Way easy. The chicken has the difficult part.
Which brings me to the story--
One of my very dearest and closest friends called me for some marital advice. We've been friends since we were 5 years old. We trust each other implicitly.
He explained some of the issues and I said "Your wife must be exhausted... " they have 2 young kids, she works full time and as much as I love my friend, I'm 100% sure his wife does the bulk of adulting. And I told him this. He didn't disagree. He called me because he wanted to hear the truth. So I shared my opinion a bit, um... passionately? with him.
I yelled at him. Really loudly.
I don't normally lose my cool but I really did.
You see, I suggested that one way he help out his wife was that maybe he could cook dinner every once in awhile- lighten her load... grab an oar and row the boat....
I even used those words. Very nicely.
Naw. He can't learn to cook. It's too hard.
And I said it's not-
And then he dug in with excuses.
And I got loud.
And I said "YOU'RE A GROWN ASS MAN AND YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU CAN'T COOK A F*&#ING CHICKEN? MY KIDS CAN COOK A F&%@ING CHICKEN."
We exchanged a few more "pleasantries" and mutually decided it was best that we end the conversation.
My assistant came in and asked if I was okay. I believe I said something like....
"WHO CAN'T COOK A F&%$ING CHICKEN?"
He pointed out that perhaps, from what he heard through the door, I was a bit a harsh.
"I WAS NOT HARSH. I WAS HONEST."
And then I explained that I was 100% certain my friend had called me because he knew I wouldn't placate him and yes, perhaps, I had snapped. I said I would cool off and call him later.
That night, I was telling my husband how I had kinda lost it with this friend and he was cracking up. Again, I rarely lose my cool but when I do, it tends to be epic. And comical. And entertaining to my redheaded husband who is usually the one on the ledge that I'm telling to calm down.
So as we are lying there I said "And by the way- I have a late meeting tomorrow, can you throw the chicken in the oven so it will be ready when I get home?"
And he says "Sure- just send me a text with directions."
Really?!?!? My own husband- my beloved- the zig to my zag- DID NOT KNOW HOW TO COOK A F%$#ING CHICKEN?
I quietly laid there next to him and texted him the following recipe:
How to Cook a F@#%ing Chicken
1. Take the chicken out of the refrigerator and let it come to room temperature. Don't forget about it or we'll all die of something.
2. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
3. Rub the chicken all over with olive oil. This is not a euphemism and get your mind out of the gutter. Rub in salt and pepper.
4. Place the chicken breast side down in the blue pan. Do not look for nipples. Chickens do not have nipples. I'm truly concerned for you.
5. Cut an onion in half and shove it inside the bird. This keeps the chicken moist. Again, get your mind out of the gutter.
6. Cover the wings with foil so they don't burn. Those are the little pointy things.
7. Wash some of the little potatoes and throw those in the pan, too. Add some olive oil and salt & pepper.
8. Put the chicken in the oven which hopefully you didn't forget to pre-heat.
9. Set the timer for an hour.
10. Use the meat thermometer to check the temperature-stick it in behind the thigh- it should be around 160. Do not ask the chicken to say "Ahhhh." It's a chicken. If it's 90 or 200, order a pizza.
11. Assuming you haven't totally screwed it up, take it out of the oven, cover it loosely in foil and let it rest for about 10-15 minutes.
Congratulations- you've made a f&%$ing chicken like a grown ass man.
Then I hit send.
He started cracking up immediately.
This is when our family started referring to our roasted chicken dinner as F^%$ing Chicken. I'm not winning any parenting awards, but the kids laughed pretty hard. Some people have Elf on the Shelf as their family tradition- my family now has F&%$ing Chicken as ours.
And as for my friend... his sister texted me and said she about fell over when he asked her for a cookbook for Christmas last year.
And our friendship... I posted a picture of lasagna I had made on Facebook and he replied "You should see my lasagna-- and it taste delicious." We're good.
And his marriage... apparently, it's going even better than his cooking.
Because taking care of people you love- whether it's making a meal or simply taking some of the load for them-- or hearing them when they say "Take an oar, I'm drowning"- is really what it's about. It feels good. It says thank you.
And to the 31 year old guy who can't cook- you owe it to yourself to learn. To take care of yourself. Because it's really hard to care for others if you don't know how to care of yourself. That girlfriend that you hope to have one day per your comments- she's probably going to want a functioning adult partner. At least the good ones do.
In short, sometimes, you need to be a grown up and learn to make the f&^@ing chicken.
It's really not that hard.
I promise.
He is 31 and he wasn't sure how old she was- "in her 20s?" He had smelled her cooking and thought well, if she was cooking for herself, why not cook for him, too? I swear, I'm barely paraphrasing this.
She politely said no. He asked a second time. She said he was being creepy.
So a Reddit debate began.
First, he didn't know her. This wasn't a neighbor who fell upon hard times or sickness with whom she had a relationship and was happy to help. Other than "hi" in the hall, they were not friends.
Second, she said no. Let it drop.
Third- HE IS 31 YEARS OLD AND CAN'T COOK.
That's sad on so many levels.
I get it. Not everyone enjoys cooking. But here's the thing- it's part of adulting. You're going to need to eat. You don't need to be a chef, but basic cooking skills are part of the gig.
I pride myself on the fact that my kids are decently comfortable in the kitchen. My daughter even asked that I post a picture of her "perfect" fried egg the other day. Yes, my 13 year old can fry an egg. Last night, I taught my 17 year old the trick to making a good steak. He knows how long to grill it to rare/medium rare (5-6 minutes each side for a 1 inch steak- less for a thinner cut). He learned how to put the grill marks on and the steak rub I mix. He will probably only remember the time but it's a start. They can both scramble eggs. They can make chocolate chip cookies. They can peel vegetables. They will survive.
And I've shown them how to roast a chicken because it's my very favorite thing and ridiculously easy. Way easy. The chicken has the difficult part.
Which brings me to the story--
One of my very dearest and closest friends called me for some marital advice. We've been friends since we were 5 years old. We trust each other implicitly.
He explained some of the issues and I said "Your wife must be exhausted... " they have 2 young kids, she works full time and as much as I love my friend, I'm 100% sure his wife does the bulk of adulting. And I told him this. He didn't disagree. He called me because he wanted to hear the truth. So I shared my opinion a bit, um... passionately? with him.
I yelled at him. Really loudly.
I don't normally lose my cool but I really did.
You see, I suggested that one way he help out his wife was that maybe he could cook dinner every once in awhile- lighten her load... grab an oar and row the boat....
I even used those words. Very nicely.
Naw. He can't learn to cook. It's too hard.
And I said it's not-
And then he dug in with excuses.
And I got loud.
And I said "YOU'RE A GROWN ASS MAN AND YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU CAN'T COOK A F*&#ING CHICKEN? MY KIDS CAN COOK A F&%@ING CHICKEN."
We exchanged a few more "pleasantries" and mutually decided it was best that we end the conversation.
My assistant came in and asked if I was okay. I believe I said something like....
"WHO CAN'T COOK A F&%$ING CHICKEN?"
He pointed out that perhaps, from what he heard through the door, I was a bit a harsh.
"I WAS NOT HARSH. I WAS HONEST."
And then I explained that I was 100% certain my friend had called me because he knew I wouldn't placate him and yes, perhaps, I had snapped. I said I would cool off and call him later.
That night, I was telling my husband how I had kinda lost it with this friend and he was cracking up. Again, I rarely lose my cool but when I do, it tends to be epic. And comical. And entertaining to my redheaded husband who is usually the one on the ledge that I'm telling to calm down.
So as we are lying there I said "And by the way- I have a late meeting tomorrow, can you throw the chicken in the oven so it will be ready when I get home?"
And he says "Sure- just send me a text with directions."
Really?!?!? My own husband- my beloved- the zig to my zag- DID NOT KNOW HOW TO COOK A F%$#ING CHICKEN?
I quietly laid there next to him and texted him the following recipe:
How to Cook a F@#%ing Chicken
1. Take the chicken out of the refrigerator and let it come to room temperature. Don't forget about it or we'll all die of something.
2. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
3. Rub the chicken all over with olive oil. This is not a euphemism and get your mind out of the gutter. Rub in salt and pepper.
4. Place the chicken breast side down in the blue pan. Do not look for nipples. Chickens do not have nipples. I'm truly concerned for you.
5. Cut an onion in half and shove it inside the bird. This keeps the chicken moist. Again, get your mind out of the gutter.
6. Cover the wings with foil so they don't burn. Those are the little pointy things.
7. Wash some of the little potatoes and throw those in the pan, too. Add some olive oil and salt & pepper.
8. Put the chicken in the oven which hopefully you didn't forget to pre-heat.
9. Set the timer for an hour.
10. Use the meat thermometer to check the temperature-stick it in behind the thigh- it should be around 160. Do not ask the chicken to say "Ahhhh." It's a chicken. If it's 90 or 200, order a pizza.
11. Assuming you haven't totally screwed it up, take it out of the oven, cover it loosely in foil and let it rest for about 10-15 minutes.
Congratulations- you've made a f&%$ing chicken like a grown ass man.
Then I hit send.
He started cracking up immediately.
This is when our family started referring to our roasted chicken dinner as F^%$ing Chicken. I'm not winning any parenting awards, but the kids laughed pretty hard. Some people have Elf on the Shelf as their family tradition- my family now has F&%$ing Chicken as ours.
And as for my friend... his sister texted me and said she about fell over when he asked her for a cookbook for Christmas last year.
And our friendship... I posted a picture of lasagna I had made on Facebook and he replied "You should see my lasagna-- and it taste delicious." We're good.
And his marriage... apparently, it's going even better than his cooking.
Because taking care of people you love- whether it's making a meal or simply taking some of the load for them-- or hearing them when they say "Take an oar, I'm drowning"- is really what it's about. It feels good. It says thank you.
And to the 31 year old guy who can't cook- you owe it to yourself to learn. To take care of yourself. Because it's really hard to care for others if you don't know how to care of yourself. That girlfriend that you hope to have one day per your comments- she's probably going to want a functioning adult partner. At least the good ones do.
In short, sometimes, you need to be a grown up and learn to make the f&^@ing chicken.
It's really not that hard.
I promise.
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