Bought a bird of BBQ chicken from Carrefour PS today. Fresh from the oven, piping hot.
Imagine i am wearing my brand new Levi's to do my grocery shopping. The next Jamie Oliver. Woo Hoo!!!
And before i reach home, i made my way to Giant Hypermart to buy 2 boxes of brownies for breakfast on monday.
And this is what i saw when i reach home: no one's at home. So, i gotta cut the chicken myself. Yeah! Ma's not at home. I can practice my chopping skills now. But...no one's at home, what happens if my fingers were chopped off? (Touchwood!)
If anything happens, i dun think it's possible for ypou to read this blog now.
So, i took out my Starbucks apron to cover myself (cos i don't want bits and pieces to stain my Billabong tees and Levi's.) and here i go, chopping the chicken.
And that somekind remind me of how Shirley Tay, the Peranakan cook, chopped the chicken in pieces. First, wash the chicken, next, chop off the neck, then, chopped the chicken into half...and it goes on and on and on...and so that's what i did: chopped, de-bone breast meat, discard bones, chopped into pieces and heat up those portions that i need. Cool the rest and wrap them up, keep them in fridage.
And done.
Realised one thing Tash told me: men who can cook are sexy. And how about man who can chopped a chicken? Equally sexy, just like Jamie Oliver, rite?
But don like the way Jamie Oliver handle food: he do not bother to wash the chicken or any meat, or even veggie, if he is preapring food. OMG.