I had a big painting project ahead of me today, and I needed some protein. Driving through a fast food restaurant was a big issue for me...I believe that our
health is related to the quality of the food we feed our bodies, and fast food does not fit into that way of thinking. And-I-don't-like-meat. Of any kind. But I was far from tofu and protein shakes, and in light of the long day ahead of me, I pulled into the drive-through of our local Raising Cane's, which specializes in getting fresh hot chicken tenders to their customer in less than two minutes.
Except it wasn't just two minutes. Cane's was momentarily out of fresh chicken tenders. Which meant that I had to wait more than 120 seconds for my meal. The young man taking my order was very apologetic and polite.
While sitting in my car, I had a few extra seconds of reflection time, and as usual, my mind wandered back to Guatemala, where just a few months ago, I saw the rooster in the photo below.
To get this particular rooster from where I photographed him to a dinner table in Guatemala would involve:
1. Finding out which local villager owned him. (When I asked my friend Maria why she didn't just catch him and eat the rooster, she smiled and said, "Because he is not my rooster.")
2. Pay for the rooster, with money that had been earned harvesting coffee or firewood, or washing clothes.
3. Carrying him home, perhaps for miles.
4. Beheading and removing feathers.
5. Gutting and cutting up meat.
6. Cooking over a less than adequate stove.
And finally, eating him all at once, since refrigeration is not available.
The Raising Cane's chicken fingers arrived at the drive through window. The employee was again profusely apologetic, and was probably puzzled over why I had a smile on my face. I couldn't help but smile--it was so darn easy to not have to chase that chicken down the street!