It would be a dismal world without chickens. What would replace them, one could wonder? There could be an episode on some nature TV channel imagining the world waking up one day without chicken. That would be a real world-ending scenario, worse than volcanoes or crashing comets. Nope, the world could not live without chickens.
To my mind, it would be truly apocalyptic if no chicken were present to cook or eat (and we usually prefer chicken already cooked for some reason). And worse still, no eggs? Arrgg!!!
My mind reels with revelations of long line-ups once again waiting for the cargo to come in to fill empty shelves, and the goods being immediately scooped up. There should be a cargo coming in, so we’d better get to the front of the line-up at three in the morning.
Some people have overcome the possible nutritional deficiency associated with skipping breakfast. That’s because they now raise their own real, live egg-laying chickens. Now, how cool is that? It sure beats owning a noisy dog that just craps all over the place and eats more than your kids do. A chicken just keeps on producing an egg every day or so, apparently depending on the moon and the availability of calcium. I’m no chemist, but it’s preferable to keep the chicken feed as organic as possible.
Now, those chickens have to have some sort of resistance to the cold, and some types just don’t make the cut. The hardiest ones are best to use in our environment, but I hear that there may be some new hybrid breed with penguin DNA. Not only do you get an egg a day, but you don’t have to build a cage for them. They like skating on rinks and play hockey, too. Now that’s a northern fowl! Because they like to eat fish, fishing will remain a way of life.
But back to reality. These lucky people, who I admire greatly, get to enjoy not only raising chickens but to consume a very fresh omelet. Or better still, a boiled egg, a staple of our life and not too much of a strain on the culinary skill set. Who can think in the morning anyways? And who needs to cook anything fancy for a crew of nine hungry mouths of all ages, including mine?
Now enough of the eggs. What to do with that old hen when it starts slowing down? Well, prepare the roasting pan for the freshest, oldest, best-fed chicken you will ever eat. Unless you give it a name, that is – a fancy one like Cordon Bleu or something more common like Kay Eff See. Then it would feel so bad to chop off her head as you flashback to all those times you spent together getting fat.
So, when the apocalypse does strike, the wise chicken coop-keepers will survive in style, while the rest of us feed on grasshoppers and worms. Yes, children of tomorrow, prepare yourselves and get your own chickens so you may survive until the next cargo comes in. And you hungry neighbours, stop begging for a half dozen or so. Yes, feed us common coop-less folks lemon meringue pie while you gnosh on a drumstick full of juicy satisfaction and create jealous chaos.
Yes, the next millennium people will be indoor farmers and there’s nothing wrong with eating cordon bleu and Caesar salad, only hours fresh.