So, we’ve had a couple more young cockerels learning to crow, early morning. The dood’s had his eye on Jose Carreras for a couple weeks, whereas I’ve been looking more at The Genie w/ the Light Brown Hair who sports this shocking reddish muff of feathers around his neck; let’s call him Salvatore Licitra and keep up the operatic theme.
Jose was by far the largest roo. I think he weighed 8 lbs, holy poultry spurs. Beautiful gent, too. All black, big flashy comb and wattle, and very dramatic plumage. Which brings me to the point where I observe that cockerels are easy as pie to pluck, but their long feathers are a PITA when they leave quills behind. Which is all the time. Anyway, he got lots of hugs this morning, and heart-felt apologies and compliments on his dapper development. Lucy was sitting at the patio door, looking outside, watching it all. She knows that the poultry traffic cone means innard treats, eventually, and she was feeling very patient today. Pancho was having deep dreams about calling birds and moths to please fly into his mouth, snoring. Just as well, because it was pouring rain this morning.
Jose was selected because he’s gotten articulate quite swiftly. It isn’t just a muddled “urp a babooooo!” that flies out of his throat, but a lusty “fat Lucy-pooooooo!” first thing in the morning. He was the kind of roo who would roll his “R”s, frankly.
It took ages to clean him up, but he’s in the fridge now, and the cats dined on fresh innards for dinner. We’re cooking a pot of soup tomorrow while his meat relaxes another day.
This stuff doesn’t get easier over time. I’m actually glad it doesn’t. Jose was a hell of a young roo. I am salt-drying his wings in the kitchen.
9 Responses to “Jose Carrerras, poultry soloist”
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I’m cleaning and preping the kitchen to process my three biggest roos this evening. Looks like we’ll all be enjoying roast chicken tomorrow! They are so tall they broke down one of the roosts in the chick pen – by hitting it from below. Only a couple of the hens like to get on top and roost like chickens. Hope you are well.
May he taste as good as he sang.
He’s going to make a really good soup tonight
I just pulled up my big girl pants for once and separated the “souping” parts from the rest of the parts set aside for roasting, when I was doing the cutting and cleanup last night.
We’ve got three more gigantor roos, turns out. The dood’s been fussing over the meaters so I don’t risk coughing on the crew, and reported as I was plucking yesterday that I need to look up more operatic tenors so we can name ‘em. I think our neighbor’s getting one tomorrow; I explained he’s on his own for cleaning the up and coming singer himself. Roos are just too damn lean inside the body cavity, compared to the fat and sassy hens I’m used to eviscerating. It’s been a headache each time, dangit. Totally worth it, but now I see why people go gaga and get those automatic plucking doohickey contraptions! Alas, those things do not coax the guts out…
So, Kathy, do the sweet pooches get to enjoy a bit of roasted clucker or soup? Pancho has an obsession with the cooked blood, from when I bleed these birds out. And then Lucy’s weakness is the liver, kidney, heart, and diced up gizzard. (Bad girl, I caught her on the counter yesterday trying the lick the skin off Jose’s breast bone…)
the french castrate the roosters for a superior tasting meat..its called capon. its cooked differently..the meat is almost buttery. the castration occurs when the rooster is young. they become less aggressive and are cuddly as kittens. i think its a hormonal thingy. my french chef explained how the testicles can be surgically removed. i didn’t have to do that for brownie points. thankfully. maybe its a useful skill to try on other species. or something like that. *mumble*
Ah yes, the roo who is unencumbered by his hormones. I am not sure how old the cockerels are when they get caponized, but there was a disturbing discussion of it at the backyard chickens forum, eons ago which made me swear off screwing with nature like that when it comes to feeding the family.
I’ll put it this way… I’ve yet to see anything testicle-like when cleaning these birds out. They’re on the young side, though. I did find a testicle in Norm(a) over a year ago. It was up near her lungs, had developed back near her ovary against her spine. To my way of thinking, one would caponize the roo, and then let him continue to develop, and then the culinary merits would make themselves known because he’ll have ceased growing due to hormones. They grow more like hens, with a higher amount of fat in their flesh.
Rosy and Bella do OK when a chicken is cooked. They love the organs cooked and chopped into their kibble. I had to force myself to share the livers with them last time – they are soo delicious! They always get the fat skimmed off stock and are particularly fond of the carrots from making stock.
Its very calm in the chick pen today – one rooster and 5 hens – no one being a bully.
I know what you mean about the livers, goodness. They don’t even smell remotely livery when I remove them. Lucy has a thing for liver, but the next time I have a few livers in the freezer, I’ll finally try making some pate. These two cats ate the gizzard diced up in bite-sized morsels for their din din last night. Pancho stopped a couple times to sing his praise for Jose, apparently. Lucy growled at him and he went back to eating. This was while I was cooking up the pot of soup.
Came out good, too. Bones and neck, ribs, odd bits, cooked up with lemon halves from my tea earlier, a couple small hunks of ginger, five huge cloves of garlic, and then two handfuls of brown rice, and some frozen mixed veggies. Light soy sauce for the salt portion, warm tortillas because we’re outta bread, etc.
The Genie with the Light Brown Hair has taken to rrrrrrolling his “r”s. He crowed a few times this morning and one of the hens pecked him for it. I couldn’t believe it when I saw that. They’re all nesting in straw right now, totally unaware of the rain.
Ah, the females of any given species….:) When I was still helping my grandmother with her dairy goats, she always kept 2 bucks on premises (1 Nubian, ! French Alpine). Once, the young French Alpine buck was busy dancing on his toes & crowing about himself to the extent the (older) doe gave him a dirty look & slammed her head as hard as she could into his side. Knocked the wind right out of him. He got to business, & she walked out of the barn & into her truck as soon as she could.