Fried Chicken
The other morning I had a very early appointment
and I decided I would make a quick run by the grocery store for a few things
afterwards. The minute I opened the car door I was overtaken by the
delightful and unmistakable scent of fried chicken. I nearly forgot what
it was I went to the store to get. I went inside and somehow ended up at
the deli counter. The manager looked up at me expectantly.
“Isn’t it a little early for…” I inhaled
deeply and a dreamlike expression came over my face as I breathed out, ‘Fried
Chicken?” It was eight forty-five in the morning after all.
He laughed, of course, and asked if I’d like to
buy some. Of course I wanted to buy some, I wanted to buy it all and it
must have been the equivalent of about three chickens.
Anyone who knows
me knows I am from the Deep South. Some odd twist fate has me living in
Wisconsin. I look for anything that reminds me of home. Fried
chicken should remind any true, died-in-the-wool southerner of home. I
remember walking home from Sunday morning church services and smelling the
apple pies cooling by the windows and chicken frying for dinner. God
bless her, my mother can not fry chicken to save her life. It’s almost
un-American not to be able to do a good job frying chicken, but she, like many
others with the same malady, is as patriotic as they come. She just
hasn’t got the patience for frying chicken. She says it comes from having
to come home from work and then make dinner for a large family in a short
amount of time. Until I was seven and went to Kentucky Fried Chicken for
the first time I thought it was supposed to be black. I almost wouldn’t
eat it because I thought it was under-cooked! After that first tasty bite
it was difficult to get me to eat hers again. And then years later she
finally spills it- the truth behind the chicken. She doesn’t like fried
chicken. Shock!!! I wanted to take away her NASCAR
memorabilia. That’s just wrong.
I have some ideas, however, for products
involving the oh-so-tempting scent of fried chicken. Everyone knows the
way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, the way to his stomach
is through his nose. If it doesn’t smell good, he’s not going to touch
it. Therefore all you single, but desperately seeking a husband, females
out there, you need Parfum de Poulet Frit (Fried Chicken Perfume.)
A little behind your ears and he’s yours for life. Of course it might
work a little too well and then you’ll just have to pick the one you like the
best. (Snicker, snicker) Then of course we have one for the Glade
Company; you know, the ones who make all those scented candles. There are
all sorts of scents out there, not necessarily made by Glade. I have seen
(and smelled) French Vanilla, Pumpkin Pie Spice, Lavender, Gingerbread Cookie,
Peppermint, and Fresh Apple Pie, just to name a few. How about adding
Fried Chicken scent to the mix? Think about it…You want to impress
someone with a great dinner but you just don’t have the time. You go to
the deli and pick up fried chicken with all the trimmings, an apple pie from
the bakery, and then scented candles. Go home, set the table, and place
all the food into serving dishes (it would be tacky to use the deli containers-
not to mention blow the illusion). Get rid of the deli and bakery
containers. Light the candles- Fried Chicken Scent and Hot Apple
Pie. It fills the house with the scents of someone who has spent hours in
the kitchen preparing a delicious meal. They are extremely impressed with
you and they never have to know the truth. Works for me!
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