I spent a lot of my childhood on my grandparent's farm. One of my many jobs included feeding the chickens, which I dreaded every day. I begged every day for one of my other cousins to do it but to no avail. My PawPaw insisted it's your job and you will do it. My PawPaw was a true Cajun man with a slightly twisted sense of humor. See I hated feeding the chickens because every time I did they would attack my feet. This did not help my irrational fear of birds. Every damn day, I'd beg to not go. I'd try to bribe my cousins but considering we all had the same stuff, this plan was a failure from the beginning. After weeks and weeks, I figured out it was my shoes. I never tied my shoes and the chickens would go after those laces just all jumping around. How could they resist?  Just like that, I learned to keep my shoes tied and had a heart to heart with the chickens from a safe distance and we were all good. One day as I am leaving the coop my PawPaw comes up to me and says" Mais, I wondered how many times those chickens had to peck you before you learned." See my PawPaw got tired of telling me to tie my shoes. He decided I would learn one way or another, even if it meant taking advantage my intense fear of our feathered friends. 

This leads to my favorite way to prepare chicken. A simple roast chicken will never disappoint. Just in case your wondering, I feel absolutely no guilt eating chicken. Maybe they should have thought of that before they decided to torture me on a daily basis.