Chapter 31, Chicken without a head

I’m sure you have heard the expression “running like a chicken without a head”. It took me a long time to connect my memories with that actual quote, so believe me, it makes a lot of sense.

When it was time to take the leader of the flock to the “executioner” it was I who went with Mom to the Rabbi. This Rabbi was also the local “shochet” -- slaughterer. People would bring the chickens to him, they would pay him 10 Agorot per chicken and he would slaughter the poor fowl. 

“I’m not going next to that rooster.” I told Mom as we were going to the back yard to get the chicken. 

“Well, OK,” she said, “I’ll get this one but it’s your job to catch his friend.” 

Reluctantly, I agreed, and we both walked in the chicken coop and started to look for the culprits. Finding the leader of the band was an easy task. He came out to greet us as we walked in. Immediately I positioned myself behind Mom. 

“Would you please relax!” said Mom. “He won’t hurt you. Now go get the other one. Here’s the string to tie his legs with”.

Easier said than done: As Mom was snatching the leader of the band, I was trying to get his second in command. The noise that the leader was making probably alerted all the other chicken because now they were all gathered in one corner of the coop. As soon as I got there, they all moved to the other corner. All that time, still making even more noise. They were squawking and jumping one on top of each other that it was hard for me to see where was the chicken I was trying to catch. When I finally located him, I lounged at the pile of chicken and fell right on my face with all the chicken around me squawking and jumping and some were even on top of me. I rolled up, shaking all of them away and looked around me seeing chickens all over. It wasn’t easy finding the rooster I was looking for. All of them moved to the other corner of the coop. And again, I took a long plunge into the pile but this time I was able to catch the rooster by his right leg. He tried to pull away scratching me with the other leg. All the other chickens were trying to fly jumping and waiving their wings and making a big cloud of dust surrounding us. With my left hand I grabbed the rooster’s other leg and by that time Mom was ready to help me tie the string on his legs keeping them together and preventing him from moving far. 

It wasn’t an easy task taking the chicken to the “shochet” either. You see, they were not light, each weighting about 10 lbs., big, balky, and feisty. All the way to the shochet they fought with us constantly trying to turn themselves right side up and sometimes they were trying to peck on our hands. I was constantly changing the arm that was holding the chicken. The struggling and the fighting took a lot of me. Mom, for some reason, had an easier time with her rooster. She just gave a big shake with her arm and the rooster relaxed and was quiet for a while until he forgot about the shake and tried again.

“Mom,” I said, “what happened to Itai and Eliezer?”

 “They were in an accident.”

 “What kind of accident, Mom?”

Remember? Itai who was my best friend before we moved from Okev’s house and his brother Eliezer just died. I heard about it from dad last night. There were talks about the kids who were just killed by a bus in our neighborhood for two weeks now, but we never connected it to my friends. They were walking on their way to the pharmacy to pick up medicine for Gabbi their brother when they were run over by a bus that took a turn a little too fast.

“Nanou,” said Mom, “it happened too fast for anybody to know exactly what happened.” 

“I was wondering how come Itai didn’t come to play with me last week and the week before.” I said quietly.

“Well, we didn’t know about it until dad went to Sa’adya to get some oranges. He was very upset, as you saw yesterday. Dad and I are going to visit with their parents this evening and you’ll have to watch over your brother.”

“Why can’t we come with you, Mom?” I asked.

“Well, it’s an adults’ thing, it’s not wise to have kids around when someone died.”

“But Gabbi is there too.” I persisted. “Why can’t we go?”

“Because it’s going to be too late, and you know that you have school tomorrow.”

We continued walking quietly and I kept on thinking about the last time I played with Itai and how we picked the little, red, and sweet fruit of the Pitango tree. Now I wished I kept at least one of the toys he gave me.

When we finally arrived to the shochet’s house we were tired and scratched – me more than Mom. The rabbi probably saw us coming because he came out to great us as soon as we got to his doorstep. “Hag Same’ach!” – happy holiday, he said. “Same to you” we both answered. 

“I see you have 2 chickens here, do you want to do the ‘Kapparot’ ceremony?”

 “Oh, I forgot all about it.” Said my Mom. I should have brought my other son here too. 

 

The “Kapparot” ceremony is a special tradition that we do around the high holidays. The rabbi kills the chicken so we would live. Just in case we sinned, and we were about to be punished or die.

The next thing that the rabbi did was, callling me to come closer to him. He picked the poor rooster and held him by his legs. He put one hand over my head and with the other hand waved the rooster over my head, making circles around my head and mumbling some prayer. Next, he started to handle the rooster and check it for blemishes. He felt under his wings and around its belly. He looked at the legs and made sure nothing was broken. He tilted the chicken’s head and with a very sharp razor blade he quickly cut the poor rooster’s neck. It was a small cut under the head, but it bled a lot, the rooster didn’t even have a chance to protest. The rabbi threw the foul to the floor and did the same thing to the other one. I couldn’t believe what happened next. The moment that they hit the floor they started to run (the shochet had taken the strings off when he checked them) They ran all over the place. They fell and got up rolled over, jumped and kept running.

“Mom!” I said looking at her with a questioning face. “They are not dying.”

“They are dead already” said the shochet. It’s just a reflex. Their nervous system is causing it. They are dead the moment I cut their throat because they don’t get the blood supply to their brain. But the muscles are still active and since they are not getting any signal from the brain, they are just going wild, but it will stop very soon.”

It took forever. I don’t know how long it took them to stop, I felt like it will never stop.

 The running chickens were still on my mind when we got back home, and even weeks after that. All the time I was thinking of my friend Itai and his brother Eliezer dyeing. Probably running and tumbling all over the street like the dying chickens. Then, after the holydays when we went to the movies, it was very difficult for me to understand how come Snow White didn’t jump around, after eating the poisoned apple, like a chicken without a head.

***

 

Jamaican Pulled Chicken

The secret of making a pulled chicken is the slow and log baking. But the secret of the flavor has to do with in the margination and the timing of adding the spices.

 

Ingredients:

6 Chicken Thighs

3 TBSP Kosher Salt

2 Cups White Vinegar

2 TBSP Olive Oil

1 Sweet Onion

2 Crushed Garlic Cloves

1 TBSP Crushed Ginger 

½ Can Tomato Paste

A Pinch of Black Pepper

¼ tsp Paprika

1 Cup Water

 

Directions:
  Marinate chicken in water with the kosher salt and vinegar overnight.

Cut up the onion and sauté in a pan with the olive oil to soften, Transfer the onion and chicken to a baking tray and bake on 500f for 20 minutes.

Flip the chicken and bake for 20 more minutes. Add other ingredients, cover with tin foil and bake for 20 more minutes. Lower the heat to 275f and bake for 2 more hours.

Uncover, debone and place back in oven covered, and bake for 20 more minutes making sure all the chicken is covered with the liquid. Pull and shred before serving on a toasted bun with lettuce and tomato.

 

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