My lovely fiancee and I had a gorgeous Christmas together baking cookies, visiting the nursing home, wasting gas looking at lights and eating delicious food. The Christmas chicken, however, was a much more formidable task than shaping spritz'.
I watched my father dozens of times carving a bird – turkey, duck, chicken – and it always seemed kind of self-explanatory. Tug the leg. Slice. Grab the wing. Slice. Just that simple. However, something I had never taken into account was that my father had done this routine, likely, hundreds of times, thus nearly perfecting the carving craft.
Damnit, I tried my best. That was enough for Adla and I.
The bar has been set a little higher for the Easter duck.
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