THANK YOU, OH PATRON SAINT OF ROTISSERIE CHICKENS

More so than mothers and husbands, friends or  family- oh, way more. In fact, right up there, in the top league of Things Which Make Life Possible For Working Mothers. On par with good nannies,  reliable babysitters, computer games and TV. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the 10-dollar rotisserie chicken from Superstore.

One of these wonderful creations will do you for a very good weekday dinner- you know those days when you burst in, exhausted and flustered, and there’s only frozen meat freezer and you don’t have a microwave because your dad thought (incorrectly, as it turns out) they blast all the nutritional value from meals, and oh, you actually have guests as well, because somehow it’s your national duty to showcase Iranian cooking and cuisine for  Canadians and also you have to invite people over because you don’t want your children to feel isolated and lonely in this isolated lonely cold northern city and you don’t want them to miss all those family which are left behind in Iran, oh no, so yes, people are coming to eat Iranian food- what do you? You cook a batch of basmati rice, sprinkle it over with zereshk (think small dry cranberries) and almonds, leap into Superstore, hunt down a warm juicy ten-dollar rotisserie chicken fresh from kitchen, leap back in, take off your hunting gear, voila! Iranian meal! Canadian guests! happy children! full bellies!  And yes, for protestors, let me tell you that rotisserie chicken is as Iranian as the rice with saffron and zereshk– have you forgotten those wonderful “morgh-e beryoon” that your father picked up from “morgh-e Azadeh” in “Tohid square” when you were in primary school, those family evenings of sitting down around a chicken and tearing into it, heads down, the splinter of chicken thigh bones, grunts of pleasure, greasy fingers? Did you know that on my very spontaneous wedding night in Tehran, my father actually did the same trick, and fed  the sudden influx of guests who had heard of my supposedly private ceremony and flooded his house with four rotisserie chickens which he hunted down and shot in Niavaran? So what could be more Iranian?

Anyway, dinner is over, it is the next day, and with cold ruins of departed guests staring you in the face. Chicken sandwich! Chicken stir fry! Rice with little bits of shredded chicken! Chicken stock from the chicken bones on the weekend! Chicken soup! Oh life is beautiful indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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One comment

  1. Pingback: NEVER COMPLAIN | Thenewcomer's Weblog

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