All the kids are headed back to school this week and that made me think back to my school days. More specifically chicken nugget day at school. There is nothing better than a chicken nugget. And I can remember running down the hall toward the cafeteria with everyone chanting Nugget Day! Nugget Day! Nugget Day! I’m pretty sure this behavior started in elementary school and carried on through our senior year of high school. Nuggets formed a great impression on me because I still love them to this day. I’m kind of like the Bubba Gump of nuggets. I like them deep fried, oven fried, pan fried, baked, spicy, plain, round, square, rectangular, dinosaur shaped, store-bought, homemade, restaurant … you name it, you just can’t go wrong with a nugget.
I’m pretty sure that chicken fingers were invented so that grown ups would feel okay with themselves for ordering what is really an over-sized chicken nugget at a restaurant. (Plus chicken fingers do a better job of actually resembling chicken meat.)
So, being the mature adult that I am, when I saw spicy fried chicken feet on the menu at Salvation Taco in New York, I knew I had to order some. If chicken fingers were the adult version of nuggets, then chicken feet must be the next step up. I feel closer to reaching the top of Maslow’s Hierarchy already.
(1) Spicy (2) Fried (3) Chicken … how bad could feet be? Let’s just say it wasn’t what I expected. I know plenty of people in various cultures eat chicken feet regularly. But let me make this clear: Chicken Fingers and Chicken Feet are not the same thing.
They look just like chicken feet. Which was pretty cool. And the flavor was actually not too bad. It was the texture that got me. I would have to say the “toe” part of the feet was the best part because it was crispier. But the meatier part of the foot was pretty fatty and I couldn’t take it. Everyone around us watched with admiration as we attempted to eat the chicken feet. Even our server was impressed – she admitted that she refused to eat them when they taste tested everything in training. I gave up after the first foot. Brad Pitt, on the other hand, chowed down on the entire bowl of feet. (Not before we took the opportunity to high-five each other with chicken feet.)
As we walked back to our hotel, though, he kept grabbing his belly and moaning “Oh, my stomach! I think I’m gonna puke up chicken feet!” to which I said “I thought you liked them.” And he said “No, they were disgusting!” so I said “Well then why in the hell did you eat the entire bowl???” and he said “I felt bad! I didn’t want to leave all the feet just sitting there.”
Oh man. Poor Brad Pitt. I felt bad for him at that point but I was excited we tried the chicken feet and now I plan to stick with nuggets and fingers from this point forward. (Now that I am reading that sentence, though, it makes me want to order some chicken feet so I can point the toes forward and say things like “Which way? That way? No? Oh, maybe that way?”) I suppose I have some room for further growth and development on the chicken hierarchy.
Little bit of psychology, little bit of anthropology, food and another example of the thoughtfulness of Brad Pitt. What more could you ask for?