After my grueling bi-annual workout last Thursday night, I went home to find my buddy Duncan waiting for me. He knew I might be hungry so he came over with a package of chicken legs. So, I turned on my fryer and recipe'd-up my hot sauce that I use for hot wings. That way we would have a drumstick version of hot-wings. What could possibly go wrong?
Once the fryer was ready, I dropped the legs in for their 12 minute bubbling oil-bath. The fryer is in my garage, which serves as a fully functional second kitchen/dinning room with a big TV and recliners for ....well, you know ... man stuff. Anyhow, I thought maybe the oil was a little old because there was a tiny hint of pungency in the area when I dropped in the legs. I just changed the oil last weekend and only cooked a few chicken-strips and homemade fries, so I just figured it was an ambient aroma that garages can sometimes provide.
As the sauce hit a low boil, cooking time for the legs was over, along with the tasting of two tall grain and hops beverages which may have slightly dulled my senses. I dumped the nine legs into the shake-bucket that I pour the hot sauce into, again picking up a slight stale smell wafted at me from somewhere. No worries, perhaps the hot sauce was too hot and the vinegar in it had stung my nose a little.
I mixed the sauce and legs in the bucket like I would the hot-wings I love to make for company and dumped them out on a plate for display and consumption. Again, a strange smell that I was beginning to recognize hit me. Is that bad-breath I'm smelling? My own perhaps? His? It smelled just like nasty coffee/stale bologna breath.
The two hungry fellas began to dine on the feast of meat, hot sauce and blue cheese dressing. It was cooked to perfection; tender, juicy and steamy on the inside. But that smell still lingered. After a couple bites of the chicken that had its flavor masked by a cayenne pepper sauce and blue cheese, I realized it actually was my breath. At least now after swallowing it, I could taste in my empty mouth what I thought I was smelling earlier. I was petrified that maybe my buddy had to endure my orally hygienic indiscretion the entire time, but didn't want to say anything. You know how people are.
I went to the garbage can to throw my first bone away. As I did, the empty package that the chicken came in was upside-down displaying it's grocery store specific label that I hadn't looked at yet.
I asked Duncan, “Where did you get these legs?”
He replied, “Out of my freezer. I started thawing them at lunchtime”
“Duncan? WHEN did you get these legs”, I inquired sarcastically.
“I don't know. Not very long ago. They were on sale”, he added.
I took a deep breath and told him that perhaps the grocery store's label maker was either on the fritz, OR the sale on the package of legs had ended around the time the label indicated: Sell by June 14, 2009. I didn't feel so good for a few days.
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