As I dipped the tip of my fried chicken strips into the ranch dressing, it occured to me. Was said chicken strip, in life, from a girl chicken or a boy chicken? Note that this didn't stop me from enjoying them. I'm sure if I were the size of a bug and crossed that chicken's path, I'd be chicken chow.
I asked a few other people (who knew I was no vegetarian) if they pondered the gender of their meat dishes, but the looks I got back suggested this wasn't good small talk. Whoops.
Photo credit : www.flickr.com
Thanks, Pinprick
4 comments:
This is similar to the reaction I get when I bring up the whole idea about anthropomorphizing food. (did I spell that right?)
Ugh... Hollywood! Stop sticking googly eyes on my food!
I guess a chilly reaction to the thought of the gender of the food source has to do with the imagination starting to wander about what's being eaten.
"What gender? Gee, these strips are relatively the same shape. I wonder what part of the chicken went into... ugh.... [FACE TURNS GREEN]"
Nobody wants to imagine that they accidentally ate animal gonad while they are in the middle of wolfing it down with their Honey Mustard.
Maybe if you broached that subject with people who willingly eat bull testicles, you might find a different reaction.
EWWW!
Dammit, the photo for this entry is now making crave french fries. ACK!!!!
Wow, I stepped out of line with that first post. Very sorry. Is that removeable on your side?
Out of line? I thought it was funny. I can try to remove it if it bothers you, but I have no problem with it.
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