The Chicken Disaster

This past Sunday, my mom decided to make a chicken.

You know, a whole chicken slow roasted in the oven with potatoes and carrots and stuff.

I was really excited for said chicken, I mean, gotta love poultry, and also because the only time we ever eat large birds is at Thanksgiving, and sometimes not even then, so I was pumped to nosh on some bird.

Well, the thing is our oven isn't the best.  I don't know if it's old or what, but it's absolute trash and can't cook anything right.

She put the chicken in the oven at 6:00, and anticipated it to be done in a couple hours.

So there we were, my mom, my dad, and I, sitting in the kitchen taking the chicken out of the oven at 9:30 on Sunday night.  I usually go to bed way earlier than this, but I stayed up waiting for that darn chicken to cook.

We pulled out and from the outside, it looked perfectly fine.  It appeared to be fully cooked and we were happy that something finally cooked right in our oven.

Funny thing is that the chicken was far from cooked.  We cut into it and the inside was practically raw.

It was bad.  I got really salty, my mom lost hope, and my dad started cutting it up and microwaving it piece by piece (which we have done with Thanksgiving turkeys in the past).

I was really upset because I just wanted to stuff my face with chicken and go to bed, but I couldn't do that if the chicken wasn't cooked.

It's kind of like the morning of Thanksgiving when you're all like:

Courtesy of: Pinterest

And then dinner time comes around and half the food isn't cooked and the rolls are burnt and you're just like: 

Courtesy of: QuickMeme

Anyway, it was disappointing and I was sad so I ate some leftover spaghetti noodles with Costco pesto and went to bed.

I don't really remembered all the things that happened that night, but I'm pretty sure we ended up leaving the oven on all night while we were sleeping, because the next day hat chicken was cooked.  I mean if that chicken wasn't dead before, spending eighteen hours in the oven should make it way dead.

When we ate though (on Monday night), it was good and fully-cooked and I really enjoyed it.

And no worries — we're going to my grandparents house for Thanksgiving so there won't be two uncooked poultry incidents within the same month.

So thanks for reading and give your turkey-cooking moms/dads/legal guardians a big hug for cooking those turkeys, because as we've learned, it's not so easily accomplished.

Bye for now.
Elise :)