If something made mom was happy to see the faces of their children when they discovered they would have chicken for lunch. No matter how prepared it was always appreciated. And while the soup of pasta or rice and beans were a thing of every day, when I had chicken and stew until the tortillas with acquired accompanying him fiesta flavor.
Nobody kept track of how often they were in chicken at home, the truth, that detail was irrelevant. There was always food on the table and that was reason enough to feel very grateful.
simple stews, vegetables prepared in the form of capeadas pancakes stuffed with fresh or aged cheese, dipped in tomato sauce or green sauce, were the most frequent. There were times when some showed a little play saint, especially when the smell in the house announced that it had reached the turn cake cauliflower. Beef, wearing dad was home or less often and eat in the form of meatballs in chipotle broth, hash, hash or old clothes.
What mom would not have done to change the flavor of the monotony, but between the work of caring for eight children, the most valuable was the practical and yielding.
At that time the crisis was not a matter of children. Children were not told of the economic difficulties faced by parents and therefore did not speak of things so common today. We did not know if the adjustments made to the menu sometimes is due to that mother had had to divert some spending to buy medicine, to send the hungry shoes any of us to repair or the like.
But when it was chicken was like Christmas arrived early, like the birthday of one of the older siblings or at least one Sunday with guests. Mom was a kind of magician, as probably most moms are. She was able to please everyone when to distribute the chicken pieces in question.
In those years it was customary for housewives to buy the whole chicken, in fact there was no sale of spare parts. Could ask the chicken that game if they planned to pot or, if they were going to follow a recipe to prepare baked whole and always carried it with offal.
For some reason the two largest and always asked the two little leg, the other or we resigned ourselves or we really liked the breast and thighs. That habit of not thinking about her very own mother was. He said he loved every piece. While those who savored to the bones, which were left without any meat attached to them, no one could tell if my mother had played something like the rump, wings, legs or the gizzard and liver, so despised by the boys.
was so natural the way he served and pleased at all, which only years later, when he had time to reflect on what happened at the family table before Dad died, we realized that Mom was magic, reproduced the miracle of multiplying loaves and fishes, as legs chicken, or simply used his wits to defeat not one, serving two giant legs that might appear in the hands of small and two "legs" (which actually were wings), the right size for kids.
course, when we were kids we were all convinced that at home mom getting into the market four-legged chicken.
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