Home this morning, greeted by the 'rents fresh from Florida.Mom (as she's juicing tangerines): Nag-ihaw ko og chicken. [I "barbecued" chicken).
Me: That's nice.
Mom: Yeah. I butchered it. We bought a live one and I butchered it.
She shows me pieces of chicken in a Glad bag, thawing and blood tinged.
Mom: It's native chicken.
Here I was thinking of giving her Michael Pollan's oeuvre as a present, but those are useless to a farm girl. You can take the farm girl out of the farm, but ...
Photo: Calamansi and Calamansi, Jr. - lone survivors of a Florida winter from my Mom's Florida yard.
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