Spinach salad with assorted pious sprouted legumes and smoked bacon
Roasted chicken, potatoes, and leeks with wine juice
The aisles of the Central Market on South Lamar are at all times bulging with the buffest, most sinewy women on earth. They are the Vigorocracy, that class of Austin women with enough time for physical fitness and enough money for $8-a-pound bell peppers.
I can’t say where they get their dough, but I do know that they didn’t get buff and sinewy by eating food that tastes good.
Which is why yesterday, when I asked the butcher for a chicken breast with the skin on, he was startled. He had never sold such a thing before. He scanned me for signs that I might be some kind of escapee. I explained that I am from the planet Obstreperogon, where chicken skin, with its luscious subcutaneous fat, is one of the three major food groups (the other two: tacos, Dr. Pepper). On Obstreperogon nobody wants to live so long that they get put in a home and made to wear diapers.
Also on Obstreperogon, people who show little or no interest in delicious food are considered mentally ill. There is legislation prohibiting them from getting married or adopting foster children. And there are huge court battles over food education. Many people don’t want their kids learning about Kraft Macaroni and Cheese or Hot Pockets. They are afraid that the kids, intoxicated by artificial flavorings, will be lured into a life of etiolate banality by the siren call of convenience.
Anyway: unpeeled chicken roasted until crisp in a hot, hot convection oven. Go!