Voodoo, anyone? Perils of a Spanish grocery store
First let me make clear I've lived in Spain for 2 1/2 years. But this is new.
I don't mean to be a wimpy American. I have a degree in Animal Science from Purdue, I swear. I've trimmed beaks and eye teeth, sheared wool and castrated more young animals than I care to talk about.
Still, I let out a squeal.
I've been living the soft life for a long time now, so it surprised me....
...when I opened up the prewrapped "pollo entero" (whole chicken) I'd picked up at El Arbol today, not feeling up to the line at the butcher's stand.
And it had a head.
A lovely little chicken's head, which I promptly removed, along with a few stray feathers.
I have a chicken's head in the house. Feels like I should do something with it.
Labels: on living in Spain