Colonel Sanders approves!
Boy, that’s just complicated. When I got big enough to swing an axe the folks put me in charge of killing chickens. No sex check. no weigh in. Just hack and next, But I had to split the heads between my dog and my Gramma. The dog had lunch and Gramma made chickenhead soup. Stayed that way until I left home, after which both the dog and Gramma died and my Mom never dressed another chicken. Gramma felt sorry for my dog——said he shouldn’t have to eat all those heads. I suspect the chickens still have a contract out on me ‘cause I converted so many of them to “fried.”
Fried is the best chicken.
Colonel Sanders approves!
That’s just the commercial side. Homegrown broilers are best. Even the layers have more flavor, if not tenderness. Gramma knew.