When I was a kid, I sometimes didn’t like the way my mother did things. She pinched pennies at every turn, saved every dime she could, and I was at times, embarrassed by her frugality. The other day, I went to Costco. Like my mom always did and in order to avoid the impulse buys, I had a list. I don’t go there without one. It was crowded as it always is, but on this day, I had the patience to tolerate the bustle until…..I got to the chicken aisle. A party was going on, and I wasn’t invited. The gathered Costcoites looked up at me with their big-eyed stares that silently said, “Don’t you dare bring your cart in here, lady. There’s no room at the inn.” Immediately intimidated, I rounded the corner to the “other” side of the chicken aisle and tossed into my cart Costco’s organic chicken breast three pack instead of my usual Costco chicken choice, then continued on my way, filling my cart with the remainder of my wants and needs. 

Listed items gathered, I braved the lengthy checkout line, finally reaching the cashier. I always watch as they ring up the items.  Most prices don’t shock me,but the cashier scanned…that… chicken. That three pack was over $30! The exorbitant price stupefied me into silence like a poorly executed HP curse. Plus, you just don’t cause a scene at Costco. You buy and get the heck out of Dodge. 

That thirty dollar three pack stung though. The sting, a catalyst which caused me to remember how my mom, a great cook, always cut up whole chickens for her amazing meals. She fried them. She grilled them. Baked them.  She used the leftovers for the most delicious chicken salads! She even made a pressed chicken that I have yet to attempt, but I dream about it, salivating as I do.

We are having dinner guests this weekend. I have been craving my mom’s grilled chicken, so yes, I bought whole ones (not at Costco).  I got them at Kroger for about $10 each. I’m pretty sure Aldi or Meijer would have been less, but gas is expensive, too, so I took the birds.  Two YouTube videos later, I braved the chickens. Both butchers I viewed had different methods, but ultimately, I went with the method most like Mom’s. Most like I remember. I got out my tools. A big knife. A little one. Some scissors and my biggest cutting board, and then went to town! The first chicken did not go smoothly, but I got the hang of it by the second and got ten pieces out of each one. Plus, I didn’t want to throw away the backs, so I am now making my own savory (fingers crossed) chicken stock with those, just like she did. 

My mom passed away almost a year ago. That day truly is etched into my brain. This sounds silly, but today, as I carved up those chickens, I felt her smiling down on me, maybe even laughing a little as she watched me hack into those hens. As it turns out, with the rising costs of everything these days, doing things Mom’s more frugal way is best. I’m not embarrassed at all. I’m only proud that she taught me how.