make chicken, not war

Last night, at 6:30 in the evening, the sun was setting at over 90 degrees Fahrenheit with a humidity index of 65%, I had the best fried chicken in recent memory.

Upon the recommendation of Paiboon, I visited the food stand of halal fried chicken and cold Thai noodles run by three Muslim women just up the street from my guesthouse.  Asked to get some take-out by his boss, Paiboon gave me a ride, which lasted all but 30 seconds, so no Wolverine hair this time.

As a self-proclaimed, but fully deserved, expert in fried chicken, I could tell immediately that this was some good chicken.  The skin crispy without significant coating, the color yellow from liberal amounts of cumin, these two-legged flightless creatures have been sacrificed for my enjoyment, and I was about to take advantage of it.

Right next to them were several pots of sauces for the noodles, one of which I recognized from a few days earlier as a green curry with a cucumber-like melon that was absolutely delicious.  I pointed to it, and after saying "fuk-kiaw, fuk," Paiboon began to giggle uncontrollably.  Hearing this, one of the women smiled and said, "fuck, fuck, fuck," then giggled as well.  She caught me by surprise, so I was laughing with them, although for a completely different reason, theirs being the similarity in sound between the Thai word for this melon and the apparent English word, mine the sight of this pleasant, hijab-donning woman uttering a series of English profanity with such jollity. 

After Paiboon left on his bike still giggling and muttering some long phrases in Thai to himself, I sat down to enjoy the chicken.  I was right, it was absolutely delicious:  the cumin gave it a unique but not overpowering punch, packing just enough heat to stimulate the senses without rendering me a perspiring mess.  I was in love.  As I bit into the crunchy skin and savored the tender meat, I watched the three women prepare food for more customers.  I remembered the recent news about the discovery of burned holy texts.

For whatever reason, some people in this world continue to feel the need to disrespect other people's beliefs, setting off an endless series of revenge.  They create laws based on their own religious beliefs to limit other people's freedom, while all the time complaining that their religious freedom has been compromised.

Make love, not war, it is said.  Forget that - there are enough abandoned babies in this world.  Instead, make chicken!  I say take all that anger you have toward people who are different than you and enter yourselves in a fried chicken competition.  Instead of burning sacred texts, heat up vegetable-based oils with no unsaturated fat.  Rather than guarding millennia-old secrets about the wrong-doings of your predecessors, learn the secrets of spices and coating techniques.  And as a substitute for throwing bombs, throw chicken bones.

The winner?  Those with the cleanest chicken bones remaining, after I have at them, of course.