...to be grossed out?
I mean really grossed out.
If you're not, leave now.
This is not for the faint of heart...
Or those with heart problems.
Or pregnant, or nursing.
Don't say I didn't warn you. Yep, those are chicken feet. They are supposedly very beneficial when made into a stock. They are supposedly good for arthritis. Personally, I'd be ok without them. I've survived thus far. Daniel however is falling apart. His joints are getting bad again, and he still hasn't been able to walk up the stairs normally since his last arthritic episode. So, we bought chicken feet.
Look at that price! What a steal!
This is about the point when I left the kitchen gagging. Daniel made me come back in. I guess since I made him chop off the claws, I could stand a few minutes in the kitchen with him. He said I obviously don't love him enough since I wouldn't hack up the chicken feet with a dull knife. I said I obviously love him because I didn't run out of the kitchen screaming.
Don't those things look deadly? Good thing I stayed away from them, eh?
Ok, I won't force you to look at any more pictures of chicken feet. I refrained from taking a picture of them in the crock-pot taking a bath with the Cornish Game Hen carcasses. They turned grey and nasty looking after a while in that hot water. Furthermore, I won't make you look at pictures of the chicken feet after they've been cooking for 24 hours. Yep, I'm thoughtful like that.