Is running over a whole chicken with your car better than spatchcocking it?

my poor Camry has been through a lot

It’s Friday, clowns!

You did it. You’re here. I am proud of you. I’m also your new dad now.

Earlier this week, I tried a novel approach to tenderizing meat by running it over with my 2009 Toyota Camry, which had bird diarrhea all over it. Surprisingly, neither the steak nor the chicken breast became what I’d describe as tender, after I steamrolled the meat with my whip. In fact, from what I could tell, the meat was actually somehow chewier. Not that I used what most of you would consider a “scientific method” or anything. Pssssh. Science.

But even so, my curiosity persisted. There had to be something I could do with my car that would assist me in improving my kitchen skills.

Then I thought, wait a second. I really like roasting whole chickens at home. If you’re not much of a cook, I promise, it’s pretty easy to do. Basically, you just season them and pop them in the oven. But if you want to save some time, you can do what’s called spatchcocking them, which is a word that sounds like some kind of sexual maneuver.

Essentially, spatchcocking is just a way to turn the chicken from a round and hollow piece of dead meat into a flat one.

You cut out the backbone, crack the breast, and holy shit, you’ve got a flat chicken. A flat chicken cooks much faster than a regular one, mostly due to magic.

Maybe, if I ran over an entire chicken with my car, I could save some time and not have to deal with doing any culinary surgery to its carcass! Wow. This is the kind of innovative logic that will someday net me a job at a prestigious food publication, where I will give talks and be applauded for constantly making shit up.

I will tell people to grow asparagus by watering it with raw sewage, explain that the best way to poach eggs is by asking a bank teller to do it for you, and teach readers that learning to communicate with the dead is the essential key to throwing a successful housewarming party. Then one day, I will become so famous that readers will viciously turn on me, and I will lose everything. This is the ideal lifecycle of a food writer.

That’s it. I’m really going to make it now.