Remember About A Month Ago?
When I wrote about that chicken deal?
No?
Sigh.
Okay, I'll elucidate and elaborate.
You ruminate while I illuminate.
It Was Friday, April 24, roughly 11 AM...
A food service company was selling crates of chicken breasts from a semi trailer in the back parking lot of a Chinese restaurant. I needed to go to the coast to fill an ATM, but since I was starting out fairly close to the locale of the sale, I decided to go check out the line for these boneless, skinless chicken breasts.
With the lockdown of the pandemic in full swing, and it starting to affect the food supply and prices, I thought it might be a good idea to stock up, but since I had to work, I didn't want to waste an hour or two in line.
When I got there, I found a queue about a half mile long. The selling had started at 10 AM and was only meant to go through noon. My guess was, some people weren't going to get any chicken that day. There were, however, a couple of women walking by cars with a sheet on a clipboard, presumably taking orders.
Instead of getting in line, I just turned around and headed for the coast.
Not To Be Denied, However...
Later at home, I discovered that the food service company responsible for selling the chicken were taking orders. Unfortunately, it was folks who wanted 10 crates (40 lbs. each) or more. I only needed two, but I decided I'd contact them anyway to see what could be done.
When they messaged back, I was told that they no longer had any chicken, and didn't know if they were going to get any more. If they did, they'd let me know. I gave them my phone number so they could call me if and when.
Well, the days went by. Expecting a phone call, I didn't check for messages all that next week. It wasn't until the following Tuesday around 5 pm that I happened to see a couple of messages from them. One was from the previous Friday (May 1) to tell me that yes indeed, they would have more chicken, and that I could pick it up between 8 am and 2 pm either Monday (May 4) or Tuesday (May 5).
Great. I missed both dates. What happened to the phone call?
I messaged back, saying I would love to get the chicken if they still had any. It took a couple of hours for them to respond, but to my relief, they still had some. All I had to do was come to their warehouse the next day, Wednesday (May 6), between the same hours of 8 am and 2 pm. I told them I could do that and they gave me an authorization number.
For clarity, I asked a couple of questions. Would I still need to pay in cash? Yes. Would the price be the same, $40 for 40 lbs.? Nope. New price was $50 for 40 lbs. Instead of $1 per pound, it was now $1.25, and I would have to drive over an hour one way to get it.
Fine. It was still a decent deal.
Two more questions.
How much chicken per bag? I was told four bags, 10 lbs. each.
Last one. Frozen, right? No. The chicken would be fresh.
Nice.
The Next Day...
I wanted to get up there early, but I didn't. It was well after noon by the time I arrived at the warehouse. There was a sign on the door saying I should wait outside for assistance. Presently, a guy in an apron showed up, asked me if he could help, then asked for my authorization code when I told him I was there for the chicken. After I gave him the $100, he told me just a moment and disappeared.
Presently, he arrived with two crates on a dolly. He brought them out to the car and put them in my trunk. When he was gone, I took a look at the chicken. It was kind of hard to tell what they looked like, really, because they were placed in a blue bag. There was only one, too, not four bags.
That was okay. Since the chicken wasn't frozen, it would still be easy enough to separate them into freezable storage bags. With chicken in tow, there was one more thing to do.
The Best Part...
Have you heard of Krispy Kreme? They make donuts. Pretty dang good ones in my opinion. Their original raised glazed donuts literally melt in your mouth. You can eat a dozen in a blink of an eye, reach for another, and finding none, rage around, waving your fist wildly as you blame everyone for eating them all.
They're that good.
Not that I would know anything about that raging part. Because I don't.
Well, there happens to be a few Krispy Kreme's up by the food service warehouse, the closest being about 15 minutes.
Yeah, I know. I had fresh chicken sitting in the back of my trunk, I was adding an additional 30 minutes to my over hour drive home, but the donuts were calling my name. Plain and simple.
And when donuts call your name, you heed their call.
Since ordering ahead has been in fashion thanks to the lockdown, I went ahead and got on the Krispy Kreme mobile app and selected a dozen. Six of the original glazed, one chocolate iced original glazed, one chocolate iced kreme filled, one chocolate iced custard filled, one glazed raspberry filled, one glazed lemon filled and a maple ice glazed.
I was yet to eat lunch, so after I received my donuts via the drive thru, I helped myself to the chocolate covered custard and glazed lemon filled donuts. Since the daughter-in-law decided she wouldn't have any, I figured that meant there would be 10 donuts left to split between the three of us adults. To be fair, (because that's the kind of guy I am—caring and sharing) since I'd eaten two already, and three into 12 divided out to four each, that meant I could still have two more later.
Later Never Comes
You would think after raising two sons and now having three grandchildren, all while really young were still all capable of eating grown up food, that I would learn that it's best to strike while the iron is hot. In other words, if there's food to eat, and you basically have it all to yourself, you'd better eat it.
Cuz there ain't gonna be none later if ya don't.
The daughter-in-law, who only wanted a blueberry filled donut or a glazed kreme filled donut, sans the hole? She ate some donuts. The two grandchildren also living in my house, who I hadn't accounted for because they're small and probably shouldn't eat donuts because they could literally overdose on sugar, or bounce off the walls for days? They each had at least one. Then, of course, my younger son demolished some and my wife managed to get a couple.
When the devastation, destruction and grand theft pastry was over and the dust settled, all that remained of the once happy, brightly glistening dozen was one solitary, lonely raspberry filled donut. Frankly, I'm surprised it lasted to the end. However, I was more than willing to take it out of its misery.
As I stealthily and lovingly reached for my perfect, sweet delicious prize...
SMACK!
Okay, that's not how it went down, but it hurt my heart nonetheless.
For you see, my wife, who has taken it upon herself to be, among many other things, my lifetime food consumption police, told me from thirty feet away with her back turned, that under no uncertain terms was I to touch that donut.
D-D-Denied!
Fine!
Next time, I'll get two dozen donuts, and eat three before I get home and then grab a couple more afterwards while no one's looking!
So, I did.
A week ago.
Grandpa! Grandpa! Grandpa! Grandpa!
Back To The Poultry
Oh, and just for the record, here's what the chicken looks like in clear freezable plastic.
'Til next time...
Enjoy!
All images courtesy of Glen Anthony Albrethsen