WHY THIS BOOK? It was a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning in September when I started out for the highway. Before leaving the house, I had nervously entered the destination’s address into the GPS, but in my anxious state, had little faith that it would send me to the right place. Throughout the entire half hour drive, I wondered to myself if I were able to carry out the task ahead of me. Earlier that week, my friend, Michelle, who owns the local health food store had invited me to her farm for that day to help her and her husband complete an unusual Sunday afternoon ritual – the slaughter of 50 cocks (also known as roosters). Normally Michelle and her husband, René, had raised hens (female chickens), but in that particular year, the hatchery sent them all male chicks. The salesman at the hatchery assured them that these birds would be fine eating when grown to full size, but what they found was quite different and not at all pleasurable to the modern palate. The birds were tough and straw-like, dry and difficult to chew. Knowing not only my penchant for trying new recipes, but also my interest in pursuing a challenge, Michelle figured that I would be the perfect candidate for finishing the job they had started the Sunday before. In fact, she was so disheartened by the results of some of the recipes she had tried, that she offered to pay me in cocks – 25 to be exact – knowing that I would jump at the chance to play around with them. As a holistic nutritionist, who must to remain pragmatic in all things pertaining to food, that September morning was to be the ultimate test of my pragmatism. Many people’s food choices are based upon ideology and perceptions of cruelty towards animals. However, in my business, such a stance can be quite literally fatal, should someone deny him or herself a piece of meat that might be crucial to reversing a disease. Yet eating a piece of meat and killing an animal are two very different events for most people in industrialized societies. I was no different from any other city slicker and on the drive to my friend’s house, I worried that I was perhaps too chicken to step up to the plate and lop their heads off. When I stepped out of the car, the air was clean and crisp. To the innocent bystander, it would not have been apparent that in a few moments time, the scene would become far more sobering. I walked up the stone steps into the house, where I was warmly welcomed. Michelle and I sat around chatting for a few minutes, giggling and gossiping about the absurdity of the week’s newsworthy events. A few moments later, René showed up in the truck with our victims. One-by-one, the birds were let out of the cage, knowing that their life’s purpose was about to be fulfilled. It was amazing to me how calm they were. Many farmers had told me before that animals ready for slaughter “understood the deal” and willingly submitted to their fate. Seeing this play out gave me a new understanding of the cycle of life as well as terms like “food chain”. This also gave me an even deeper appreciation for honoring any food that ends up on my plate, whether animal or vegetable. Immediately after slaughter, a pot of very hot water was kept nearby for the purpose of de-feathering the bodies. Then the birds were all brought inside the house for the tedious task of removing the entrails and feet. The bodies were then bagged individually; heads and feet bagged separately for making rich nutritious stock; and gizzards, livers and hearts sorted and stored in their respective packages. Many hours later, I returned to my car with 25 cocks in a cooler to stuff in the trunk. This is where the real challenge began – finding delicious ways of preparing these tough old birds.

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