Chicken feet!

I'm going to preface this post that the pics might be a little disturbing for some... I really don't want to be the cause of traumatizing my nieces, although at their age I was watching Predators and Tremors in addition to my Disney classics (huh, maybe that explains some things?).   Anyways, if you are young or vegan or hate the many foot-related puns I gleefully plan on using, then don't read on.

Emboldened by the success of our tasty pig meal last week, I decided it was time to try my hand (feet?) at the pile of chicken delicacies they had stacked up in the butcher's case.  I had been aching to try chicken feet since the very memorable dim sum debacle of season 8 of Top Chef All Stars, but T and I had yet to eat them.

I googled chicken feet recipes, and the recipe pickings are slim.  Most revolve around the dim sum classic dubbed Phoenix Claws, or other riffs of an Asian flavor profile.  Nearly all of the recipes recommend removing the toes since they are the "unpleasant" part of this cut of meat.  Then you clean, fry, and braise the depeditated feet.  Deciding the frying seemed unnecessary-it's to puff the skin, but it didn't seem to have much impact on texture or flavor-I began the fun process of giving these chicks a pedicure.

I love my husband.  And I feel a little bad for him.  After cleaning out his truck, he comes back to our apartment and finds me triumphantly whacking off the last toenail from a bag feet he will be expected to consume in a few hours.  The lighting is better in our dining room, so I am sitting where he normally consumes his morning bowl of Cheerios so I can take pictures of my feet.  I'm sweaty and frustrated since "snip off the toes" is far easier said than done with dull Ikea shears, and I had quickly moved onto a system of chefs knife and chop sticks that probably gave him a horrifying Kathy Bates flash.  And what does he say to this vision of domestic bliss?  Without batting an eye, he just says a calm, "Don't forget to sanitize the table." 

Feet ready for their pedi:

The chopsticks were to minimize touching of the feet since they are raw chicken.  Stupid IKEA shears.

Done!  Bowl o' feet!

Anyways, back to the food.  I gave the feet a good soak and massage in a baking soda bath since I read it can remove some of the stinky-feet odors.  I braised them in my own concoction of soy sauce, oyster sauce, fish sauce, sugar, onion, ginger, anise, vinegar, peppers, and garlic.  I am terrible at following recipes.

Served with fried rice T cooked up, along with some soft-boiled duck eggs we also purchased from the store.

We ate them on our balcony.  As requested, pictures of us actually eating the food.  Here is one of T giving the feet a careful taste:

Notice T using chopsticks so he can keep his hands clean, making it easy for him to take over the camera.  Now it's my turn:

I just dug right on in.  It never occurred to me to use the chopsticks for them.

So how were they?....OK.  They didn't have a strong flavor other than of sauce and generic chicken, and any ickyness was really a mental barrier since they retain their foot-like resemblance even after braising for many hours.  There is not a lot of meat on them, since they are primarily bone, tendon, fat, and skin.  As T put it, they are a high effort, low reward kind of meal, and they make your hands super sticky to boot.  hehe.  The sauce turned out to be toe-licking good, but given the previous lack of meat on them, the same sauce would have been even better on wings or drum sticks.  Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  At least now we can say we truly put our foot in our mouths.

Sorry.  I couldn't resist.