ALL ABOUT THE BIRD

For some reason, the conversation among the cigar smokers at the wall today reminded me of the dancing chicken in Stroszek. No, they weren't talking about chickens, nor acting like fowl either.
They did mention pigeons, briefly - our feathered friends are a recurring theme in their world - but there was no discussion of dancing, or of wild music associated with the avian hokey-pokey.

Before we go any further, let me introduce you to the chicken in question.



THAT HOT DISCO MAGIC!

[SOURCE: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcoqeNdMAfA.   The movie was made by Werner Herzog, who obsesses over chickens. Alcoholism, prostitution, robbery, a frozen turkey, and the bleak prairies of Wisconsin also figure in this exceedingly German film. No one is sure that it's worth watching. But doing so is a life affirming event. Meaningful. German.]



Yes, I realize that my description of the movie is unnecessarily snarky.
And it baffles me why the happy chatter of men with stogies brought that clip to mind. There's just something about them and the subjects they discuss that does that.
I'm a pipe smoker. So I do not understand them.
They're from another planet.

I continued to think about the dancing chicken during lunch, which was a chicken salad sandwich on toasted light rye with a splurt of hotsauce.
The hotsauce (Tương Ớt Sriracha) features a dancing chicken on the label.

I was actually planning to write about empanadas, and the lovely bosom of a person who works at the place where empanadas may be found.
The empanadas I am quite familiar with, but not the bosom.
However, I've got chicken on the brain. As a rule, I would not mind attending to bosoms, but generally speaking it might be considered an imposition, and there are few opportunities to do so. In most social situations detailed examination of bosoms may cause raised eyebrows.
It is probably far better to concentrate purely on the empanadas.
Appealing little dome-shaped pastries that are warm and golden.
Rewarding to know, and exceptionally approachable.
I'm very fond of empanadas, as well as bosoms.
There are marked similarities between the two.
Both, ideally, are not excessive but just right.
And of a dimension pleasing to the hand.
One of them goes with hot sauce.
Go ahead, have two.


I'm still thinking of dancing chickens.


I shall not have any empanadas this weekend.
Perhaps rice noodles in broth with cilantro and chopped scallions.
I've got to stop hanging around with cigar smokers, they're a horrible influence.

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