Every so often I crave a roast chicken. I try not to eat meat but I have a problem with roast chicken and burgers and salmon and sunny side eggs. Let’s face it, I will never never be vegan. Salmon alone is my equivalent of a steak.

Now back to this beautiful piece of meat. So juicy. So tender- and the apartment is not in flames. It’s about half a week’s worth of food for me and fuzzy Duffy. He’s a thigh man [insert joke here]. My parents always let us eat chicken and fish growing up. I was the one in college who started waning off meat because the cafeteria could not cook any food that required actual cooking and the dorms were a cereal kind of set up.

Lately, the smell of roasted chicken as I walk past a bodega has become overwhelming. So I concede. Get in my belly, chicken- and in my salad, and in Duffy’s gravy. No one tell Donald Duck. This may be his cousin.