West African roasted poussain ... itty bitty chickens, that is.

Poussain: “Poo-sahn”. That’s the way Natacha pronounces it. And, I had to try them with our West African signature marinade.

These itty bitty chickens are what my mother used to fry up on the stove back in the day, down south. Honestly, they’re soooooo tender, juicy and just not like those huge, white-breasted, tasteless factory farmed things that are sold in the stores today.

These are chicken like there used to be. Yeah. Back in the day.

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Is okra really that weird?

Before I could dive into the okra bin at Whole Foods the other night, a woman and her husband slide in front of me - she’s dragging the produce guy with her. They just couldn’t figure out okra apparently, and the produce guy was equally clueless.

I wasn’t trying to be rude, but needed to grab a couple handfuls of the stuff and get on with my other shopping - so that’s how I entered the conversation.

“Ooooooh, is THAT okra?” she asks me, pointing like the okra was a weeping Jesus picture on a grilled cheese.

“What’s it like?” her idiot husband gushed.

I tried to give her the ClifNotes version - with the disclaimer that okra can be an acquired taste… you know, the snotty part.

I don’t think either of these oh,so fashionable nimrods had ever cooked anything more challenging than Lean Cuisine, and the bottom line for their interest in okra was the fact that Dr. Oz - whoever the hell he is ( actually, I know - and don’t care) - says that it’s the latest superfood. So, they were gonna eat it or else.

I wish Whole Foods could just taser people like this before they get in there and ruin it for the rest of us.

Anyway, I got my okra and split.

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