Rather than buy the chicken pieces separately, I bought a whole chicken and cut it up. My mom happened to call last night and I mentioned this to her and she said, "Whaaaat? What did you do that for?" And I replied, "well, that's what my cookbook told me to do!" And it did! I mean boviously I knew I could buy the pieces separately, but I figured it would be a good learning experience for me. And one of the ways my cookbook rules is that it explains everything, so it had illustrated step-by-step instructions for how to cut and trim a chicken.
Man, I'll tell you what though, that shit's creepy. Which is the reason my mom doesn't like to work from whole chickens. It was kind of difficult, but not too bad considering I had absolutely NO experience in chicken mutilation. [And I apparently need a meat cleaver, in case anyone was wondering what to buy me for no reason. They're actually kinda pricey, like $25 for a mediocre-grade one.] But . . . man, those ribs. Those ribs remind you that this is an actual animal you're eating, y'know? And when I lifted it out of the bag, I lifted it under its "shoulders", and it felt like lifting a baby or something, just very heavy and muscley feeling. Mm, but frahed baby is gooooood.
Oh, I also made roasted red potatoes, and THEY were really good too, and I tried to make Manning's Hominy, but it turns out that hominy is grits, so I made Mitchell's Shoepeg Corn and that was really good. And there is still a bunch of chicken and potatoes left over, so amen to that, brother.