Ang fell in love with Spinning Chickens when he was a teenager - before his English had progressed to the point where he knew what “rotisserie” meant.
After we were married, I remember buying a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store on one of those (many) nights when I didn’t feel like cooking. It didn’t take me long to discover how much he loved them.
Ang: (as I unload the groceries) “*gasp* A spinning chicken! My favorite!”
Me: “A WHAT?”
Ang: “Spinning chicken. You know, how it spins around on the little rack?”
Me: “That would be rotisserie”.
Ang: “RO -tiss-eree…can I just call it a spinning chicken?”
Henceforth, the rotisserie chicken is known as the Hallowed Spinning Chicken, and the kids all know it by this name. I can only imagine how their future spouses will get a kick out of this someday, when they learn the more righteous name for rotisserie. I hope none of the kids fall in love with a French person who might be offended. ![]()
Posted in Funny Stuff, food, intercultural
