When Chickens Attack

By: Steph

By this title, my mom may be transported back to her child hood when a headless chicken chased her around her neighborhood after recently getting its head chopped off. She was 3 and has since been scared to death of flapping creatures. Who could blame her really? This story is not traumatizing like that is, but it reflects the sinister nature of our winged friend’s foray back from the dead to ensnare unwitting travelers into its rigid claws. How can it accomplish this you ask? Well, let me tell you.

A couple weeks back we went out to dinner with my co-teacher and her husband for hot and spicy chicken feet. Yes that’s right, you didn’t misread, chicken feet. They took us to a restaurant renowned throughout Korea for having the spiciest poultry appendage. Before coming to Korea we had heard that Korean food was infamous for being the spiciest in all the world. Up until this time we had remained highly skeptical. But after our chicken feet experience I can say that rumor is probably true and probably originated from this small restaurant in Bucheon.

How this culinary experience works is you put on a plastic glove and stare at the center of the table where lies the decrepit claw of a late chicken. You wait until your Korean friends begin to partake and realize that it is not simply a joke played on foreigners. Then you cautiously pick up your first “beautiful” three-pronged specimen and tear off a bit of the gelatinous spice encrusted sinew. You gnaw on your prey and try to ignore the building fire in your mouth. Eventually it cannot be avoided and you gulp down 5 glasses of water and find what began as a flame is now a bonfire and has not been slackened by copious amounts of water. So you sit crying and laughing and trying to choke down more because the taste is good and the texture interesting but, like the sun, although it has redeeming qualities if you venture too close you die.

I had 3 or 4 chicken feet before I had to surrender to its prowess. I sat back and hoped I could survive the plunder. Micah didn’t do too badly during the meal, but I found out later he only had one chicken foot. Cheater. However I had the upper hand in the morning when he was crying on the john and I had no problems (ok maybe not crying, but very well near it).

It was a really cool culture experience though and I’m really glad we got to partake in it. Not a single foreigner I’ve talked to has ventured to take a dip into this food festivity, and I’m glad that we can say we survived the chicken foot attack of ‘09.