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Some of you are old enough to remember when a fried chicken dinner required not only a frying pan but also either kitchen shears or a big knife.  That’s right, back in our day chickens were purchased in grocery stores, not drive-thru windows.  And they looked pretty much like actual chickens, just without feathers, heads and feet.

When my mom served us fried chicken, she insisted on taking the back.  That’s a piece of chicken the Colonel doesn’t serve, of course.  But it’s there, right there with breasts, thighs and drumsticks.  I always thought she was “taking one for the team,” as mothers often do — leaving the choice pieces for the rest of us.  Now I’m starting to wonder if Mom was playing us.

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