There will be blood

The Hundred Secret Senses is one of my favorite books by Amy Tan. I admit I remember nothing about the plot, but one scene sticks in my mind. It describes the preparation of free-range chicken and cooking it into soup, blood included.

I also remember telling Eva about it. “Gross,” she had said, referring not to the blood per se, but congealed blood. It took me years to become curious enough to look up the dish. I guess I was hoping Eva was right, and she was — only as far as the blood being congealed/cakey, which is to say that it did not look anywhere near gross to me.

But killing the chicken did. I could not find commercially sold free-range chicken, and had to call a friend to find me two (they are quite small). He obviously managed to — if still very much alive, hence the graphic photos that follow, so if you are squeamish, consider yourself warned.

First, feathers were removed from around the doomed fowl’s neck. I was surprised at how easily they came off, more so at how little resistance the chicken put up (it could be argued it is pretty hard to do so when someone has you in a chokehold, but still). Did the poor creature have any idea what was about to happen?

And the deed was done. If you have not slaughtered chicken before, you might make the mistake of heaving a sigh of relief at this point. Don’t. The animal is only beginning to die, and will take a few minutes to actually be dead; if you relax your grip, the chicken will thrash around — not a lovely sight, and definitely messy. I know of some tambay who lop off the head and amuse themselves watching the chicken “dance” itself to death.

That there is the blood of two chickens. Not much, is it? Refrigerate until using. (That stunned look on the chicken will haunt me for the rest of my days.)

From thereon it was only a matter of dipping the carcasses in boiled water and plucking the feathers. Here you can see why I ordered two: “dressed,” native chicken looks gaunt and anemic (no pun intended).

But incredibly tasty — I have rhapsodized about it before as adobo. As for the cakes of blood in the soup, they were more interesting in texture than actual flavor (flat, in fact). No one commented on that aspect; they did look a lot like liver. Next time, I plan to add kalamansi juice to the blood to keep it from congealing, then stir it into the soup (like in beef sinangag), see if it makes a noticeable difference. I know it’s bloody ridiculous, but somehow I feel I owe it to those chickens.