I want to be a Butcher when I grow up

No, but seriously.

Today I went to the marche at Les Halles Castelane in the center of Montpellier. After buying some vegetables for tonights dinner I decided to check out the butcher counter. I think it is so cool how in Europe, when you buy food, you can really see what you are going to be eating. For example, The chickens are fully intact, head, feet, and all. You have the option, of course, to ask to butcher to cut them off for you, or you can simply take it home and do it yourself.

I had my first of such experiences a few weeks ago when my cousin Jesse was here visiting with his friend Ben. Jesse went to culinary school and we decided, one night, to make a home cooked French dinner. We made Rabbit which we pan seared, covered in tarragon and chive and then baked in the oven. We served it with a red wine pineapple sauce with shallots and garlic. We also roasted two small quails which we covered in pancetta. The quails, as we realized once we brought them home, still had their heads. "I want to do it!" I yelled out. There was no opposition. And thus, I sucessfully, and beautifully, de-headed two quails.

But I digress, back to the butcher. Today, for the first time, I witnessed the butcher and his rooster. The rooster was gorgeous, all skinned and perfect with the head and feet and innards still intact. Along the head there was a gorgeous white plume. The butcher layed the bird on the cutting board and picked up what can only be referred to as a small hatchet. He saw me watching him, and began his show. A couple of eyebrow raising wacks later, the bird was headless, feetless, and ready for gutting.

I stood there watching the butcher, in complete awe for about ten minutes until my slightly grossed out friends dragged me away. It may not be for everyone, but man...so cool!