One evening, while dining at the lovely restaurant known as Manfred's our waitress came to the table with a plate of these:
"Would you like to sample our new appetizer, chicken lickers?" Or so my sister, Bridget, and I both thought we heard.
What a fun name for an appetizer! Kind of reminiscent of "finger lickin' good." And wrapped in bacon! These were just some of the thoughts racing through our minds as we scarfed down the entire plate.
"Can we get more chicken lickers?"
"Yea, can we have more? These chicken lickers are so good!"
My parents exchanged an odd look, but agreed to, indeed, get us more chicken lickers if that was what we wanted.
Many years later we were, for some reason, reminiscing about the chicken lickers and how they were so good and how we had never seen them since at any other restaurant when my Mom broke in:
"Umm, that's because they weren't chicken lickers...they were chicken livers."
Bridget and I stared at each other in horror. You might just as well have told us that we had eaten monkey's brains (although popular in Catonese cuisine, are not often to be found in Washington, D.C.!) I could almost see Bridget begin to dry heave at the thought of the chicken licker's true identity, and I wasn't that happy about it either.
"Your Dad and I just let it go because you seemed to like them so much."
In order to cope with this horrifying news, we did the only thing we could do with the information, which was to immediately forget it. So, to this day, if you offer me a bacon wrapped chicken liver, I will politely decline.
But if you offer me a chicken licker, I will eat it right up.