Dark v. White: The Great Debate

This week, E's parents came to stay at Xanadu for awhile to help us get the place into uber tip top shape. They arrived midday on Friday and we headed over to the Peninsula after work. During our trip over, E somewhat sheepishly informed me that her mom was planning on having dinner ready for us as soon as we arrived (certainly nothing to be abashed about, lucky us!) BUT dinner would consist of chicken breasts and corn. I assured her that I was not raised in a barn and would thus choke down as much of the offending white meat as I could. And I did.

Ok. I know that white meat costs a helluva lot more than dark meat but I sure can't figure out why. I think the chasm between eaters of dark meat and those of white spans nearly as wide as that between lovers and haters of cilantro. (In case you ever find yourself in the position of making us dinner, you should know that we both fall into the intensely dislike camp when it comes to cilantro. In fact, we are often tempted to tell servers that even just a hint of cilantro is enough to elicit in us seizures.) The debate between dark and white meat has existed since probably as long as man has been eating meat and will likely last until we're all just sucking Tang through our tubes on the international space stations. Perhaps this is just one of those things that we're just never going to agree upon? I will always think that breast meat is tasteless and dry to the point that the back of my throat feels dangerously deprived of moisture no matter how well it is cooked. In contrast, E will never get over dark meat feeling too wet, chewy, and visually too dark like living flesh. Oh well. It's a helluva lot more interesting than arguing over whose god might or might not actually exist.