This is definitely NOT Helen's Best ChickeBut it does make me giggle.

Drunken Chicken – The Aftermath

If I ever tell you that I’m going to grill something please do one of three things…

Tackle me and immediately shackle my hands together with duct tape

Make sure should I actually start grilling that I’m supervised by an adult with safety skills and experience using a fire extinguisher

Ensure that I’m wearing a non-flammable Hazmat type suit before approaching the grill

Needless to say my experiment with the Drunken Beer Can Chicken did not go well.

First of all my Tecate tall boy was too tall for my grill. Wait actually I had the chicken on the Tecate tall boy, had it at the grill and then it slipped and fell off the beer can. At that point I was covered in overly complex marinade. So I went to see if any of my neighbors happened to have a spare can of beer in their fridge. Great way to start a neighborhood rumor about ‘Lisa’s drinking problem.’ Unfortunately neither neighbor had a can of beer. Funny how both locked their doors really quickly after I left.

Off to the local drug store where apparently you can purchase an amazing variety of beers. I picked up a 6-pack of PBR and home I went. Who knew I could buy beer, tampons and mascara all at the local Rite-Aid?

Got home. Drank half the PBR. Got the chicken loaded and off I went. I almost lost my balance going out the back door and the chicken almost landed at the bottom of the steps. Obviously this is not going well. Oh, but wait. Finally got the beer can chicken on the grill upright after having it fall over at least 4 times. Closed the lid. It fit in the grill. All was good with the world.

Or so I thought…I went out to check on the cooking status of my most fabulous chicken. The entire grill was surrounded by a cloud of smoke. I didn’t take this as a good sign. I opened the lid and was confronted with a raging ball of fire. No seriously. My beer can chicken had ‘burst into flames.’ I so wish I had been able to take a picture, but my main concern was that I didn’t burn down the house. Luckily I had tongs and a potholder and I was able to grab the burning fireball and remove it from the flames. I make that sound so easy and not at all terrifying don’t I?! Don’t believe it for a second. The whole time all I’m thinking is ‘holy shit how am I going to put out this raging ball of fire?’

So the lesson to be learned here is that shopping for ingredients on a hot, sweaty afternoon to make a ridonculously complex marinade for a chicken that you’re going to grill on a beer can…Totally not worth it. Just crack open the Tecate and drink the whole thing. To hell with the chicken!

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