One afternoon, I was cooking a couple of spatchcocked chickens on the Big Green Egg when I smelled smoke. No, this wasn't the sweet smell of hickory, but the smell of burning pine. I turned around and goodness me, my neighbor's house was on fire! It was only minutes later that I heard the approaching sirens of the fire brigade! While I kept one eye on the chickens, I watched with interest as the firemen reeled out their hoses and prepared to fight the fire.
But what's this? Oh, no! Their longest hose wouldn't reach to the fire hydrant, and they were caught with dry tanks on the pumper truck! What to do? Well, the chickens were just about done, so I placed them on a platter and ran as fast as I could next door. I found the fire chief and cried out, "Here, plunge your intake hose into the breast of this spatchcocked chicken and start pumping!" He looked at me funny, and I cried out, "Don't ask questions! Just do it!" Well, do it he did, and in no time the pumper truck was pumping gallon after gallon of chicken juice onto the fire and in no time the fire was out. Whew! That was a close call!
As soon as things settled down a bit, I offered the chickens to the exhausted firemen. I told them that the chickens might be a bit dry as we had just pumped all that juice out of the them and onto the fire, but beggars can't be choosers. So we all sat down to a dinner of spatchcocked chicken on the deck. What a sight! All those firemen were in their pants with supenders and boots lined up at the table chowing down on those poor chickens. They all claimed that these spatchcocked chickens were the JUICIEST chickens they had ever eaten, EVEN AFTER WE HAD PUMPED ALL THE JUICE OUT! So, I guess I don't see why anyone would brine a chicken to make it juicier....
