Growing up, my preferred cooked chicken part was the drumstick. (Second choice was chopped up darker white meat.) Not only was it the most convenient to hold, but the most convenient to eat, too. I didn’t want to be bothered with cutting up my own meat off the breast or the thigh, and, in retrospect, the words “breast” and “thigh” themselves probably didn’t appeal to me as they were a reminder of the animal-body-part aspect of the meal, so the drumstick was prime claiming territory. Thankfully, as the youngest in my extended clan, this was an appropriate choice as my mom trusted me with a folded napkin more than a knife, and everyone else mostly preferred the main-body-meat.
Ever since transitioning into a primarily plant-based diet, I’ve missed the comforting little food habits and brand associations of my childhood. Like Dinty Moore beef stew and Ikea’s Swedish meatballs. Or holding a drumstick in my hand and biting into the juicy, bulbous end.
Well, I’m still waiting on a satisfactory meatball substitute for my spaghetti. But mushroom stroganoff and thick chili with veggie sausage have catered well to goulash and stew cravings. And last week, I discovered a delicious and easy-to-grip substitute for a chicken drumstick in the giant Bosc pear.