I've done it several times before, but each time I have to decapitate a chicken, I get quite squirmish.
For yesterday's roast, of course the carcass came intact, scrawny feet and head flopping about on its skinny neck. I did the job as quickly as I could, and disposed of the head, keeping the feet for future stock-making. And this time, it was easier, it was less panicky. The first time I had to chop off a head, I was quite convinced that the chicken would wake up out of its frozen sleep just as the knife was about to touch its neck. And it'd squawk at me, hop off the table and run out of the kitchen, in all its nude featherless glory.
And yet that is not as bizarre as this clip from Martha Stewart that was on Serious Eats.
Anyone wants to turn their baby into a turkey? Anyone?