experiments in cooking, flotsam


English: Roasted chicken Español: Pollo asado
Image via Wikipedia

While the weather outside is temporarily frigid, I am making the most of the fact that having the oven on is, right now, not a source of agony (as it would be in summer) but of respite.

I’m roasting a chicken, in point of fact.

Roasted chicken seems really intimidating as a dish, until you actually do it. Then, well, not so much. In fact, it’s really easy.


Well, there’s the ick factor. Nicely packaged boneless-skinless chicken breasts (a staple in my culinary repertoire) are… Easy. Neat. Convenient. And, oh yes… they don’t come full of all the “stuff” that comes in a roaster. Über-ick.

Plus I really like the illusion that the chicken was always in this neatly packaged, almost sterile-seeming format. A roaster is much more in your face about its origin. The animal it used to be, before it became a part of the food chain. Long, long before it became fodder for roasted chicken and ultimately a chicken pot pie.

But all that said, a roaster (once adequately thawed – egad how long does this have to take? – and purged of über-ick and cleaned…

… and patted dry and salted inside…

… and stuffed with a coarsely chopped onion (not to be eaten, but just to flavor the meat from the inside out)…

… and rubbed with just a pat of softened butter both under the skin and over…

…and then the whole thing thrown in the oven for an adequate amount of time…

(… and then enduring the nauseating first half-hour or so of roasting, when the house smells of hot bird and not yet like roasted chicken …)

(… and then enduring the rest of the cooking time, when delicious roasted chicken is wafting through the house but knowing that it cannot yet be eaten because it’s not yet cooked enough…)

… is really very satisfying.

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