RTFM
In the true spirit of return to the barter economy in the post-plentitude era, one of Boy's massage client paid him in pastured chicken. Two real whole chickens that Boy and the Mad Engineer will actually eat! INORITE? One went in the freezer and we had the other tonight, with roasted parsnips and carrots and onions and potatoes and garlic, seasoned with fresh rosemary and sage from my own garden -- the garden, may I remind you, that Boy and the ME scoffed at me for creating, thank you kindly.
Roast chicken is the best -- throw the whole cleaned chicken and chopped veg in a big bowl, toss it in olive oil and paprika and herbs, a bit of salt and pepper (plus a teensy bit of ancho and chipotle to work on Boy's slow exposure to spice). Stuff a halved lemon into the cavity (oh yeah baby). Into the roasting pan, bung it into a 400F oven and let it go for about an hour and a half until the juice runs clear. Bob's your uncle.
I take it out of the oven, let it rest and call the Summanullites for dinner. I don't worry about carving or anything, I just figure we'll all hack at it and get the parts we want. Boy and I grab ours and sit down. The Mad Engineer wanders up to the pan, contemplates it, and says, "I don't know how to operate a chicken."
I couldn't make this shit up.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/544603.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.
Roast chicken is the best -- throw the whole cleaned chicken and chopped veg in a big bowl, toss it in olive oil and paprika and herbs, a bit of salt and pepper (plus a teensy bit of ancho and chipotle to work on Boy's slow exposure to spice). Stuff a halved lemon into the cavity (oh yeah baby). Into the roasting pan, bung it into a 400F oven and let it go for about an hour and a half until the juice runs clear. Bob's your uncle.
I take it out of the oven, let it rest and call the Summanullites for dinner. I don't worry about carving or anything, I just figure we'll all hack at it and get the parts we want. Boy and I grab ours and sit down. The Mad Engineer wanders up to the pan, contemplates it, and says, "I don't know how to operate a chicken."
I couldn't make this shit up.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/544603.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.