Friday night I roasted a chicken. It’s my fall-back, easy, warm meal. On Thursday night I bought a chicken just for this occasion and completely forgot to pick up any veggies to roast. You see, I like to roast veggies with my chicken. I usually throw in onions, a bit of garlic, potatoes, carrots, and whatever else I’m craving at the moment. Fortunately, I had one sweet potato laying around and some regular potatoes (from Thanksgiving time), plus I always have onions and garlic, so the combination was perfect.
Now, I found a recipe to roast a chicken that is foolproof. Half-way through the roasting, I turn the chicken over to make sure it gets crispy on all sides. I have done this 4 or 5 times in the last 3 months and the process has yet to let me down.
So what do you need? A chicken. Time. A meat thermometer. An oven. Salt & Pepper. That’s it.
Ingredients:
- One 2- to 3-pound farm-raised chicken
- Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 2 teaspoons minced thyme (optional)
- Unsalted butter
- Dijon mustard
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 450°F. Rinse the chicken, then dry it very well with paper towels, inside and out. The less it steams, the drier the heat, the better.
Salt and pepper the cavity, then truss the bird. Trussing is not difficult, and if you roast chicken often, it’s a good technique to feel comfortable with. When you truss a bird, the wings and legs stay close to the body; the ends of the drumsticks cover the top of the breast and keep it from drying out. Trussing helps the chicken to cook evenly, and it also makes for a more beautiful roasted bird.
Now, salt the chicken—I like to rain the salt over the bird so that it has a nice uniform coating that will result in a crisp, salty, flavorful skin (about 1 tablespoon). When it’s cooked, you should still be able to make out the salt baked onto the crisp skin. Season to taste with pepper.
Place the chicken in a sauté pan or roasting pan and, when the oven is up to temperature, put the chicken in the oven. I leave it alone—I don’t baste it, I don’t add butter; you can if you wish, but I feel this creates steam, which I don’t want.
(Halfway through, I turn the chicken over. The original recipe doesn’t call for this).
Roast it until it’s done, 50 to 60 minutes. Remove it from the oven and add the thyme, if using, to the pan. Baste the chicken with the juices and thyme and let it rest for 15 minutes on a cutting board.
Remove the twine. Separate the middle wing joint and eat that immediately. Remove the legs and thighs. I like to take off the backbone and eat one of the oysters, the two succulent morsels of meat embedded here, and give the other to the person I’m cooking with. But I take the chicken butt for myself. I could never understand why my brothers always fought over that triangular tip—until one day I got the crispy, juicy fat myself. These are the cook’s rewards. Cut the breast down the middle and serve it on the bone, with one wing joint still attached to each. The preparation is not meant to be superelegant. Slather the meat with fresh butter. Serve with mustard on the side and, if you wish, a simple green salad. You’ll start using a knife and fork, but finish with your fingers, because it’s so good.


