This is the first thing I made when I moved out of my parents’ home. I usually visit weekly and make something while home. I already made breakfast, so here’s what I made yesterday for lunch.
Prep time: 20 minutes
Total baking time: 1 hour 45 minutes
The lineup:
- One medium-large chicken – I’m using a 3 and 1/4 pound natural fryer, ’cause it’s in the fridge.
- 8 or so medium potatoes, peeled, weird bits removed, and halved into roughly uniform thickness
- 10 or so medium to large carrots, peeled. I chop them about 1/3 of the way up from the bottom, then halve the top to keep them the same thickness. Just eyeball roughly uniform pieces
- 3+ garlic cloves, sliced, not too thin, not too thick
- extra virgin olive oil
- One lemon
- dried oregano
- kosher salt
- freshly ground pepper
Also needed:
- a large baking pan or dish, large enough for the chicken and chopped veg to fit loosely
- aluminmumnimuminim foil, to cover the baking vessel. If your vessel has a cover, well, use it.
- veg peeler
- knives. Always sharp, always safe.
- hands: the best tools you have. If raw meat grosses you out, let me know so I can block your IP address. I love vegetarians and vegans – don’t get me wrong. But if you eat it, then have the decency to touch it.
- An oven, naturally.
Listen up kids, it’s unorthodox recipe-story-time! And you know what that means! Preheat your oven to about 400° Fahrenheit.
Once upon a time there were some veggie boys named Potatoes and Carrots. They were best mates and spent most of their time in underground punk-rock cellars, right at the root of things. One day, they walked down the back alley leading to their favorite cellar. Quite unexpectedly, they were chopped to bits by Mean Mister Santoku, a Yakuza knife with a penchant for permafrost produce and an edge that could split an atom.
Luckily, Ms. Chicken – who owned the building by the alley – was throwing out the trash before taking a cold, refreshing shower (rinse inside and out, and remove any tiny feathers or weird looking bits. See image below).
She spotted the boys, who were now in two, neat, white and orange heaps. Needless to say, Santoku fled the scene. She invited the chopped-to-bit-boys for a swim in her indoor pool, which remarkably resembled the baking vessel you are going to use to make this splendid and most bizarre recipe. Ms. Chicken gathered up the boys, placed them in the pool, rinsed off and hopped in the pool herself – after all, she was going take a shower anyhow.
Her building was quite bizarre; instead of water, the leaking pipes dripped olive oil, which was conveniently caught by the pool itself, and thus lightly coated both Ms. Chicken and the boys with a golden-green glaze. Another set of pipes leaked salt and pepper, and yet another leaked oregano. All pipes seasoned the bird and boys just right. Just when they thought they were safe relaxing in the pool, Mister Santoku broke through the door! He had returned, hoping to dispose of the bodies – afterall, that’s what Yakuza do. He followed the trail of starch and carotene juice and let himself in. Now they were all done for.
Mean Mister Santoku smiled a wide, sinister smile, his edge glistening. This was too easy. He chopped some garlic slivers
and slid them under Ms. Chicken’s pale, bumpy skin before grabbing the pool, foil-wrapping the unfortunate souls, and throwing them into the preheated sauna where they baked for an hour. He checked up on them, and removed the foil.
Afterall, Ms. Chicken certainly could use a tan and the boys needed more character, more flavor, more body. He squeezed the juice of a lemon over them to add some acidity and moisture, raised the temperature to 425° F,
and cooked them for another forty-five to fifty minutes, whereupon he removed the whole lot and set it aside to rest for fifteen minutes. This ensures the juices are retained by the meat. He then ate them. And they were delicious.
And by he, I mean you. Sorry ladies.
If you need more serious directions, let me know. I am a huge fan of learning in different ways, especially in stories. So for this post that’s what I’ll dish out. Oh, and if you use a larger chicken…cook it a bit longer. How long? Well, you’ll have to figure that you for yourself. Afterall, cooking is science and science means getting into places that are unfamiliar.
What is the moral of this story, kiddos?
I am going to the grocery store this evening. I will purchase the chicken, carrots and potatoes, which are the only ingredients I do not already have. I am excited.
(I will also, finally, be making your YiaYia’s lentils)
if you’re eat it, then have the decency to touch it.
Hurrah! Like Barbara Kingsolver says, instead of removing ourselves as far from the food chain as possible, we need to look death in the face and know it.
PS: Those first two pics really capture the glistening cold bumpy texture of the pallid dead chicken skin. MMMMM!
I believe the first thing I made out of the nest was a bowl of instant rice.
Your blog is interesting!
Keep up the good work!