The Holiday That Doesn’t Exist…

So, the chicken turned out quite nicely on the Feast-Day of that martyred twit… I roasted it on halved carrots in a pyrex baking dish instead of in a roasting rack, the carrots interspersed with sprigs of rosemary. The cavity was stuffed with quartered orange, lemon and lime, rosemary and bay leaf, salt and pepper. The skin was rubbed in olive oil, and had more rosemary spread forth over it, and was soothed in its’ crackling with small pats of butter as well as salt and pepper whilst browning.

After I finished browning the bird and set it in to roast, I did baste, and added chopped shallot and potato pieces. It came out just a hint undercooked. Not pink, but that kind of too-white that happens if you take the chicken out a single minute/degree too soon. (Like an idiot, I’d left my meat thermometer back at my place.) But it was beautifully juicy, and it’s not like either Orpheus or I got sick. The main problem was that I conveniently forgot while buying wine that the cavity of the bird was to be stuffed with citrus, and bought a nice little red Cote de Ventoux based on Grenache. This went like lead with the light rosemary-and-citrus chicken roasted on a bed of sweet carrot bumpers. Too bad. Next time, it’ll be a dry, spicy white, and I’ll add a little knuckle of peeled ginger to the cavity. Also, I’ll be wise enough to heed Julia, my kitchen deity, and said cave-of-the-ages will be sewn shut!

All in all, it was a very Italian bird, with the stunning execution of La Belle France botched by this Affechen due to New World laziness. Whatever one may think, though, it was tasty, and it will be again for lunch tomorrow. I just wish I could’ve afforded a capon… Though, that ball-less bird would NEVER have gotten out of the oven. And as to getting a perfect temperature, forget about it! At least I have a beautiful chicken skeleton for making broth...