Recipes for the Lazy: Episode 2 — The Chickenator
I wrote a second post so this is officially a series! Bring me my prize. What was the theme again? Cooking advice? Grab your tissue box because this one is seasoned with TEARS.
Lesson #2: Buying stuff you can make for cheap is for suckers. Cooking chicken yourself is for winners.
If I had an editor, right about now she would probably be saying Kate, 90 percent of your readership is vegetarian! Write a post about kale! But my editor is a bottle of Chardonnay so I’m committing to this theme because that’s what WINNERS do. So here’s a triple threat post — how to roast a chicken AND make your own broth AND confront an identity crisis.
Step 1: Buy a jolly little chicken — one that had a good life, a hobby and a name. If you don’t know it, name it yourself. I knighted mine Chadwina the Chicken. I know Chadwina was pasture-raised so I believe she lived a life of chicken luxury, which eases my guilt about eating her 0.1 percent.
Bonus: For Double Good Person points, buy the chicken from a local farm. Chadwina lived in a place called Lucky Ladies farm, aka chicken heaven.
Step 2: Pull the chicken out of the bag and pat it dry. If your chicken is frozen, let it sit uncovered in the fridge for a day first to dry out. The cold never bothered it anyway.
Step 3: Psychoanalyze the combination of your nickname “Chicken” (my initials are almost KFC) and your resentment of other peoples’ successes as you cut the spine out of the bird in front of you. Put the backbone aside to use later in a Viking burial ceremony. Then lie the chicken flat, a technique called spatchcocking, preferred among 14-year-old boys.
Note: cutting bones out of animals is COMPLICATED and you will PROBABLY cut yourself. Buy the pre-cut version from the store if you’re a coward or stockpile the Aristocrat Vodka and bandaids if you’re a hero. (What’s in YOUR first aid kit, judgy??)
Step 4: Do you have boxed wine? You probably should have bought boxed wine. Hold onto it for now.
Step 5: Set your oven to a high temperature, like 450. If, hypothetically, the temperature gauge popped off your stove years ago and you never replaced it, just stick the chicken in the oven when your kitchen fills with smoke.
Step 6: Make sure you didn’t leave anything drying in the oven such as, ironically, a dish drying rack. If you did, open a window so your house doesn’t burn down and hide the wine until the firemen are gone.
Step 7: Give the spatchcocked chicken a sensual massage with salt, pepper, and any spices you like. Get into it — this is a judgment-free zone. I personally recommend bagel spice to make your chicken taste like a bagel. It’s delicious. Make your chicken do a back flip and season the other side too. Then put it squishy side up in a rimmed baked pan or cast iron and stick it in the oven.
Step 8: Set the timer for 45 minutes and try to forget that the chicken weighed roughly the same as a small child — specifically — your niece.
Step 9: Google How to Be a Vegetarian.
Step 10: You drank ALL the wine? Stop crying! Find a carb and eat it.
Step 10: I told you the wrong temperature. You shouldn’t have trusted me. Lower the temperature to 350 degrees like Mom advised from the start (Don’t tell me what to do, Mom!) but you didn’t listen because Bon Appetit said something different (Pro tip: Mom is ALWAYS RIGHT).
Step 11: Pull the chicken out of the oven and poke it. If it looks golden and its juices come out clear, you’re done. If not, keep cooking it and check again in a few minutes. When you’re happy, take it out, turn the oven off, and let the bird take an unapologetic disco nap on your stove top.
Step 12: Remember this post has a part two?! I didn’t!
Put the chicken neck in a pot with a bunch of water, any veggie scraps you have lying around, a bay leaf, salt, and pepper. Set it to a high temperature until it boils, then cover it and change the heat to the lowest temperature for 30 minutes. THAT’S IT. You just made broth! If you wanna get REAL weird with it, you can cook ramen noodles in the broth, add strips of chicken to the soup, and top it with an egg that the chicken also laid.
Step 13: Say thank you to the chicken, honor it, and then serve it alongside something complementary, such as salad or ice cream. Cool, then freeze the broth for later. If you like, you can save the bones of the chicken you just ate and make more broth tomorrow. This can go on INFINITELY (probably).
Step 14: EAT FOREVER. Chickens are magic, they taste good with everything, and one bird can make you six meals no problem if you throw carbs and veggies into the mix. Or you can just eat it all in one go.
Step 15: Go vegetarian for a month so you can forget the nightmare of cooking meat start to finish. Then repeat this cycle for the rest of your life. YAY!!!
