Isn't it wonderful when your strolling down the street and you pass by a restaurant; and the most enticing smells of tasty food come floating out the door tempting your tummy, beckoning you in.
...Or when you live in an appartment, like I do, and your taste buds stand to salute because the neighbor is hatching up some Tuscan inspired dinner...but for some reason your invitation was lost in the mail.
For the cooking impaired and unwilling (guilty!!) these aromas are always an absolute tease. The only sign dinner's ready for us is the familiar beep, beep, beep of the microwave.
Well, for the first time ever. I was guilty of causing all the taste buds in Pacific Heights to take pause and wonder? Where was that amazing smell signaling dinner was ready coming from? I, used the oven in my appartment, and roasted my first chicken.
This was no small feat!! And I couldn't have done it without the encouragement of a dear friend.
I've never touched a naked bird, ever (nor had I ever planned to). Looking at it, legs wide apart I was afraid of how to pick it up, it looked so vulnerable. I was told to wash it. OK, right! So, after a bit of analyzing I grabbed it by the legs and the fun began. It felt very personal to be handling and bathing a chicken. But I had to keep my focus...so, I dried her off ready to proceed.
I had read about stuffing things in the "cavity". So, I sliced a lemon, took some basil along with some Thyme and holding my breath pushed all these things inside...it is unmistakeably a "cavity". Next, the easy part...rubbed her down with butter and sprinkled her with some special seasonings. No string for legs (??), I took an olive poker and pierced the legs together. Into the oiled pan with some baby artichokes, oven (challenge there), roast, roast, roast for an hour... tad-ah!
My Chicken! ...and a bit of self satisfaction, yummy.