The Chicken Of The Year

I do not claim to have any mind-blowing innovations when it comes to roasting a chicken, if such a thing is still even possible. All you really need to do is salt the bird and put it in the oven for awhile. Anything else is bonus points.

If you don’t already know how to basically roast up a bird, go read Thomas Keller, or Ina Garten, or Jacques Pepin. I’m just going to tell you about the best chicken I cooked in 2023, which was distractedly improvised last Sunday while I watched the Broncos beat the Chargers. 

I had an adorable little three pound chicken and some leftovers in the fridge from Friday night’s Hanukkah party. I butterflied the bird with some kitchen shears (or spatchcocked it, if you’re nasty) then salted it and let it rest on a wire rack in the fridge for the remainder of the game. 

I put the backbone, wing tips and tail in a saucepan with half an onion, a carrot, a celery stalk, and some peppercorns. There weren’t any giblets in the bird or I would have added those too. I also put in a spoonful of that Better Than Bullion stuff, because it’s pretty good, and also because I wasn’t sure I had enough chicken to make much of a stock. I filled the pot with water and set it to simmer.

At the beginning of the fourth quarter I took the bird out of the fridge to come up to room temperature, which I guess is important to do? Everybody say so, who am I to argue. 

When the game was over I preheated the oven to 400. I put olive oil and some dry Herbes de Provence all over the bird and nestled it into a cast iron skillet, skin side up. Recipes usually tell you to preheat the pan, but I live in a poorly-ventilated Brooklyn apartment and was not in the mood to desperately wave a magazine at my fire alarm while my dog freaks out for ten minutes.

After the bird had roasted for thirty minutes I tore up the leftover challah from the party, took the pan out of the oven and tossed the bread into the schmaltz accumulating under the chicken, then put it back in the oven for another 45. I had no idea if this would be good, but the stakes were low: if the croutons sucked I would toss them out, and you would never have heard about them. Later Maya kept coming in and stealing croutons while I finished up, so I guess it worked. I strained the stock and it tasted very chicken-like, so I guess that worked too.

I temped the bird: overdone at 175, and reasonably good looking but not quite the golden brown that we’re all going for. But that’s what gravy is for. It washes away sins.

I took everything out of the pan, threw a tablespoon of butter in the remaining schmaltz, spread some flour around in there and stirred it up. When the goo (or in French: roux) smelled good I added some more party leftovers: sprigs of thyme and rosemary and a splash of white wine, and then ladled in the stock. The gravy bubbled away as I cut the chicken into the standard eight pieces.

I slathered the gravy on a serving platter and put the chicken and remaining croutons on top. It would have made sense to take a photo at that point, but I forgot. Also Maya made a nice salad.

William Schaff

Over the summer I developed an unhealthy obsession with Magnolia Electric Co. by Songs: Ohia. Part of what drew me in at first was the album cover, which is above.

We turned the guest bedroom into an office over the summer (three years into remote work, I can’t explain how this makes any sense) and I’ve been trying to figure out how to decorate it, which is not a talent which I possess. My instinct would be a framed poster from a Tarantino movie, like the untalented seventeen year old that I am in my heart of hearts.

So I googled the artist who did that cover and found his website. I dropped $50 on a print that spoke to me:

That was July, I think? Then last week it occurred to me that I had never received anything, so I went back to the website and filled out the contact form. The artist wrote me back the next day and apologized for the delay. Then this week I got a package from him, with this king’s ransom of wonderful stuff:

Thanks, Will!