Being part of an "Old MacDonald" CSA means getting chickens as go rarely find them in a market. Taken out of their packaging (ours sent them out for packing) reveals a bird, not a characature of one. First to notice is the neck, intact with the slit that drained the literal lifeblood from this animal. There's also a thick flap of neck skin reminiscent of a Thanksgiving Turkey. And weighing in at 6.5 pounds, dressed, it's got a lot in common with a turkey.
So I get this bird out of its wrapping, having thawed it in the fridge for a couple days. This time I removed the neck and tossed it into my frozen stock bag. I took the innards, heart, gizzard, lungs, and placed them in the pan with the bird. Now the bird gets seasoned. A liberal application of salt, pepper and garlic (powder, in this case) will sit.
After an hour, it enters a 275F oven for five hours. Here it sweats a beautifully thick gravy of chicken-ness. The skin turns magical. And the bird is glorified by anyone with a nose.
I'll often rest the bird breast side down on a bed of evenly thick, sliced potatoes. The chicken spa turns each potato into a tiny boneless chicken bite. Turning the breast down seems to keep the fragile white meat moist while letting the dark, moist meat drain a bit.
Dismantling this artpiece from the farm is an accident. Stub your toe while carrying it to the table and you'll spend no effort in shredding. Just make sure to be greedy of that skin. It doesn't get any favors in the chill chest.
Jeff has told audiences that the greatest compliment paid to his efforts came from an elderly person. "That is what chicken used to taste like."
And my kids know no difference.
So I get this bird out of its wrapping, having thawed it in the fridge for a couple days. This time I removed the neck and tossed it into my frozen stock bag. I took the innards, heart, gizzard, lungs, and placed them in the pan with the bird. Now the bird gets seasoned. A liberal application of salt, pepper and garlic (powder, in this case) will sit.
After an hour, it enters a 275F oven for five hours. Here it sweats a beautifully thick gravy of chicken-ness. The skin turns magical. And the bird is glorified by anyone with a nose.
I'll often rest the bird breast side down on a bed of evenly thick, sliced potatoes. The chicken spa turns each potato into a tiny boneless chicken bite. Turning the breast down seems to keep the fragile white meat moist while letting the dark, moist meat drain a bit.
Dismantling this artpiece from the farm is an accident. Stub your toe while carrying it to the table and you'll spend no effort in shredding. Just make sure to be greedy of that skin. It doesn't get any favors in the chill chest.
Jeff has told audiences that the greatest compliment paid to his efforts came from an elderly person. "That is what chicken used to taste like."
And my kids know no difference.
posted from Bloggeroid
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