Roast chicken is a symbol, an emblem of easy exquisite home cooking, of cooking together. And really satisfying, nourishing food. The world is better on days when we roast a chicken for our family, friends (and lovers, of course—the best roast chicken of all). Which is why I'm posting another shot of one of our roast chickens. With hope.
I'm cooking for a band of sailors prone to shouting "FUCK OFF!" at one another and then laughing uproariously. No roast chicken for them. Steak, lobster, pulled pork, and duck cooked in duck fat. (I cheated a bit by ordering these amazing ones from D'Artagnan; leftovers will become duck rillettes tonight; I have to get some work done, after all.)
No better ...
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