On Thursday mornings at 6.45 a.m. our organic delivery driver struggles up to our front door with boxes of enough fruit, veg, dairy, eggs and meat to keep us busy for a few days. And because Thursdays can be one of those meh days I always like to chuck a chicken in the oven that evening to devour, sticky and dripping with, er, dripping and served with either a salad or pile of seasonal vegetables. It’s a dish guaranteed to make us slow down, take stock (pun!) and re-fuel for the last working day of the week.
No one comes over on Thursdays so no one has to witness our rather primitive approach to eating roast chicken and veg – a minimal use of of cutlery but liberal use of fingers – accompanied by much slurping and crunching; and followed by surreptitious licking of plates. And then licking of fingers. And wrists. No one needs to see that.
I’m pretty basic in my approach to roasting chickens. After smearing with butter, salt and pepper (sometimes a haphazard shake of dried thyme over the top or a few plump garlic cloves chucked in the cavity) I stick it in an oven at 190c and leave it to do its thing for 20 mins per 500g plus another 20 mins. I baste it a couple of times when I remember but that’s it.
After it’s done it’s time I rest it for 10 mins then call Simon in to carve it while I get in the way, picking at juicy morsels and trying to peel off the best bits of crispy skin before anyone else gets a chance. I don’t make gravy. Instead we just pour all the chickeny, buttery juices over the meat. Life doesn’t get much better than that!
Whatever doesn’t get devoured on Thursdays then gets made into a salad for Friday’s packed lunches. And the bones go into a pot with ACV, salt and a bit of veg to simmer for as long as we can manage in order to make a splendiferous, nutritious broth. Meanwhile the little bag of giblets gets divided between the Ella the dog and Poppy the cat. Clearing up after Thursday dinner time is a faff but is well worth the effort.
Saturdays we each have a mug of delicious broth with our lunch while Ella and Poppy chow down on the vegetables and any last bits of meat picked off the broth bones. And I pat myself on the back for using every last bit of an organic, humanely reared chicken with the minimum of fuss and the maximum amount of taste, nutrition and love. Because you gotta acknowledge that kind of stuff to yourself right? Always taking pleasure in the details!
Laters my lovelies! X