The Chicken Story

So, this may not be my most shining moment, but as a writer, I feel it's my job to tell the good, the bad and the ugly. This def falls into the ugly! Plus, anything that makes me look ridiculous is probably a good story to share and really funny. Let me start from the beginning...a couple of nights ago, I decided that I was going to make an amazing dinner for someone special. Now, Martha Stewart I'm not, but I can read and follow directions fairly well so I did not anticipate any problems roasting a whole chicken—even though, at 30, I'd never attempted this before. After all, isn't that why you have dinner with the rents?

My first issue was the gimlets. And unfortunately, I’m not talking about the kind you drink. Before cooking, you’re supposed to stick your hand inside the chicken’s butt and pull them out and clean the inside. Heart, liver, kidneys. Gross! That alone caused a 30-minute delay because I was disgusted by the thought. I had a similar situation when I unknowingly ordered shrimp that weren’t devained. Who knew shrimp had feet? Well, finally, I brought myself to do it—wearing a rubber glove! Google kindly suggested that I could cook them or save them. Right!

My next problem was that to cook properly, the chicken needs to sit on a roasting rack in the pan. I searched all of my cabinets, only to remember that I had this problem before with cookie sheets and that I had used the dish drain. Note to self: buy a roasting rack. Back to google. Ahah! If you set the chicken on a layer of veggies, you can go sans rack. Here's my little chickie all rubbed up and ready to go.

Here’s his close-up shot.

While I was slaving in the kitchen, Molly was getting into everything she’s not supposed to. I guess a love of mags is genetic.

The recipe said that I should truss the chicken wings with string. Of course, I didn’t have any string and couldn’t find anything that wouldn’t melt. I tried using this ribbon but thought better of putting fabric in the oven. Back to google: Do I really have to truss a chicken? No! Turns out its purely cosmetic and only important if the chicken is on a rotisserie.

The whole process took so long that Molly passed out. She’ll just have to enjoy the leftovers.

The whole process also took so long that my camera battery died. But this is close to what it looked like! Surprisingly, it came out delish and was a complete success. I’m telling you ladies, this dish really is a way to your man’s heart. Hopefully (unlike moi), you’ll do your homework first and have all your supplies on hand. So good luck and cheers!

Posted by Aimée at 4:40 p.m.