It’s 2023 and mental health is in, baby! So in an act of *radical transparency,* I’ll acknowledge a *limiting belief* and *admit when I was wrong.* The *personal growth* is practically radiating off of me. Ready for this?
I told you last year that we can’t have it all when it comes to roasting a bird. That you must pick the path of crispy skin or juicy chicken, and that never the twain shall meet. But as of this week, I’ve disproven this entirely, stumbling upon the roast chicken that truly has it all and then some.
When I say stumble, I really mean it. I made this chicken while talking on the phone, with no particular plan in mind. I used ingredients I had lying around and techniques I vaguely recalled from chickens' past. So I was just as surprised as anyone when it was the best one I’ve made yet! Yes, Molly Baz’s Piri Piri Chicken will remain a go-to, particularly for its convenient use of pantry staples and supreme juiciness, but this, THIS, was a piece de resistance that I couldn’t keep from you, my lovely chicken-eating gen pop. It combines some of Molly’s approach with my best memory of 2020 - Hart’s Chicken (yes, a chicken was my highlight of the year, as sad as it sounds, but weren’t we all sad girls back then?).
Hart’s is a darling little neighborhood restaurant in Brooklyn (you may recall their latkes), that I briefly lived near during the depths of COVID. In that weird weird time, they had pivoted their business into a grocery store, selling prepared foods, produce, natural wine – you get the gist. Notably, they sold a raw chicken rubbed with herbs accompanied by some straightforward roasting directions. I hadn’t attempted their method since the Brooklyn days, but it came back to me during this week’s scattered chicken prep sesh. The rules are simple: Put the chicken in a deep pan just big enough to hold it with a little extra space. Scatter pieces of crusty sourdough bread around the edges. Pour wine and broth into the pan. Bake for a while.
So that’s what I did. I rubbed the bird with this addictive “crazy spicy” sauce from a nearby Israeli restaurant, plopped it in a cast iron skillet, poured in the dregs of an Uncle Andy’s Wine Closet grenache, dumped in some leftover dashi from a recent miso soup project, sliced up some onion, garlic, and sourdough and added that in, and dropped it all off in a 350 degree oven until I remembered I was making dinner. To combine these flavors seemed risky - Middle Eastern-Spanish-Japanese is not a fusion I’d normally think of, but you know what? It friggin worked! I’m prone to experiments that use up what’s in the fridge, but rarely do they turn out such that I want to write them down and recreate them with intention. This one beat the odds.
With the chicken cooking at a slightly higher temp than Molly’s recipe, for almost as long, the skin crisps up while the meat tenderizes, and the moisture in the bottom of the pan prevents any unwanted dryness from creeping in. Meanwhile, the onions and garlic confit themselves (how sexy) in the shmaltz-infused liquid, and the sourdough turn into bread pudding. The dashi adds an elegant layer of umami and smokiness that brings everything together.
We ate this chicken with some caesar-dressed brussels sprouts (using this dressing recipe) and a light, juicy red wine. I made broth with the carcass that turned into matzo ball soup the next night. And the leftover meat became chicken salad for a quick WFH lunch later in the week. I stand by roast chicken as a perfect food – one that’s flexible, comforting, budget-friendly, healthy enough, and long-lasting. In that sense, may we all be a little more like roast chicken in 2023.
Ingredients:
1 whole chicken, neck and giblets removed
6 jalapeno peppers
4 serrano peppers
6+ cloves garlic
½ cup Olive oil
Kosher salt
1 cup red wine (a little less is fine)
1 cup dashi (here’s a recipe) or chicken broth
1 yellow onion
2 cups sourdough bread, cut into 1-inch cubes
Fresh dill and parsley (optional)
Instructions:
Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
In a food processor, blend jalapenos, serranos, 6 cloves garlic, and olive oil into a chunky, loose, paste.
Place the chicken in a heavy-bottomed, oven-safe skillet (cast iron is preferred). Rub the spicy sauce all over the chicken (get in those crevices!) and with a clean hand, sprinkle kosher salt all over the bird, including inside the cavity.
Roughly chop the onion (I like thick wedges) and scatter them and the remaining whole garlic cloves around the chicken in the pan. Then scatter the bread pieces on top.
Pour in the wine and broth. There should be about one inch of liquid in the pan.
Place in the oven and bake for 1 hour and 45 minutes. You’ll know it’s done if you jiggle the leg and it feels very loose in the joint. A meat thermometer will register far higher than is necessary for fully cooked chicken (165 degrees), which is totally fine for slow-roasting purposes.
Remove from the oven and let rest for 10-15 minutes. Place the chicken on a cutting board (leave the other stuff behind for now) and carve it. (these are the same instructions as the Piri Piri Chicken)
Start with the legs and thigh. With the chicken’s legs facing toward you, use a large chef’s knife to slice the skin that holds the leg to the body to reveal the meat and joint. Pull the leg slightly away to make the joint even more visible. Pierce it with the tip of your knife and press down, which should release the thigh and leg from the body.
Now hold the thigh in one hand and find the joint that connects it to the drumstick with the other. Pierce it, and separate the thigh from the leg. Repeat this process on the other side.
Pull a wing slightly away from the breast. Either slice it off, or because this chicken is so tender, it may come right out. Repeat on the other side.
Now onto the breasts. Using a fork, pierce one side of the chicken, close to the breastbone (the long line of cartilage that runs down the center of the bird). Use your chef's knife to make long, smooth cuts on just the other side of the breast bone. The breast should come away from the carcass and you can slowly slice it off into one wonderful piece. Serve as is, or slice into pieces perpendicular to the main cut, so that you have around 5 smaller pieces. Repeat on the other side.
There will likely be some meat left on the bone. Either finger-pick it off to serve with the rest of the bird, or do this step after dinner and combine the picked meat with any leftovers.
Arrange your carved chicken on a serving platter. Fill in the negative space with the bread pudding and confit onions and garlic. Shower the whole thing with herbs and serve!
Bonus Section: Chicken Broth!
Once you’re done with dinner, pick the meat off the uneaten thighs, wings, and drumsticks along with the remaining meat left on the carcass, and store it for later use in soups, sandwiches, etc. Make a ‘broth pile’ and add the bone to it.
As you’re ‘pickin chickin,’ keep any and all pieces you wouldn’t want to eat as is, like the gristly cartilage or otherwise unpleasant-looking stuff. It’s chicken broth gold.
Add any remaining skin to the broth pile – it’s not very good next day on its own so it can be donated to the cause.
Add the chicken carcass, bones, gristly meat, and skin to a big stock pot. Add about 10 cups of water and whatever brothy-improving things you have in the fridge, like carrots (tops included), celery, onion, and herbs. If you planned ahead for matzo ball soup (you angel!), you’re in good shape. If you don’t have much veg to add, that’s okay too - the chicken does a lot of the work. Add some kosher salt, a bay leaf or two, and any dried spices you’re feeling inspired by.
Cover and simmer for a long time, at least 2 hours and up to 6. Let it cool, then ladle over a mesh strainer into mason jars or quart takeout containers and store in the fridge for a few days or freezer for a few months (use plastic if freezing).
Note: Don’t be alarmed when you notice that the cold broth is super gelatinous. That’s all the collagen from the bones and cartilage that make chicken broth what we like to call Jewish Penicillin!