Okay, gonna head into the kitchen soon to attack Christmas dinner. I’ve always enjoyed eating on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas day. Call me materialistic, but after all the presents are gone from underneath the tree, it just doesn’t really feel like Christmas anymore. Shrug.
Matt’s mom recommended a free range bird because even though they’re smaller, they’re tastier, so that’s what I bought. I’m not taking any chances with flavor here.
So I’ve found three or four roast chicken recipes. I’m really very nervous. I think this is the basic method I’m going to follow. I’m going to make a lemon herb butter with lemon zest, a bit of lemon juice, rosemary, thyme, and parsley. I’m going to wash and pat the chicken dry, then salt and pepper it liberally inside the cavity and out. Then I’m going to get my grubby hands all up under the chicken’s skin with that butter mixture and rub it all over the outside as well. Next, I’ll shove whole stalks of the herbs, some garlic cloves, and the squeezed lemons into the chicken’s nether regions. It’s a great way to use up a lot of the herbs so I don’t feel guilty about throwing them out in a week. Lastly, I’ll tie the chicken’s little ankles/drumstick parts together.
I’ll bake the chicken at 450 degrees (F) for about 20 minutes to let the skin crisp up and then reduce the oven to about 375 degrees and let the chicken go for another hour and fifteen or until the chicken is 170-180 degrees in the thigh.
Meanwhile on the bottom of the roasting pan I’ll put chunks of carrots, onions, and garlic along with some chicken stock so it doesn’t burn. I’ll find a way to turn the pan drippings into gravy. Probably by removing all the vegetables, skimming off the fat, and then whisking in some salt, pepper, flour, and butter. Gah! This is all so off the cuff! I am so not an off the cuff kinda gal when it comes to experimenting, but I have faith in myself. I hope I do my mother proud!
I’m gonna vomit I’m so nervous. Just as long as I don’t vomit on the raw roaster though, I think I’ll be okay. After all, isn’t holding back your vomit what Christmas is all about?
