In my mind there’s nothing more comforting than a chicken dinner. It prepares one for what is to come and is homey. I roasted a chicken last night. I looked for my huge cone of linen twine and it was not to be found. That is scary and even the chicken dinner did not assuage that fear.
I keep a large cone of linen twine in the pantry with a plastic bag over it to protect it from dust. It’s about 30 years old and I’ve joked with my husband that when it is gone it’s OK for me to die at a ripe old age of 130. But it has disappeared.
For the chicken, I didn’t need the twine. The wings were already tucked underneath and the legs were secured by the fat. I seasoned inside and outside with salt, pepper and thyme (my herb garden is not far enough along to add sage and rosemary). I had a few scallions so placed them in and around, added butter and placed it in a 350 degree oven for 20 minutes.
Then I added wine, juice of one lemon and a bit of chicken stock and basted. I basted it twice more at 20 minute intervals then returned it to the oven for 15 more minutes and let it rest under a foil tent for another ten minutes before carving.
I served it with a bit of jus, mashed potatoes and raw snap peas. Now I need to find my twine. I do not wish to die before my time. I think it fell off the shelf it was on. Chicken dinner can only go so far! I need my twine. It’s 41 degrees when I took out the dog at seven, we seem to be going more towards winter than spring or, heaven forbid, summer. We’ll see. Cheers! Dee