Monthly Archives: March 2011

Weeknight Butterflied Chicken with Rosemary, Garlic and Lemon

Welcome to another recipe from our cooking class the other week. Cassia and I were both excited to include this recipe on the menu because it’s so dang easy to make. I have to admit that I have been among the ranks of people intimidated by the idea of roasting a chicken–but no longer!

Let me put it this way: the first time I butterflied a chicken and tossed this together, I was able to get home from work, put it in the oven, change my clothes, and dash out the door again to get to my yoga class all in 15 minutes. For realz. I left a note for my husband (due to get home shortly) to turn off the oven after 35 minutes. When I got back from exercising, the aromas that awaited me were mouth-meltingly good. And I realized that roasting a chicken is a fabulous weeknight meal–almost no prep time, and a very modest cooking time. Plus, butterflying a chicken is kind of . . . fun. As long as you own some hefty kitchen scissors, this neat trick will reduce the roasting time and get the chicken to cook evenly.

It’s also a great trick for the summertime, when the flat surface created by butterflying a chicken will allow you to slap ‘er on the grill. Brilliant! Maybe some day I’ll own a grill and I can experience the wonder for myself.

Let’s do this thang!

Ingredients

(Serves 5)

1 whole chicken (3-4 lbs), giblets removed

2-3 TBS olive oil

3 sprigs rosemary, leaves torn off 2 of them

1 head garlic

1 lemon, cut into 6 pieces

Salt

Pepper

1 lemon, for garnish

First, preheat the oven to 400 F. Then, rinse the chicken (including the cavity) and dry the beast thoroughly with paper towels. Place it on a cutting board (with an optional sheet of wax paper underneath for cleanliness), breast side down and backbone side up. Arrange it so that the neck is facing you.

Now it’s time to butterfly!

Cut along either side of the backbone:

You’ll hear some crunches, but shouldn’t encounter any major obstacles. If you do, adjust your course accordingly. Above, I’m cutting along the right side of the backbone. Once you’ve cut all the way through, cut through the left side as well and simply remove the entire backbone. Remove the backbone and throw it away.

At this point you’ll see some extra skin and fat hanging around the bottom–cut that out.

Ta-daa!

Turn the chicken over, and firmly press on the breastbone to break it.

There I am dangling it from a casual hand during the cooking class.

I’m pointing to the breast bone, which we just broke. Your chicken should now look like this:

Now that the chicken is splayed out, pat it dry again with more paper towels (the drier you can get it, the crisper the skin will bake up).

Spread a layer of parchment paper on a large baking sheet, and slap the butterflied chicken on it, skin side up. Pour the olive oil over the chicken, sprinkle on the rosemary leaves, and generously season it with salt and pepper, spreading the oil and seasoning over the entire surface with your fingers.

Break apart the head of garlic (but you don’t need to remove the papery skins on the cloves).

Roughly chop the lemon:

Distribute the garlic and lemon all around and underneath the chicken.You don’t have to stuff anything under the skin, but I kinda felt like it.

I’m sorry if this grosses you out–but after 35 minutes in the old cooker, your chicken eeblie-jeeblies will turn into pure, unedited hunger.

I call dibs on that piece of lemon up in there!

We’re almost done–toss a couple whole sprigs of rosemary underneath it.

And ready to roast!

Roast it for 35-45 minutes (test for doneness at 35). And let me add–please don’t overcook it. If the juices are running clear, you’re probably good to go. But the difference between a chicken overcooked by 10 minutes (starting to get dry and fibrous) and a perfectly cooked chicken (think al dente pasta) is amazing. When it’s moist and just done, it’s an experience to be treasured bite by bite. Overcooking makes it mediocre and blah. The USDA will tell you to go to 170 in the breast, but keep in mind that their recommendation errs on the high end. The dry end. The fibrous end. I cooked my chicken to 160 in the thick part of the breast. For my taste, perfect!

Optional step: 10 minutes before it’s done, you can grab a stick of butter and smear it over the top. This will give the skin the lovely golden brown color that you see in these pictures.

Let it rest for about 10 minutes before carving and serving. Serve with fresh wedges of lemon, and the roasted lemon as well (the pulp will melt like butter!). And in the name of all that is good in the world, please don’t forget to squeeze the roasted garlic out of the skins–it’s to die for.

We served this chicken with the brussel sprouts and a creamy goat cheese polenta. What a perfect combination.

So, my friends–roast a butterflied chicken on a weeknight! It’s easy to prepare, quick to get on the table, and oh-so-satisfying to eat.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Weeknight Butterflied Chicken with Rosemary, Garlic and Lemon

Cooking class: the fun and the chaos

As I hinted in Monday’s post, the cooking class itself was a whirlwind. To this little novice, this came as a complete surprise: I went into it thinking our 6 hours of work earlier in the day would result in a relaxing, peaceful experience once the burners got cranked up. I imagined I would have ample time to take tons of pictures, interact with the ladies one-on-one, and somehow have dinner on the table within a 2 hour span. “Oh, I should be home around 10 pm sweetie–I can’t imagine it would be later than that,” I confidently told my husband on the phone. Little did I know.

Things started out calmly enough, with at least half an hour of hanging out, snacking, and meeting each other. I was instantly drawn to baby Desmond.

Hello, chubby cheeks!

Do you want to learn how to make a simple olive tapenade?

No? You just want to have some tummy time on a blankie? Well, okay, but your future wife would really appreciate it if you knew how to roast a chicken. I’m just sayin’.

We started out with simple knife skills. Cassia is a great speaker and leader, and she walked everyone through the knuckle technique, of which I was woefully ignorant.

Then, each lady assembled a personal Fruit Pizza.

They went all out and made the most beautiful arrangements with the fruit!

We put the pizzas in the fridge to chill, and then it was time to get down and dirty with some chickens. I’ll be going over the process of butterflying a chicken tomorrow, fear not!

(Thanks for the picture, Carrie!)

Cassia walked everyone through the olive tapenade–here she is extolling the virtues of the anchovy paste. I think at this point I chimed in “it looks like poop” before realizing that may not be the most appropriate comment to make. Ah, the wisdom of hindsight!

Note to self: never say ‘poop’ again when teaching a cooking class.

Note to others: please learn from my mistakes.

I walked everyone through the quick and simple weeknight chicken recipe. “Take some lemons,” I urged.

Yes, in every picture I sport a pretty ridiculous expression. I entertained myself by making up captions for each one.

“Seriously? You want me to do something with this chicken? You’re kidding . . . right?”

“Okay! This is grosser than I remembered. Who else wants to take a turn?”

“Hey! You over there! Just cram it in the boot!”

“Duuuude . . . I think my index finger is longer than my ring finger! Whoa. And is anyone else seeing swirls of color when the music plays?”

“I think, like, I’ll go now, like, because I like totally need to get manicure after this chicken juice practically ruined my cuticles!”

“Just milk the goat gently, massaging back and forth with your fingers like this. Everyone together . . . let’s practice the air massage. Okay. We’ll bring in Gilbertha the Goat in a second, and when we can get our hands on the actual udder it will all start to make sense.”

Thanks for grabbing my camera and snapping all those pictures Traci–I was blissfully unaware (really) until I emptied my memory card onto the Mac and saw the evidence of what’s called ‘Funny Face Syndrome.’ I’ve got it bad, and I ain’t ashamed of it.

At least this picture (from Carrie) makes me look like I’m in a Pantene hair commercial. Though if I was, I probably wouldn’t have one hand resting lightly on a naked chicken.

The ladies were the highlight of the class for me: so lovely! There were familiar faces . . .

(Hi Laura and Emily!)

. . . and new faces–Sarah brought her awesome sister Erika and together they attacked the chickens and stuffed them to high heaven. So-Young is helping out, too.

My friend Beth brough her friend So-Young, who fearlessly chopped and sauteed and stuffed. I figured she was an experienced cook helping out a poor hapless instructor who was desperately in over her head.

Then it came out that this was her first time cooking. Wow.

Hi Madeline! I love your scarf.

We soon reached a point at which 3 chickens were roasting in the oven (with 3 already done and ready to serve), 2 skillets of brussel sprouts were sizzling on the stove, and 2 large pots of polenta were being vigorously stirred. Between the heat and the heat and the space constraints and the heat, I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. Then two angels came to our aid.

Carrie (in the awesome turquoise dress and the earrings that I NEED) and Jamie stepped up to the plate. They completely saved the day by jumping in and doing dishes when the level of chaos was just about to crest into a wave of destruction.

See? By then my mental balance was in a precarious state.

“Haha, is this a, hahaha, brussel, um, sprout? Get it, hahaha?”

Jamie and Carrie kept things running smoothly by making sure dirty things weren’t piling up and obstructing the use of the island or counters or stove.

By the time the ladies sat down for the first course, the Roasted Red Pepper Soup, I was in a sweaty daze. And it was late–9:30, if I remember correctly. If you figure in half an hour of mingling before we started, that’s two and a half hours of cooking. Yowza.

Don’t get me wrong–it was fun. I’d do it again in a snap. But it was so much more work than I had ever imagined.

Just being honest.

At least I can say without a pinch of a doubt that the food was delicious.

Lesson learned: next time (if there is a next time) I need to hire assistants, or something. Or just demand that Carrie and Jamie come back for more punishment.

We’re done!

After picking 6 chickens, cleaning stoves and counters, storing and distributing leftovers, and doing 1,000 million dishes (thanks again to Jamie), the end had arrived. It was getting close to midnight, and we had completed almost 12 full hours of work. And it was worth every second of it, every drop of sweat, and every goofy face.

Cheers friends, and thanks for following along with me on this journey. The first roasted chicken recipe will be up tomorrow!