What WOULD Bekki Eat?

Well, I'll start with what I wouldn't eat. I wouldn't eat margarine. Or tofu. Or lowered-fat anything. Olestra is right out. Hydrolyzed, isolated, evaporated, enriched, or chocolate flavored "phood" won't pass these lips.
What will I eat? Real food. Made-at-home food. Food that my great-great-grandmother could have made, if she had the money and the time. And if she hadn't been so busy trick-riding in a most unladylike way.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Roast Chicken

"Tastes like Fall" my hubby said. I had just said that it tasted like "solid chicken soup." I meant it in a good way. I don't think it actually IS fall here, and I doubt we even get fall in San Antonio. I haven't lived here long enough to know. But, since we are at about the same latitude as Orlando, I'm guessing we have two seasons. Summer and Not Summer. We're almost to Not Summer now... we had a week of chilly nights... but we're warming up again. After all, it is San Antonio. Christmas just won't be Christmas without steaks on the grill and cocktails on the patio.

But, I digress. Roast chicken is what I'm supposed to be talking about. I get a newsletter from the French Food section of About.com. There was a featured recipe for Roasted Lemon Rosemary Chicken. Yumm-o, thought I. I was planning a roasted chicken tonight, anyway. How serendipitous. As usual, I didn't follow the recipe 100%. A recipe is more a set of guidelines, anyway (say I in me best imitation of Captain Barbosa.) I used fewer veggies (just feeding two adults), didn't bother salting and peppering during the browning, and didn't really get the chicken all that brown. Oh, and I used vermouth instead of Chardonnay. Because Julia Child told me it's ok. (Chardonnay never lasts 'round here... someone just keeps drinking it...)

I also didn't use fresh herbs... which I'm sure Julia would not ok, but I haven't started growing any and they're too darn expensive. So there.

It still smelled divine while it was cooking, and tasted even better. I tore up some red leaf lettuce and topped it with lemon-garlic vinaigrette... perfect meal. Well, almost. Next time I will make these adjustments: quartered baby potatoes, lots more garlic (the whole cloves, steeped in chicken broth and vermouth, were ambrosia), and I'll just skip the silly browning of the chicken. Instead I'll remove the cover with about 20 minutes left.

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About Me

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Tejas, United States
I am many things... all at the same time. (No wonder I don't get much done!) I am a wife to a retired infantryman, mother of 3, stocker (and stalker) of the fridge, passionate fan of food, nutrition, ecology, coffee, wine, and college football. I love all things witchy and piratey. I often cook with booze. I feed stray cats. I don't believe in sunscreen. I don't like shoes and really hate socks. And I currently can't eat any gluten, dairy, eggs, soy, coconut(!?), or sodium metabisulfite (aw, shucks, no chemical snackies.) Sometimes even citric acid gets me. But only sometimes.