Sunday, November 04, 2007

Where there's smoke, there's... me cooking.

When I cook tasty little birdies in my oven, I cook them as per the directions in How to Cook Everything: breast down, 500 degrees, 20 minutes. Remove, flip, baste, return to oven. Turn oven down to 350 and roast until thermometer in thigh registers 160-165. This results in a most succulent breast and OH SO CRISPY OM NOM NOM crispy skin.

It also, somewhat hillariously, results in my entire apartment filling with smoke. Am I a bad cook if I set off the fire alarm on a regular basis?

Maybe I just need to clean the oven.

Last night's dinner:
-One lovely fat little chicken with: lemon slices, thyme and garlic (inserted under the skin and also in the cavity), olive oil, salt and pepper (generously masaged into its skin)
-Tiny potatoes (I just put them around the chicken during the breast-up part of the cooking, brushing them with a little of the pan drippings)
-Gravy, to impress Better Half

Followed by:
-Ice cream sundaes! Maybe this is why I'm so fat!

Better Half, who is normally kind of opposed to whole animals, really enjoyed the chicken. Probably because I carved it for her.

After the chicken had cooled, I removed the "oysters" and ate them with my fingers. I can't wait to have kids so I can share treats like that with them, the way my mom shared them with me.

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