This chicken was raised by a loving family who sent it to a top prep school and taught it five languages. Or they better have for $14.95. It should cook itself for that much money. I guess that’s the price you pay for a chicken that’s not raised like this.
We cooked Kennedy Madison Fitzgerald -don’t look at me, that’s what her parents named her- in a cast iron skillet weighed down with another cast iron skillet. Which is why it looks like Kennedy Madison’s skin is up around her neck.
Roasted Veggies. Unlike my grandmother who must have had a plan to kill us all with heart disease, these were not roasted in the chicken fat as it dripped off Kennedy’s juicy haunches.
But yes, I made gravy. And it was fucking worth the heart disease.
We also made stock. Actually, I didn’t make it because I don’t have the patience. But my husband attended that boiling pot of chicken bones like it was his first-born.
And then we made soup with his first-born and all the left over veggies and chicken. And some garbanzo beans.
So it wasn’t Meatless Monday, but it’s always meat free in this kitchen so it was nice to find a good, healthy chicken and roast the shit out of it.