You know a properly roasted chicken earns you the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, right?

Today my friend Maryanne and I were talking about roasting chicken, and it inspired me to put a few thoughts down on the subject.

I love roast chicken.

There are so many ways to go about it and I feel like I've barely begun to explore the options. However, every time Russ Parsons (my favorite LA Times food authority) or pretty much anyone else writes about it, I pay close attention. My current go-to chicken roasting method is based on trial and error, a bit of this and a bit of that from cookbooks and food writers, and a great insight from Russ Parsons. When feeling adventurous I try methods and seasonings I find in my various exotic cookbooks; but on regular days I do this:

First of all, start with a good chicken. This means preferably organic, and definitely not pumped full of saline. You aren't going to need that crutch if you roast the bird right, and saline just messes up the texture and nutrition benefits of said bird.

After rinsing and drying the chicken, massage olive oil into all the skin. I always feel a little self-conscious in this step, since the chicken has the heft and feel of a small baby. But I am a carnivore, and I just remind myself that taking care of the bird is the best way to honor it. It needs to be treated with TLC and respect.

Sprinkle sea salt and cracked pepper over the whole bird. A little Tony Chachere's never hurts. It's my go-to for all sorts of seasoning opportunities. Throw a little salt into the cavity and stuff in some garlic cloves (no need to peel), lemon wedges, and a bunch of fresh herbs (I love the combination of sage, rosemary, and thyme. They grow in a planter right next to my front door; I have to keep using them or they’ll overtake the space). I don't even bother to close up the opening half the time, although I have a nifty spiral doo-dad that makes it pretty easy.

I place the chicken in a roasting pan on a rack if I'm feeling ambitious and want to haul the thing out of the closet; otherwise it goes in my Corningware oval dish, which I like because it's just big enough to contain the bird.

Pop in the oven at 250 degrees. That's right--250. Sloooow roasting takes a little longer but so worth it. This doesn't toughen up the protein strands, and the bird stays tender naturally (this is the most important thing I learned from Russ Parsons). Insert a thermometer between the thigh and breast and when it's about 140 switch the oven to convection heat and crank it up to 400 or so. That gives the skin its nice crispy crust. Within 10-15 minutes the internal temp should be 165-170, which is hot enough to please most careful cooks (some insist on 180; many chefs consider 160 to be the perfect temp; for me 170 is fine but I have let it go too long and taken it out at 180, and with this method the breast meat still wasn’t dried out. Parsons actually starts the bird out at high heat and switches to low as soon as the skin is brown; he says low-to-high is preferable but he can’t determine exactly the moment to switch from low to high to achieve the final internal temperature and perfect brownness at exactly the same time. Since I’m not as picky about exact internal temperature—I like mine roasted a bit hotter than he does—I go with the order he says is ideal for tenderness. It requires paying closer attention to the roasting bird—you do need to catch it at 140 to turn up the heat and get the skin properly brown—but unlike Parsons I’m not making a lot of fa-la-la dishes to go with it, and can give my attention to the roasting bird).

Take the chicken out and let stand (under foil if you wish) for at least 20-30 minutes. Don't touch it. Let the juice reabsorb into the meat while you make the rest of your meal. Then, remove the bird and use the drippings to make yummy gravy (want the recipe?). The chicken will be beautifully brown on the outside, and tender on the inside, ready to perch proudly on your favorite platter or be carved into a heap of gorgeous goodness.

PS: this method works pretty well for turkey, too. I use another of Russ Parson’s ideas and, while the turkey is sitting out on the counter coming to room temperature, I strap a bag of ice to the breast area to keep it nice and cold, right until I pop the bird in the (250 degree) oven. I also place a folded pad of aluminum foil over the breast for a while. The dark meat has to roast for so long in comparison; this keeps the breast from overheating and drying out. You have to factor in more roasting time (sorry, I don’t have a conversion table to guide you—I just start early enough that I know it’ll finish in time).

Uber-chocolate Uber Brownies

Last school year, I'd been promising my 2nd period seniors I'd make them brownies for ages (they got the highest cumulative score on a benchmark exam).  I never set a deadline though, so of course never found the time.  When I finally committed to making them (THIS WEEK, kids, I swear!), I wanted to put in a little extra effort, make the brownies memorable, since they were so long in coming to the class.

First I pulled out my trusty Stater Bros store brand brownie mix.  For whatever reason, I like its texture better than most name brands (Ghirardelli also makes a great mix, but you pay more for the same Stater Bros flavor).  I was in a hurry and put three boxes of mix into the mixer at once, which turned out to be a bit much--two works best. After adding the called-for ingredients, I started thinking of ways to special it up. I powdered some instant decaf coffee crystals in my coffee grinder, and added that (coffee always makes chocolate taste more intense, and unless you add a bunch, all you taste is just better chocolate.  It's like adding a splash of balsamic vinegar to a bowlful of fresh strawberries--they become the best strawberries ever).  Then I tossed in a bunch of shots of Tabasco,  which makes ANYTHING taste better.  Then I remembered a dark chocolate/ginger bar I ate recently, and tossed some powdered ginger into the batter, which by then was so good I couldn't stop licking the spatula.

The final product tasted uber chocolatey.  The coffee, ginger, and Tabasco only served to pump up the chocolate flavor.  I ended up adding enough coffee that if you really paid attention to your taste buds you might have detected it in the background, but the ginger and Tabasco remained secret weapons of flavor.  If these brownies had not been headed for picky teenagers, I would have added chopped walnuts and maybe even some dried cranberries, or sprinkled chocolate chips across the surface about halfway through baking. 

Toward the end of the school year I made brownies again and tried them out on my first period sophomores (sometimes testing experiments on less-than-adventurous palates can be a good idea, because if even they like it, you know you have a winner).   Since I love the way chili makes other flavors pop in your mouth (even when you can't taste the chili) this time I decided to just commit to it, adding chili powder to the batter rather than just Tabasco, and in one batch even pushing it to the point where you could definitely taste the chili. Most of my students are Mexican-American and familiar with the combination.  I wanted to know if they thought it would work in this situation.  Some of them really got it, and others thought it was just too untraditional for a brownie.  I sort of agreed with them, but it was still a fun experiment.  Next time I think I'm going to grind up a little jalapeno or serrano chili, just a small bit for the whole batter.  I think you'd get the kick without the chili flavor--just a unidentifiable essence of extra-uber-chocolatiness.  Oh, and by the way, the brownie batches with undetectable amounts of chili powder did get strong reviews.  However, I didn't think they were quite as good as the earlier ones with the ginger.  That's an ingredient I'll always add to brownies from now on.

Anyway, I hope this inspires you to throw in some kicky support ingredients next time you make brownies, and then try to keep yourself from sampling "just one little bit more" before you wrap them up to take to work or school the next day.

Popcorn

Just browsing through the paper's Calendar section, deciding whether to go see Contagion or The Debt tomorrow (I'm leaning toward Debt because it's Helen Mirren, my idol), watching the Dodgers whilst eating supper (rotini with yellow zucchini, onions, tomatoes, basil, and walnuts--basically a fridgeluck dish).

Anyway thinking of movies brings to mind popcorn, but not the ridiculously priced little bits of yellow butter-substitute-coated styrofoam you get at the concession counter.  When I was a kid, popcorn at the movies was still homemade, eaten out of a bag tucked into my mom's big drawstring purse, alongside a couple Hebrew National hot dogs and Shasta sodas if it was near dinnertime.

All this brings me to my current thoughts on popcorn in general.  I grew up on corn popped in a saucepan and I'm still a purist in that regard.  What I use now is even better--one of those popcorn pans with the hand-cranked paddle that stirs the popping kernels, bought on sale at Target for something like $9.99.  The popcorn my family ate every Saturday night always got a nice dose of butter--my mom showed us how to melt a chunk in the hot saucepan, throw in a couple handfuls of the popped corn, then toss those buttery kernels into all the rest to distribute the goodness.  Oh, man, just writing about this takes me back 40 years...

I can't eat like that now.  As much as I would enjoy the flavor, I'd have to limit my intake to very infrequent indulgences.  And I just love popcorn too much.  For quite a while I ate plain, salted popcorn because it's still fairly good, but not as much something to look forward to.  I tried butter-flavored oil, but it poses the same problem as movie popcorn--just doesn't taste real.  I thought of rosemary oil, but for some reason the rosemary doesn't hold up, and deliver flavor to the popped corn.  I've tossed Tony Chachere's Cajun seasoning, but then it tastes too much like the Tony C, and not the corn.  Same with other flavored coatings.

Finally I thought of chili oil.  I started with a few drops along with the olive oil in the pan, and loved the fuller flavor this imparted.  Now I often use about 1/3 chili oil so I can actually taste a lil' bit of heat with the popcorn.  Even then, it's still just a backdrop to the lovely corn taste itself.  When I come home from running a few miles or taking a challenging class at the gym, I need to replace sodium I've lost.  There's nothing like a big bowl of popcorn, salty with that subtle undertone of heat that opens up my taste buds and makes 'em sing.  And while I don't have a big drawstring purse to smuggle a bag into the movies, chili-popped corn and a glass of chardonnay make the perfect accompaniment to Project Runway every Thursday night.

Potluck (fridgeluck?) pasta for supper

I'm copying this from a food note I wrote last January, because I remember this being one of my favorite dishes, and it was just spur of the moment...

After an afternoon of yardwork, I came inside hungry for something hearty. I also wanted to use up all the little bits of veggies left in my fridge, and the last bit of short rigatoni left in my pantry.  Together, it made something tasty and really beautiful!

While the pasta was boiling, I chopped the veggies into 1/4 - 1/2" chunks so they would combine well with the sturdy pasta:

§         onion

§         mushrooms

§         crookneck squash

§         zucchini

I minced some garlic and roughly chopped up some baby spinach leaves

In a cast iron skillet I fried up the onion and mushroom with some minced garlic.  Threw in some dried thyme, dried basil, and pepper flakes.  Added the squash and zucchini, and in a bit, the spinach.   Sauteed on low for awhile.  Drained the pasta, leaving a little liquid.  Added the veggies to the pasta, tossed in some chopped walnuts, then on a whim squeezed a little lemon over everything.  

There're no unusual ingredients in this, but the flavor combination was so rich for how simple it is.  I think the lemon was the key, just brightened everything up.  It would be even better with fresh herbs, but I didn't have any on hand.  I also loved the hearty element the walnuts add.  I had a little grated romano cheese left, just the perfect amount to sprinkle over a plateful of this pasta, so satisfying after an afternoon of hard work!  Also, I used up my leftover bits in the fridge, and now I can go shopping for fresh supplies.

Danielle, this first one's for you

I have papers to grade and poor work notices to finish, so what better time to finally start my food blog?  However, being in the mood to actually write about food is different from being in the mood to create a blog, so I figured I'd get this part of it accomplished when in the blog-creating mood, and then start posting when the other mood hit.  Or what I might do is grab some of my posts from facebook (the ones that people read and say "when are you going to just start a food blog??") and put them here just to seed the garden.  Think that sounds lazy?  Yeah, well, it's 95 degrees outside, and I'm sprawled on the sofa watching US Open tennis and eating kashi for supper.  Now, the kashi IS sporting fresh organic blueberries that were washed in my baby orange flower colander from Sur la Table.  It's my favorite kitchen furnishing; anything tastes better if rinsed in its bright happy orange petals.  But I haven't cooked a thing since friends came last Saturday, and even then I switched from a more ambitious Persian menu (I just got another Claudia Roden cookbook) to some basic gyro-ish Greek tacos that I saw the Sandwich King make on FoodTV.  Those (sort of) gyros were pretty damn good, though.  And it was fun to eat them and discuss with everyone else at the table what worked, what could be refined for next time, etc.  I made both lamb and beef, even though those are two meats with ginormous carbon footprints.  However, when the meat is as savory as this recipe, you don't need to eat as much to feel wonderfully satisfied, so I'm not going to feel too bad about it.