My First Roux, My First Roast Chicken

I'd never roasted a chicken.

I was raised vegetarian, and although I ate my first hamburger at age 17, and started exploring chicken and fish in college, I consider September 29, 2002, the first day of my carniverous life.

That was the day I ate bacon. Willfully. There's no turning back after bacon. If skinless boneless chicken breasts are the gateway drug, bacon is the meth of meats.

But I digress. I'd never roasted a chicken, and on Sunday I decided, "It's fall! It's chilly! I should roast a chicken." I cheerfully scribbled down my shopping list.

And as I hummed along down the aisles of New Seasons, Mr B called. It appeared that I'd forgotten one teensy little detail. A dinner party was planned that night. A dinner party that we were hosting. They'd be there at 7:30, and were bringing a cake.

By the time I got home, I had a dozen leeks, a pint of cream, two heads of cauliflower, smoked paprika, a four pound fryer cut into eight fleshy, bloody pieces, and a wild look in my eyes. In three hours, there would be five people dining in my living room, and I was about to prepare two recipes never before seen in my kitchen. Lock me into the bungee harness and shove me off the cliff, my friends ...
~~~~
Breathe, focus. Do the prep work. The best time for a mise en place is when you have no time for error, so take the time up front. Chop onion, measure flour, wash and cut the cauliflower, trim away the tough green ends of the leeks, unwrap the butter, grate the cheese, unwrap and rinse the fryer.

There will be a lot of melted butter tonight. Let's start now. Saute the onions and blanch the cauliflower. Put the cauliflower in the onion mixture and stir it lightly until the everything starts to get golden brown edges. Set aside in a baking dish. This is for the gratin, which you'll come back to later.

Heat a pan and slit the leeks down the middle. Let them cook a few minutes on each side in hot butter, until they start to fan out and caramelize. Layer them in a giant, round ceramic baking dish (a gift from your manic depressive friend in New York who's now studying art education and living above a rare books store). More butter to the pan, turn to gaze upon the fryer.

Look at the cute little rib cage, marvel at the spine (and wonder how the hell you deal with a spine in presentation), poke at the leg bone. Think about the fact that you have a bird skeleton on your kitchen counter. With tongs, nestle the pieces together in the hot pan, searing each side. While you wait, start some more butter melting in a saucepan.

When the chicken is seared, layer it atop the leeks, toss some fresh rosemary, thyme and sage on top, cover the dish and put in the oven at 450. Twenty minutes on the timer, counting down ...

The saucepan butter is melted. Add the flour. Whisk. Make a cartoon "O" shape with your mouth when you suddenly realize you're making a roux. Huh. How easy was that? Just because it's French doesn't mean it's complicated. Julia was right.

Watch it turn a pale gold, then a richer brown. Add cream and milk, whisk until very thick. Stir in the grated manchego, a pinch of nutmeg. Spoon it over the waiting cauliflower, top with more cheese, and slide it into the oven under the roasting chicken.

Yell at Mr B when he informs you he forgot to call guest #1 to ask him to bring a salad. We have no salad greens. We have no time to go to the store! Are you insane?! He goes anyway. You're convinced he will be hypnotized by the BOGO bargains in the cereal aisle and you will be left alone, saladless, smiling at people in your living room with a smear of roux down your shirtfront and a raw chicken in the oven.

Friend #1 arrives early - smile and hand him the matches to light the candles. Close self in the bathroom, smooth your hair down and remember these are great friends who will be totally cool with takeout.
~~~~


A totally successful evening. Perfectly tender chicken, delicious cauliflower gratin, and I even remembered an extra side dish (wild mushroom cous cous) for the, ahem, vegetarian friend. Amazing how a few pomegranate seeds tossed into the pre-meal prosecco made everything feel seamlessly planned and fancy. After three bottles of wine and thick slabs of Marsee Baking Guinness-Stout Double-Chocolate Cake, I'd say my roast chicken/roux maiden journey scored a 10.