A couple of Fridays ago it was my great pleasure to have around my kitchen table a number of people whom I love dearly, who needed the kind of TLC that comes out of a hot oven.
There is only one choice at times like that - roast chicken. Plus roast potatoes, something green and crunchy, bread sauce and gravy.
And if the chicken has had a good life, and if you roast it so that it's almost falling off the bone but is still tender, and if you parboil the potatoes and roast them in very hot fat so that they're fluffy on the inside and caramelly-crunchy on the outside, and if you mix spring greens and green beans and dot them with butter, and if you make the bread sauce quite soft and heady with bay, and if the gravy is deep and hot and plentiful - then silence will reign for a moment, and you'll know that your task is complete.
Roast chicken is love on a plate. Which is why you'll never find anybody who doesn't like it. It is also why it is unacceptable to do it badly. Luckily, however, practice makes perfect...
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it is so true - and we had a roast chicken last night!!! and that is an impressively long sentence.
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