So I took my sleepness meanderings to task and roasted a big old chicken for dinner last night. It was like a strength training workout. That sucker was a hefty 6 pounder and barely fit into my trusty Staub.
All good things don’t happen in one night. I started on Sunday by brining the bird in a mixture of salt, olive oil, garlic and pepper and left it to marinate overnight in the fridge.
For the accoutrements, I prepared a bed of yukon gold potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and fennel bulb and squeezed the juice from a whole orange over the entire thing before plopping the dish into the oven for a few hours.
I had started cooking after work around 7pm and it wasn’t finished till after 10. By that time I was so famished I tore into the dish with gusto, ripping the crispy skin and juicy flesh from the bones with my fingers for the first satisfying bite.
The result was delectable! The salt did wonders to bring out the flavor and juices while the root vegetables soaked up every drop of chicken goodness. The orange and fennel added just a hint of sweetness to balance it all out.
It was a finger licking good time. And I did sleep well. Yes I did.
Been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately (like right now) even though I’m thoroughly exhausted from consecutive nights of frustrating wakefulness and a lingering cold. I keep trying to analyze the causes of this nocturnal prison but they escape me for the moment. Or maybe there’s just too many to list and I’d have to start paying those who read this blog for cyber-therapy and frankly, I don’t have the cash flow. But I’m tired and desperate so I figured maybe I would blog myself to sleep.
This past month has been fast paced and full of change. Within a week’s time, I went from unemployed to self-employed, through luck, good friends, and of course, my sparkling personality. Though I’m happy to be off the proverbial government cheese, it’s been hard to adjust to lower pay, regular hours, and oddly enough, low stress work. I’ve never known anything other than a rat race.
There’s no use pretending anymore. It’s time to hang my ego up in the pantry and admit something. Something entirely contrary to the carefully cultivated image I’ve presented to my friends and family all my life. The ugly truth is…
I SUCK AT COOKING!