I roasted a chicken for lunch today (technically, I baked it, but that’s what we call the Sunday roast here in old blighty). Anyway, the remarkable thing about this chicken is that it tastes like chicken.
I have not gone mad. For too long now, I’ve been tolerating the low-end industrial chickens from the supermarket shelf; but yesterday, I just happened to pop into a traditional butcher shop and I bought my chicken there.
The first thing to notice about the bird is that it was dry to the touch - I took it out of the bag to cook it, and it wasn’t all slippery and wet; presumably it simply hadn’t been injected with water to make it appear heavier or plumper than was really the case.
It also had quite a bit of fat about it - the skin was a sort of smooth creamy whitish beige - and opaque, rather than the loose semitransparent pink scrotal effect I’m accustomed to seeing.
Anyway, it was roasted with potatoes and parsnips in a low oven for a couple of hours with foil over the top, then uncovered and cooked on high heat for about 15 minutes to crisp eveything up.
And it was wonderful - the meat was succulent, tender and moist, but most of all - it actually tasted of something, and that something was chicken. Amazing, but true.
OK, it cost more than twice the price of the wet pink scrotum-chickens in the supermarket, but actually, I think the pleasure in eating it was worth at least three times the price. So I’m happy.
Mm… I envy your dinner! I kept meaning to pop into what seemed to be an actual butcher shop here in Victoria (at Quadra/Cloverdale) and I noticed while in traffic the other day… It’s gone. Sadness. My fault. They won’t sell it if we don’t buy it.
My mother always chicken didn’t taste like chicken she remembered from her youth. Now I’ve got to try a real chicken some day.
Yeah, how is it the wet ones cook dry, and the dry ones cook wet?
Can I change my username to Wet Pink Scrotum-Chicken?
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a real butcher shop. I’m gonna have to go looking for one now becasue my boyfriend hates chicken and I love it. Maybe if I can get a real chicken, he’ll eat it too?
I think I’ll be eating a little less chicken for a while.
Bwa!
Well, we had chicken for dinner tonight, too. (Chicken, onions, mushrooms, red peppers, garlic cream sauce, pasta…)
I’m sure that a big factor in this particular equation was the fat; there was a layer of natural fat beneath the skin, so that when it cooked, it was crispy, but with a soft juicy underlayer, rather than crispy, paper-thin and dry.
Water evaporates during cooking, fat mostly doesn’t.
Mmmm, chicken skin. Roy Blount Jr. called it “a major food group.”
I’m in Bellevue, WA. I’m sure we have real butcher shops here, but I wonder if you could get a “real” chicken at Whole Foods? There’s one just a couple miles away, and this seems to be the sort of thing they’d carry. I’m gonna have to try one myself.
Good for you, Mangetout. So many people I know have turned away from pink scrotal chicken in particular, and other crappy supermarket meat as well. We’re fortunate here, because we’ve got various top-quality butchers, with enough of a reputation that some pubs advertise their names on their menus. Next thing to try is the sasuages, which also will cost double but be worth triple.
I’m already quite enamoured of butcher shop sausages, unfortunately, the other members of my family don’t really seem to like them, preferring the mild taste and pate-like texture of the more common banger.