Roasted Chicken (On Bread)

A roasted chicken is one of the simplest and most delicious ways to cook any sort of meat. Since I often am less interested in the meat dish and more interested in sides, casseroles, stews, etc – this is a genuinely winning go-to approach to providing the meal’s centerpiece. It’s also a good way to build up a supply of chicken bones for use in a stock. A roast chicken is also incredibly versatile and there are so many different additives that make it interesting in different ways, but this is the simplest way that I know to make it and it is also my favorite. You should always try to avoid excess liquid, excess or unrendered fat, dried out breasts, and non-browned, non-crispy skin, and this technique is pretty much a guarantee of all of that.

The bread is just an added bonus – by cooking the chicken directly on top, the bread absorbs all of the juices and fat and basically becomes one gigantic chicken-fat cruton. I don’t always make it this way, but if I have some extra bread lying around that’s in danger of going stale, this is a good use for it.

The three elements of my technique for roasting a chicken that, if properly applied, make this preparation foolproof are 1) sticking a generous quantity of butter under the skin, 2) trussing the bird, and 3) brining the bird.

The real secret here is the brine – and it’s not much of a secret at this point. Brines are universally understood in this day and age to keep meat from drying out, and there’s lots that you can read about them online so I’ll keep it brief here. My understanding of the science is a bit thin, but I do get that what we’re after here is a chemical reaction, so there’s really no need to put anything in the brine other than salt. You’re not trying to “infuse” the bird with any flavors here – not even salt – so throw that notion right out, and along with it, any sugar, rosemary, peppercorns, bayleaves, etc. Save your peppercorns. It’s possible that if you soak something in water that has a couple sprigs of rosemary floating around in it that the rosemary the recipient in question will be imbued with a vague essence of rosemary, but in this recipe, we’re only brining for about 2 hours, so I doubt it will actually have a chance to impart anything. If you want your chicken to taste like rosemary, stick a sprig under the skin of each breast along with the butter, or jam a whole bunch into the cavity of the bird, or chop it up and sprinkle on the outside of the bird along with the salt and pepper. Trust me, you’ll have a rosemary tasting ass bird, way more so than if you pop a sprig or ten into the brine.

But back to the chemistry, and my weak understanding of it. Brining doesn’t actually add very much moisture, nor does it send salt into the cells of the bird (at least, not in any significant quantity). When heat is applied to chicken muscle, the proteins contained therein contract or constrict or squeeze up somehow (or uncoil and recoil in tight formation), which I know is called denaturing, but I don’t know much more than that, except that when these things constrict, they force the water content of each cell out. These end up dripping out of the bird and evaporating. That’s why basting with a liquid doesn’t really add moisture – if you think about it, it’s like brushing toothpaste over the open end of the tube at the same time you’re squeezing it. At its essence, and in very laic terms, the brine solution dissolves or weakens these proteins so that they don’t constrict as much when cooked. So if each cell is that tube of toothpaste and the toothpaste itself equals the moisture in a bird, far less squeezing will happen during the cooking process and the finished result will have maintained much more of its moisture content, resulting in a more moister, more delicious chicken in every pot.

So – here’s a how to guide, starting with what you’ll need:

• 1 whole chicken (about 3.5 lbs)
• 2 cups of salt
• 1 gallon of water (and for chrissakes, this isn’t a shellfish brine, so use spring water or at least filtered)
• 4 TBS butter, softened
• Salt and pepper
• 1 length of kitchen twine

and, if you want:

• several lengths of baguette, sliced in half the long way, and cut to length slightly longer than your bird

and here’s what to do, in precise order:

Start by making your brine. Put the salt in a large pot, then add 4 cups of cold water and place on high heat. Using a whisk or spoon, stir vigorously until the salt is completely dissolved, then add the remaining 12 cups of cold water. The brine should be cool when you’ve added the rest (in other words, the salt should dissolve in the small portion long before it needs to come to a boil).

Next, you’ll want to clean up your bird a little bit. Remove and reserve the neck if present, and remove and either discard or reserve the gizzards if present (the liver and especially heart are optional saves, depending on how grisly you want to get later, the neck is a mandatory save because you’ll use it for stock) as well as the large chunks of fat that are found at the two openings of the bird’s cavities, by the neck and by the butt. Be careful about trimming away too much skin – if there’s just a ton hanging flaccidly around, you can scale it back, but mostly you want to leave it and those big chunks of fat should just peel off in your hand without needing a knife. (You can discard them unless you’re going to get all Old Country with another recipe.)

Next, rinse the bird inside and out, hoping that if there are any globules of blood or guts clinging to the inside, you’ve gotten rid of them. Place the bird in the brine and place the whole pot in the fridge for 2 hours. You can go up to 3, 3.5 hours in this brine, but 2 is really all you need and beyond much more than 3 and you’re on your own. You’re going to be dealing with mush at that point, in my opinion.

When then chicken is brining (or before this) take the butter out of the fridge to soften.

When the chicken has brined, set the oven to 450 degrees. Remove the bird from the pot, discard the brine, thoroughly dry your bird off and place on your cutting board. Using a NON-SHARP butter knife, separate the breast meat from the skin covering it. This mostly needs to happen at the extremes, near the top of each end of the cavity, where there seem to be membranes connecting it. Release these membranes near the butt cavity, then slide the knife all the way in, moving it back and forth, all the way towards the neck. Then take 2 TBSP of softened butter and put one each under the skin of each breast, massaging on the outside so it is evenly distributed and covers the breast completely.

At this point, truss the bird. It’s very simple to do and you can find limitless instructions on line. It really helps with the evenness of cooking and presentation. You want a deliciously browned bird here, and trussing will help immensely. Once the bird is trussed, rub the entire bird all over with the remaining 2 TBSP of butter. Salt and pepper liberally.

Place the bird in either a roaster or an oven-safe skillet and place in the oven. If you’re placing it on bread, slice the baguette lengthwise and cover the ends of each piece with a bit of foil.

It shouldn’t take more than an hour – you can check on it after 45 minutes or so, but one hour should be about right. When the bird registers 165 or 170 degrees near the bone on the leg meat, you should take it out of the oven and let it rest for 5 or 10 minutes or so and then carve it up any way you like. Serve it immediately and enjoy immensely.