My Muse, And Roasted Chicken
Oh, my Muse. Let me sing to thee.
Oh my gal is a high part stepper
Ginger with salt and pepper
She’s a fancy stepper when she dances
Go and see her as she kippers and prances
My gal don’t do much talking
Dances even when she’s walking
One and two and three and four she dances all day long…
Yes, my dear Muse. That ornery little magic-strewing wench. Here I am, having cleared my calender and wanting to settle down to write the next effing book I’m contracted for, and she just capers around with flowers in her hair. Serving up bits and pieces of Sekrit Project, but nothing for the Book I Must Write.
I know I’ll be able to put the pedal to the medal soon–I really have no choice, which means the Muse has no choice. But today I’m wanting to whine. See, the Muse pouts if I don’t pretend she’s a slavedriver instead of a twittery little weenie wench who just happens to know where the magic is.
In any case, I roasted a chicken last night–what’s that? You want recipe? Okay, it’s super easy, I got it from Nina Merrill. Take one whole chicken, frozen or not. Plop it in your crock pot–I like a wide one instead of a tall one–and dab it with butter. Sprinkle spices of choice over the top–I like Trader Joe’s poultry blend, Nina likes Mrs. Dash.
Now, you turn the crock on high for an hour and then turn it to low right before you go to bed. When you wake up in the morning the house will smell awesome and you will have a tender, juicy, nommable roasted chicken. Be ready to pick it clean–what’s that? How do you do that?
It’s also easy. I have a wide shallow Tupperware pan that I lift the chicken out into. By now it’s falling apart, which is good. I spoon it out, usually in pieces. Get out another bowl or two–one for the meat, and one for skin etc. if you don’t want to throw the skin into the crock pot with the bones for stock. Some people like just bones in their stock; I boil down the bones and skin and skim it later.
Anyway, now you start picking. I usually get a meat fork and use that in my right hand, since the chicken is hot hot hot and the bones can burn you, not to mention the steam. I poke with the fork and only use my fingers when absolutely necessary. Pick the meat, ignore the bones, toss the skin and nasty bits in the third bowl if you don’t want to boil them down.
When you’re done, you will have greasy half-burned fingers, a pile of roasted chicken meat, and a shallow bowl full of bones and icky bits and grease. I dump the bones and icky bits (Note: NOT the giblets. You should have taken those out prior to cooking[1]; cats love them) back in the crock pot and keep it on low for a while to make ZOMG to die-for-low-salt-chicken-stock. Now the meat can be divvied up in Ziplocs and frozen for use in other recipes. Or you can drench it in half the teriyaki sauce you made last night–no, I’m not giving that recipe until later, when I know if I did it right and if it works–and put it in the fridge for dinner.
What? You were wondering about the Muse? Well, this recipe stuff is all part of my Big Sekrit Plan. I ignore her and pretend like I’m having fun writing, and pretty soon she throws a pretty shiny across my path. Like any woman, she hates to be ignored.
As a matter of fact, she’s giving me an idea right now. See you guys in a bit…
[1] When the chicken’s frozen I leave them in and take them out prior to the picking. I know you’re not supposed to, but Jesus, the name of the game is “easy” here.
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Tags: the goddamn Muse
