I first tried this by chance more than ten years ago, and I love the way the leeks taste so much that I rarely roast a chicken without them now. Over the course of the roasting, the leeks melt - almost confit - in the chicken juices and become the sweetest, most flavorful accompaniment. Shower your chicken in black pepper, fill its cavity with a halved lemon, a couple of unpeeled cloves of garlic, and some sprigs of thyme, and place it on top of your leeks. Toss the leeks in a bit of olive oil and thyme - if you have it - and lay them down in a tight little bed in a roasting pan (preferably a cast-iron pan just large enough to accommodate your chicken).
Take two leeks, wash them, trim them of the woodier dark green parts and halve them lengthwise, then cut them into 2- to 4- inch pieces. Turn the oven up to 500☏, or as hot as it will go short of switching it to broil. If it’s been in the refrigerator, take it out and allow it to temper until ready to roast. Start by overgenerously salting a chicken (ideally the day before, but at least a few hours before you plan to cook it) and pulling out the fatty deposits from just inside the cavity. While it’s one of the simplest things I make, it’s also one of the dishes my friends request the most. Once I learned to roast chicken at high temperatures, I never looked back. Which brings us to the tried and true roasted chicken recipe. Usually I’ll roast the chicken first and eat that for dinner, reserving all the bones in the refrigerator until the next morning, when I’ll have time to make the stock. Plus, I rarely buy whole chickens just for the sake of making a stock, unless I need a lot of stock for a big meal like Thanksgiving. There really is a substantive difference in the flavor of the outcome here. My advice first off is to buy the very best organic and free-range chicken you can afford. Now all that’s left is a withered carcass, perfect for the matzo ball soup coming soon. The chicken was perfect by the time we finished our Zoom Seder with a final glass of wine and a communal shout of “Next year in person!” After 20 minutes, I turned it down to 375, again a bit cooler than what Singer suggests. So I chickened out with my chicken and set the oven to a mere 475. But my oven runs hot, and my fire alarm is a bully.
Singer recommends starting the oven at 500 degrees - there’s a reason it’s known as Fire Alarm Chicken. I stuffed the cavity with halved lemons and fresh herbs. I made sure to take it out of the fridge about an hour before cooking time and sprinkled it with lemon juice, pepper and more spices. “Let me know if you ever need a stockbroker.” A “fresh, natural” bird would have to be good enough.įirst, I sprinkled the bird with flaky salt a few hours before I planned to cook it and then laid it down on a bed of leeks in a cast iron pan. “Sorry, I’m just an economist trying to help out the community,” he said as he stocked the cooler. The book included an easy recipe for roast chicken, so I started by dutifully following Singer’s advice and asking the grocery clerk at the nearest supermarket if the store carried any organic, free-range chickens. (Singer and Waters will join the virtual Los Angeles Times Book Club on April 21 to talk about the book and their approach to food.) I just finished reading Fanny Singer’s recipe-filled memoir, “Always Home,” her story of growing up with her celebrity chef mother, Alice Waters, owner of Berkeley’s landmark Chez Panisse restaurant.
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