The Magical Trick That Makes Every Roast Chicken Twice as Nice
Every Wednesday night, Bon Appétit food director Carla Lalli Music takes over our newsletter with a sleeper-hit recipe from the Test Kitchen vault. It gets better: If you sign up for our newsletter, you'll get this letter before everyone else.
Last week in the Bon Appétit Test Kitchen, my dear colleague Molly Baz sure was tooting her own horn. Which, let’s be honest, she is wont to do, but she was particularly animated on this mid-week morning, and she wanted the world to know about it. Her bragging rights? Well, she’d scored quite a dinner victory the night before by roasting not one, but two chickens. She hadn’t hosted a party, it was just dinner for her and the Mister, and Molly needed us all to know why double-roasting is The Way.
“If you’re not roasting two birds, you’re missing out on one of life’s easiest and most delicious meal prep opportunities,” she exclaimed. “Has anyone ever been mad about leftover roast chicken?!”
I wasn’t about to disagree with her—I had certainly never been mad at leftover roast chicken. And while I didn’t want to upstage her, I needed her to know that I have been a double-roast-chicken practitioner for years. This is called camaraderie.
“Yes!” I yelled (it seemed the most logical response). “First of all, one chicken is barely enough for four people, especially when one of them plays JV soccer,” I said. I live with my husband and two sons, so I should know.
“One chicken is barely enough for two people,” Molly declared. She lives with her husband and her dog, Tuna, who may or may not be getting chicken scraps.
“One chicken feeds three people, basically,” I concluded.
“Yes!” she yelled. It’s great working in a place where people support each other, I thought.
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“You’re literally going through the same amount of work to roast two chickens,” Molly went on, now thinking strategically. “It takes the same amount of time, they fit on the same rimmed baking sheet—just buy two and double your dinner payoff!” She was yelling again.
“It’s the only way,” I added. “People who aren’t doing this are really missing out.” I felt a little sad for those people.
Sunday rolled around. It was rainy and grey, the kind of day when you want to just park something in the oven and take a nap before dinner. I bought two chickens, then came home and set the oven temperature to 325°. I placed the chickens on a large rimmed baking sheet and seasoned them with a mixture of salt, crushed fennel seeds, dried oregano, chopped rosemary, smoked paprika, and freshly ground pepper. I had leftover thyme, so I divided the sprigs between both cavities. Then I took stock of our root vegetable situation and added thickly sliced onion rings, Honeynut squash wedges, and a halved head of garlic to the baking sheet. I seasoned the veggies with salt and pepper and drizzled olive oil over everything. Satisfied, I slid the pan into the oven and set a timer for 2½ hours (this is a slight variation on my Faux-tisserie Chicken recipe). I knew from experience that this would yield chickens with a shreddable, pull-apart texture and deeply browned vegetables seasoned with all the schmaltzy drippings. I wondered if this was how Molly did her chickens, or if she went with a high-heat method. Either way, I knew we were winning.
The dinner was a hit—my family of four ate an entire chicken plus the drumsticks from chicken No, 2, the remains of which were wrapped and refrigerated. On Monday night, we warmed up the leftovers and I put mayo and hot sauce on the table for seasoning our chicken pieces. I chopped up the rest of the roasted vegetables and tossed them into a big arugula salad.
“Leftovers!” I yelled at my family when we sat down for chicken dinner redux. Reader, no one was mad.
Originally Appeared on Bon Appétit
