Sunday Chicken Dinner

I've always wanted to roast a chicken. There's just something about the look and smell of it that is so homey and delightful and reassuring somehow. Maybe it's the way the chicken looks all cozy and warm nestled in a pile of caramelized root vegetables. I know that sounds really psycho, but I'm just laying it all out there. I bet that's how Martha Stewart looks at a roasted chicken. Yep, me and Martha, peas in a pod. Uh-huh.

Anyway, thanks to my new favorite store, Earth Fare, we received a free dinner for four just by registering on their website!!! (the deal expires today so jump on it, y'all). This meal deal included a whole chicken, baby carrots and mashed potatoes. YUM, even though I can't eat mashed potatoes due to Clara's milk allergy -another topic for another day. So I went to pick up my bird on Saturday and was so excited to cook it for dinner on Sunday.

WARNING: To those with weak stomachs, stop reading here and just know that the chicken was golden and delicious and I am a culinary master. For those who are hard core, read on...

OK, so here's the thing. To cook it, one has to actually touch the darn thing. Not only that, but there are innards, y'all. Liver, heart, gizzard, etc... I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this would be a step in the actual process, but wan't exactly prepared for the handling and de-gutting that would have to take place. OK, the parts were inside the cavity and all I had to do was reach inside and pull them out. No biggie, right? Wrong.

I looked at the bird and although it had no head, it looked at me. I thought to myself, or maybe said aloud (I do that from time to time),"You're not the boss of me. I'm sorry, but you're already dead and won't feel a thing. I can do this." My husband was in the living room and heard me making gagging sounds and saying "Oh, no" over and over. He ever so gently called in and said "Just do it!". Thanks, Tom. I called back, "I need your help, you are going to have to get these parts out." And do you know what my rugged, manly and ever-so-chilverous man replied??? "No, you've got to do it. You wanted to cook this chicken, so do it." That's right ladies, back off, he's mine.

So, there was no option. I would clean this bird out and win this moment. And so I did. And I rinsed the bird, inside and out, dried it, seasoned it and now on to the trussing.

Truss: verb

1 tie up the wings and legs of (a chicken or other bird) before cooking.
• tie up (someone) with their arms at their sides : I found him trussed up in his closet.

I have never trussed, of course so I did what any modern woman would do, I brought my laptop into the kitchen and googled "how to truss a chicken". May I recommend Chow.com's how-to video on trussing a chicken. I only had to watch it about 7 times, each time finding a way to move the mouse and click on play without using my polluted raw chicken hands. Finally my chicken was trussed! See photo for proof!

I cooked the chicken right along side of carrots (free) and parsnips and it was divine I tell you! Melaina loved it and even wanted seconds. I have entered into a new culinary dimension and will now be roasting chickens like nobody's business!

Side note: It is helpful to keep a canister of Clorox wipes nearby to disinfect all things touched by grubby raw chicken hands!

Happy trussing and roasting, everyone!!