I’VE COOKED ROAST CHICKENS enough to know one uncomfortable, niggling, annoying truth: T’aint no such thing as a perfect roast chicken. There, I said it. Sue me.
For years I chased The One. (Um, not that THE ONE; I’ve been shacking up with him for 33 years). I mean lowercase “the one.” The chicken. I’d read more cookbooks than our little town library, the Minor Memorial Library, could ever hope to own.
I’ve experimented.
I’ve tweaked the oven temperature. Start high and low. Start low and high. Start in a cold oven. Start with room temperature chicken. (Yeah, that went well!)
I played with seasoning. Salt earlier, salt later, encrust in salt. Wait! Wet brine! No DRY brine’s the answer.
I’ve done literal gymnastics with the poor things. Start with the bird breast down, then flip for the last hour. Rotate the bird a quarter turn every 20 minutes to mimic a rotisserie. Stand it on its butt (neck?) on one of those RONCO bird fisters.
And just about everything else under the sun: basting, massaging, pulling and tucking, whispering positive affirmation before it goes in the oven, apologizing to all of its descendants for the abomination I was about to create.
That’s when it hit me. Chicken is a bitch to cook, and I have to let go of perfection. (Damn nearly impossible for a drama queen to do, gotta say.)
So I gave up. And now, I do chicken every which way. Some nights, it’s lemon and herbs. Other nights, warm spices that fill the whole house. Sometimes only crispy thighs will do. And yes, every once in a while, mayo on the skin turns out to be a stroke of genius. Instead of something that snotty friend who thinks she’s soooooooooo sophisticated she pronounces croissant as CROY-ZINT would pooh-pooh.
Chow,
Dry skin equals crisp skin. Pat the chicken dry and, if you have time, let it sit uncovered in the fridge for a few hours, or overnight. The air in the fridge dries the chicken skin, leaving it taut and papery. It roasts up super crispy.
Alas, it doesn’t “seal in juices.” Much of the blame goes to Justus von Liebig, the 19th-century chemist who gaffed when he said boiling meat seals the outside of the cut. That blunder was generalized to searing and roasting. Modern food scientists have disproved this a gazillion times over, yet we keep saying it’s true. Talk about fake news.
Season more boldly than feels comfortable. Chickens are big. Way bigger than when I was a kid. They can take it. Bland poultry is a tragedy entirely within our control.
Don’t worship one recipe. Lemon. Shallots. Moroccan spices. Butter. Mayo. Different birds, different nights.
Let it rest. Yeah, I know, it’s a pain in the ass. But it does make a difference. Ten to fifteen minutes feels like an epoch, but it’s the difference between juicy meat and a puddle on the cutting board.
Never waste the leftovers, and let that guide tonight’s version. Tomorrow’s chicken salad, pasta, soup, or sandwich is already part of tonight’s dinner, so plan, plan, plan. Classic, spicy, buttery, weeknight-friendly options are below.
This simple roast chicken, as the name implies, is ridiculously easy and turns out a superlative bird with shatteringly crisp skin and surprisingly juicy meat. No surprise that it’s the same technique that Thomas Keller uses.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 5 from 23 votes
This simple roast chicken is nestled on a bed of shallots and garlic and roasted until golden and crisp-skinned. It’s an easy hands-off meal that’s perfect for entertaining.
This Moroccan-spiced roast chicken is seasoned with paprika, cumin, red pepper flakes, cinnamon, and then cooked on a bed of sweet potatoes, cauliflower, and red onions.
This spiced roast chicken is like a choose-your-own-adventure in weeknight cooking. Choose your favorite rub—spiced curry, Cajun, or warm spice—slather it on chicken pieces (breasts, thighs, drumsticks, they all work well!), and roast until tender.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4.85 from 26 votes
Ina Garten’s lemon chicken is “the best roast chicken I’ve ever made.” That’s what we hear time after time from everyone we know who makes this roast chicken from the Barefoot Contessa. Tasting is believing.
This has been adapted for home cooks. At Barbuto, they roast their chickens in a wood-fired oven, basting often. This technique gets you pretty close to what they serve.
Mayo roast chicken takes your everyday chicken and kicks it up a notch. Spatchcocked for speed, then basted with a tangy mayo, you can have this crisp-skinned and ultra-moist beauty on the table in under 2 hours. A worthy upgrade to those grocery store rotisserie birds.
What makes this oven-roasted chicken thighs recipe so ingenious is the technique. Bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs are baked until cooked through and then broiled to crisp the skin. The result? Juicy, flavorful sheet pan chicken thighs. Marvelously crisp skin.
P.S. Won’t you consider tapping the ♥️, restacking this post, and/or leaving a comment? It takes but a moment, but its impact is enormous! 💋
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