Juicy Roast Chicken Recipe

Photo courtesy Yahoo Shine, Chow Ciao.

Whole chickens are the bane of my cooking existence. I just can't make them juicy. I can't. They dry out, taste funny or bland. I can't get them to work no matter what recipe I try.


Now there's one all defrosted and staring me down in the fridge. It was downright taunting me. I needed help. Strange enough, Yahoo Shine came to the rescue in the form of Fabio Viviani and his Perfect Roast Chicken recipe. (Hello hot stuff!) 


(First, let me preclude this by saying, when I watched Top Chef, I LIVED for Fabio. I did. I thought he was amazing and I wanted to eat anything that man made. I'm glad to say that I can, thanks to his section on Yahoo Shine. )


Knowing what you now know about me and roast chickens, you'd think I'd found a way to mess this up. I'm so stinking happy to say that this roast chicken did not best me. That sucker was juicy. It was downright moist. Even the kid ate it without complaints. (Okay, yes, with ketchup, but seriously, he's 3. Underdeveloped palate.) 


In case you haven't seen Fabio in his Chow Ciao section on Yahoo Shine, I'm reposting his fantastic recipe here and adding my modifications for an electric non-convection oven. 


Here's the original:


Perfect Roast Chicken 
Recipe by Fabio Viviani 
Yield: 2 - 4 Servings 

Ingredients: 
1 whole chicken, fryer 2-4 pounds 
2 sprigs thyme 
2 sprigs sage 
2 sprigs rosemary 
1 lemon, sliced 
5-6 garlic cloves, crushed 
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil 
sea salt and cracked pepper to taste 

Method: 
Preheat oven to 450F. 
Remove the organs, gizzards and neck from chicken. 
Rinse chicken inside and out with cold water. 
Pat the chicken dry with paper towels so that the oil and seasoning will stick. 
Rub oil all over chicken and season heavily with salt and pepper. 
Stuff the cavity with garlic, lemon and herbs. 
Place chicken on pan, breast side up, and put into preheated oven. 
Cook for approximately 15-20 minutes until the skin is crispy and brown. 
Put a meat thermometer in the breast, and turn the chicken over, breast side down and turn the oven down to 350F. 
Leave in the oven until the thermometer reads 150F approximately. 
Remove from the oven and let rest for approx. 10 min or until the thermometer reads 160-165F. 
Cut the chicken into legs, drums, wings, breasts and platter. 
Drizzle with EVOO and garnish with fresh herbs.


Sounds delish, right? 


Here's my small modification, on an electric stove, keep it at 450 the whole time. It won't dry out, I promise. But there's no real way to get that skin to sizzle and brown without a convection oven. Gas stoves may have different results, so of course, YMMV.

Ads on Leaving Fatville.

It's been nearly 2 years that this blog has been around, and up until today, you'll have noticed the ads are few and mostly relegated to the bottom of the side bar. Or done in exchange for a giveaway.

Today, that is changing in a very small way. You'll notice some small Google ads on the bottom of my posts and in my feeds. I don't expect a ton of revenue, or really any, but I would like to see how it impacts you, my readers. I've tried to make them as unobtrusive as possible, but I don't ever want it interfering with the content you read here.

What do you think? Ads? No ads? Ads are okay if they aren't in your face?

Waging war on my body image.

Ceiling cat lurks in my shopping bags,
whispering mean things to me.
Photo courtesy of Getty Images.

Shopping at 300 lbs was one of the things I used to dread more than going to the doctor. I hated how nothing fit, nothing made sense and being short just made things worse. I was not a willowy tall fat person. No, I was short and squat with infuriatingly short arms. Throw boobs into that mix and a set a hips that could body check a wrestler and it made shopping nearly impossible for me.

As I lost weight, shopping got to be more interesting. I still dreaded it, but when I walked out I had the pleasant surprise of not being as bad as I remembered. Even at the beginning of this pregnancy when I was shopping, I was surprised that I wasn't still a 2X. I hovered in between an XL and a 1X in plus size. When I had to start buying bigger stuff to accomodate the belly even 2X was still too big.

Today... today is different. I had to buy new underwear. I had to buy 3X lounge pants. I hate seeing the label. I hate seeing how huge these underwear and pants are and I hate that I'm having to wear them again. I know it's temporary, but I still despise seeing it. It's depressing. I know I have a good reason for my body changing, but I can't reconcile that with what's in the mirror. I feel fat all the time. My arms feel two inches shorter because my baby belly gets in the way of the counters. I feel disadvantaged. I feel like I did when I was 300 lbs.

I know I should be happy my body is changing. I know I should be happy that I'm growing this wonderful baby boy. I just can't seem to make my brain realize this. I don't want to be upset that I'm getting bigger. I've seen the sizes go down for so long, it's disconcerting to see them go back up.

In the back of my head, I hear this whisper. It's a mean little whisper, too. In a quiet room, or right before bed, I hear it. It preys on my fears. It tells me I only have a matter of time before I hit 300 lbs again. Those new bigger clothes are the new way of life. All my pre-pregnancy clothes will be in those space bags forever. I'll never get back to where I was. I'm always going to be tired. I won't have time or energy to walk or exercise again. My life won't be my own again for a very long time.

That voice scares the ever living snot out of me. What if it's right? What if it's going to take me 2 more years to get this weight off?

It's a...

BOY!!

That's right, I'm growing a set of my very own. Well, for another 5 months I am. He gave us a great shot of what he's packing right here.

Not even a shred of baby modesty there. Strangely enough, I remember my first son doing the exact same thing.

Since booger was facing my spine, we didn't get a great mess of shots of his face. We did get this one, which has me itching to turn it green and put "Believe" across the middle. (For a second we did even consider the name Scully after this came up on the screen.)

One last one... we got a cute little shot of the growing baby feets right here.

There it is. Another little boy to add to our family. I am now completely and utterly outnumbered in testosterone! I foresee a lot of Little League and soccer/basketball/anythingthatinvolvesrunningaroundandbeingexhaustedafterwards.