Carol Cooks a Turkey

, and Markie Makes a Chicken

Carol Cooks a Turkey
Carol was pissed. Our Thanksgiving host prides himself in his turkey, so she had no leftover turkey to enjoy. (I’m not partial to LO turkey, myself.) So she went out and bought her a nine pound turkey and snared a recipe from the techno-wacko Alton Brown of the Food Network.

So here’s the turkey, ready for its apple and onion and rosemary stuffing.

Once stuffed, oil that baby up for the oven,

and pop it in with its breast protector.

Carve the bird.

We’re in for a traditional turkey dinner with mashed potatoes, creamed onions, and an orange and fennel salad for crispy and sweet counterpoint.

Them’s good eats with Bonny Doon 2004 Sauvignon Blanc “The Exquisite Corpse,” a limited bottling we got at the Tasting Room.

We’ll get to the mess later.

…and by the way, we’re still working on the leftovers.

Markie Makes a Chicken

Every once in a while, I become enamored of some cockamamie recipe just because of its title. Citrus Maximus, Chicken With Coca-Cola and Lemons by Amanda Hesser in the New York Times Magazine of November 6, 2005, fit the bill. It comes from Frédérick Grasser-Hermé, “a food writer who has worked with chefs like Alain Ducasse, [and] is also the wife of the Parisian pastry chef Pierre Hermé.” It’s French, it’s roasted chicken and it’s mindful of Poached Salmon With Vodka Sauce, also from the New York Times, also using a liquid ingredient not normally used in cooking. I did that recipe with a whole Sea Bass, as well, and it was really good.

But that was then and that was vodka, clear, colorless and alcoholic. Now is the time for the G-rated Coca Cola, dark, sticky and sweet.

We started with a dead chicken, and this was a good bird from Golden Gate Meat Company, free range and all, a little over three pounds, a good size for us.

First it is butterflied. You know how to butterfly a chicken don’t you? Cut out the backbone with poultry shears and open it right up. Careful, don’t cut your hands on those prickly rib ends.

Peel two lemons with a vegetable peeler and chop up the zest. Squeeze the lemons into juice. Drizzle the chicken with the lemon juice and rub in the lemon zest, salt and pepper. Turn the chicken over and do the open side, as well. Lemon juice on the hands makes them nice and clean and smell good, as long as you didn’t run afoul of one of those ribs. Stick it in the fridge for four hours.

Put the chicken in the oven and baste with the lemon juice from the marinade, and when that runs out, with Coca Cola. Do this every 10 minutes to keep you hanging around the kitchen.

While you’re hanging around, fill the stove with potential goodness: water to cook pasta, baby red carrots to braise in butter, Coca Cola and water, the Coke for basting, thick sliced onions and finely julienned ginger. The chicken is in the oven.