It should not be so hard to roast a chicken.
But last night, there I was, standing in my kitchen at 5:30, long after I thought the chicken was going to be done, yelling, “It’s never going to be done!”
My family didn’t really share my concern. Chris told me to calm down (which prompted a loud explanation on my part of why I didn’t need to calm down), and Jonah said, “Mom, you should not talk like that!” He always thinks I’m being naughty. But I was really worked up. “I put this chicken in the oven at 3:45,” I shouted. “We should be eating it right now!”
“Give it 15 more minutes, okay?” Chris suggested.
So I did, although it was a long, long, wait for me. And this time, when the timer went off and I checked the chicken, it was done. After approximately two hours. Then, because I wanted to serve something I felt good about, I made a gravy to go with our chicken and the rolls.
This time I blame the recipe, which recommended I roast the chicken, covered, at 350 for 1 hour 15 minutes. During the final 15 minutes of the long two hours, I checked my Joy of Cooking, which said to bake a five-lb chicken for about 1 hour and 10 minutes at 400 degrees. That’s right—400 degrees, not 350. Next time I’m trying the same time at 400 degrees.
Besides the gravy, there was one other bright spot in my culinary efforts last night. During the first hour and 15 minutes the chicken was baking, I had a craving for some cookies, so I decided to make some chocolate no-bake cookies since that wouldn’t require use of the oven. I used creamy peanut butter instead of chunky, and I cut back the amount of sugar slightly. Chris ate four cookies, and Jonah ate two (even though he said he didn’t like them, because he was hoping to get something else as a treat in addition to the cookies). Poor Neeley wouldn’t eat one at all. He was feeling sick to his stomach and feverish.
I am still waiting for one time when I can make a roasted chicken without any problems, but at least I went to bed last night knowing I didn’t screw up no-bake cookies. Because that would be embarrassing.