I expected roasting a chicken to be a lot more complicated. A frozen, local, free-range chicken in the roaster, add an inch of water, salt/pepper, and put it in a 250° pre-heated oven for 6 hours.
I asked my wife, “Shouldn’t I rub butter on it or something?” she replied, “Why? So you can make things more complicated?”. I didn’t answer. “Just check to see if any of the organs are in the cavity and if they’re in a plastic bag, take it out.” She would be at work, getting a ride home with a friend to join us for this dinner. I would be preparing said dinner, cleaning the house and washing every single dish that we own. All with the astute help of Duder, just days away from 2 years old.
Let’s do this thing.
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