And Then, The Peacock

On Thursday evening, as I was driving through Victoria Park, a neighborhood in downtown Fort Lauderdale, I encountered a peacock. I was easing to a stop at a four-way intersection when it appeared, eyeing me over its shoulder.

Victoria Park is a neighborhood of oddballs. In my mind, it is a jumble of old and new, groomed lawns and sprawling tropical jungle-yards. There are no curbs along the streets, and few streetlights. The older homes have personality: you'll find yellow and cerulean blue walls, fences with ceramic suns and moons, riotous Bougainvillea in magenta bloom. Next door may be an austere three-story townhouse with massive glass windows and unadorned right-angles. I like driving through Victoria Park. It's like an architectural trip to the zoo. Still, this was the first time I found actual wildlife.

As I came to a stop at the four-way intersection, the peacock paused, his head cocked over his shoulder. It was indeed a showy male bird, not a demure brown peahen. The peacock's funny little crown bobbled for a moment as the bird resumed his strutty walk across the street, ten feet in front of my car. I sat entranced.

Then, off to my right, a flash of red. A boy, no more than nine years old, in a red t-shirt and shorts, came running toward the peacock. No, sprinting. His eyes locked on the bird, he pumped his arms in approved Olympic style, his cheeks bellowing in and out, sprinting toward the peacock.

The peacock lifted its skirt of feathers and trotted away. Bird and boy disappeared around a corner.

I sat at the four-way stop a few moments longer, confounded. Part of me wanted to follow them, to hear the first part of the story, and to hear the last part as well. Clearly, I'd happened upon the middle of the story and I wanted to know more.

They were gone, though, as if they'd never appeared in the intersection.

Something else interesting happened last week: a couple of bloggers sent poems to me in response to this post. This is why I love blogging: the call and response that we share. Thank you to the Greasy Skillet and Foodycat!

Two weeks ago, I promised you a recipe that incorporates preserved lemons. Here it is.

Poulet aux Citrons Confits et Olives
Adapted from this recipe at Epicurious.com

1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onion
5 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon peeled and minced fresh ginger
1 3-inch cinnamon stick
3 tablespoons dried coriander
3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, or to taste
A pinch of saffron threads, crumbled
1/2 cup olive oil
1 3-pound chicken, rinsed and patted dry
1/4 cup Niçoise or other brine-cured black olives, pitted and chopped
1 preserved lemon (small), chopped fine

In a large ovenproof skillet, stir together the onion, the garlic, the ginger, the cinnamon stick, the dried coriander, the parsley, the lemon juice, the saffron, the oil, and 1 cup water, put the chicken on top of the mixture, and season it with salt and pepper.

Bake the chicken, covered, in the middle of a preheated 375°F. oven for 45 minutes (or until it registers 160 degrees on a thermometer), transfer it to a cutting board, and let it stand, covered loosely, for 5 minutes. Cut the chicken into quarters.

Add the olives and the preserved lemon to the sauce in the skillet and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Simmer the sauce for 3 to 5 minutes. Nestle the chicken into the skillet and simmer for another 2 to 3 minutes, or until the chicken is just heated through. Discard the cinnamon stick and serve the chicken with a generous helping of sauce.

Serves: 4

Elegance

Don't you love those little unexpected moments of elegance in life?

I'm not talking about the fancy-shmancy event that forces you and your significant other into black tie and stiff shoes. I'm talking about the unanticipated moments; the ones you don't see coming, the ones that seem almost out of context.

Take roast chicken, for example.

I do not for the life of me know how chicken could seem sophisticated to me, yet the smell of a whole bird roasting in my oven gives me a little thrill. Usually, I roast a chicken on a Sunday afternoon while I'm wearing a pair of jeans and doing something pedestrian like watering my African violets or sorting the recycling. In spite of this, a whiff of roasting chicken and thyme makes me think of grown-up dinner parties, of dangling earrings, of funny stories being told over adult laughter, and of good wine. I think of white taper candles flickering in tall holders, of jazz and old standards audible through the lively conversation.

Is this a memory from my childhood? From my own adulthood?

I can't recall this exact meal from anytime in my past, that's the odd part of this impression. Yet it strikes me whenever I roast a whole chicken.

Memories or impressions aside, roast chicken is a terrific entree for an intimate dinner party of friends. For one thing, it presents so beautifully. For another, it is delicious.

Maybe I'll wear a pair of dangling earrings tonight, just to do this bird justice.


Roast Chicken
A Fritter Original

1 whole 3-pound chicken, innards removed
2 tablespoons of olive oil, plus 1 additional tablespoon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 lemon, quartered
3 cloves of garlic, unpeeled but sliced open at the ends
1 handful of fresh thyme, plus a few extra sprigs for garnish
1 large yellow onion, peeled and quartered
2 carrots, peeled, and chopped in half
1 fennel bulb, halved and ends trimmed
2 parsnips, peeled and ends trimmed
4 strips of bacon

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees, setting your oven to "broil."

Rinse the bird and pat it dry with paper towels. Place the chicken breast side down into a heavy-bottomed, oven-proof skillet. Roasting any bird breast side down ensures juiciness and prevents the over-roasting of the breast meat, which cooks faster than the thighs.

Drizzle 2 tablespoons of olive oil over the bird and coat it using your hands. Sprinkle the chicken with the salt and pepper inside and out. Insert one of the lemon quarters, the fresh thyme, and the garlic cloves into the cavity of the chicken. Spread the strips of bacon evenly over the top of the chicken.

After carefully washing your hands, assemble the onion quarters, carrots, fennel, and the remaining lemon quarters around the chicken and drizzle these with the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Sprinkle a pinch of salt and pepper over the vegetables.

Broil the chicken at 500 degrees for 5-8 minutes, until the skin starts to brown. Reduce the heat to 375 degrees and cook for another 30-35 minutes. The chicken is done when a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees, and the juices in the space between the breast and the thigh run clear.

Carve the chicken by carefully turning it over and running a sharp knife down the center breast bone. Then carve a parallel line down toward the wing then toward the thigh, meeting the first cut at the breast bone. You should come away with the whole breast. You can pop the thigh bones out by inserting a knife into the joints and breaking off the bone. Wings can be separated in a similar manner. Additional carving assistance can be found here.

Assemble the meat on a plate , garnish with a few sprigs of thyme, and surround with roasted vegetables. Serve.

Serves: 2 hungry adults