Cluck

Last week, Sarah went to a sleepover and came home feeling tired. Go figure.  But she kept feeling moderately miserable for a few days, and then Lauren got a runny nose, too.

Time to roast a chicken.

The girls approach roast chicken in different ways.  Lauren goes to town on the bird itself, while Sarah patiently waits for me to turn the carcass into broth, then makes soup for herself. Usually, I follow the Ina Garten roast chicken method, and it's delicious. 

Once the bird is picked clean, I throw the carcass into the biggest pot I have, along with some carrots, onion, celery, peppercorns, salt, and a bay leaf or two.  Cover the whole thing with water, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for a few hours (don't forget to skim off any scum that might come to the surface). 

Temperature management is actually the hardest part for me. On the absolute lowest setting, it doesn't bubble at all--too low.  Up just half a click from there, and it bubbles too hard and the broth gets nasty dark bits in it.  I can separate that out, but I'd prefer to avoid it altogether. I generally end up doing the temperature dance, turning it repeatedly up and down.  A while ago, I heard an idea that chicken stock could be made in the slow cooker. That sounded like a brilliant idea, so I tried it.  It didn't overcook, but it never got really rich and delicious, either, even though I let it cook forever.  Disappointing.

Once it's done, strain it and put it in containers to be refrigerated or frozen.

As it turns out, the chicken is still in the refrigerator.  The girls both feel better, and it's 96 degrees here today.  No way I'm heating up the kitchen.  It's supposed to rain this weekend, though (boo!), and be downright chilly Monday, so I'll do it then.