There’s a problem with not following recipes to the tee, and it is this. When I actually succeed at making something delicious, I can’t pinpoint what I did right, and often I can’t really remember at all what I did anyway.
Today I tried to roast a chicken again. This time, a 5 lb Foster Farms chicken on sale for $5, stuffed with half a bulb of garlic diced up and two halves of a lemon. I couldn’t find any original recipe, because what happens is I often look at a bunch of variations and then combine elements. Rubbed the outside with kosher salt and pepper. Put it in the oven at 450 for about 1 hour and 19 minutes. The good thing was that this time, the fire alarm only went off once before my husband took it down (hoorah for tall people). But when the chicken came out for us to eat, I couldn’t help but think it wasn’t quite as perfect as it was the other time. Maybe I didn’t put enough garlic. Maybe hubby shouldn’t have diced it. Maybe I put too much salt, or not enough inside the cavity rather. Or maybe my husband just happened to be starving the other time so I thought it was better. Or maybe the chicken from Sprouts was better, or just smaller. I don’t know. There is no way to retrace my steps to solve the mystery. There are only more chickens to roast before I find the perfect one.
Well, that’s annoying, innit?