Confession

I roasted a chicken on Sunday. I saw them in the store at 59 cents per pound and thought, "What a bargain!" I saw myself expertly roasting two chickens each Sunday and doing wonderful things with the leftovers all week. Or I could cut out the backbone and spread it out on the grill or under the broiler or in a cast iron pan with a foil wrapped brick on top. Or I could perch it atop a can of beer and make beer can chicken.

Trouble is I didn't have any beer or one of those wire gadgets to hold the chicken over the can. I didn't even have any cooking twine and I had just used my only lemon. I did want to bind those legs together and tried to hold them with foil but that didn't work. So it roasted with it's legs splayed out with a big chunk of onion inside and carrots to act as a cooking rack. When this picture was taken, it wasn't done yet and had to go back into the oven for 20 more minutes. It tasted fine.

My confession is this. It was a lot of trouble to cook, not to mention trying to get all the meat off the pesky thing. It makes buying chicken quarters at $1.00 more a pound seem very attractive. Even those frozen chicken breasts or a store-bought rotisserie chicken. That reminds me of another confession. I am afraid of my gas grill. I'm even afraid for my husband. It is a beautiful grill but it is often hard to light and hard to regulate.

Here is another meal we had recently. Meatloaf. Very simple with lots of ketchup. The way my mother made it. It was good. I also recently made white chicken chili. It was good. I'm sorry to be on a blog with these simple meals. Can't even really call them recipes. But here they are ... those are my confessions.