Sunday Night’s Roast Chicken

The best butcher shop in town is on the northwest side. It’s a family business – Bunzel’s - that’s been around forever. Behind the butcher case are what seems like a dozen butchers. They wear white aprons and all hold knives. They are ready to talk to you about meat. They know meat. I really like that.

Bunzel’s offers a monthly meal deal. The meal deal is always sold for the numbers in the year, for example, this year’s meal deal is $20.24. For that, there is a whole chicken, a pound of ground beef, brats or Italians, maybe a couple of pork chops or chicken cordon bleu, and a couple of chicken patties. Once in a while, there’s a container of coleslaw or a bag full of shrimp. We love the meal deal. It feels like Christmas.

So, tonight I’m roasting the chicken that was in this month’s meal deal. The meal deal chickens are small, like chickens used to be before our notions of appropriate food size bloomed into the preposterous. I’m roasting this chicken using my husband’s recipe because he is watching football and it’s the least I can do. New York Times roast chicken recipe – start at 500 degrees for 30 minutes and then turn down to 350 for another 30 minutes or so. We fight over the doneness of chicken a lot – been doing it for forty years.

What is the point of this post, you ask? There is no point. There is just roast chicken.

A Facebook friend posts a photo of his Wednesday and Sunday night dinners which he makes for his adult children. He describes each dish – all the ingredients – and I marvel at his creativity and sometimes very edgy use of herbs and spices and vegetable combinations previously unconceived by anyone I know. He posts photos taken from above the food, like from a small airplane circling above his dining room table.

I love my friend’s food pictures. I have no idea why. And I feel a little yearning if he forgets to post. Food and cooking, my friend’s interesting recipes, our roast chicken, the privilege of cooking dinner in our own kitchens while football is being played on TV. I sometimes forget it’s a privilege but not tonight. I am reminded.

We are lucky.