Every­day Gravy (it’s not just for Thanks­giv­ing any­more) serves six (ish)

1 large roast­ing chicken

2 slices bacon (in Eng­land you must buy “smoked streaky rash­ers”)
1/2 tea­spoon each of: dried basil, oregano, thyme, gar­lic salt, paprika (or any sea­soned salt you like)
2 table­spoons but­ter
1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup white wine
1 large onion, quar­tered
6 cloves gar­lic, whole
2 tbsps flour
good dol­lop of cream (if you insist)

Spray a large roast­ing pan with non­stick spray and place chicken breast-side up. Pour chicken stock and wine over the chicken, then sprin­kle on herbs and put the but­ter in two pats at the top of the breast. Throw the onion chunks and gar­lic cloves in around the chicken, then drape the bacon slices over the legs. Roast at 400 degrees for a min­i­mum of two hours, turn­ing the heat down toward the end if the chicken gets too brown.

About forty min­utes before you want to eat, put peeled and quar­tered pota­toes (my alle­giance is with Lady Bal­four pota­toes these days) in a pan and cover with water, then bring to the boil. Then, ten min­utes before you want to eat, take the roast­ing pan out and place a gravy sep­a­ra­tor in the sink. This is one of the very few spe­cial­ist kitchen items I believe in, nor­mally adher­ing to Lau­rie Colwin’s dis­dain for kitchen objects that serve only one pur­pose. Lift the chicken out onto a large plate, and then very care­fully pour the liq­uid into the gravy sep­a­ra­tor, leav­ing the onions and gar­lic in the pan if pos­si­ble. Put the chicken back in the pan and return to the over, tak­ing care to wipe any liq­uid from the bot­tom of the pan first. Now, you will notice that the gravy has sep­a­rated into a good stock base, and a layer of fat on the top. Very slowly, pour the gravy out the spout into a skil­let. Amaz­ingly, I have no idea how this works, the stuff at the top comes out last! How do they do that? I really should have taken high-school physics as my father often laments. Any­way, watch and stop pour­ing when you run out of good stock and the fat begins to drain out. Throw away the fat.

Now put the skil­let over medium heat and whisk in the flour. Bring to a low boil and whisk until the flour is com­pletely absorbed. Let it cook a bit, and if you find you want your gravy thicker, sim­ply add more flour. Add the cream if desired (of course in my house it is always desired).

Now you can let it sim­mer, and turn your atten­tion to the rest of the meal. Drain and mash your pota­toes with a nice hot mix­ture of but­ter and milk. Take the chicken out of the oven and let it sit a bit, while you saute your broc­coli or pep­pers, or peel your beet­root, or make your salad.

A gravy boat is a nice thing to have, as it has a lit­tle spout. But you can use a cof­fee cup with a big soup spoon, as well. I will never for­get that as a young engaged per­son, I reg­is­tered for some really expen­sive china. I don’t even remem­ber the pat­tern. Any­way, the ONLY piece I got was the gravy boat! I think it cost $450! Need­less to say I exchanged it for, basi­cally, every­thing else I needed to start a home, and got a cheap sweet lit­tle white gravy boat that I still use, now 16 years later.

Now carve the chicken, which unless you are an expert, sim­ply involves cut­ting the breasts off and slic­ing them, and remov­ing the legs if any­one likes dark meat. As for me, I eat what I call the “swings,” because when I lived in Moscow and was invited to the home of a Russ­ian diplo­mat for din­ner (this was in 1992 when no nice peo­ple in Moscow had any money, and con­se­quently very lit­tle food), the host’s wife said to me very ele­gantly, “We are hav­ing chicken tonight. I hope you can eat the swings.” I always intended to write a mem­oir of our time in Moscow and call it “Golden Domes and Chicken Swings.”

But I digress. Now you have pro­duced the per­fect com­fort meal, all the food groups accounted for, and… you can throw the chicken car­cass in a stock­pot and make soup. Mmmm.

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