The bird lied. There. I said it. My chicken made a fool out of me this evening. I'm a seasoned veteran when it comes to roasting chickens. It's one of my "go to" meals that I pull out at least every ten days or so. The natives love it and the roasted veggies I toss in for "more the merrier" company in the oven. Hubby loves it. I love it. The only one I can see that might be offended would be the chicken, but that point's moot. And, certainly given the choice the chicken would much rather have been roasted than fried. Am I right?
I put the chicken on a ceramic roasting dish inside of my cast iron dutch oven stuffed with onions, garlic, carrots, celery, salt, pepper, and lemon juice - all the usual suspects. The outside was coated with olive oil and more salt and pepper. I then placed it in a preheated oven set to 375.
Half an hour later I tossed in a few handfuls of carrots and waited another 45 minutes. At which time I pulled the bird out for a peek. And, I realized the chicken was still raw on the inside.
The wild tribal natives dancing about my kitchen that are known to be my family would not understand such a tardy guest to our supper table. I had timed all side dishes to be finished when my timer went off. I was left with the dilemma of substituting hotdogs for our main course or pushing back our supper time and reheating all side dishes.
How could this happen I kept asking myself. It then dawned on me that this is the first chicken I've roasted since moving to Texas. Our stove/oven is gas. Maybe that was the problem. Or, maybe the chicken just had it in for me. Well, we'll just see who has the last laugh, won't we?