With a family of seven, the only challenge bigger than keeping food in the house, is keeping the cost of that food manageable. As my children are getting older, I am routinely amazed by their ever-increasing appetites and how much it costs to fill those still seemingly little tummies. So when I was scouting out the meats section in our local grocery store this last week, I came across something that gave me pause.
A whole chicken.
For many of you, this is probably not that shocking. You’ve probably seen them, cooked them, and used them in various applications. But for the rest of you who are, like me, arriving a little late to the party, this featherless fowl (I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it) was a little intimidating.
Prior to my becoming a full time, stay at home mom, the only dinner I cooked was Thanksgiving dinner. And while cooking a three pound chicken may seem like child’s play compared to a fifteen pound turkey (and it is), that yearly process was also a huge production. There’s the planning (buying and defrosting it in time), getting out the innards, finding the roasting pan (for a pan that doesn’t move for 364 days out of the year, it’s never in the same spot), and then the arduously long cooking process that’s chock full of questions.
Roast or fry? Foil on or off? When should I take it off? Do I baste, or not? Seasoning under the skin? On top? Those birds should come with an attached bottle of wine.
With these previous bird baking (really, that’s the last one) experiences on my mind, I was a little leery of trying the chicken. But I had read so often how economical it was and versatile. Eventually, after way more contemplation than the poultry section deserves, I tossed it into my cart. For less than $5, I could afford to experiment. If it turned out really blah, I’d probably still eat it. Waste not, want not.
So I scoured the internet for some direction and then set to work. It turned out to be a lot less adventurous once I got the thing into the pot. Except for a few dicey seconds when I was trying to drop the bird into the pot using a fork, the wobbly Styrofoam base, and that fickle law of science, gravitational pull, things went very smoothly.
If you’re wondering about the fork, I hate touching raw poultry and will go to great lengths to avoid it. So I tend to create elaborate and precarious methods of dealing with the raw stuff, sometimes resulting in totally avoidable messes. No one’s perfect.
Back to the chicken. I seasoned it with some salt and pepper, garlic powder, thyme, and rosemary. Just a sprinkling across the skin. To keep it from getting lonely, and to make my stock taste better, I added a handful of baby carrots, two chopped celery stalks, half a diced onion, and two spoonfuls of minced garlic. And while I realize that this is very imprecise, which I hate when I read recipes, this process didn’t require nearly the exact measurements that other things did since it would only be strained and tossed in the end anyway.
I cooked it for eight hours on low in my slow cooker. Afterward, I shredded off the meat with my fingers and a fork to be put aside for chicken soup and dinner that night with vegetables and rice. Besides some shoddy bone excavation on my part, this was easy and fast. But beware, some of those bones were small and tricky to find. On the advice of Erin at 5dollardinner.com, I kept the onions and garlic with the meat. I strained the rest into a Tupperware container, added about the same amount of water to it, and skimmed off the fat that rose to the top (not much).
I now had stock, dinner, and the beginnings of soup. Not bad for a Saturday afternoon adventure in the kitchen.
One thing that I’ve learned from my time cooking is that things usually aren’t as hard as we think they are. And there are a multitude of ways to feed our families and still save money. My chicken experiment was a good chance to spread my wings and try something new. It gave me a little more confidence. By the end of the year, I should be breaking down a side of beef. Maybe. Probably not. But you get my point.
So if you’re feeling a little unsure of yourself, just jump in. The worst that can happen is some wasted food. But more likely than not, you’ll be pleasantly surprised with a tasty concoction created with your own two hands. And never underestimate the bragging rights that come from creating home-cooked meals.
Are you confident in the kitchen or more of a novice adventurer? What dishes have you prepared that made you feel more self-assured? I’d love to hear about your own Saturday (or any day) adventures!
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