DOWN THE HILL AGAIN to the neighbors' house for dinner. They like to cook in their wood-burning stove, and we like to eat what they cook.
Tonight's dinner was in fond memory of our friend Judy Rodgers, who died last month, too young. Among her great contributions to a better world was her roast chicken, whose technique she evolved with characteristic discipline, study, devotion, open-mindedness, and practicality, over a number of years.
As you see, Eric spatchcocked the bird somewhat. Following Judy's advice he salted it quite completely, then roasted it in this black iron pan perched on a couple of firebricks on the floor of his stove, a hot oak fire alongside.
The vegetables were delicious, cooked in the drippings as the chicken finished its roasting: carrot, turnip, potatoes, onion, mushrooms, all sweated together in the chicken-fat, all succulent and tender.
Aferward, of course, a green salad; and then applesauce, whipped cream on top, and crumbled amaretti. What a fine dinner!
Sauvignon blanc, Chateau Ste. Michelle, 2012; Syrah-Sirah, Preston of Dry Creek, 2011; Cinsault, Preston of Dry Creek, 2011; Pinot noir, Concannon, 2011
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