There are roughly a gabillion roast chicken recipes in the world. This is my absolute favorite.
I didn’t really grow up in a roast-beast-and-potatoes household. If we ate chicken, it was usually a rotisserie bird from the grocery store–delicious, but not much of a cooking lesson. So it’s been a real joy, as an adult, to teach myself the basics of chicken cookery. I’ve tried lots of methods for roasting chicken and potatoes in the same pan, and this method is a winner every time. All you need, equipment-wise, is a 12-inch cast-iron skillet.
When it comes to roasting poultry, I’m all about spatchcocking. You could ask a butcher to do this for you, but I find it’s pretty easy to do it myself with a sharp pair of kitchen shears. (I also cut out the wishbone, which is totally optional but makes the breast way easier to carve.) I make a bed of diced potatoes in the skillet, lay the flattened chicken on top, and roast the whole rig in a 450-degree oven until the bird is done. Then I move the chicken to a cutting board to rest, and use that time to broil the potatoes until they’re golden and irresistible.
Obviously, there’s a lot of room here to play with flavors and seasonings. Salt is a must, and black pepper is always nice. I usually add some minced fresh rosemary to the potatoes–a reliably wonderful flavor combination. But you could really use any mix of herbs, spices, oils, and add-ins, depending on your mood and what you’ve got on hand. I’ve included some suggestions at the bottom of the recipe.
I don’t cook meat all that often. It’s not my favorite thing to eat, and handling raw meat has always struck me as being more hassle than fun. So when I’m in the mood to do something meaty, I like simple, relatively hands-off preparations. Overnight marinades are nice for this kind of cooking–if you plan ahead for it, you can prep in five minutes and then forget about it for a good long while.
This particular recipe is inspired by the traditional pre-treatment for fried chicken: an overnight soak in a buttermilk bath. The acid and milk enzymes in the marinade help break down the chicken, making it silky and chin-dribblingly juicy. As it turns out, the chicken doesn’t have to be fried for a buttermilk marinade to work; you can roast the chicken parts instead, adjusting the proportions of sugar and salt in the marinade so that it functions more like a brine. The skin doesn’t get as crisp as it does on unmarinated roast chicken, but the tradeoff is rich, tooth-tender meat that’s so juicy it glistens. Any combination of chicken parts will do–use what you like best.
The base marinade is buttermilk, salt, honey, garlic cloves, and black pepper. Just as-is, it’s delicious; the honey adds a light sweet-savory note, and the garlic is there but not pungent. But you can customize it any which way you please. When I made this, my inspiration was medieval–I was brining drumsticks to take to Audrey’s Game of Thrones season finale party–so I added a touch of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. It sounds like an odd combination, but I encourage you to try it at least once–the combination of ancient sweet spices and honey might be the best flavor I’ve ever tasted on roast chicken.
Having tested this as potential party food, I can say it was a big hit–with one caveat. I wanted something meaty that people could pick up and eat greedily with their hands, like medieval lords. The drumsticks were definitely pick-up-able, but also so juicy that we had to either use plates or stand over the sink. This is not quite finger food–I’d call it plate-fork-and-finger food. Not that that’s a problem.