Originally published by The Clifton Courier, August 28, 2019

Right, so this is the last of the pre-prepared recipe posts, and it’s as grim as you’d expect. 

This week’s challenge ingredients include:

A whole discounted chicken: I’ve been right into my roast chookies lately so when I see a pretty birdy for half price, I pounce on that headless lump of flesh. I’d had this one in the freezer and, as the countdown to my departure date was in single digits, I decided to take it out, cook it and use it as my main source of protein for the week.

The dregs of some Greek yoghurt: I worship this thick dairy slop and always have at least one container in the fridge at a time. At that point in time, I had one-and-a-bit. I had to make a dent in it.

A lemon half that was starting to turn: A lady at work was going through a bit of a citrus surplus and offloaded them in the office. I grabbed two, when I really only needed one.

Some market-bought dukkah: Dukkah is a delicious Egyptian blend of herbs, nuts and spices and really makes a poached egg sing, but the stuff I bought tastes more like the seasoning mix from Maggi two minute chicken noddles.

Inspiration:

I’ve been reading Salt, Acid, Fat, Heat by Samin Nosrat and my girl Sam is a big preacher of the tenderising powers of salt and freeballing it in the kitchen without needing recipe. I have to say, her meat salting tip has changed my life (and, let’s be honest, probably has shortened it too, due to the sharp increase in my salt intake). Her recipe for a roast chook calls for buttermilk, but she says yoghurt is fine – I mean, probs go for a natural, plain yoghurt instead of a chocolate Yogo or raspberry ripple, but I’m sure anything goes, right?

I also adapted a rice salad from Yotam Ottolenghi’s Plenty More for the stuffing.

How to do what I did:

Tip one tablespoon of salt straight into the yoghurt tub, I’m guessing there was about half a cup of yoghurt in there. Next, dump in three tablespoons of the dukkah dust – two tablespoons would have been fine, but I was trying to get rid of the stuff.

Mix that up with a fork and then grab yourself a plastic bag – I like to use saved bread bags because they’re a nice snug fit for chickens and it means less waste. Now, dollop about half the salted dairy into the bag and then slip in the chicken.

Take a second to appreciate how satisfying that was.

Dollop in the rest of the mix and then smoosh (a technical culinary term) the chicken around in the mix until it’s all covered. Samin says to let this marinate overnight, but I didn’t have the time and only did this pre-marinating regime at lunchtime so don’t feel bad if you don’t pull an overnighter. However, I do highly recommend an overnight soaking – it changes everything.

After you’ve let your chicken soak, it’s time to make the stuffing. But first, preheat the oven to 220 degrees.

Get a handful of nuts– I had almonds and cashews in the pantry, but I feel like any nuts will do the trick. Chop them roughly.

Grab a frypan and fire it up on a medium heat. Chuck in about a tablespoon of butter and a few sprigs of thyme and maybe some sage if it’s not dead until it starts smelling great in the kitchen. Chuck in the nuts, a large pinch of salt and a glug of olive oil. Once they start warming, add a handful of pine nuts, stirring gently. As they brown, add a handful of dried cranberries (I had to buy more cranberries because I used my leftovers in the cranberry drops, but I reason that I’ll eat them as snacks on the plane so I can live with that).

Tip into a large bowl.

Add maybe another teaspoon of butter to the pan, the heat right down and place in a quartered onion, cut sides down. Let them soak up all dem juices. Turn after a few minutes.

Cook a microwavable packet of rice (I went for a wild rice medley because it’s got this rustic flavour that makes me feel like a woman in a lifestyle magazine) according to the instructions on the pack. Dump into the bowl.

Scrape all the contents of the frypan into the bowl and give everything a good mix.

Let the chicken out of the bag, wiping off as much of the dairy sludge as you can.

Find a way to sit it butt-faced-up, so that where its head should be is pointing down. Tip the rice mix into the cavity where its organs once were, trying not to think of where those organs are now.

Block off the void with half a lemon and secure the citrus bung in place by daintily crossing the chook’s legs over the opening and tying with colourless string. Whack that in an oven tray deep enough to bake a slice in.

Save any of the leftover stuffing for lunch the following day – you can chuck in some shredded chicken with some spinach and Bob’s-my-godfather, you have a gourmet salad.

Once you’re ready to cook the bird, Samin has some specific instructions but, honestly, I just chucked it into the oven. I know, it’s a bit radical – no oil, no butter, just skin and the memory of yoghurt. But trust me.

Reduce the heat to 200 after like 20 minutes, rotate the pan and then let it go until it gets brown all over. All up, it’s in the oven for about an hour.

Let it rest before carving, partly because it’s what you’re supposed to do and partly because it’s too hot to handle.

Carve the chook and serve to friends with roast veggies, or, if it’s a dinner for one, just sit there and pick at it until you despise yourself a little and have to put a fridge door between you and the succulent bird.

Keep returning to the carcass for leftover meals until there’s nothing left.