Welcome to Never Fail, a semi-regular column where we wax poetic about the recipes that never, ever let us down. This week: the slow roasted chicken recipe that editor in chief Adam Rapoport just couldn't live without.
A simple roast chicken is supposed to be simple. But whenever I make one, I’m always, like, “Wait a minute! Is the dark meat done yet?” Or… “I’m pretty sure the dark meat is done, but did I overcook the white meat?” If I were texting you about it, there's a good chance that I’d use that grimacing emoji face more than once.
Try this recipe, and you may never set eyes on a rotisserie chicken ever again.
A few years ago, though, Carla Lalli Music, food director of Bon Appétit, started talking up her "faux-tisserie chicken." I’ll admit, she had me at the name. That’s clever branding, I thought to myself. But can you really make a slow roasted chicken at home that’s as fall-off-the-bone tender and succulent as those $12 birds you get at your corner deli place? You know, the ones plopped onto a little paper boat and tucked into one of those foil-lined bags. I love those things. Doesn’t everyone?
So next thing I know, I’m doing like Carla told me to in the pages of Bon Appétit—grinding up some fennel seeds and rubbing up a four-pound bird with it and some red pepper flakes, chopped herbs and an ample amount of salt and olive oil. Into the roasting pan go some chopped up olive-oiled Yukon Golds and the chicken rests on top of them.
And then, here’s the genius part—the chicken roasts not at a blistering 425°, but at a casual 300°. Nice and low and slow, for a good three hours. I literally ran out to run some errands, and when I came back a few hours later, my God, did the apartment smell good. If I were still texting you right now, I’d use that new head-exploding emoji.
I pulled the chicken out, and set it on a cutting board to rest. Meanwhile, I placed the chicken fat-laden potatoes in the roasting pan back in the oven and hit them with the broiler. Crisp, moist and golden, they were like potato candy. And that chicken—it really was fall-apart tender, and incredibly succulent. Maybe I’d tone down the amount of red pepper flakes next time, I told myself. And the fennel, while nice, wasn’t essential. But would I make it again? Absolutely. And I have, time again. And, no, it never fails.
Get the recipe:
You can roast a chicken in less time, but going low-and-slow yields a meltingly tender, shreddable texture.
