Disclosure: This isn't a Westchester entry. It takes place in Duchess. Paul and I drove up Route 9 along the Hudson to the lovely Beacon, where we visited Dia, an art museum where you are not allowed to take pictures. I asked permission after snapping this one, so I consider myself within the realm of ethics ... somewhat ... by publishing it here. This is an Andy Warhol installation called "Shadows." There are some awesomely comfy couches right in the middle of the room, perfect for considering the paintings. And the light streaming in from windows near the roof. And also perfect for my wait at the end of the day for Paul to finish up looking at art.
The building itself is gorgeous -- a former box-printing factory for Nabisco, right on the gleaming Hudson. Favorites: huge line drawings designed by the late Sol LeWitt, and a panoramic wall installation of vintage postcards, by Zoe Leonard.
Then we drove home the quick way (via I-87) as it got dark, visited with our baby nephew for an hour or two, got groceries, and went home to cook a very late supper: roast chicken, which we ate piping hot and crackling on slices of wheat bread with butter, and a glass each of Terra Andina carmenere. Is there anything better at midnight?
And that's Paul, pulling apart the roasted chicken even though it was still so hot it burned his fingers. Delicious.
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The chicken recipe:
Epicurious, October 2004, Thomas Keller
* One 2- to 3-pound farm-raised chicken
* Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
* 2 teaspoons minced thyme (optional)
* Unsalted butter
* Dijon mustard
Preparation
Preheat the oven to 450°F. Rinse the chicken, then dry it very well with paper towels, inside and out. The less it steams, the drier the heat, the better.
Salt and pepper the cavity, then truss the bird. Trussing is not difficult, and if you roast chicken often, it's a good technique to feel comfortable with. When you truss a bird, the wings and legs stay close to the body; the ends of the drumsticks cover the top of the breast and keep it from drying out. Trussing helps the chicken to cook evenly, and it also makes for a more beautiful roasted bird.
Now, salt the chicken—I like to rain the salt over the bird so that it has a nice uniform coating that will result in a crisp, salty, flavorful skin (about 1 tablespoon). When it's cooked, you should still be able to make out the salt baked onto the crisp skin. Season to taste with pepper.
Place the chicken in a sauté pan or roasting pan and, when the oven is up to temperature, put the chicken in the oven. I leave it alone—I don't baste it, I don't add butter; you can if you wish, but I feel this creates steam, which I don't want. Roast it until it's done, 50 to 60 minutes. Remove it from the oven and add the thyme, if using, to the pan. Baste the chicken with the juices and thyme and let it rest for 15 minutes on a cutting board.
Remove the twine. Separate the middle wing joint and eat that immediately. Remove the legs and thighs. I like to take off the backbone and eat one of the oysters, the two succulent morsels of meat embedded here, and give the other to the person I'm cooking with. But I take the chicken butt for myself. I could never understand why my brothers always fought over that triangular tip—until one day I got the crispy, juicy fat myself. These are the cook's rewards. Cut the breast down the middle and serve it on the bone, with one wing joint still attached to each. The preparation is not meant to be superelegant. Slather the meat with fresh butter. Serve with mustard on the side and, if you wish, a simple green salad. You'll start using a knife and fork, but finish with your fingers, because it's so good.
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