Annabel Langbein

How not to roast a chicken — and how to succeed, in style The ultimate roast chicken

The big house booked to accommodate the eight of us staying over on the west coast had the fanciest of kitchens. Granite benches, a butler’s sink and enough room to do the foxtrot between the bench and the vast island.

There were plenty of dinner plates and mugs, and a mountain of mismatched cutlery in the smallest of the many kitchen drawers. All the other drawers, more than 20 of them, were entirely empty. There was a big roasting tray in the oven, two small pots under the bench, a small Pyrex bowl in the pantry and a few kitchen tools in a fancy gizmo on the bench.

We had all the food, it was just a matter of figuring out, in the absence of enough pots and pans and bowls, how to cook it.

It was at this point I stumbled on the idea of an oven bag. I’d never used one before — but, hey, there’s a first for everything — needs must and all that. The chicken could sit in the Pyrex bowl in an oven bag, where it would roast to tender succulence, the potatoes would become nice and crispy, spread out in the roasting dish, and I could make a slaw in a clean plastic bag.

A quick dash to the local store, a thorough read of the instructions on the packet and I was sorted. Note to self, 200C, do not exceed 200 degrees Celsius.

Things started to go wrong when I realised that the oven door didn’t actually close properly. After 40 minutes, both the potatoes and the chicken were still deathly white. I shifted the chicken up to the top rack and cranked up the heat. After a few minutes there was a nasty smell of burning plastic. Opening the oven door to investigate, I could see the source was a thick wad of burning black crap stuck on the oven element (the top of the bag had obviously touched it and was burning). A thick trail of black stinky smoke ribboned out. I shut the oven door quickly to prevent it from combusting and to try to stop the toxic stink from filling the entire house.

It was another hour before the potatoes were tender. They were still off-white. When I lifted the oven bag (it had melted only above the tie, so it was still intact), the chicken itself was now about half its original size and the bag was full of liquid. All the liquid that had ever existed in that bird was now in that bag. Enough plastic-infused stock to make soup or risotto.

You have never ever tasted such a dry horrible chicken. The disappointment!

Roast chicken is so delicious and so easy to make — just don’t ever use an oven bag. In fact, don’t use an oven bag for anything. They are made of “heat-proof” nylon and, according to Wikipedia, when food is cooked in an oven bag there is significant migration of non-volatile and volatile compounds from oven bags to chicken. Ugh. Lesson learnt!

Here’s my fave way to roast a chicken and a couple of yummy veges for the side. No oven bags involved.

Ready in 1¼ hours + brining + resting

Serves 6

1 whole chicken

2 Tbsp butter

1 lemon

4-6 sprigs tarragon, thyme or rosemary, plus extra to serve

2-3 bay leaves

AROMATIC BRINE

2 cups boiling water

¾ cup salt

2 Tbsp sugar

1 lemon, sliced

3 bay leaves

A big sprig of tarragon or thyme 10 cups cold water

To make aromatic brine, place all ingredients except cold water in a large pot. Bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve salt and sugar. Remove from heat and add the cold water.

Add whole chicken and chill for at least 4 hours or up to 8 hours.

Preheat oven to 180C fan bake. Drain chicken, pat dry inside and out with paper towels and place in a roasting dish. (If you have not brined the chicken, season inside and out generously with salt.) Use your fingertips to gently separate the skin from the breast on each side. Insert about 1 Tbsp of butter between the skin and the breast on each side, along with a few herbs.

Halve the lemon, squeeze the juice over and inside the chicken and place the skins in the cavity with some more of the herbs. Tie the legs with heatproof string. Scatter the remaining herbs around the dish.

Roast until the chicken is golden, the juices run clear when it is skewered in the thickest part of the thigh and the liquids inside are brown not red (about 1-1¼ hours, depending on size).

Transfer to a carving board, cover with a clean tea towel and allow to stand for 10 minutes before carving.

Serve hot, warm or at room temperature, garnished with extra herbs.

If not serving within 3 hours, chill until needed.