fist of the buddha

Ever cook with a citron? We'd had one on the counter for the past week and I've been having so much fun looking at it, I went out and got another. The next day I turned over the first and saw mold. Damn! I hacked it off and pondered what to do next. Well, I thought to myself, lemon is good to stuff into chicken, so citron ought to be nice. I had my first happy hen from Ted, and a more or less intact palm along with another few knuckles and a finger. The chicken has a big hole, something is going in it, the post writes itself.......

I smashed two garlic cloves and gave it a rub down, then put the chicky on a few spears of carrot to keep it off the pan a bit. I tossed some beet hunks in and splashed olive oil all over. Listening to and rubbing a dub, the beets gave the bird a rosie tint. Mouth was beginning to water. Shake a salt and pepper, 425 degree oven and we're rockin'. With an hour to go, we needed more roots, and veggies. The carrots are especially fabulous right about now, so I chucked 'em in with the usual 'taters, onions and mushrooms.

This bird had a nice crisp on the outside, and boy howdy was it tender. Ted wasn't kidding when he said it would be a real good bird. Like, damn, that is some good bird there, man. Roasting the veggies in the drippings is key to sublime tender hunks, and this time it was particularly true. Everything was infused with bird. Especially yummy bird. Oh yeah, and fist. Tasty buddha fist. Come on, you know you want to say it with me, nice and loud now: "Mmmmm, "fisted chicken," just like grandma used to make!"

Yep, just like that. Because, you know what? It's the holidays, the economy sucks, and hell, sometimes you just gotta be rude, crude and socially unattractive. Besides, I just wanted to say fisted chicken.