On Saturday we went to the weekly market in Uzes. We bought herbs to plant in the yard, and sausage with thyme and walnuts, but the thing that broke the bank was the chicken. Not just any chicken - a fancy chicken. A Poulet Noir, the French King of the Barnyard. We paid €18 for 5 pounds of poultry!
We brought our precious dinner home, and while Ella and friends dyed and painted Easter eggs in the living room, and Owen disappeared into the tree-house with a book, Bob and I got to work on dinner. Ah - such fun! First we had to cut off head and feet. Then we rubbed our chicken with rosemary from the yard, lemon from the market, and olive oil from down the road, and stuck it on the rotisserie in the oven. We were going for a long, slow roasting, and spent the next few hours peering in the oven door at the gorgeous bird turning round and round. The smell was heavenly!
When the asparagus was sauted and the wine was poured, we sat down to dinner. I wish I could tell you it was wonderful - but it wasn't. We're still learning how to work the rotisserie in our stove, and we cooked the poor chicken too long and too hot. Sad, sad. It was beautiful - but dry as a bone-yard.
The stock we made with the carcass was dark and rich, and the leftover-chicken soup for lunch today was amazing. (We added stalks of rosemary and preserved lemon.) At least the French King (Queen?) didn't give it's life completely in vain. We'll do better next time. And the afternoon was a lot of fun. All the way until dinner...