Growing up, roast chicken days were the best. Mum would tell me about her dinner plans before I left for school in the morning. And on the days she planned a roast chicken dinner, I’d go to school with this excitement forming an impervious bubble around me as I went about my day. This little glowing knowing that no matter how the day went, there’d be roast chicken at the end of it. That’s the power of a good dinner. It gives you a chance to redeem the day. It doesn’t have to be fancy, something gentle, something soft, that isn’t a pain to make. And a roasted chicken fits the bill perfectly.
I have spent an inordinate amount of my adult life thinking about roast chickens. As a young adult, in my 20s, it felt like a good way to make friends. This should tell you something about my social skills. I was a confident chicken roaster — after all, I’d seen mum do it all my life. And then somewhere in my 30s, I found I could neither eat it, nor make a roast chicken that I was happy with. I’m not entirely sure what this crisis was about, but I think a big part of it had to do with the fact that my roast chicken tastes had changed, but I was still making white person roast chicken, which while it can be delicious, a girl wants a little zing sometimes.
I have since come up with a roast chicken template that’s been working nicely. If you’re like me, cooking without a recipe is exciting, but often brings about decision fatigue, and by the time I’ve looked through all the ingredients and every permutation of these ingredients, I’m ready to jump off a cliff. Decision fatigue is often what stands between me and being a happy cook. And one way to streamline those decisions is to have a formula. Think of it as culinary guard rails. I know, nothing like a little math to ruin a good thing, but stick with me here. You need a fat, a base flavour, something for body, an umami enhancer, some aromatics and a little tangy zip. Now, you can make fool-proof roast based on what you’re craving in the moment. I call this roast chicken empowerment.
Like I was telling you earlier, my 20s were all about a minimalist roast chicken that tasted of nothing but roast chicken and the grass or whatever it ate before it landed in my kitchen. The crisp skin was a big part of this. Now, more often than not, I want a chicken that is bright, zingy, full of flavour. And here, the sacrifice to be made is the skin. In general, a thick marinade means a flavourful chicken, with not-so crisp skin. In-case you’re in the mood for a crisp bird, keep in mind that a thinner marinade, with more fat, will serve you better. Or use skin-on, bone-in chicken thighs, instead of a whole chicken. Zuni Cafe Roast Chicken or Samin Nosrat’s excellent Buttermilk Marinated Roast Chicken is what you’re after, in this case. However, if you’d like to go on a different roast chicken journey, on that is full of bright bold flavours, without compromising on the soft, luscious meat, I’m going to ask you to have a different measure of good roast chicken than just lacquered skin.
For the Marinade
The Fat
Fat = flavour + moisture. Pick 1 or a combination of 2, use about 3 tablespoons.
Butter (rich, classic)
Olive oil (fruity, versatile)
Ghee (deep flavour, burns less easily than butter)
Toasted sesame oil (for an Asian-inspired twist)
The Base Flavours
This is where you get creative. Use 1-2 tablespoons of any of these.
Spice blends: Shan kebab/nihari masala, Aachi chicken masala, seven spice
Pastes: Harissa, gochujang, sambal, tomato paste, ghee roast masala
Dry rubs: BBQ spice rub, lemon pepper, cajun seasoning
The Body
This is what adds body to your marinade and helps coat the chicken. Use one or a mix.
Onion or shallots (adds sweetness and moisture)
Mild chillies (red bell pepper, jalapeño)
Yogurt (for creaminess, and for tenderising)
Flavour Enhancers
A spoonful of any of these will give your marinade more complexity.
Depth and umami: Soy sauce, fish sauce, Worcestershire, hoisin, oyster sauce, hot sauce, mustard, tinned anchovies, dried shrimp, Indian-style pickle
Sweetness: Honey, brown sugar, marmalade
Aromatics
These add freshness & brightness to the marinade. Pick a few, or one from each category.
Ginger, garlic (grated or minced), spring onion, galangal, lemongrass
Fresh herbs: Cilantro, thyme, sage, curry leaves
Zest: Lemon, lime, or orange
Heat: Chillies, black pepper, Szechuan peppercorns
Acid
This is the element that ties all the flavours together and will really make your marinade sing. Add this to taste.
Citrus juice (lime, lemon, orange)
Vinegar (apple cider, rice, balsamic)
Tamarind paste
The Frills
Bed of Vegetables
Pick a mix of these, roughly chopped, to lay your chicken on.
Halved onions
Carrots
Potatoes
Halved garlic bulbs
Gravy Base
Choose one of these as the liquid to add to your roasting tin. This, along with the chicken drippings will make you a delicious gravy.
Chicken or vegetable stock (or stock cube dissolved in water)
Coconut milk + water
A splash of cream + stock
White wine + stock
Let’s Cook!
Choose the Right Bird
Mum and I both find that a 1 kg bird is the ideal size. She likes a chicken without skin, and I prefer one with the skin. Both will yield a delicious roast chicken. For a skinless bird, reduce your cooking time.
Make the Marinade
Now that you’ve picked your ingredients for the marinade, add to a small blender, and blitz until smooth. Although many of these ingredients contain salt, remember that this marinade needs to season an entire chicken. So when tasting the marinade, you need it to be 2 shades saltier, and tangier.
Spatchcock
Spatchcocking (removing the backbone and flattening) helps the chicken cook evenly. Watch this video. It takes hardly any time, and ensures that you don’t have to flip the bird in the oven mid-roast.
Marinate the Chicken
Coat the entire chicken with your marinade.
If you’d like, tuck the wings in so they don’t brown too quickly. I quite like a crisp wing.
Let it sit for at least 30 minutes, (or overnight for deeper flavour).
Assemble
In a large roasting tin, lay out the bed of vegetables. Season with salt and pepper.
Place the chicken on top. If you have a small metal rack that fits inside the tray, you could lay out the vegetables, place the rack, and place the chicken on that. If not, directly on the vegetables is fine.
Pour in the liquid onto the bottom of the tray.
Roast
Roast at 220°C for 10 minutes, reduce the temperature to 180°C and roast for another 50 minutes, or until the juices run clear when when a skewer/knife is inserted down to the bone between the thigh and the leg.
Baste occasionally with pan juices.
Rest 10 minutes before carving.
Discard onion, smoosh in the roasted garlic into the pan juices, if any. Set aside other vegetables to serve alongside.
Make the Gravy
Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a small saucepan.
Stir in 1 tablespoon of flour and mix well to form a roux. Stir for a few minutes.
Pour in the pan juices + enough stock to form 2 cups of liquid into the pan, slowly.
Mix well, until dissolved.
Reduce until it thickens to your preferred consistency.
Adjust seasoning with either salt, hot sauce, soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, depending on the vibe you’re going for.
And that’s it! You’ve made your first recipe-less roast chicken! Congratulations! The world is now your oyster. Or should I say, roasting tin? Hehe.
Here are some of our favourite roast chicken recipes from Malabar Tea Room, that follow this formula:
