I'm Just Here for the Food_ Version 2.0 - Alton Brown [37]
The doormat presents all of its surface area in two opposing planes, a physical fact that makes me think sear, grill, or broil—not roast. Flank steaks and flounder filets are rarely roasted.
Sputniks include any food whose shape is irregular and has a low surface-to-mass ratio compared to the log or the doormat. A chicken is a Sputnik, so is a sweet potato or a pork butt (which is actually a shoulder). These foods scream “roast” for no other reason than you can’t really get a thermal grip on them any other way unless you drop them in a deep fryer, which isn’t a bad idea except that most of us don’t have Fry-o-laters built into our counter-tops (hey, we can’t all be Emeril).
FOR THE BIRDS
As much as I dig the even heat of the stack-o’-bricks oven, I came to realize that even a freak like me doesn’t want to stack bricks every time a chicken crosses the kitchen. And if I didn’t mind the masonry, there was still the preheat time to be reckoned with: more than an hour depending on the available firepower.
What I needed was brick oven “lite,” an easy-to-handle vessel that would absorb and evenly distribute heat to the bird. Clearly, it was time for a visit to the gardener’s supply store.
I landed a 10-inch-wide heavy-duty Italian terra-cotta pot with a flared mouth; when inverted it looked like an earthen cloche. I also picked up a saucer of the same make, large enough so that the mouth of the pot fit neatly inside it. I put these into a cold oven and cranked the heat to full throttle: 550° F. I figured that oven and pot would both be at full heat within 20 minutes.17 I removed a broiler/fryer chicken (2½ to 3½ pounds) from the fridge and countered it on a clean plate.18
When I knew the oven and the pot within had reached their thermal potential, I rubbed the chicken down with a bit of canola oil and sprinkled it with lots of kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper.19 I very carefully placed the dressed chicken onto the very hot saucer and covered it with the equally hot pot. I chucked this back in the oven and, assuming that there was enough heat stored in the terra-cotta to do the job, turned the oven off and left everything alone for 45 minutes. (See illustration.)
When I removed my inner oven, it was still two-towel hot, but when I stuck a toweled finger into the drain hole (how convenient) and withdrew the dome I found myself facing a fragrant and deliciously done yet pallid piece of poultry. Hmm. Obviously a kilo of terra-cotta wouldn’t hold as much heat as ten kilos of firebricks. The next time, I left the oven at 550° F for the first 20 minutes of cooking, then killed it until my probe thermometer (I ran the probe wire through the drain hole) chimed 170° F. Perfect. Brown and crusty all over, juicy and flavorful inside. Decidedly superior to a standard oven-roasted bird.
You’re in an airplane that’s just landed. The flight’s over, and yet there’s that voice on the PA telling you that the FAA requires that you remain in your seat with your seat belt fastened until the aircraft has come to a complete stop at the gate. You may be on the ground, but technically the flight is not over. Same thing with a roast. Just because it’s out of the oven doesn’t mean that the cooking’s over—it isn’t. The roast has to coast to its final temperature. Besides, you cut into that hunk now, and juice is going to fly everywhere. Resting gives the heat and pressure inside the meat time to subside, and that allows the juices locked inside to be absorbed back into the meat tissues. So unless your roast has spent half an hour on the counter in heavy-duty foil, leave your seat belt on. (If you like your meats well done, you don’t really need to rest them. The muscle fibers are toast and can’t possibly hold any moisture at all. It’s ruined.)
Roast Turkey
Why start with a higher temperature? Poultry skin turns