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Sunday, March 26, 2000 By Marlene Parrish, Post-Gazette Staff Writer
My son, Ted, like many men of his generation, does the cooking for the family. The dinners he makes for his wife, Catharine, and the two kids, 5 and 3, are predictable and simple American fare, but once in a while he comes up with a doozy.
When he called from Chicago, excited about a new recipe he tried, I was all ears.
"It's Beer Can Chicken, Mom, and it's great," he said. "All you do is stand a whole chicken on a beer can and roast it in the oven. You don't have to baste or check on how it's cooking or anything. You gotta make this."
"Uh-huh," I said. "You roast a chicken with a what in its where? How does the chicken feel about this? Can you be slightly more explicit, Honey?"
He explained. An open can of beer is inserted into the body cavity of a seasoned chicken. Standing up on its bottom end, with wings tucked behind the neck, the bird is roasted in the "please don't shoot" position.
Transferred to a roasting pan, the bird-on-can, with its two splayed legs, has a stable tripod base.
The upright chicken is cooked either on the grill or in the oven. Because the bird is vertical, it self-bastes, and all the fat drips down into the pan. The beer steams away inside, keeping the flesh moist, and the skin is exposed all the way around, making it extra crisp.
Well, I tried it. This oddball recipe makes one of the most succulent and flavorful chickens I've ever eaten. And it makes a great conversation piece.
Here's all you do:
Choose a medium whole chicken, about 4 to 5 pounds. Pull out and discard the fat just inside the body cavity. Remove the package of giblets. (If you want to make broth for gravy, set them aside.) Rinse the chicken inside and out, drain and pat dry.
Make a spice rub by combining an assortment of common seasonings that are most likely already in the pantry. Sprinkle a tablespoon of the rub inside the body and neck cavities, then rub another tablespoon all over the skin of the bird.
Here comes the fun part. Pop the tab on the beer can. Using a "church key"-style can opener, make a couple of extra holes in the top of the can. Drink or pour out the top inch of beer, then spoon any remaining dry rub through the holes into the beer.
Holding the chicken upright, with the opening of the body cavity aiming south, push the chicken down onto the beer can, which should slip right into the cavity.
If you can stop laughing at how it looks, proceed.
Transfer the chicken to a roasting pan, and shift it around until it is steady. If the bird is too big, its cavity will be too cavernous to support the can, and the bird will tend to fall over. If so, run a skewer through the drumsticks to make it stable.
Roast or grill the chicken about 2 hours until done.
The hardest part is getting the can out of the chicken. Trust me, it's a two-person operation. Using hot pads, one person lifts up the whole bird, and the second person removes or "delivers" the can of hot spicy beer.
"Congratulations, it's a ... it's a ... it's an IRON CITY."
Toss the slippery beer can and its contents into the sink to let cool before discarding. Now let the bird rest for 10 minutes while you make gravy and mashed potatoes.
If the spices in the bottom of the pan burned, you're out of luck. But if they merely toasted and mingled with the drippings and fat in the pan, they'll contribute to a spicy, yummy gravy.
To make gravy, first pour all the grease and goo from the roasting pan into a clear jar or gravy separator. Return a scant quarter-cup of the fat to the roasting pan. Add 1/4 cup of flour to the fat and cook while stirring the two together for 2 minutes over low heat. Pour about 1/4 cup of drippings into a glass measure, and add chicken broth to make 2 cups. Slowly whisk this liquid into the roasting pan. Cook for a few minutes until the gravy is thick and smooth. Taste for seasoning, but none should be necessary. The gravy will be spicy and sunny-colored.
Garlic mashed potatoes are a natural partner. Forget the milk and butter this time and thin the mash with potato water and season with pan drippings. Boil potato chunks in water until soft, but reserve about 1/2 cup of the cooking water before draining. To the cooked potatoes, add 5 or 6 cloves of cooked, finely chopped garlic. Instead of adding butter, add a tablespoon or so of the roasting fat. Instead of adding milk, add back some of the cooking water; mash to a lumpy-smooth consistency.
Purists' note: Cone-shaped, vertical roasters sell for the price of a case of beer ($19) at Williams-Sonoma stores, and they tout the virtues of this low-fat, nonbasting method. Fine, but a beer can works just as well and is a lot more fun to boot.
My pal Ollie, as usual, has elevated the concept. Since he can easily fit four chickens on his grill, Big O recently planned a party for eight featuring beer can chicken. He made four dry rubs and bought four kinds of beer for the chickens. During cocktails, the designated cook from each couple chose a rub and a brewski. At dinner time, after identifying their custom-roasted chickens by beer brand, the cooks split the birds with their partners.
Were the chickens that much different? Probably not. Did the beers offer unique flavor? Certainly not. Was this a great idea for a party? You betcha.
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