The NorCal Half Chicken

Sorry to vanish this week. The IK, or more accurately, the IK’s inhabitant, spent some unexpected time at her doctor’s office, where she learned postural orthostatic tachychardia syndrome is about far more than heat intolerance. It is suspected the IK’s inhabitant will live. She is grateful to her physician, and for having health care at a time so many do not.

So, our Norcal Half Chicken. It is, admittedly, quite close chicken without a recipe. But they are just different enough in technique, and result, to merit discussion. And frankly, that recipe appeared early in the IK’s life. Maybe you weren’t here yet.

Why half? Because sometimes a whole chicken is just too much. And at those times, much as we adore dark meat in this house, it’s nice to split a chicken breast, or share a leg. We each love the wing, so it gets divided.

And how is this bird halved? I use a strong kitchen scissors. This is one piece of kitchen equipment that is truly worthwhile. Mine, a $70 Henckels, sees action in the kitchen and out. Like for impromptu bang trims, much to my hairdresser’s consternation.

Cutting a bird in half is easier than you might imagine. Just shear right up the breastbone. Then flip the bird over, wash your hands and the scissors, and cut alongside the bird’s backbone. Be careful, as the jagged edges of bone can be sharp.

Many cooks advise cutting out the backbone and saving it for stock. These cooks aren’t wrong. But over time I’ve gone from a boneless, skinless, white meat only kinda gal to the woman who reaches for the boniest, scrappiest parts of the bird: neck and wings, backs and feet. And I’m fighting for those parts with John. When we went out for dim sum last weekend, the waitress brought a steaming tray of chicken feet to our table. Our friends had just texted: they were parking. So we had decided to stop being polite and gotten down to business. People, we were eating.

“Chicken feet?” She singsonged.

“Yes, please,” We sang back in unison.

She gaped at us, clearly thinking we’d misunderstood her.

“It’s chicken feet,” she repeated, speaking slowly for our stupid benefit.

“Yes, chicken feet, please!”

This is a roundabout way of saying I do not cut out the backbone here, because as an inveterate canner, my freezer is constantly filled with chicken bones. I don’t need more. And I do love chicken backs.

Cleanliness is important when working with raw poultry. Wash your hands with hot soapy water. If using dish towels, use clean, dry towels for washing and drying your hands, implements, and boards. Be sure to wipe countertops and sinks, too. A halved lemon is an excellent natural sterilizer.

Cleanliness concerns are less worrisome if you use the best quality chicken possible. Buy organic if you can; kosher birds are the next best thing. If you live in California, Mary’s Poultry is peerless.

Given how little we’re doing to this bird, an excellent chicken helps in the taste department, too.

So, that other chicken half. If you are cooking for more than two or three people, by all means, cook it. If not, slide it into a Ziploc bag, label it, and freeze it for your next moment of half-chicken need. Believe me, it’ll come sooner than you think.

This is as good a spot as any to tell you buying whole chickens is cheapest. A woman with two college degrees, and I only grasped the economics of whole chickens around two years ago. Then again, my degrees are in the Humanities. This is not fodder for the “Humanities are worthless argument.” In order to comprehend economics of whole chickens, I needed to be able to read.

Mic drop.

(Likely the only time I will ever be able to use this piece of slang.)

This is truly one of our go-to meals. Although the chicken benefits from presalting–24 hours is ideal–I’ve done everything from an hour to four hours to nothing at all, sliding the chicken into the oven at the last moment. It’s always good. We like to stuff salad leaves, scallions, sliced radishes, and tomatoes into a tortilla, jam in some chicken, and make messy taco constructions. I like a generous dollop of sour cream or sometimes some Amora mustard.

This is also good as a salad: tear the chicken into big pieces, lay them over salad greens, and dress the whole thing with the chicken pan juices and some lemon.

I’ve cooked the chicken in a 12-inch oven-safe frying pan, a plain baker, and Corning Ware. You can either trim the wingtip, or, if you are lazy like me, wrap it in foil to prevent burning.

The vegetables below are suggestions. Use what you love.