After last month's borscht debacle, Alice commented with a beet preparation method she had recently tried (and liked.) Her method was to peel and cube the beets, toss with olive oil, vinegar and sea salt, and then roast them. Peeling and cubing the beets before roasting allegedly results in a less beety flavour. Now, I like Alice. I also really like the combo of vinegar and sea salt. I'd like to be able to say that Alice's beets rock but that would be a dirty lie. All I can say is that Alice's beets sucked less than February's borscht and January's whole-roasted beets.
The trick is to serve the beets with a lot of other foods that you can use to mask the flavour. Gravy helps.
Last week, Lisa asked what food smell you would want to smell like, if you had to smell like it forever. Her post makes much more sense than my last sentence does. Anyway, after concluding that I would like to smell like either limes or rosemary, I decided that I would want Shawn to smell like roast chicken. And then I couldn't stop thinking about roast chicken. I'm crazy like that.
So I made a roast chicken. The trick is to make a mixture of butter (it has to be real butter, none of this margarine crap), lemon zest and finely chopped fresh rosemary. Then you sort of peel the chicken skin up away from the meat and massage the butter mixture up in there. It is disgusting and slimy and suggestive and you're welcome for not posting photos. Anyway, the magic mixture makes the meat really moist and flavourful and the skin really crisp (if you eat skin. Which I don't. But it looks good!) I stuff the cavity with a whole head of garlic and lemon slices for good measure. And now I want roast chicken again, dammit.
In other chicken news, I found this in the ethnic food aisle of my grocery store:
It should be noted that the badge in the lower-left corner identifies the soup mix as a product of Canada.
Cock soup: it's what's for dinner. This will never get old.