There we we were, standing in the deli section of the grocery store with no idea what to have for dinner. We were standing right next to the rotisserie stand- with the juicy, tasty chicken going around on the spits. The air is filled with that home cooking scent only arrived from baking chicken or turkey; not quite the full chicken soup smell, but the aroma of the salty, cracklin' skin is right on the tongue.
One time during my tenure as a restauranteur, my partner and I ran out to pick up groceries. Having only time for bites of cold cheese and meats while running around for twenty hours a day; it was a rare occasion to sit down to a hot meal. This particular day we were so hungry we couldn't resist the magnetism of the roasted chicken as we walked in to the store. It's like the aroma grabbed us by the nose and dragged us across the floor, knocking over the canned beans display, to the rotisserie stand where a fresh roasted chicken hopped right into our basket. So we bought it, headed straight out to the car and sat there ripping the chicken apart with our fingers and shoving the meat into our mouths like ravenous vultures. Our cheeks and face covered in wonderful cheap grease chicken. There was a mob of onlookers around our car starring at us in complete disgust. That might have been the best chicken I've ever had.
Why they couldn't put a turkey on those spits, just small one - about the size of a chicken would do. Even a Capon would work! See, I only have memories of the roasted chicken...Dave doesn't eat chicken it's not something that finds its way in my basket any more. That finger licking greasy roast fun has alluded me for years (or exactly two weeks.)
Until now. Today I salute the rotisserie master who put turkey on the spit. For there in front of me was a roasted turkey in all its glory- under the plastic dome with the condensation building and dripping down the inside. That bird was my dinner tonight, along with a side pasta topped with a goat cheese and Havarti cheese sauce. I was happy, real happy tonight. It didn't top that day in my car, with chicken remains strewn on the inside of the windshield... but it was good and I look forward to many more! Get yourself a roasted bird and be fat and happy my friends, be fat and happy.
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