The Joy of Eating Sunday Chicken
There was a time when the usual main course for Sunday dinner in many segments of U.S. culture was chicken. The meal was usually after church and was the largest meal of the day. It often involved guests. It seems that Sunday dinner has more or less passed from the scene these days. However, we continue it on Easter and a few other times of the year when we have family or friends over. I’m not lamenting the passing of Sunday dinner, but I do like the notion of a big meal once a week mid-day. Upsetting the routine of our meals, by changing time, setting, or menu gives us a chance to pause.
The following recipe, “Honey Baked Chicken”, from The More-with-Less Cookbook, would be a great Sunday dinner dish. The chicken cooks perfectly — the tender, moist meat falls off the bone with every prod of the fork, making a more civilized approach to its ingestion certainly an option. It is simple and easy to make.
Honey Baked Chicken
1 3-pound chicken, cut up (I used legs and thighs)1/3 cup butter
1/3 cup honey
2 tablespoons mustard
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 teaspoon curry powder
Arrange the chicken pieces in a 9 x 13 pan.
Melt the butter in a saucepan and add the rest of the ingredients, stirring until combined. Pour the warm sauce over the chicken pieces.
Bake the chicken, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 60-90 minutes, periodically spooning the sauce over the chicken pieces. The chicken is done when it is nicely browned.
Serve with rice.
Linen napkins, spotless from the wash, starched
And ironed, smelling like altar cloths. Olives
And radishes wet in cut glass, a steaming gravy bowl
Attached to its platter, an iridescent pitcher cold
With milk, the cream stirred in moments before.
And ironed, smelling like altar cloths. Olives
And radishes wet in cut glass, a steaming gravy bowl
Attached to its platter, an iridescent pitcher cold
With milk, the cream stirred in moments before.
The serving fork, black bones at the handle, capped
In steel, tines sharp as hatpins. Stuffed celery,
Cut in bite-sized bits, tomato juice flecked
With pepper, the vinegar cruet full to the stopper
Catching light from the chandelier.
In steel, tines sharp as hatpins. Stuffed celery,
Cut in bite-sized bits, tomato juice flecked
With pepper, the vinegar cruet full to the stopper
Catching light from the chandelier.
Once-a-week corduroyed plates with yellow trim,
A huge mound of potatoes mashed and swirled.
Buttered corn, side salads topped with sliced tomatoes,
A tall stack of bread, a quarter-pound of butter
Warmed by its side. And chicken, falling off the bone:
Crisp skin baked sweet with ten-minute bastings
A huge mound of potatoes mashed and swirled.
Buttered corn, side salads topped with sliced tomatoes,
A tall stack of bread, a quarter-pound of butter
Warmed by its side. And chicken, falling off the bone:
Crisp skin baked sweet with ten-minute bastings
Homemade pies, chocolate mints and puddings,
Coffee and graceful glasses of water, chipped ice
Clinking the rims.
Coffee and graceful glasses of water, chipped ice
Clinking the rims.
Cashews in a silver scoop, the centerpiece a milkglass
Compote with caved-in sides, laced and hung
With grapes, apples, and oranges for the taking.
Compote with caved-in sides, laced and hung
With grapes, apples, and oranges for the taking.
Dan Masterson
from All Things, Seen and Unseen. © University of Arkansas
More-with-Less Cookbook by Doris Janzen Longacre. Copyright © 1976, 2000, 2011 by Herald Press, Harrisonburg , VA 22802
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