One Pan Roasted Chicken and 40 Cloves of Garlic

Thanksgiving week. The house is in its pre-holiday state of preparation: the extra bedding is out, the extended table has been opened and measured against the dining room dimensions (sufficient, barely), and Helen has been in the kitchen since Monday in what I have come to call the Thanksgiving State, which is a condition of focused, organized, slightly non-negotiable kitchen authority that I respect completely and interfere with only at the two assigned moments: potato peeling and giblet removal.

The grandchildren this year: Teddy is nine, Anna six, James three, Ben five, Lucy two and a half. Seven people under forty in the farmhouse, counting David and Karen and Sarah and Tom. Plus Helen and me. Eleven, which requires the extended table and the folding chairs from the garage and the children's end, which operates by its own rules, which include: you do not have to sit still and the dessert rule is negotiable if you ate enough of the main course, where "enough" is determined by the children themselves under light adult supervision.

I spent Saturday at the sugarhouse inventory — my annual November ritual, checking what needs replacing before maple season five months from now. New bucket gaskets needed. One tap broken. The fire bricks in the evaporator in good shape. I made notes in the account book, in the same column where I record these assessments, because this is part of the record: not just what happened but what needs to happen next. My grandfather did this. I do this. The sugarhouse remains functional. The record remains complete.

James asked me Wednesday what Thanksgiving was. I said it was a holiday when we eat together and say what we are thankful for. He thought about this and said he was thankful for pancakes. I said that was a reasonable thing to be thankful for. He said are you thankful for pancakes too? I said I am thankful for the maple syrup that goes on the pancakes. He thought about this and said: me too. Me too, Grampy. Me too.

Helen commands the turkey and everything that surrounds it, and I do not interfere with that — it is one of the foundational agreements of a long marriage. But in the days around Thanksgiving, when the house is full and the children’s end of the table is operating under its own sovereign rules, I have found my assignment: one pan, forty cloves of garlic, and a whole roasted chicken that fills every room with the kind of smell that makes even a three-year-old stop asking questions and just sit down. James told me Wednesday he was thankful for pancakes. I told him I was thankful for the maple syrup. But when that pan comes out of the oven, I think we are both, briefly, thankful for this too.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 20 min | Total Time: 1 hr 35 min | Servings: 4—6

Ingredients

1 whole chicken (3 1/2 to 4 lbs), giblets removed, patted dry
40 cloves garlic (about 3 whole heads), unpeeled
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon dried thyme)
1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, finely chopped (or 1 teaspoon dried)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup dry white wine or low-sodium chicken broth
1 lemon, halved
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

Instructions

Preheat and prep the pan. Heat your oven to 375°F. Place a large oven-safe skillet or roasting pan on the stovetop over medium heat. Add the olive oil.
Season the chicken. Rub the softened butter under and over the skin of the chicken. Combine the thyme, rosemary, salt, and pepper and rub the mixture all over the outside and inside the cavity. Squeeze both lemon halves into the cavity and tuck the spent rinds inside.
Sear the bird. Place the chicken breast-side down in the heated pan and sear for 3—4 minutes until the skin begins to turn golden. Flip breast-side up.
Add the garlic. Scatter all 40 unpeeled garlic cloves around the chicken in the pan. Pour the white wine or broth into the bottom of the pan.
Roast. Transfer the pan to the oven and roast uncovered for 1 hour 15 minutes to 1 hour 20 minutes, basting once halfway through with the pan juices, until the thickest part of the thigh registers 165°F on an instant-read thermometer and the skin is deep golden brown.
Rest before carving. Remove the pan from the oven, tent the chicken loosely with foil, and let it rest for 10 minutes. This keeps the juices where they belong.
Serve with the garlic. Carve the chicken and arrange on a platter surrounded by the roasted garlic cloves. Guests can squeeze the softened garlic from the skins directly onto the meat or onto bread — it will be sweet, nutty, and entirely worth the forty cloves.

Nutrition (per serving)

One Pan Roasted Chicken and 40 Cloves of Garlic — What the Farmhouse Table Calls For