The Art of the Roast
If you’re like me, you’ve probably got papers to write, exams to study for and not a lot of time for minor considerations like, say, not starving.
The beauty of roasting is that it doesn’t take much attention; you don’t need to peel or chop anything, you don’t need to slave over a hot stove — nothing about it requires your attention for more than one minute at a time. And, once it’s done, you can throw together a simple salad, grab a chunk of good bread and have a gourmet meal worthy of the French ambassador in less than five minutes.
I should warn you in advance that I consider roasting one of my innate talents, and I’m not so sure I can even teach you what’s required. Masterful roasting requires you to tap into your inner cave man (or woman) and develop a quasi-mystical connection with your meat in order to cook it the way it wants to be cooked. The best I can offer you are some general guidelines. You’ll have to take it from there.
What to roast
Chicken parts are a good place to start. Get a pack of breasts (bone-in) or leg quarters, depending on how much money you’d like to spend. Pork loin and beef top round also work, especially if you find them on sale.
How to season it
Salt and pepper are the obvious choices. Don’t be shy about seasoning, either — especially with big roasts (remember high school biology: you’ve got a low surface area to volume ratio).
If you’re in the mood for some Latino flavor, you can mix up a rub of salt and pepper with equal parts garlic powder, onion powder, cumin and coriander.
If you’d rather have some barbecue, mix a 1/2 cup brown sugar with a 1/4 cup salt and add about a teaspoon each of garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, chili powder and dry mustard.
Getting it done
You want to start with a hot oven. I set my dial to 450 degrees, knowing that it’s going to drop about 25 degrees every time I open the door. Also be mindful of the fact that the temperature can vary up to 25 degrees from front to back or even from left to right. And don’t forget that the dial could be completely wrong.
Before I put the meat in the oven, I give it a hand check: if I can hold my hand in the center of the oven for three full seconds, it’s not hot enough.
Once it’s in the oven (the meat, not your hand), listen for a sizzle. It should sound happy. If your meat were singing a song, it would be “My Umi” by Mos Def. If it sizzles too fast or too slow, adjust the heat accordingly.
While all this is going on of course, you can be reading a book, checking your Facebook, writing a paper — whatever it is that you need to do. Just remember to pop back into the kitchen every 20 minutes or so to check the oven temperature and flip or rotate the pan.
You can set a timer in the beginning if you need to, but after a while you will develop a good internal clock, and if you’re easily distracted like me, your roast will provide a welcome diversion.
Assessing when your food is done is another skill that comes with practice. I once worked with a line cook who could tell the temperature of a steak on a grill six feet away just by looking at it.
The U.S. Department of Agriculture will tell you that the only way to tell if meat is done is with a thermometer. If you use one, make sure it’s calibrated by putting it in a glass of ice. If it doesn’t read 32 degrees, twist the little nut behind the dial until it does.
When you test the meat, push the probe into the center of the thickest part, but make sure you’re not touching the bone. I would take the roast out when the temperature reaches 120 degrees for red meat, 140 degrees for pork and 160 degrees for chicken.
Of course, I haven’t owned a meat thermometer in years, so I test when meat is done the old-fashioned way. Touch your index finger to your thumb and feel the skin between your thumb and finger — that’s medium rare. Touch your middle finger with your thumb and feel the skin again — that’s medium; thumb and ring finger, it’s medium well; thumb and pinky, well done.
With chicken, you can also tell by piercing the flesh and looking at the juices: they should look like chicken broth. When all else fails, don’t be afraid to cut it open and have a look for yourself. If it’s not done yet, just toss it back in the oven.
When it is done, don’t forget to let it rest. While it’s cooking, the juices are running around all over the place inside the muscles of the meat, and if you don’t let them settle they will end up all over your cutting board leaving your roast high and dry.
I know this all sounds overwhelming now, but once you get the hang of it you can come home, throw something in the oven, study and have dinner on the table without even thinking about it. So, bon appetit!
You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.
