I'll bet you would never do this yourself, at home, in your kitchen.
Roast a chicken in a plastic bag.
I never would either, until this newfangled "weblog" fad changed my mind.
I've made friends with a blogger in Australia, and she recently roasted a chicken in a plastic bag. Said her mother did it all the time. It's a commercial, food-grade roasting bag, and it's supposed to be safe. (A little more BPA drippin's, honey? Mm.)
I don't want any lectures. I only tried it because I CAN'T successfully roast a chicken, and I was willing to grovel at the Chicken Failure Clinic.
It came out superlatively fantastic. Browned, crisp skin and moist meat, even the breasts. A beautiful collection of juices, pooled right in the bag. Code Damn Good.
I stuffed a few herb sprigs in the bird's cavity, with half a lemon, then salted the skin generously all over, before puncturing the plastic with a knife in six places and tying the bag shut with a bag-shut-tie. Thing.
Here's the way cool part of the directions: You have to throw a spoonful of flour into the bag before you put the chicken in. "So the bag doesn't explode." I don't get the science, but those are the kinds of rules I follow.
So would I do it again? How do you say "yes" in Stupid? YES. Too beyond delicious and tender to worry about a little errant petroleum pollution in my meal. Besides, you could say I'm doing my part in the Gulf oil spill cleanup.
OK, let the lectures begin.