Down Memory Lane in a Crockpot

In thinking about the recipe I wanted to share today, I began to reflect, and what followed on this gloomy day were thoughts and memories...

But first, cooking a whole chicken in the crock pot is genius and why don't do I do this more often. No, there's not going to be any crispy brown skin to nibble on, but a more moist and succulent bird you will not find. I don't do anything particularly special- just load the bottom of the dish with an assortment of veggies (and I can't be bothered to worry about what may overcook to the point of not photo friendly), salt and pepper, maybe some fresh herbs if I have any, and then the seasoned bird goes on top. Bam!

Oh, and I do add some liquid- water actually, but some white wine would be nice too if I ever have some around- only just enough to cover the veggies because the cooking bird is going to produce some lovely juice and you don't want to dilute that.

After 8 hours on low the meat is falling off the bone, so do that- remove the bones, chunk up the chicken, season as desired and stuff your face. Budget and time friendly, plus good eating.

I declare the crockpot the best purchase of 2014. I was newly married, and in trying to emulate another couple I knew, attempting to make dinner after work . Typical, except that I would get home around 1030 pm most days and couldn't quite work up the enthusiasm of cooking for my spouse after the newness wore off. It actually became a source of resentment for me that I would have to get home from work and there would be no warm meal waiting for me, but when the man got in, there would be something (he comes in after midnight). Enter the crockpot. I bought the largest size that seemed reasonable, complete with timer and automatic warming after cooking. It even beeps!

The crockpot seems to be part of those throwback memories that seem on trend these days except that I can't say it brings back anything specific for me. We had one, and I can see it in my minds eye on our counter in my childhood home in Alabama and then again in the rental house in Massachusetts my mom had while I was in college. I tried cooking something in it in those later years, a bean soup that came out bland methinks, but I have no memories of meals coming out of the pot from my mom's hands.

I recently marathoned Blue Bloods and the show makes me chuckle because Donnie Wahlberg is this Boston guy acting in a NYC police show and we all know how these two locales clash, but even more importantly I can't help but covet the plot device of the Sunday family dinner. I see that, and I want it. I want a family food tradition, as food memories for me are wrapped up in my life journey: 

a sleepy, sunny time spent in my grandmother's house as a child where there would be boxes of sugary cereal on top of the fridge, popcorn made in a yellow domed air popper with a grate to let butter ( but probably Country Crock) melt over the hot popcorn, and the blandest cornbread ever made, in a black skillet. Oh, and in the cupboard there was a large mason jar filled with vinegar and hot peppers to season the greens.

The memory of the shrimp boils with lemon juice and butter and corn on the cob at my great aunt's house in South Carolina. 

And then the move up north- an intense, bleak, cold, and ultimately tragic time. There was the homemade birthday cake when I was seven, and I actually got to invite a friend over, which was special. Special because there wasn't a lot to celebrate it seemed and I so rarely got anything. Fried onions and thinly sliced potatoes with lots of salt and pepper was a dish I loved my mom to make.  My own attempts at cooking were based on recipes I'd find. Boiled Minute rice with baby shrimp and Blue Bonnet springs to mind as something we ate. Rice a Roni dishes...

And then came the period of fried spam and tuna fish in pita sandwiches. And the family pack of those tiny chicken drumsticks. This period lasted a long time and eventually I realized we were poor.

I hadn't thought of these times for a long while, but here we are at the courtesy of a crockpot...