Roasted Chicken with Provencale Pistou

I don't know about you, but the smell of fresh lavender always makes me a little bit pensive.
*sigh* What I wouldn't give (at almost any given moment) to be wandering about in the lavender cloaked hills of Provence... exploring enchanting villages, lush vineyards, and vibrant Provencale markets. Tasting wine and eating tantalizing food...

Considering my actual physical proximity to the hills of France, I usually have to settle for something a bit less fabulous -- a meandering jaunt, perhaps, out the back door and into our little urban green space where I have a few delightful mounds of hardy lavender growing. On rare occasions (when I'm really lucky), I have a bit of time to lounge in the grass with the crown of my head right up against the garden where the smell of the lavender flowers is really intoxicating.

Better yet, I can snip a few sprigs of lavender and bring them in the house for later.
On this particular occasion, I was having a hankering for roasted chicken. I'd been toying with the idea of "psycho-ing" the bird (see recipe for Psycho Chicken) and seasoning it with some pesto and lemon. But, I saw the lavendar, and I got to thinking. How about a Provencale Pesto?
I grabbed little whisps of herbs -- rosemary, thyme, summer savory, tarragon, marjoram, oregano, and parsley. And I added it to my sprigs of lavendar. Then, I came into the house, pulled all the tender leaves from the woody stems, and threw everything into the food processor with a few cloves of garlic.
A few whirs and a whorl of olive oil later... and I had some seriously fabulous stuff. The herbal aroma was completely intoxicating.
I saw the pretty little pastured chicken sitting there in the roasting pan, and I thought to myself "Gosh, that poor thing doesn't want to be poked and prodded with a knife."So, we opted for another great flavor-imparting technique. We stuffed the pistou underneath the chicken's skin -- and well into the cavity.
We left just enough of the pistou so that we could rub a final round of it into the skin. Finally, we placed a quartered lemon into the cavity.
And then, we tossed it into the oven. Well -- I use the term "tossed" fairly loosely here. I may have placed it in the oven somewhat quickly, but I didn't do so in a completely willy-nilly fashion. But, you can treat your chicken as you will. Rest assured, it will come out of the oven looking beautiful and brown and succulent.You'll cut it open and you'll gasp -- as we did -- to smell all the herbalicious deliciousness. The tender breast will be redolent with the fragrance of the pistou. Just garlicky enough to be wonderful, but not so much that you wake up the next day wishing you hadn't eaten it. And so wonderfully balanced by the flavors of the other herbs that you just wish you could eat and eat and eat some more...

You don't, of course. But, you definitely think about making this again.

Roasted Chicken with Provencale Pistou



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