We held a barbecue on Saturday and I made Cherry Ripe cup cakes AND a Jamie Oliver recipe called Beer Butt Chicken from Jamie Oliver’s latest cook book.
I thought this was all quite new and revolutionary, but turns out my Kiwi roomie has been doing it for ages. Another friend does it and claims the chicken tips over when it’s ready because the beer can is empty and can no longer hold it up. This I didn’t experience.
What I did experience was amazing feelings of shame and guilt and general repulsivness as I followed the recipes instructions.
Jamie instructed me to make a delicious flavoursum rub for the chicken, them use my hands to rub it into every nook and cranny inside and out. Oh Jamie, you saucy minx. You want me to put my hand up the chicken’s butt. Just say it buddy.
As I lift the chicken juice flows freely from its… well. It’s not pleasant. Neither is shoving my hand up it’s cold and… lets just stop this sentence here.
After you’ve let it sit for a moment, there comes the moment of truth. The moment you shove a half drunk can of beer up it’ butt. Jamie doesn’t mention yelling out phrases like “Take it, take it all!” but I felt that helped.
Then you just wack it on the barbie and 1.25 hours later, hey presto, deliciously beer flavoured chicken, steamed from the inside out. Yum-o.
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