I was in high spirits yesterday morning after a great tutoring session and a beautiful sunny day. I decided to use my getting fluent French and glide through the marché in a Julia Childesque fashion. I pulled out my big ol' plastic bag and began slowly marching through the vendors, eyeballing the goods and smiling at the sellers. The first thing I purchased was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen;
Le poulet rôti; or the roasted chicken.
I couldn't resist when the marché man, who looks as if he'd been roasting chicken for years shouted: "Poulet rôti, poulet rôti! Seulement sept-euro et cinquante centimes! Chaud!" I stopped right in my tracks and ordered one on the spot.
"Venez avec moi, nous le choisisserons ensembles" he smiled back, I followed him to a pile of roasted chickens and pointed to the darkest most crispiest skinned one. "Celui-là" I pointed.
He wrapped it into a liquid proof bag, "Voulez-vous du jus, madamoiselle?" I nodded, "Mais oui! Bien sûr!" he deflt dipped the spoon into the pile of grease and piled into the bag.
A quick little tie, a smile, exchange of cash and I was off.
"Bonne journée et bonne weekend!" I said after taking my bag of meat.
The magic happened when I got home and decided to test a little piece- just to see what the fuss was all about. I took the chicken out of his shelter and pulled a little on the leg, *POP* the meat fell right off the bone, I took a little nibble... holy roasted chicken... it was the best thing I had ever eaten... it was the true taste of a chicken without the fancy rubbings. Better than the set it and forget it my parents used, this was not only a well roasted chicken but a happy chicken.
I ate a leg and I was in heaven... I was so pleased to know that tonight I will be having leftovers.
My recommendation- go to the marché on the quai St. Antoine on a Saturday and find the chicken dude who's in the center of the place... best chicken dude EVER.