Larry au Vin

Larry the rooster was part of our original flock of chickens. He was a black Australorp with iridescent green feathers in his tail, and while he was beautiful to look at, he was a mean guy. His spurs were almost 3 inches long, and he would fluff out his feathers and flap around whenever we approached in the yard or tried to collect eggs from the nesting boxes. He was a nuisance as a rooster, but his days really became numbered the afternoon he ran at Charlotte, then almost two, while she toddled around the backyard. On slaughter day in 2008, Karl donned leather work gloves and goggles and trapped Larry in a bucket. When all was said and done, we vowed to save him for a special occasion.

Flash forward two years: I was cleaning out the freezer in anticipation of this weekend’s turkey and duck processing, and tucked in the back was a clearly labeled bag. It read, simply, Larry. The time had come.

Yesterday afternoon I jointed the bird, patted him dry, and sautéed him with onions and mushrooms. After sending the girls out of the kitchen, I poured in a little cognac and set it alight. When the flames subsided, I mixed in some red wine, a little chicken stock, a few sprigs of fresh thyme and a bay leaf, and let the whole thing simmer for a couple of hours. By suppertime, the house smelled fantastic. And the meal was delicious–who knew such a tough old bird could be so tender?