
There’s something deeply satisfying about having a Tuesday off from the restaurant. Don’t get me wrong—I love what we do there—but having an entire day to cook at my own pace, in my own kitchen, is pure luxury. No tickets coming in, no timing five different dishes at once, just me, my Dutch oven, and all the time in the world. It’s relaxing in a way that only doing something you truly love can be.

I started with a small roaster chicken (how to roast this chicken here) and decided to give it the full treatment. Into the Dutch oven it went, nestled with onions, garlic, and fresh sage, then drizzled with ghee and olive oil before getting a generous splash of Pinot Grigio. As it roasted, the smell filled every corner of the house—that unmistakable aroma of chicken fat mingling with wine and herbs that makes you stop whatever you’re doing and just breathe it in.

Peter and I sat down that evening to tender, golden chicken served with the mushroom gravy from the other night (recipe here) and fresh garden salads. Simple, satisfying, and exactly what we needed after a long stretch of work.
But the real luxury? Knowing that this one bird would give us multiple meals for the week. Once we’d enjoyed our dinner, I got to work on the second act. I boiled down the bones for stock, prepared a classic mirepoix with carrots, celery, Vidalia onion, and garlic, then deglazed the pan with more Pinot Grigio to capture all those flavorful bits stuck to the bottom. In went the broth, spices, the remaining chicken meat, and fresh escarole for a hearty soup. The addition of escarole is part of a recipe from my dear friend Frank’s Italian mother who I had the privilege to meet before she passed. (Frank also adds uncured chopped pepperoni to his soup for a lovely spicy kick!)

The soup was amazing—rich and comforting, the kind of thing that tastes even better the next day when all the flavors have had time to get to know each other.
This approach to cooking—getting as much as possible from one ingredient—is something we practice religiously at the restaurant. We call it variation-on-the-theme cooking, and it’s how we make sure we waste as little as possible. It’s not just about economics or sustainability (though those matter), it’s about respect for the ingredient and creativity in the kitchen.
One bird, several meals, zero waste. Having the time to do this at home, without rushing, reminded me why I fell in love with cooking in the first place. Sometimes the greatest luxury isn’t having more—it’s being able to slow down and make the most of what you have.

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Loved this!