How We Eat Paleo/Traditional on a Budget- Roasted Chicken

I'm not a homesteader. I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV.  However, I read and research food and nutrition a lot.  Food can be medicine or a slow form of poison.  A large percentage of Americans are malnourished.  Now we may not have distended bellies, but things have a way of expressing themselves through symptoms.

I sound like a lot of fun, right?  Well, friends, I have seen first hand the power of good nutrition, and the rub with not being able to afford some ideal things.  One way I've tried to marry whole foods with our monthly budget is making a lot of stuff myself using good ingredients that pack a firm nutritional punch.  I'll pause here and say you might have more money, you might have more time.  Pick your battles.  (We have one salary and I homeschool.  Not sure where that puts me...)

So, once a month I have a chicken roasting day.  From these two chickens I can make 4 meals for my family plus enough broth for the month for rice and other recipes.  (Links to recipes I love are listed at the end. ) This is how it goes.

First I buy two organic chickens from Costco.  (Chickens from a local farm even better, or your budget might call for regular chickens.  Just be prepared that conventional chickens are pumped with water so the weight on the package is the same as their organic comparison, however the organic will yield more meat.  The conventional chickens will shrink.  True story.)

 Get out your roasting pan.  (My $5 beauty will one day be replaced with a finer version.  Until then I carry on.)  Preheat your oven to 450.

Pat those babies dry. (This will make it crispy delicious.)  If your birds have a bag of "stuff" in them, that's the cats meow for nutrition.  I won't tell you what the contents are exactly, but you have to eat them.  Put the contents of that bag into your crockpot immediately after getting them out.  Do that with the second bag o' stuff, too.  Cover it with water.  Set the crockpot time on low 12 hours.

                                           

Rub the chickens with sea salt (Himalayan sea salt is also good.  Both types have more nutrients than table salt.)  Place them nicely in the pan.  (They cook better if you treat them well and throw in some sweet talk.  Research never lies.)

Cook the chickens for an hour or until your meat thermometer reaches done.  I threw some apples and butter in a pan for dinner while I waited.  Sprinkled some cinnamon on them, some water, etc.  

Eat that little piece there at the end.  (You will thank me.  You're welcome.)

Let them cool a bit and take the chicken off the bone.  Now, as you debone, put the bones (not the skin) in the crockpot with the other stuff.  Let the chicken bones cook for at least until you get back from Bible study.  (Oh man, sorry. That's what we are doing.) Now I don't flavor the chicken. If you used a rotisserie chicken precooked from the store it will add more flavor.  Sometimes I will do that if I am pressed for time. (The reason for cooking the broth so long is this- you want to soften the bones and joints so you consume more collagen.)

After the time is up, strain the bones and you have some broth that is out of this world.  
Now, from here I do this pattern. 

Day one- We eat the chicken right off the bird and I make the broth.  In the evening I transfer the broth to cool for a few hours in a glass bowl and then freeze in freezer  bags or ice cube trays.
I set aside some broth, take the extra chicken and make...

Day two- Sweet Potato Apple Soup in my crockpot, Chicken Noodle Soup on the stove, and Bowtie Chicken Alfredo or some other chicken/pasta bake for dinner that night.  I freeze the soups in individual bags for a quick warm lunch treat.  Last winter I was so sick and literally thanked the Good Lord for frozen homemade soup every bite.  Chicken soup for the soul.  

Rest of the month:  Ice cubes for thinning sauces and the broth makes rice sing.  It literally sings.  (Or maybe that was just my family as they ate it…)

So my two chickens (around $23 together), yielded multiple meals and I used the whole bird.  The whole thing and drained that carcass of nutrients for my family.  My daughter who has been sick lapped up the broth like a little doggie.  It made all of the work worthwhile.  

Under the Influence

We had a lot of things going on this weekend.  I dutifully planned ahead.  Family coming in, swim team practice and then swim meet, my big girl's party.  (Did I mention they dream up cakes and I delight in making cake dreams come true?  We love cake.)

I split up the cake making over several days.  I did the party favors and planned party food.  I wondered about that little one in the big time swim meet.  I told her it was a race.  We gave her no option and she didn't complain.  She loved every minute.

So when I was volunteering after the meet, enjoying some lady time as my kids had left already, chatting and meeting new volunteering swim meet friends, you'll never believe what happened.  A wasp came from my blindside, landed on the tip of my nose and STUNG THE MESS out of me.  I ran to the bathroom, my face started swelling, my eyes got red and dear Lord I was dizzy.

My new friend got me an ice bag.  I grabbed my phone and sent out an SOS text.  Please come get me. Stung by wasp.  Please.  Quickly.

So my dear husband came quickly with medicine to get me.  As I sat to wait for him I just needed to cry.  I didn't because people kept asking me if I was ok.  I told them yes but knew the nose.  The nose, the face, the eyelids.  Huge.

The girls knew not to ask mommy about her nose.  Daddy prepared them.  "Ok girls.  Mommy got stung by a wasp.  It hurts very bad.  Please don't ask questions.  Her nose is very big."  All I could think about was the nose.  The nose will be big.  It will be bigger for tomorrow's party.  The eyes?  My brother-in-law bless him is visiting.  He can fix the eyes.

So of course they asked all the questions.  ALL the questions.  To the point daddy filtered them all.

Laying in bed, nasty sweaty from another sweltering swim meet (they don't disappoint), I called mom.  She was driving home with dad, she called my sister.  I called my sister.  My sister came and she took me to Urgent Care.  She is a nurse practitioner and basically the bees knees with medicine and taking care of me still, her little sister.  After shop talk with the other physician (please Lord no more talking, more work please) they decided to give me a steroid shot.

The shot that hurt as bad as the bee sting.  In the hip-de-dip.  Right in my cushion place.

My face immediately started going down.  And I started getting so very happy.  I laughed at everything.  So funny.  So happy the balloons we picked up from the grocery store almost went to the ceiling and I almost walked out of the store without paying.  That's called shoplifting.  I almost shoplifted on the steroid shot and it was hysterical.

So we drove home and I was very cautious with the knife that cut our dinner.  Our steak marinating BLED all over our fridge.  Into the tempered glass.  We figured we'd get that cleaned when we were done feeding and eating.  We fed, my sister bathed my girls, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law put their littles down.  Austin and I cleaned the blood up.

We took out the tempered glass.  We held the glass.  We laughed at our day.  Then the glass shattered into a million pieces through the kitchen, dining room, great room, in my shirt, in between my toes.  Slivers of glass.  Chuncks of glass.  Glass in my…well you get the picture.  Glass storm.

My sister read the books to my girls at bedtime, my sister-in-law directed me to work on the cake while she worked on the fridge, that the cake was most important as it was for my big girl.  My brother-in-law and husband cleaned up glass.  And cleaned.  And cleaned.  They got the fridge cleaned, the floors cleaned, the disposal cleaned.  You cannot imagine the glass.

And I finished the cake.  I thought it all was funny.  So very funny.  I finished the cake with all their help. (Well my brother-in-law ate the icing that fell on the floor so he filled an important role.)  I looked at this cake, my favorite cake ever, and I got teary.

And I became so very thankful for my family who carried me through this day.  

My sister who is my very good big sister worker for all things right for me.  My sister-in-law that moved the water cup so I didn't spill it yet again and basically did things I didn't even see to ask- knowing I needed them done.  My brother-in-law who had made the joke I needed to burn some crazy energy cleaning the house, well darn if he didn't eat those words and clean it without being asked.  My husband, who made the meat tenderizer paste and got the ice and made me lay down and just loves me.  He just loves me.  My mom that works from afar and let me cry and will pick up the party food tomorrow.

I wanted a perfect weekend.  I forgot things at the grocery, it was so busy I only tickled my nephews a handful of times, didn't play any chase games, we had things planned out the wazoo, but I wanted it to be perfect.

And as I sit here at 11pm at night, reflecting on the day, it couldn't have been more perfect.  

I wanted to honor my sister-in-law as she recently lost her mother.  We ended up laughing more than I can remember today.  Her mother would be so very very happy we did.  She was right there with us in spirit.

Tomorrow morning we are going out to breakfast, partly because we are all afraid to have me creating things under the influence of steroids.  Very very good steroid (legally administered) shot.  We will go to a place my sister-in-law and her parents used to eat at every time they visited.  Her then boyfriend now husband likes the blueberry pancakes.

My then boyfriend now husband likes those same blueberry pancakes.  This time we have our children.  We'll try to get their picture in front of our meeting place, our university, which holds a dear spot in our hearts.

I'm convinced more than ever family is about the heart motive, the intention, not so much the presentation.  It's messy.  It's meant to be.  It's beautiful.  And it's mine.  Claiming it all and laughing as I go.  Passing on this legacy to the littles.