Beer Can Chicken Roaster Adventure

Last month Bert went with me when I went to camp to check ‘storm damage’. On the way up we discussed many things but paramount on Bert’s mind was what we were going to have to eat for the three days we were there. Now anyone who knows Bert knows that food is his main priority and is always on his mind. His stomach always comes first. We had planed on stopping at Parodies supermarket in Brewer to pick up a couple of ‘Babies’ (that’s another story) as well as food for the trip. We picked out plenty of bacon, sausage, eggs & bagels (Bert didn’t like the brand I picked out so I had to make a second trip for bagels) for breakfast as well as a load of sandwich meet & cheese for lunch. We decided that on Tuesday evening we would have an easy meal (no cooking), Wednesday evening would be steaks with baked potato, and on Thursday evening we would have a baked chicken and salad using the beer can chicken roaster that Martha had given me last Christmas. This would be the first time it had been used.



Now here’s where things get interesting. Now neither one of us had ever read the instructions on the chicken roaster and we had a lengthy discussion at the poultry counter on how big the roaster should be. To my surprise this was the first time I had ever heard Bert arguing to ‘down size’ a meal. He wanted to get a ‘puny’ little chicken, but not wanting to listen to his ‘whining’ about not getting enough to eat, I won out and we got a 6 ½ pounder. Off to camp we went. Everything went well until Thursday evening that’s when we read the instructions on the beer can roaster.



Seems the roaster is intended for a 3 ½ pound chicken using a 12 oz beer and we had a 6 ½ pounder. OK no problem. We’ll use a 16 oz beer. Then it called for a ‘special’ basting seasoning. Still no problem, we adlibbed mixing up salt, pepper, and some Greek seasoning we had on hand. Then it called for a potato or onion ‘stopper’ for the neck. Luckily we had a huge baking potato left over from the previous night’s meal and I carved it into a ‘cork’ for the neck. Everything went well from then on. Bert stuffed the beer can up the chicken’s butt and basted it with our ‘special seasoning’ (McDonnell’s would have been proud of us). Then with much ceremony we placed it on the grill.

That’s when things went astray. The chicken wasn't on the grill 5 minutes when I asked….BERT!! Did you open the can?

Well sir, now let me tell you the words were barely out of my mouth when that chicken took off. You would have thought that we were sending a mouse to the moon. It must have gone 100’ feet in the air. I never saw Bert move so fast. You would have thought he was a Patriots Wide Receiver! Jumping over the deck railing and dodging trees he actually caught that chicken and returned it to the grill. BERT SAVED THE DAY!!!!!

Actually, we had remembered to open the can and although the directions called for only ¾‘s of a can we felt the chicken needed it more than us (we had plenty of beer) and we had put in a full can.

Two and a half hours later we lit the candles on the deck, poured some wine, ceremoniously ‘toasted’ the chicken, and sat down to the best chicken dinner we had ever had. Try it, you’ll like it I’m sure.