I can’t think of many things more soothing than a roast chicken, specifically one that I’ve taken the time to roast. I crave this a couple of times a year, usually when the weather gets chillier and the days get shorter, and then again around Easter. This time, at the butcher’s counter, the person in front of me was also coincidentally buying a whole chicken. After some inaudible back and forth, I heard the butcher tell the customer, “I can spatchcock it for you.”

“Spatchcock?” The allure of this exotic word made me curious. I’d heard it before and assumed it had something to do with cutting the chicken a certain way, but I didn’t know the specifics. I was excited for a new cooking challenge and asked the butcher to spatchcock my chicken, too. I couldn’t see exactly what he did, but the chicken he handed back to me was flat and floppy instead of a round, bulbous bird.

At home, I researched exactly what happened to my chicken. According to Wikipedia, when a bird is spatchcocked, its backbone and possibly sternum are removed so that it flattens out. Recipes promised a faster cooking time and a more evenly cooked, juicier chicken. I didn’t veer at all from the cast-iron skillet that I always cook my chicken in, but I flattened it in the pan as best I could. I didn’t track the cooking time (I relied on a thermometer), but it wasn’t as fast as I’d hoped. I mistimed the rest of the meal. Next time, I’ll pay closer attention, but the chicken turned out very juicy, and I was pleased with the result.

One of the best parts of the roast chicken is that it’s always too much chicken to eat on my own, and the bones create the foundation for a meal that’s as good as or even better than the original one: chicken soup. I said earlier that I couldn’t think of many things more soothing than a roast chicken, but maybe I should have considered the chicken soup that follows. It’s soothing, really soothing. I most often make it with matzo balls, which I developed a taste for while staying with an adoptive Jewish family in the Bronx. There’s nothing better.

The chicken provided three meals: the initial roast chicken and two meals of soup, all for about $10. I’m grateful for that chicken and happy I could make it taste so good. Here’s a vote for learning to cook.