The recipe calls for the chicken to be daubed with a mixture of tarragon butter – so I’m going to have to make it. Of course I’ve done some forward planning and have a chicken, some butter and some tarragon – not that easy to find down at the supermarket – got to look real close- these days the individual herbs are sorted into consumer friendly cellophane sacks which all live in the same space and can easily become mixed up, I mean you cold easily confuse it for a young strip of basil with its feathery leaves or bit of whispy dill that needs to comb its hair. The tarragon is defined by its floppy rabbit ears which also are a little spiky and a little tough -and green of course!.

After scrabbling about in the utility cupboard I emerge with a silver mixing bowl and slice a stick of butter into two halves the board clacks as I reduce down one of the halves into fingernail sized squares. The butter is oily and sticky. I take the tarragon whole – maybe a fistful – and chop it roughly after separating it from the stem – I could use that too I suppose. I begin pressing the herb into the butter kneeding the yellow mass into a ball. It becomes flecked with tinges of green, I free the chicken from its rubbery bag and the pimply skin is cool to touch – it’s pasty with translucent red showing through. As per the recipe I start oiling the bird with the butter but it’s not so easy as it keeps slipping and sticking at the same time. There’s a danger of pulling back parts of the skin as the recipe calls for the tarragon butter to be placed in between the skin and the meat. I take special precautions around the joins of the legs to make sure they have an application of the cooking lubricant. The waft of the herb is definitely present – not sure how to describe it- being like rosemary would be the closest equivalent- not as punget, but present. The oven is set at 180 degrees as the trays reverberates of the metal rungs….