Want to try making the hardest dish you'll ever cook?

Don't get nervous, because the recipe, which is NOT mine, is very easy. It's almost counterintuitive, and it's something you probably love to eat.

It's roast chicken. Really. Think about it for a minute. When was the last time you had a really good roast chicken? Bet it hasn't been in a while.

Roast chicken is one of those foods that people remember fondly, but usually, I find that they are remembering the good things that happened around the food, rather than the food itself. If you sit there and think about it, you probably don't order it in restaurants, because you figure it's going to be just "so-so" (and you're usually right), or bad (also often true), not as good as you had it when you were growing up ( I won't go there), but more than anything else... I bet you don't make it at home. And I want to know: why not?

You probably have some idea that this is a weekend meal, something that takes enormous amounts of time and labor, with basting, and all kinds of other steps that are just way too complicated to do.

Well, let me say a few things here. First, one of the true tests of a restaurant - a GOOD one - is how good is there simple roast chicken. As a matter of fact, if you want to determine how committed a restaurant is to good cooking, this is what you should order: green salad with vinaigrette, roast chicken, and fresh fruit (or the closest dessert the restaurant has to fresh fruit). Before you say "Oh the hell with that, I could make that at home," I'll say you're right. Then why don't you? Back to that nasty time element huh?

Some years ago, Judy Rodgers, the head chef and owner of "Zuni Cafe" published her recipe for roast chicken. At Zuni, they serve over 100 roast chickens a night, even though they have a wonderful, superb seasonal menu. They roast to order, which means an hour wait for dinner. And in food crazy San Francisco, people wait. And it's worth it. Village Restaurant in NY makes superb roast chicken (the best in NYC, in my view), but Zuni's is better. Way better. It costs more, and you have to be in San Francisco, and you have to order a whole chicken (best to serve for two or more), but it's all worth it. I make her recipe all the time. You should too. We don't have wood burning ovens like Judy does, but this is darn close.

You DO have to do some preparation . First, you have to buy the best chicken you can find. That means Farmers' Market, or an organic one, or however best you can do. Don't use a supermarket chicken here. Second, you shouldn't buy one much over three pounds. 2.5-3 pounds is best, but the recipe can go up to 3.5 pounds if that's all you have. Finally, you need to do something the night before. You have to take the chicken out of its packaging, wash it inside and out, dry it, and then rub about a heaping teaspoon of salt all over the bird. Then, put it on a plate and refrigerate it, UNCOVERED overnight. The reason you're doing this is to dry the skin out, so that it gets nice and crispy when you roast it. What will happen is that the salt will draw out some of the juices , but then the bird will pull the salty flavor back in, in effect "brining" your bird without the need for a bucket or any of that nonsense. If you happen to have some cheesecloth, or something that you can wrap the bird in and throw out when you're done (think salmonella here, folks), do wrap it, but it's not necessary.

When you're ready to cook, preheat your oven to 475 degrees. Yup, 475. And let it stay there for about ten minutes. Then, get a pan that is oven safe ready. Ideally, the pan you use should be just big enough to hold your bird, but many of us don't have pans that are a perfect size. Use what you have. Heat the pan, without oil, for five minutes, at medium heat.

Now, fearlessly, take your chicken and put it, breast side up, into the pan. You're going to hear massive, noisy hissing and spitting, but you won't get burned. Remember, there's no fat in this preparation. Now move the whole pan into the oven, and let it roast away for thirty minutes. After thirty minutes (after twenty or so, you'll begin smelling that wonderful smell of chicken), carefully take out the pan, and with tongues or whatever you have on hand, turn the bird breast side down and put it back in the oven for fifteen minutes. It may very well stick, and that's okay. The skin will be torn a little, but read on. It's not necessarily a bad thing. You'll do this one more time, turning it back breast side up, for ten, if the clucker is 3 pounds or less, fifteen if more.

Carefully take out the pan and move the chicken to a plate to rest for ten minutes. Now look at the good stuff you got in there, maybe even some very crispy skin. Add some liquid- chicken stock if you're being abstemious, white wine or vemouth if you're not, let it sizzle for a minute, turn on the heat and as they always say "stir up those lovely brown bits to make a tasty pan sauce."

Okay, so now you have a roasted bird, and some pan drippings. What do you do? Well, you have to carve the beast. Remember: let the knife do the work for you. There will be obvious places to cut. For example, the breast bone of a chicken is actually very soft, and a good, solid knife will cut right through and give you two halves. But before you do that, deal with the legs. Pull the tip of the drumstick away from the bird, and you'll see a joint, right above the thigh. Start there. Insert your knife and move it around. You'll find the socket, and just press down. The leg will come away. Of course, you'll do this twice, and then cut the breast down the middle with one thrust. If you feel more comfortable with a poultry shears or other big scissor, that will do it too.

This is delicious with some baked potatoes (which you can bake while the bird is roasting, on a second rack of your oven). You can feel guilt free about the chicken: remember, you didn't add any fat - so if you want some butter on your potato, go right ahead (although you may want to consider a few drops of a really nice olive oil instead). Make a salad too. And eat some fruit for dessert. something fresh and seasonal.

Who says you can't cook like the best restaurant cook?

Now, you're done