Roasted Hens with Rosemary Polenta

How we make it.

Roasted Hens

2 Cornish Game Hens
1 lemon, sliced into wheels
1 head of garlic, halved
4 sprigs Rosemary
Extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
Black pepper

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a large dish or skillet pour a splash of olive oil then layer lemon slices, the entire head of garlic and rosemary sprigs. Place hens on top, tucking their wings under their bodies and tying their legs together with kitchen twine. If you don't want to do this then just forget it, it doesn't matter that much anyway. Pat hens dry with paper towels then drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast uncovered for 50-55 minutes then set aside covered for 20 minutes before serving. Halfway through ya might want to whip 'em out and add a splash of wine to the pan and another glug of oil on them hens. Or don't. 

Rosemary Polenta

3 cups chicken stock
2 Rosemary sprigs, whole
1 Rosemary sprig, minced leaves
1 1/2 teaspoons Kosher salt
1 cup Bob's Red Mill Yellow Corn Polenta
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
Black pepper

Pour chicken stock and whole rosemary sprigs in a medium pot and bring to a boil on high. Remove rosemary sprigs and whisk in polenta and salt, reducing heat to medium low and stirring for 5 minutes. Once thickened, stir in butter, minced Rosemary, parmesan and black pepper and serve hot.

Why we make it.

I have been making these tiny little hens since high school. They have my heart, they just do. They're not any harder to make than a whole chicken. They taste better because they're actually in the turkey family and I like that family better than the chicken family. They carry flavorings better because there's less density of meat for lemon to permeate. Everybody gets their own little hen. What else do you want me to say? You know how I feel about chicken legs, can you imagine how I feel about tiny little hen legs? I'm losing my words so I'll leave it here. I make these hens to see a little hen on everyone's plate. To watch them dig through every part of that juicy, salted little bird in its puddle of polenta. It's pure autonomy. If you don't understand that honey, stick with your chickens.