As Seen on Pinterest: Mrs. Figby takes a stab at Fauxtisserie chicken

When my friend, professional writer and blogger extraordinaire Mrs. Figby emailed me to ask if she could submit a post for As Seen on Pinterest, of course, I said yes. When she told me she was going to COOK something, I was both laughing and terrified at the same time. I love her. I adore her. She is the only person I have ever said ‘Wanna meet me in Paris?’ to and met her in Paris a month later. Buuuuuut – a cook she is not. Furthermore, most of her activities in the kitchen usually result in injury to herself. Even washing dishes. I’m not exaggerating, the woman slices of fingers open on a monthly basis. I am happy to report that her Fauxtisserie experience resulted in no injuries and – I’ll be darned! – turned out great!


To say that I’m not a cook is to understate the matter by a large margin. I am so not a cook that once, when I tried to make what seemed like a very simple fish recipe, my then-15-year-old son had to step in and rescue the whole thing. (How was I supposed to know you have to make sure fish is dried off and also fully thawed before you try to fry it?) I am so not a cook that I find microwave burritos intimidatingly challenging. I mean…cover with a paper towel? What does that even mean? Should it be damp to keep in moisture? Do I wrap it around the burrito, or just put it loosely on top?

You see my point.

I also dislike cooking, in general. Even throwing some baby carrots in a ziplock for my daughter’s lunch feels like too much effort for food sometimes. Despite this dislike, I have a “creative” streak, which I put in quotation marks because, although I am driven by the desire to be creative, it does not often pan out. I spent years not having to be creative because I cancelled my Martha Stewart Living subscription in 1995, and Pinterest didn’t exist, so I didn’t know what I was missing. Now Pinterest has awakened the kraken of creativity inside me. My “creaken” if you will. I mean…all the adorable projects! Felt! Crochet! T shirt scarves! And the delicious food! With Nutella! Apparently I’m very susceptible to visual stimuli, because Pinterest is straight up porn to me. (And to my creaken, obviously.)

So the other day I was surfing Pinterest instead of doing my work (like I do, often) and I saw this “fauxtisserie slow-cooker chicken” (see what she did there? Fauxtisserie? Har!), which promises to be every bit as delicious as the rotisserie chicken you buy from Costco or your grocery store or wherever, except you make it in your crock pot and it’s super easy. (Not as easy as just buying a rotisserie chicken at the store, but let’s not quibble.)

It looked so easy even I could do it. PLUS, my husband, D, (who works long days in the city and then commutes home on New Jersey transit and THEN cooks dinner for our family of 5 every night because we have to eat and that’s the only way it’s going to happen) is away on a week-long business trip and having at least one home-cooked meal in a 6-day span seemed like a good idea. If I (or my creaken) could pull it off, that is.

Thus, I give you the “Mrs. Figby Ill-Conceived Attempt at Cooking The First Whole Chicken of Her Entire Life Via Directions Found on Pinterest”:

The ingredients list is so short, I didn’t even have to write it down: 1 chicken, fresh rosemary, fresh garlic, and some kind of salt-based seasoning. I’m using Dizzy Pig rub because it is freaking DELICIOUS and comes in numerous flavors.

This one says 'poulrty' on the label, which even *I* know means chicken


I have a giant pimpin watch because I live in Jersey.


Here I am getting ready to rinse the chicken (which peed raw chicken juice all over the floor just before this photo was taken.) Did you know you’re supposed to rinse chickens? I didn’t. Thank God the instructions mentioned it—and also drying, because I never would have dried it, either. My 16-year-old son, who is home from school with a sinus infection, took this picture, then lectured me about always rinsing whole meats. How does he know these things?

Does this rosemary make my butt look big?


Next, you’re supposed to stuff rosemary and garlic under the skin. I clearly don’t understand how, exactly to do this, because this chicken looks like a murder victim found in an abandoned factory in Newark. Also, that little knife I was using is about as sharp as the pointy file thingie on nail clippers that you use to get the dirt out from under your fingernails.

After shoving rosemary and garlic every which way but loose, I sprinkled copious amounts of Dizzy Pig rub on it and…rubbed it.

Here it is, in the pot, with the rub on, tits up. The recipe is VERY ADAMANT that it goes in tits up. Also, it’s sitting on three balled up…uh…balls (hehe) of tinfoil. Which, if my eldest son were reading this, would pedantically say is actually made from aluminum, not tin. Apparently the balls of tinfoil are to keep the chicken off the bottom of the crockpot.

Is it cooking? It doesn’t look like anything is happening. Mmmm, wine!

Then you put it on low for 7 or 8 hours.

I wasn’t completely sure it would actually cook. I mean, I didn’t add any water or stock or butter or oil or anything. And it seemed like it took hours for the crockpot to feel hot on the outside. But when the kids all got home (and the sick one got out of bed) they kept gushing about how good it smelled in the kitchen and when is dinner already!? God! We’re starving to death! A good sign, no?

At just over 7 hours in the crockpot, I stuck in a thermometer, and it was right at 165 degrees, which is the temperature of Chicken That Won’t Kill You. I had a big knife with which to carve it, but the poor creature (the chicken, not the knife) totally fell apart on its own…and off the bone. Holy juicy deliciousness…

The breasts were a tiny bit dry, but the dark meat was to DIE for. My three kids and I demolished all but one wing and one breast. It took about 10 minutes
because we’re animals like that.

Yay, creaken!


  1. D says:

    Way to go! You’ll have to cook it for me some time!