Proper Gander
Owl whisperer and secret agent
So obviously you love the Dees and you love a decent roast chicken. And why not? In honour of the importance of this historic match up between the MIGHTY DEES and a quirky St Kilda, and the fact that the match is being played at some shitty time on a Sunday afternoon, I intend to remain at home and attempt a Heston (fat duck guy) slow roast chicken. The recipe is foolproof - more so than a Dees win at Etihad - and involves slow roasting a chicken, breast side down, for the length of the game than blasting it right side up to brown the skin in celebration of the massive demon victory.
History - St Kilda
St Kilda is a master chef of a club, rumoured to use up to 27 wooden spoons per cassoulet, that used to live in a Junction Oval before dispersing to settle in Grey Street, Greeves Street and occasionally and menacingly on the 96 tram.
History - Melbourne and the chicken
Commonly known by all who care, MFC is the oldest AFL club not just in Australia but in the cosmos more broadly, having been first established in pastures green on Tuesday 13 March, 1586. The formation of this extraordinary club is likewise regarded as an extraordinary event, having preceded both the invention of Australian Rules Football and European colonisation of the continent by several centuries - a feat unlikely to be repeated in any sporting code.
Less commonly known (or no-one cares) is that the original club captain, Les "Lovely Legs" Leggso Larson, has recently been credited with establishing the first breeding stock of the original Australian Domestic Chicken, which he created in 1595 by means of an early gene-splice experiment using a magpie, an emu and a small collection of slow-footed bilbys.
For several centuries, the Demons winning record remained largely (entirely) unchallenged, a record attributed by razor-sharp football analytical minds like Mark Robinson as owing to the frequent consumption by players of roasted Australian Domestic Chicken and, to some extent, by being the only participant in an imaginary competition. However, the disastrous 19th century coaching strategy to replace the chicken with Kangaroo, the invention of AFL rules and a decision to compete against other teams has seen the end of the Dees most successful era.
Interestingly, it is Paul "Moobs" Roos who has reintroduced the roast chicken to a modern Demon diet while removing all other foods in accordance with Paleo principles too tedious to explore.
Roos recommends a 1.8 kg organic Domestic Australian Chicken which is carefully balanced - moobs down - on a layer of sliced Spanish onion, with some garlic and rosemary stuffed up it, massaged with olive oil and rubbed with lemon, salt and pepper. Having said that, he also recommends inclusion of Heretia Lumumba in the side, so you be the judge (playing the chicken in defence and slow roasting H is an acceptable substitution). Before baking, pour a glass of wine and one cup of homemade chicken stock around the base of the roasting tray. Cover the whole caboodle with foil, double layer sealing carefully. A Demon chicken need not be trussed; it's annoying to do while slightly pissed anyway, and it has been widely noted that Moobs Roos has made meaningful changes to the Demons game-style by insisting that speed, agility and accuracy will significantly improve if the Dees cease playing with their legs tied together.
Before the Bounce preheat oven to 120 degrees fan forced, drink Coopers Sparkling, prep chicken or H as above, tell the commentary team to shuddup already about the stupid roof. Bitch about injuries, try to get drunk and do a spot of "Isha Grand Ol' Flag - ha ha! Bastardsh Shaints! Whoohoo!" Or similar. On hearing the siren put chicken in oven and line up five of your preferred lucky Demons beers for ease of access.
Half time siren sounds. The boys have put together two hard contested quarters of tough football, selections depending (yes I AM looking at you, Toump), big TMac, big Jesse and biggish Brayshaw are being the guns they are, crazy H is tweeting some philosophies from the bench and the commentary team are going wild talking about Buddy, Ablett's shoulder and other inexplicable unrelated crap. You will be enjoying a cheerfully drunk phase and Jeremy Howe has already launched himself on 4 specially selected St Kilda boys - taking a dead heat 4 marks of the year while conveniently stuffing up every stupid man-do that St Kilda bring to the game (always assuming Roos reminded everyone not to tie their legs together).
Approaching with a partial-drunk's steady caution, square up to oven, greet chicken (hi!) and remove foil, baste with tray juices or tip some lucky beer over it - both work and you're aiming for sufficient beers not to be able to tell the difference in any case. Return to oven timing for 50 minutes to nicely see out drivelling half-time analysis and a nail-biting third quarter which sees an astonishing leap in Watts' 2015 form, 4 Hogan goals and 5 minutes of gripping commentary where Dermott describes at length a fascinating holding the ball incident by Hawthorn 12 years ago or something. Important - continue drinking and screaming at St Kilda "Haha! Schaints n Shcoolgirlsh! HaHa! Isha grand flagger whoohoo Shtupid Shaint-lover umpiresh you BASHTARDS!"
Final Quarter after Paul has taken his demon shirt moobs off the field, the siren sings and Gawn reached down to tap for another stunning clearance, approach the chicken with renewed drunken caution to turn it carefully, moobs up - chug over a glop of lucky beer, increase temperature to 200 degrees fan forced. Replace chicken in oven, refresh lucky beer supply and enjoy a final quarter with the inevitable confused goal umpire, a controversial decision, 3-4 equally useless replay angles, a heated commentary debate by all except Dermott who is finishing up a fascinating story about Hawthorn in the early part of the century or something.
The final siren
Only 3 tasks remain, rendered pleasingly challenging by being drunk and squeezing one eye shut for focus:
1. Remove chicken to warmed carving tray, tent with foil and rest for 25 minutes in a warm place;
2. Singing and screaming with beers;
3. More beers, carve, screaming and singing "haha moobsy Roosh! I love you and Isha flag of grandnesh for old aquaintensh Whoohoo!"
Serve with drizzled pan juices, beers, with whatever sad Paleo ancient grains and pomegranate thing that moobs says you can eat. Keep one eye shut firmly to focus on getting fork to mouth, and keep the eye alternately on the red or the blue, switching frequently.
Melbourne Demons by 68 (goals)
Sent from my iPad mini tapped with one finger, not using tapatalk because it irritates me.
History - St Kilda
St Kilda is a master chef of a club, rumoured to use up to 27 wooden spoons per cassoulet, that used to live in a Junction Oval before dispersing to settle in Grey Street, Greeves Street and occasionally and menacingly on the 96 tram.
History - Melbourne and the chicken
Commonly known by all who care, MFC is the oldest AFL club not just in Australia but in the cosmos more broadly, having been first established in pastures green on Tuesday 13 March, 1586. The formation of this extraordinary club is likewise regarded as an extraordinary event, having preceded both the invention of Australian Rules Football and European colonisation of the continent by several centuries - a feat unlikely to be repeated in any sporting code.
Less commonly known (or no-one cares) is that the original club captain, Les "Lovely Legs" Leggso Larson, has recently been credited with establishing the first breeding stock of the original Australian Domestic Chicken, which he created in 1595 by means of an early gene-splice experiment using a magpie, an emu and a small collection of slow-footed bilbys.
For several centuries, the Demons winning record remained largely (entirely) unchallenged, a record attributed by razor-sharp football analytical minds like Mark Robinson as owing to the frequent consumption by players of roasted Australian Domestic Chicken and, to some extent, by being the only participant in an imaginary competition. However, the disastrous 19th century coaching strategy to replace the chicken with Kangaroo, the invention of AFL rules and a decision to compete against other teams has seen the end of the Dees most successful era.
Interestingly, it is Paul "Moobs" Roos who has reintroduced the roast chicken to a modern Demon diet while removing all other foods in accordance with Paleo principles too tedious to explore.
Roos recommends a 1.8 kg organic Domestic Australian Chicken which is carefully balanced - moobs down - on a layer of sliced Spanish onion, with some garlic and rosemary stuffed up it, massaged with olive oil and rubbed with lemon, salt and pepper. Having said that, he also recommends inclusion of Heretia Lumumba in the side, so you be the judge (playing the chicken in defence and slow roasting H is an acceptable substitution). Before baking, pour a glass of wine and one cup of homemade chicken stock around the base of the roasting tray. Cover the whole caboodle with foil, double layer sealing carefully. A Demon chicken need not be trussed; it's annoying to do while slightly pissed anyway, and it has been widely noted that Moobs Roos has made meaningful changes to the Demons game-style by insisting that speed, agility and accuracy will significantly improve if the Dees cease playing with their legs tied together.
Before the Bounce preheat oven to 120 degrees fan forced, drink Coopers Sparkling, prep chicken or H as above, tell the commentary team to shuddup already about the stupid roof. Bitch about injuries, try to get drunk and do a spot of "Isha Grand Ol' Flag - ha ha! Bastardsh Shaints! Whoohoo!" Or similar. On hearing the siren put chicken in oven and line up five of your preferred lucky Demons beers for ease of access.
Half time siren sounds. The boys have put together two hard contested quarters of tough football, selections depending (yes I AM looking at you, Toump), big TMac, big Jesse and biggish Brayshaw are being the guns they are, crazy H is tweeting some philosophies from the bench and the commentary team are going wild talking about Buddy, Ablett's shoulder and other inexplicable unrelated crap. You will be enjoying a cheerfully drunk phase and Jeremy Howe has already launched himself on 4 specially selected St Kilda boys - taking a dead heat 4 marks of the year while conveniently stuffing up every stupid man-do that St Kilda bring to the game (always assuming Roos reminded everyone not to tie their legs together).
Approaching with a partial-drunk's steady caution, square up to oven, greet chicken (hi!) and remove foil, baste with tray juices or tip some lucky beer over it - both work and you're aiming for sufficient beers not to be able to tell the difference in any case. Return to oven timing for 50 minutes to nicely see out drivelling half-time analysis and a nail-biting third quarter which sees an astonishing leap in Watts' 2015 form, 4 Hogan goals and 5 minutes of gripping commentary where Dermott describes at length a fascinating holding the ball incident by Hawthorn 12 years ago or something. Important - continue drinking and screaming at St Kilda "Haha! Schaints n Shcoolgirlsh! HaHa! Isha grand flagger whoohoo Shtupid Shaint-lover umpiresh you BASHTARDS!"
Final Quarter after Paul has taken his demon shirt moobs off the field, the siren sings and Gawn reached down to tap for another stunning clearance, approach the chicken with renewed drunken caution to turn it carefully, moobs up - chug over a glop of lucky beer, increase temperature to 200 degrees fan forced. Replace chicken in oven, refresh lucky beer supply and enjoy a final quarter with the inevitable confused goal umpire, a controversial decision, 3-4 equally useless replay angles, a heated commentary debate by all except Dermott who is finishing up a fascinating story about Hawthorn in the early part of the century or something.
The final siren
Only 3 tasks remain, rendered pleasingly challenging by being drunk and squeezing one eye shut for focus:
1. Remove chicken to warmed carving tray, tent with foil and rest for 25 minutes in a warm place;
2. Singing and screaming with beers;
3. More beers, carve, screaming and singing "haha moobsy Roosh! I love you and Isha flag of grandnesh for old aquaintensh Whoohoo!"
Serve with drizzled pan juices, beers, with whatever sad Paleo ancient grains and pomegranate thing that moobs says you can eat. Keep one eye shut firmly to focus on getting fork to mouth, and keep the eye alternately on the red or the blue, switching frequently.
Melbourne Demons by 68 (goals)
Sent from my iPad mini tapped with one finger, not using tapatalk because it irritates me.
Last edited:
