Emma Feigenbaum remembers when she first dropped a rotisserie chicken into her basket in the supermarket. She was about twelve, on vacation with her family on Long Island. At home, she enjoyed home-cooked meals almost every night, and prepared foods were not something that her family typically bought. Then she turned a corner and arrived at the warm, glowing display of rust-colored birds.
“It was revelatory,” Feigenbaum recalls. “I remember thinking to myself, It’s a whole roast chicken, I don’t have to roast a chicken.”
Her practical purchase was further justified upon a taste test; Feigenbaum was blown away by its flavor, the sticky skin and crispy wing tips. Even if the breast meat was a little dry (it’s always a little dry), nowadays she finds the slightly chewy breast meat of a supermarket rotisserie chicken appealingly nostalgic. Since then, rotisserie chicken has stuck around as occasional stand-in for home-cooked dinners, and it’s had an immense presence in her work—Feigenbaum is a food stylist and chef, and she has previously served as a food editor for Martha Stewart Living. She says that when styling any recipe that involves shredded chicken meat, it’s a no-brainer. “It looks the same as if I’m spending $16 for a Bell & Evans [raw chicken],” she says. “It’s not a better or worse product than what you roast at home, just a more convenient one.”
Roasting a whole chicken at home is a rite of passage for nearly everybody who has turned on an oven, and for avid home cooks, perfecting one can border on a spiritual quest. There are numerous gurus of the craft, as well as buzzworthy home hacks, from spatchcocking to brining to using a hair dryer to ensure a crisp skin and juicy meat. Roasted chicken is the entrée that many food critics regard as a “litmus test” for a restaurant’s worth—and it is essentially beloved all around the globe. Yet going out of one’s way to roast a chicken at home seems futile when there is a hot, glistening, extremely delicious roasted bird a few aisles away, priced as low as a bag of chips. And an entire generation has been raised with them around.
In the United States, rotisserie chickens are available for an ever-deeper—even artificial—bargain compared to the price of a whole, uncooked chicken at the same store. While a home-roasted chicken represents an idealized American dinner, the rise of the ubiquitous takeout rotisserie chicken is an extreme microcosm of the commodification and exploitation of that vision.
At Costco, the wholesale supermarket chain founded in 1983 with 785 locations in the United States, rotisserie chickens have been widely reported to be a “loss leader” at $4.99 each; they’re sold for less than they cost, but they are there to lure you into the store, so you can buy other goods (at a profit to the company) while you’re shopping. (Representatives at Costco declined to comment for this article.) At many other supermarkets selling cut-rate rotisserie birds, the same strategy has been in place for decades. A spokesperson for Kroger, a supermarket chain with nearly 3,000 stateside locations, says that their rotisserie chicken program began in the 1980s: “Hot rotisserie chickens are a prepared food mainstay for many households,” she added.
Even restaurant chefs have a soft spot for the supermarket entrée. King Phojanakong, chef-owner of Kuma Inn on New York City’s Lower East Side, remembers that rotisserie chicken was an imperative whenever his family shopped at Costco growing up. Now, he goes with his kids.
“I cook a pot of rice, there’s salad, and that’s dinner,” he says. “The next day, we make a fried rice, and everybody loves it.” (...)
In 2020, the United States is expected to eat an estimated 1 billion rotisserie chickens, according to the National Chicken Council. And yet many of them won’t turn a profit for their retailers—at least not directly. The fact that they double as marketing for so many businesses may help explain why they’re so ubiquitous today. But the economy of roasting many birds at once on mechanically rotating spits—and the sensory appeal of that process—is not to be underestimated.
“It was revelatory,” Feigenbaum recalls. “I remember thinking to myself, It’s a whole roast chicken, I don’t have to roast a chicken.”
Her practical purchase was further justified upon a taste test; Feigenbaum was blown away by its flavor, the sticky skin and crispy wing tips. Even if the breast meat was a little dry (it’s always a little dry), nowadays she finds the slightly chewy breast meat of a supermarket rotisserie chicken appealingly nostalgic. Since then, rotisserie chicken has stuck around as occasional stand-in for home-cooked dinners, and it’s had an immense presence in her work—Feigenbaum is a food stylist and chef, and she has previously served as a food editor for Martha Stewart Living. She says that when styling any recipe that involves shredded chicken meat, it’s a no-brainer. “It looks the same as if I’m spending $16 for a Bell & Evans [raw chicken],” she says. “It’s not a better or worse product than what you roast at home, just a more convenient one.”
Roasting a whole chicken at home is a rite of passage for nearly everybody who has turned on an oven, and for avid home cooks, perfecting one can border on a spiritual quest. There are numerous gurus of the craft, as well as buzzworthy home hacks, from spatchcocking to brining to using a hair dryer to ensure a crisp skin and juicy meat. Roasted chicken is the entrée that many food critics regard as a “litmus test” for a restaurant’s worth—and it is essentially beloved all around the globe. Yet going out of one’s way to roast a chicken at home seems futile when there is a hot, glistening, extremely delicious roasted bird a few aisles away, priced as low as a bag of chips. And an entire generation has been raised with them around.In the United States, rotisserie chickens are available for an ever-deeper—even artificial—bargain compared to the price of a whole, uncooked chicken at the same store. While a home-roasted chicken represents an idealized American dinner, the rise of the ubiquitous takeout rotisserie chicken is an extreme microcosm of the commodification and exploitation of that vision.
At Costco, the wholesale supermarket chain founded in 1983 with 785 locations in the United States, rotisserie chickens have been widely reported to be a “loss leader” at $4.99 each; they’re sold for less than they cost, but they are there to lure you into the store, so you can buy other goods (at a profit to the company) while you’re shopping. (Representatives at Costco declined to comment for this article.) At many other supermarkets selling cut-rate rotisserie birds, the same strategy has been in place for decades. A spokesperson for Kroger, a supermarket chain with nearly 3,000 stateside locations, says that their rotisserie chicken program began in the 1980s: “Hot rotisserie chickens are a prepared food mainstay for many households,” she added.
Even restaurant chefs have a soft spot for the supermarket entrée. King Phojanakong, chef-owner of Kuma Inn on New York City’s Lower East Side, remembers that rotisserie chicken was an imperative whenever his family shopped at Costco growing up. Now, he goes with his kids.
“I cook a pot of rice, there’s salad, and that’s dinner,” he says. “The next day, we make a fried rice, and everybody loves it.” (...)
In 2020, the United States is expected to eat an estimated 1 billion rotisserie chickens, according to the National Chicken Council. And yet many of them won’t turn a profit for their retailers—at least not directly. The fact that they double as marketing for so many businesses may help explain why they’re so ubiquitous today. But the economy of roasting many birds at once on mechanically rotating spits—and the sensory appeal of that process—is not to be underestimated.
by Cathy Erway, Taste | Read more:
Image: Photofusion/Universal Images Group via Getty Images via
