Instructions: This is the fifth of 10 columns by Cat Cora, executive chef of Postino in Lafayette. They are being written with Nicholas Boer. Contra Costa Times MOM HAD three crazy kids to contend with, so roasting was her friend. When we were up and she was tired, Mom roasted and read. Shed be cozy on the couch, glancing up from her book - watching us go from fast-forward to slow motion.

Soon wed be helpless - paralyzed by the intoxicating aroma of roasting goodness.

One night it might be a chicken, rubbed with a potion of herbs and lemon. The next, maybe a leg of lamb: sizzle turned to steam - ruby lamb juices meeting hot roasting pan. The garlic aroma entered every pore. We didnt stand a chance.

Two weeks ago, I moved into a new house in Fairfield. I dont have any kids, but I feel as beat as Mom looked on that couch. I worked out this morning and have been running around like a madwoman ever since. I just got back from the hardware store with a plunger (just in case) and a new garbage can. The glamorous life of a chef, eh?

But thats it. This afternoon, Im roasting, resting and reading. I want to check out the swimming pool in the complex and crack open Robert Wilsons

"A Small Death in Lisbon." Its a really cool book.

Im even going to do a little marinating, boiling, sauteing and deep frying for you. But I mean a little. This is going to be easy.

First thing I do is turn my oven to 425 degrees and put my heavy roasting pan inside. You may not want to get your oven going so early; I guess its a waste of energy, since I wont be cooking for an hour or more. But its a habit. The first thing I do at the restaurant is turn on my ovens. They stay on until the last dinner goes out. I feel exposed with a cold oven.

I brought home a whole 3 1/2-pound chicken for just my roommate and me. This is living. Mom used to make three meals for the five of us out of a chicken this size. That first night, I was lucky if I got a thigh. It was chicken salad the next night. We didnt have much, but Dad insisted on Kraft mayonnaise for the salad. That and Heinz ketchup. I remember Mom pouring cheap ketchup into the Heinz bottle to fool Dad.

Anyway, back to our chicken. I like to get my marinade ready before I start handling chicken. So I squeeze a couple of lemons into a glass pan; add about the same amount of olive oil; strip some thyme sprigs and chop it up - putting

In a big pinchful. I always take the time for fresh thyme. Dried thyme doesnt produce the paralyzing effect. I add several turns of black pepper. Marinating is all about flavor.

Now, if you want a step-by-step account of how I ready the chicken, see the Ready and Roasted sidebar. The short explanation is that I toss the chicken in the marinade and throw it in the refrigerator for an hour.

Back to business
When I get back from the pool, Im no longer burned out, and I see my house hasnt burned down.

I turn two burners on to medium and bring out my chicken next to the stove.

Then I pull out my hot, hot roasting pan from the oven and set it on the burners. Now Im going to "saute" in a roasting pan. I pour a little olive oil in the pan and add a pat of butter. Its hot. It starts to brown right away. Working quickly, I pick up my chicken in one hand, putting my fist right inside the body and sprinkle the whole darn thing with kosher salt. I use a lot; it tastes good and keeps the chicken from sticking to the pan.

I plop the chicken down on a breast and let it sizzle until golden, then I turn it on the other breast and do the same, moving it around a bit so the roasting pan doesnt develop real hot spots. I sear it all over as best I can, but there are parts of the chicken I just cant reach. I dont worry about it.

Leaving the chicken breast side down, I throw the pan in the oven.

Some chefs like to truss (tie) up the legs nice and pretty with string and set the chicken on a rack - roasting it without searing. But Im a rebel. I like it this way. Its quick and crispy.

Now Ive got 25 minutes to wait until I need to tend to the chicken so, after I wash my hands and the glass pan, I go test out my new couch. I know when 25 minutes are up because thats when the lemon and thyme potion really starts working its magic. Im pulled back into the kitchen by the scent.

I turn the chicken over on its other breast and spoon some of the collected juices over it.

I close the oven door, grab "A Little Death in Lisbon" and head back to the pool, to escape the paralyzing perfume. This time I look at my watch.

After a chapter and 25 minutes later, Im back in the kitchen, this time to stay.

I give my chicken another turn, onto its backbone. I spoon on some more juices and get to work on my side dishes.

I turn on my Fry Daddy. Im going to make sauteed spinach and fried lemons.

I was going to blanch my spinach first, but now I dont have the energy. Ill just saute the spinach leaves in the roasting pan after my chicken is done.

Using a sharp, serrated knife, I cut off 6 thin lemon rounds and drop them in a bowl of buttermilk. If getting thin even rounds is too difficult, cut the lemon in half lengthwise first, and make a dozen half-circles.

I toss a little flour and salt together in a bowl and, when my oil is hot, coat my lemon slices in the seasoned flour and fry them until crisp. As soon as they come out, I sprinkle them with fine salt and keep them on a paper towel in a warm place.

By now, another 25 minutes have gone by (an hour and fifteen minutes roasting

In all) and my chicken is done. I move the roasting pan back to the stove and transfer my chicken to a cutting board (set the cutting board on a big pan that will allow you to collect the juices). I move the chicken by sticking my tongs in the cavity and grabbing the other side with paper towels. I let the chicken rest - a good time to open a bottle of wine. If I were to cut up the chicken now, all the juices would pour out. If I pour myself some wine and let the chicken sit, all the juices will go back into the meat.

There are drippings in my roasting pan, so I transfer them to a see-through cup. I turn my two burners on to medium-high and pour in enough wine to just cover the bottom. The acid in the wine helps break down the fond - all that goodness stuck on the bottom of the roasting pan. Im fond of fond. It has so much flavor. Dont throw it away.

I use a wooden spoon to scrape up the fond as the wine burbles away. I turn the heat down to medium, careful to not let the pan run dry anywhere. If it does run dry, I add a little water or those drippings I poured out - if they are not too fatty (the fat in the drippings will rise to the top; you can spoon it off).

I add a tablespoon of cold, cold butter to the simmering sauce, turn off the heat and stir the jus with my wooden spoon so that the butter and liquid turn into a smooth, lightly thickened sauce. I season the sauce with salt and pepper and transfer it to a microwaveable bowl.

The roasting pan is pretty clean but I wash it now, while its hot. Much easier to clean a hot pan when Im hungry than a cold one when Im stuffed.

Besides I want to use this pan for my spinach.

First, though, Im going to carve up my chicken (see Ready and Roasted for a detailed play-by-play).

Half the chicken is for me, and half is for my roommate, who walks in the door just as I put my roasting pan on medium-hot burners. While the pan heats up, I mince up a big, fat clove of garlic.

I usually use a long flat-handled pan with slightly sloped sides for sauteing, but for raw spinach - with all that bulk - a big roasting pan works great. Even though pots and pans are made from metal, they are all from the same family tree.

Medium-high heat. A big splash of olive oil. I choose a corner or indentation in the pan and lift up on one of the handles so that the oil flows to that spot.

I put my minced garlic in the oil and let it lightly toast - golden, not dark.

Then I add a bag of cleaned baby spinach and quickly toss it in the garlic-infused oil. The spinach wilts down in seconds. I add a second bag of spinach, a fat pinch of kosher salt and, since Im feeling jazzy, a pinch of red chili flakes.

OK, were about to eat. I mound the spinach on two oven-proof dinner plates and wash out my roasting pan while its still hot. I place my two leg-thigh pieces down on the spinach with the drumsticks propped up. I rest the breasts over that and pop both plates into my still-hot oven.

While my chicken reheats for 5 minutes, I do a quick scrub-down of the kitchen and zap my pan juices in the microwave. I tell my roomie to break out the silverware and pour us each a big glass of my barrel-fermented chardonnay - always nice with chicken. Out come the plates. I drizzle the sauce all over the spinach and around the plate; I garnish the chicken with my fried lemon slices, and I stick a sprig of thyme in there for flair.

We sit down to eat, make a toast to our roast and, even though I left the oven on, no one cries fowl.

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