Yesterday was our annual Chicken Day, and to prepare myself, I spent an hour lying down on the couch, shoes off and feet up.
Of course, my role in Chicken Day is minuscule compared to the part played by my farmer, who raised the birds. On Chicken Day, she starts earlier than me in order to slaughter, pluck, eviscerate, dress, chill, weigh and bag a couple hundred birds for pickup by her clients. But all the same, I hit the couch to be ready for my part in the process: collecting the birds and getting them home in coolers, cutting each up, bagging, freezing, then dealing with the carcasses by roasting bones and vegetables, making stock, straining, decanting into containers and labelling them for the freezer, then picking off any meat from the depleted carcasses to use as dog food after the stockpot is emptied. It’s a full day crammed into an afternoon.
I’ve been buying chickens from farmers since my restaurant days in the 1990s, when several Hutterite men in cowboy hats and plaid shirts brought ducks and chickens to both my home kitchen and my restaurant’s side door. It was particularly fun dealing with them, as they always had eyes for my young cooks and servers, and more than once asked some of them if they’d like to move to the country.
Buying whole birds makes natural sense — just as buying direct from the producer does, with its shorter supply chain and access to local food, built-in relationship and clarity about what, exactly, your money is getting you, what your bird has been fed and how it’s been raised. The cost is noticeably less for whole birds than for parts, like boneless breasts (vastly overrated — not the best cut on the bird, because it is so lean and un-muscled. Give me a runner’s thigh any day!). And naturally, farm-based businesses sell whole birds.
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That price differential matters even more now: food costs more than ever. One of those five-pound farm birds cost me about $10 back in 1992, about one-third of what I pay now. Today’s 30 bucks is a 10 per cent increase from last year’s cost. (A grocery store’s whole “commercial” bird retailed for $5.91/kg in May 2025, according to StatCan. Are direct-sale birds worth the extra scratch? You bet, if the farmer is a good one.)
But compare chicken to beef to see what a good value a bird is. Cattle herds have shrunk, vet and transport costs have climbed, drought has reduced available feed and grazing, and the U.S. remains Canada’s primary market for our beef, gobbling up 75 per cent of what Canadian ranchers raise. (As of this writing, Canadian beef and cattle are exempt from Trump’s tariffs — but that, of course, could change on a whim.) Now I adore a well-marbled ribeye and a juicy burger, but both have become luxuries for days when we have something to celebrate. For quotidian dining, our farm-sourced birds are our go-to meat protein source.
Food prices are going nowhere but up — by three to six per cent, depending on the category, according to the annual Food Price Report collaboratively researched and produced by four Canadian universities (Dalhousie, Saskatchewan, Guelph, UBC). So on Chicken Day, I peacefully bank my birds, and spend the afternoon cutting the whole into breasts, thighs, drums and wings, and making stock with the carcasses, which is a cook’s gold brick, enabling pots of stew and soup, sauces and braises, and imparting nourishing protein to the unwell. First we eat, then we can sound off on the relative virtues of protein sources, and rant about tariffs, feed and the many variables that face farmers.
Darl’s honey lemon chicken
My oldest son’s longtime favourite. Use dark meat, leave the skin on to protect the meat from blackening as the honey caramelizes, and set finger bowls on the table for sticky paws. Adapted from my first book, Skinny Feasts. Use the oven if the grill is out of fuel.
Serves several teenage boys.
- 6-8 chicken thighs or drums
- ¼ cup melted honey
- 1/3 cup lemon juice
- ½ tsp. dried thyme
- 6-8 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 Tbsp. honey mustard
- salt and pepper to taste
- olive oil for the grill
Slit open the thighs or drums to expose the bone, or remove the bone altogether. Mix together the remaining ingredients except the oil. Set half the mixture aside to use as a baste, and use the remainder to marinate the meat for 15-30 minutes, or as time allows.
Preheat the grill to medium high, or the oven to 425 F. Lightly oil the grill, and place the chicken on the grill, turning several times, or cook on parchment-lined trays in the oven until the juices run clear. Baste with the reserved honey-lemon mixture as the meat comes out of the oven, or on the last turn on the grill.
