“There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there always has been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread, winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.” Isaac Asimov
Dear Lord
We’re all epidemiologists, infectious disease experts, economists, educators, psychiatrists, statisticians these days
But, we’re not
What happened America?
We used to listen to folks with knowledge, experience, education
We used to listen to experts
Now, we listen to Karen who heard from her friend that her cousin had chloroquine and got better
Now, we listen to Doug who did an informal survey on Facebook and has decided there aren’t many cases in his town
Now, we listen to that doctor in India who says herd immunity is already in place
When the suicides start due to the economic devastation of Covid 19, we will say that the experts got it all wrong
When the spousal abuse reaches new levels due to isolation, we will say the experts got it all wrong
When the children lose months of learning and lag woefully behind, we will say the experts got it all wrong
When the summer plans evaporate, we will say the experts got it all wrong
I have no idea when we all became so wary of the smart, the educated, the gifted and talented
Growing up in a family of teachers – mother, grandmother, great-aunts – we always valued education and the educated
During the height of the Great Depression, one of my great grandmothers stood up to her husband and said she would move heaven and earth to have all of her children receive a full education just as she had received in Virginia
People around the world sacrifice everything for education
Here, we disdain the egg-headed, ivory towered, tenured, cloistered
I cannot fathom the cult of ignorance that pervades so much of our discussions these days
The cult of brilliance of the average person
Opinions
Not facts
I have no expertise in epidemiology, infectious diseases, economics, education, psychiatry, statistics
Being anti-intellectual does not make you a champion of the common man
In fact, it jeopardizes the common man, of whom we all are
Even the experts
Do any of us want to operated upon by someone who did not go to medical school?
The answer is no
Q.E.D.
During these curious, stressful, grief filled days, it would be appreciated if the non-experts could keep their non-expertise to themselves
No one cares, literally, no one, about your anecdotes
“I’ve never been held hostage, but I have been in a group text.” Anon.
That meme-worthy phrase has been around a while
During these viral ridden days when the news cycle gives us newer and fresher hells, I have never been more grateful for the groups of texters with whom I communicate regularly
I call one the Family texts
I call another the Charleston guys
I call another my New Yorkers
I call another Four Guys and a Girl
I call another Travel Buds
I eagerly watch those three pulsating dots when someone types
Then, there are the Facebook groups and Instagram groups
These people are all a life line to me, and, I hope, I to them
A lifeline of like minded souls
A lifeline of friends who are family
A lifeline of humor
So much humor
So much humor
Therapy
Recounting tales of misbegotten youth
Sharing completely inappropriate items
Shocking each other
Disagreeing
But mainly agreeing
Sending articles
Sending memes
Obsessing over the Tiger King
Bringing back phrases long forgotten
Discussing people who died over twenty years ago
Roasting one another
It’s all love writ large on iPhone keyboards
It’s also challenges to name foods named for places
It’s pictures of children
It’s complaints
It’s rants
“I’m minutes away from becoming that lady who yells at strangers!”
“Helluva an anniversary”
“Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose”
“Where the hell is everyone?”
“Yes! that was fantastic! Next time should we do it Finnish-style?”
“I wasn’t wearing any pants, anyway!”
“The lady at the Sonesta just said, ‘But did they cancel their graduation, too?’ I said, ‘Yes, ma’am’ Her reply ‘Well…shit…oh…sorry’ I told her I understood”
Sometimes I read them and spit out the beverage I am drinking
Sometimes I read them and cry
I just know that out there across the globe there I people whom I love and who love me
As we socially distance and self quarantine and occupy our time in ways productive, I have been pulling every weed in my yard, ironing all those clothes in that pile in the hamper, and polishing all of the silver
Polishing
Polishing
Polishing
Which, for odd reasons, makes me think of all that pre-Covid nonsense about “No One Wants Your Stuff” and “Death Cleanse” and “Grandmillennial”
All of that seems so silly now
Plus, I’ll take all the silver
Really
All of it
I’m sure it has a disinfectant quality (n.b. these statements have not been evaluated by the FDA, EPA, SC DHEC, or your mama)
This spoon belonged to one of my great-grandmothers – notice the shape of the bowl – a little bit melted from use on wood burning stove sometime last century
They say brown furniture is making a come back
Where did it go?
Our decorating style is called Early Dead People as we love to use that which is inherited
I don’t speak Swedish
I don’t do Ikea
I speak Hepplewhite, Sheraton, Chippendale, Regency, the Brothers Adam
Adamsesque is one of best adjectives in the world
Duly noting all of that, and thinking a lot these days, one of the worst weekends of my life involved helping to clear out my maternal grandparents’ house of furniture, all browned and Hepplewhited and patinaed
Marble tops
Turned legs
Pieces from great great grandparents from Virginia
Mahogany
Walnut
Maple
Rosewood
My grandfather had died two years prior
My grandmother decided to break up housekeeping
She would be moving to an assisted living facility close to one of my aunts
Breaking up housekeeping
That may be only a term my family uses
Breaking up housekeeping
Distributing to children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews
My grandparents’ siblings all broke up housekeeping at one point
I remember when my Aunt Virginia broke up housekeeping
I remember when my Aunt Marion broke up housekeeping
Now, it’s called downsizing
But, back in 1998, it was called hell
Hell
My grandmother’s breaking up housekeeping remains literally one of the most traumatic experiences of my life
Same with my wife who was then my fiancée who should have broken up housekeeping with me before we even started
What a break up it was
I still process it
My Aunt Em, my cousin Marion (nicknamed Manny), my darling fiancée, and I literally broke up my grandparents’ household
In the summer
In Columbia, South Carolina
If you know anything about South Carolina geography, well, then, you can confirm that during our hot, humid, scorching summers only a broken screen door separates Columbia and the fires of Hades in those months
The summer my soon to be bride and I were studying for the South Carolina Bar Exam
The summer we had the added burden of helping clear out my grandparents’ house
I still don’t know where my mother and my other maternal aunt were during that weekend of blood, sweat, and tears
I actually cut myself on something
Bled like a stuck pig
So much sweat
Tears of sadness for what had been and knowing that it would be no more
I still don’t know where my two brothers and three first cousins were during that time
All I know is that we five intrepid souls were there in the heat of the last weekend in June
making numerous runs to the trash dump
pulling out a drawer stuffed with washed, cleaned, and neatly folded plastic bread bags and twist ties
disposing of so many packets of ketchup, jelly, nondairy creamers all taken from restaurants
emptying the back of the pantry of what had become biological weapons in the form of canned goods hoarded since the Kennedy administration
wondering why there was an entire drawer of rubber bands
discarding so many old Southern Livings and Field and Streams and National Geographics
taking shoes to the Goodwill
rifling through sock drawers stuffed to the gills with pairs of socks many of which were missing a mate
cussing in the heat
going in and out of the house so often that the air conditioning failed
tripping on piles of old tupperware, I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter containers, plastic sherbet bins long cleaned of their lemon, orange, or rainbow contents
asking why letters from people none of us knew where lodged in the drawers of the large butler’s secretary in the living room
“Who the hell is this person?” asked my Aunt Em upon reading one of the letters out loud to us
“Wisconsin? Mama doesn’t know anyone in Wisconsin”
Yet, there was copious correspondence from this lady in Wisconsin
Flipping the back of the envelopes
Names
More names
“Oh, I remember,” my Aunt said with her memory jogged reading one of the letters. “That was a distant Boerner cousin who married a fellow from Milwaukee. I had no idea Mama kept up with them. Kin to the Huguenins, too. Grandaddy’s people.”
I had no idea of whom she spoke
My cousin Manny snorted, “Em, we don’t have time to read all that. We’re breaking up housekeeping!”
Serious as the heart attacks awaiting us in the heat
That is some serious bidness
Breaking up housekeeping
Manny would throw something in a Hefty trash bag in a New York nanosecond
“Y’all, why in the WOLRD did they keep all this? You know I had to do this for Aunt Jane, too?”
In one bathroom there were at least four cans of partially used AquaNet
In another bathroom there were towels too thin to be used yet too thick to be discarded
How many sets of sheets does one bed need?
Apparently linen closets full
Costume jewelry?
Come and get it
The grenade that Uncle Capers brought back from World War I?
“Don’t worry; it’s a dud”
Jade from someone’s trip to Japan?
Ceramic flowers?
Grape clusters made from marble?
If this sounds like your grandparents’ houses, please raise your hands
Articles state that breaking up housekeeping can be super traumatic
Believe you me
It is
For those doing the heavy lifting
During that weekend, my dear Manny and I were making a run to the dump when she looked at me and said, “Oh, Dear Gawd, I’m going home and throwing away half of what I own”
That statement has stayed with me through the years
My maternal grandparents had lived through the deprivations of the South during the early twentieth century, the Great Depression, and World War II
They saved everything
I do not
If you write me a lovely letter, I will read it, then I will recycle it
If you give me a fabulous gift that I do not love, I will re-gift it or pass it on or donate it
If you pass on to me my third grade report card, I will smile at those memories and recycle it immediately
My grandparents had already given away china, silver, furniture, jewelry
The good stuff
But, oh there was so much else
SO MUCH ELSE
At my grandparents house, we found all kinds of things no one wanted
We found threadbare throw rugs
We found old curlers
We found boxes of hair pins
We found sweaters with moth holes
We found my grandfather’s ties and suits long out of style
We found old bank statements stuffed in a drawer
We found tubes of lipstick with only remnants in the bottom yet still sitting on a dressing table
We found desiccated perfume bottles
We found random coffee cups given away as promotions at banks
We found old calendars
We found unfilled books of Greenbax stamps
We found cookbooks
We found shoe boxes without shoes
We found faded tintypes of family members that none of us knew and who none could recognize due to sun exposure
We found a photograph in a frame written on the back “Aunt Georgie” who looked like our people but Georgie who?
We found numerous copies of the South Caroliniana Magazine of the South Carolina Historical Society
We tossed it all
Except the tintypes and Aunt Georgie
Mean as hell
No mercy shown
Breaking up housekeeping for my grandparents made me the most cynical of housekeepers
When in doubt, throw it out
When we break up housekeeping for my parents’ and in-laws, I will be the one shaking my head “No” when asked if we should keep something
Adding to the contents of the local dump in what we hope will be the far distant future
Seniors shine as angels in the Christmas Play at their school. Being a Senior is a BIG DEAL
When the girls from China who attend, now attended, my eldest daughter’s school were delayed coming back after the Lunar New Year, we weren’t concerned
When they announced the first case in Italy, we weren’t concerned
When they cancelled fashion week in Milan, we weren’t concerned
It’s just the flu
I have a friend at the CDC who asked, “Are you scared of the flu?”
This ain’t the flu
Daily updates and changes
Completely changed in a week
Faster than anyone saw coming
Except that blogger in Florida
When one weekend we were most concerned about springing forward
And the next we were social distancing
And now the schools are closed
And now my poor Senior in high school is sad, frustrated, sad, resilient, sad, resourceful, sad, angry, sad and still determined to not let this ruin her world
But, it has
How important are rituals during the last two years of high school?
Prom
Graduation
The best
And, now, this
The worst
The worst form of Senioritis
I write the following to her and everyone in the Class of 2020
We love you
We are proud of you
We are sorry
So
Very
Sorry
You’ve come a long way, baby
To the Class of 2020
I am sorry
This stinks
Not cool
No Spring Breaks
May be no Parties
May be no Proms
May be no Prom Houses
May be no Graduation Weeks
May be no trips to the beach after school
May be no getting together on a regular basis
I am sorry
This stinks
Trust your feelings
Lean into them
The adults have no answers
Your generation probably has more answers than mine
I know you’re depressed
We are, too
Especially for you
I am sorry
This stinks
Your class were the babies born immediately prior to 9/11, during the aftermath of 9/11, and in the few months following
The High School Musical generation
To quote from the first one, “We’re all in this together!”
Children who grew up with anthrax scares
Snipers in DC
SARS
H1N1
MERS
Mersa
Ebola
The Wiggles would be telling Jeff to wake up because everybody’s washing their hands
Hannah Montana would be telling us “It’s the Climb”, but it’s our curve to flatten
Kim Possible would say “Call me, beep me, when you wanna reach me during these hard times”
Zack and Cody would tell you that you could come and stay with them at The Tipton, with appropriate social distancing of course
Bear in the Big Blue Housewould be advising you to clean up your hands!
Everybody clean up your hands!
Your class are now the Class of Covid 19
Even as the Class of 2020
I am so sorry
This stinks
While the azaleas burst forth, the daffodils sway, and the spireas spirea, well, you are at home with the rest of us
You are e-learning
You are flattening curves
You are drawing
coloring
creating
writing
talking
connecting
exercising
texting
Snapchatting
Instagramming
DM’ing
Tik Toking
following
un-following
self-caring
rationalizing
finding sliver linings
You are upset
You should be
You are more resilient than you know
You are a class act
We love you
We grieve for you and with you for this lost time
I pray one day you will see this as an opportunity in some strange way
A time for reflection
A time to find the green shoots amid the rocks
A time to laugh at any humor
Rays of sunshine in the clouds always poke through
“An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!”
Mandalay, Rudyard Kipling
As quoted under the title of Chapter 13, “Coronavirus”, in Dr. Michael Osterholm’s Deadliest Enemy: Our War Against Killer Germs (Little Brown & Company, 2017)
A shot of a simulation of a compound (in gray) which can bind to the SARS-CoV-2 corona virus (in light blue/cyan) to prevent it docking with our ACE2 receptors (in purple) as modeled by a super computer at the Department of Energy’s Oak Ridge National Laboratory.
Markers of time
B.C.
A.D.
Ancien Regime
Antebellum
Pre-Covid
I’m calling it The Great Disruption
Dr. Osterholm used Kipling’s poem as metaphor
Thundering new days out of China
Last week, it was kind of funny
This week, it’s serious
It was serious last week, too
Will be serious for months
Everything disrupted
Economic impact
Emotional impact
Listening to the experts
Long
Hard
Slog
A drive through for testing by the local medical university
Like out of a movie
Way to go MUSC
Six confirmed cases in the state so far
Just a matter of time before twelve
Then twenty four
Then forty eight
You get it
No more normal
No more subway rides
No more masks
No more shift breaks at the hospital
No more Volvo Car Classic Tennis Tournament
No more ACC Tournament
No more St. Patrick’s Day Parades
No more NCAA Tournament
No more school
No more Broadway shows
No more NBA
No more MLB
No more NHL
No more Capitol tours
No more haircuts
No more manicures
No more pedicures
No more Bull Market
No more face to face meetings
No more eating out
No more room for pasta, rice, grits in the pantry
No more oyster roasts
No more classes at the University
No more classes at the College
No more Spring Breaks
No more flights from Europe (unless you’re the UK or Ireland)
No more Disney World
No more lines at airports
No more economic growth
No more Universal Studios tours
No more taped in front of a live studio audience
🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠
No more ventilators
🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠
No more tests
🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠
Cancel culture
Flatten the curve
Alternative instruction
Chapped hands from all that washing
Yet the cruise ships keep coming and going from the port
Adjustments as necessary
For months to come
If all this works, everyone will say we over-reacted
If none of this works, everyone will say we did not do enough
My law partner, Gray Taylor, died unexpectedly this past June. That is he right there.
His lovely bride, Margaret, asked me to give a tribute to him at the Charleston County Bar Association Meeting. Each year, the Bar pays tribute to those members who have died during the year.
It was a privilege and an honor to be chosen to speak in memory of Gray.
I wrote this tribute to him, but, in true Bar fashion, they wanted off the cuff remarks to be recorded.
Here’s what I would have said:
I had the pleasure of practicing law with Gray Taylor for fourteen years. I had the ultimate privilege of calling him my friend from our first day of Law School until the day he died. From August of 1995 to June of 2019, our nearly quarter century of friendship will always be one that I treasure and miss.
Gray and I literally bumped into each other our first day of law school at Carolina. Our lockers were by each other’s. Lockers. So middle school. Just like Law School itself.
We introduced ourselves and then, I said, “Oh, I was supposed to look for you. You married one of the Moss twins. I knew them in Beaufort growing up.” He replied, “Oh, you’re Hamlin.”
Friends ever since
Throughout law school, Gray managed to mix his hobbies into his legal studies. Gray was an avid outdoorsman. He loved to hunt. He loved to fish. He loved to be in the woods. One morning, as we were all going into an insurance class, Gray rolled into class covered in mud. He had gone on an early duck hunt down in Jasper County, bagged a few mallards, and then high tailed it to Columbia to make our mid-morning class. Some classmates gazed in horror at Gray’s camo-clad and mud spattered outfit. Others asked how the hunting went
Gray actually came to law school about a year after working for an engineering firm flagging wetlands which was how he put to use his Masters in Forestry from Clemson. He flagged wetlands on Daniel Island and joked about not wanting to wear snake boots to work every day. As his beloved bride Margaret let me know, ironically, one of the last pictures taken of Gray was of him in snake boots in the woods.
Gray made law school seem easy. He found a fun crowd, of which I include myself, connected deeply with Professor Stephen Spitz about what we all call ‘dirt law’, enjoyed the moot court, and actually had time to build two boats by hand. Gray was always building, tinkering, and working.
Gray went to work with a law firm in Bluffton after law school and his first big case was about deer population control in Sea Pines. He would have gladly hunted the deer himself instead of representing the Property Owners Association.
Gray was also involved in a dispute over residual property ownership in the same development.
His ‘dirt law’ bona fides were long
Ultimately, Gray moved into the development and transactional side of the law, leaving me to run with dirt litigation
Gray was my sounding board, my fellow co-conspirator, and my confessor
He and I were proud of our firm’s work in quieting title to land that last had good title in 1883. He was proud that were were able to clear up ownership of the parcel at Meeting & Huger Streets downtown.
He was not afraid of being controversial as he shepherded the development of a certain parcel in Mount Pleasant that gave rise to an anti-development group that some say changed politics in Mount Pleasant for the last few years.
Gray was proudest of his years of marriage to his beloved Margaret, and his heart burst with pride for his daughters Emma and Eliza
Gray delighted in the accomplishments of all three of them and would brag about them to us…not in a boastful way…but in the way that let us all know that Gray could not believe how he got to be so blessed to have these three women in his life.
Gray and Margaret went to camp together, dated all through college, and were married by the time we got to law school. He worshiped her.
Gray was wild about music! If it was played on the Outlaw Country channel on Sirius XM, it was probably something Gray knew and sang
From the time they were dating to the present, Gray would send mixed tapes, CDS, and playlists to Margaret for Valentine’s Day
Most people didn’t know that side of him
Most people also didn’t know that Gray was wild about his Labradoodle, Hazel, whom he taught to retrieve a ball. But, she was useless on a duck hunt as the ducks were often bigger than she was
In addition to being an outdoorsman, Gray was an adventurous cook, something not everyone knows, but something his girls appreciated and miss
Gray loved our law firm and the people in it
He loved passing out the year end bonuses, arranging boat trips, attending events with those of us lucky enough to work with him
He would sometimes surprise us, such as shooting his nerf gun at us, or performing handstands against a wall in the hallway during his Cross Fit phase
There was not a day in the 14 years we practiced together where we didn’t talk – whether we agreed or disagreed – we knew we could always count on each other and the folks at our firm, Buist, Byars & Taylor
That which was brought to the light by Aunt Becky’s schemes to get her children into schools in California, with that being the reductio ad absurdum
Our eldest is in the thick of it. She has been accepted by several schools. Truly competitive places. We are beyond proud of her. I take nothing from her accomplishments, which are many. A first choice. A second choice. A third choice
Amazing accomplishments
Stock image of a certain school in Chapel Hill
But, she has had every educational advantage from the time of pre-K through her senior year of high school
She has had years of summer camps, travel, exposure, enrichment, jobs
She has had years of hard work
Lots of hard work
Her hard work would have been a lot harder had she had to worry about from whence cometh her next meal
Her hard work would have been a lot harder had we not been able to hire that standardized testing tutor who helped her scores move into the more competitive range
Her hard work would have been a lot harder had we not been able to go on extensive college visits
Her hard work would have been harder had we not had a network of friends all over the country who could fill us in on tidbits, advice about certain schools
Her hard work would have been a lot harder had we not encouraged her every idea
Her hard work would have been a lot harder had she not been read to every single night as a young child
None of that is to take away from her
She did it
Completely did it
It just helps to have some help
Because the system is rigged for children such as mine
Stock image of a certain school in Charlottesville
They can afford tutors
They can afford technology
They can afford the latest clothes
They can game the system
They can figure out how to take tests
They can get better grades
They were read to constantly as babies and young children
They had the phonics of fourth graders in kindergarten
At or above grade level always
They always succeed
Just like their parents
Those same parents also benefited from a similarly rigged system some thirty years ago because their grandparents benefited from a similarly rigged system some sixty years ago….and on and on back until…well…who knows
Privileged
Completely privileged
However, the days of calling someone you know to get your child into a certain school because that family friend served on the Board, well, they are over
Doesn’t change the fact these children are in separate classes of competition
We all gawked in horror at Felicity Huffman and crew trying to buy their children’s way into colleges
Yet, who among us wouldn’t go to a Club Fed for two weeks if it ensured our child got into the school of his or her choice?
Don’t lie
We would all do it
My children have benefited from, and will continue to benefit from, their parents’ education, job choices, income levels
So many just cannot compete with that accident of birth
As I have read article after article about this very fact, I have been skeptical
I have poo-pooed such broad statements from these polemics
Now, I could not agree more with them
I have lived it
The whole system is rigged to ensure that certain students from certain socioeconomic groups remain in those socioeconomic groups
Education is the great affluence builder
For those with great affluence
It is not an equal playing field
In the 18th Century, a gift of land ensured entry into the right class
In the 21st, a gift of education ensures remaining in the right class
Those with more education statistically have higher incomes, better health, happier lives, more friends
Those without the disposable income cannot enlist the same resources
Those without the disposable income cannot enlist private college counselors to assist in the decision making process
Those without the disposable income cannot send a child on a weekend to stay with a friend
It’s a club, really, and, good luck getting into it if you’re not already in it by accident of birth
Again, I take nothing from the dogged pursuit of excellence by my eldest and by her younger sister and all of these talented young folks
I just know that they have an easier time of it than so many
They and most of their friends
Stock image of a certain school in Winston Salem
Affirmative action? I am now all for it provided it’s not setting up a child for failure
Because I have seen that, which is almost as depressing as the system itself
Which is totally rigged
In favor of children like mine
I don’t care what you say about that child you knew from the wrong side of the tracks whose father was (deceased)(making minimum wage)(in prison)(out of the picture)(in and out of rehab) and whose mother was (deceased)(making minimum wage)(in prison)(out of the picture)(in and out of rehab) and who was raised (in foster care)(by his grandparents)(by an aunt) who did really well at (name the school) and went on to (medical)(law)(dental)(engineering) school
Outlier
Take a survey of any of the top boarding schools, the top private schools, the top public schools with a relatively affluent student population
Most, if not all, of those children are headed to college and got into competitive schools
That’s who the college admissions process favors
Flat out favors
I know
I’ve seen it in action over the past two years and will see it again in a few more
Thrilled to death that it does favor children like mine
Legacy admissions may be going the way of the Dodo
The current legacy of admissions is here to stay
At least for the foreseeable and my-family-benefiting-future
Anyway, in past years when nights have been colder, I have made this one dish “Lemon-Rosemary-Garlic Chicken and Potatoes” adapted from Southern Living
My family loves it
I’ve served it to guests, just by doubling and using a really big roasting pan
Trust me, you cannot mess this one up
Simply
Can
Not
One of the Southern Living editors calls it “Anytime Chicken”
I disagree
I think it’s best in the winter
It’s super easy
Combined with French bread, is a complete meal
For all the rest of you, here’s my version
If you don’t like any of the ingredients, don’t use them
I love capers, and I don’t drain the jar
Which reminds me………
Years and years ago a lady from Atlanta moved to Beaufort, South Carolina
She was in the Piggly Wiggly on Ribaut Road and was looking for capers. She could not find them anywhere in the store. She went up to the manager and asked where she could find the capers.
He replied, “Which ones? I know all the Capers that stay out on the Seaside Road.”
The Atlanta lady stared in wonder, “Oh, no, not those Capers; the ones that come in a jar.”
“Oh, them? They stay on Aisle 3”
That lady told that story for years
Lemon Grapefruit Garlic Chicken and Potatoes
1/4 c. lemon juice -fresh or bottled – it matters not
1 3.5 oz jar capers
2 lemons (if you use fresh lemon juice, you’ll need 4 lemons total)
1 small red grapefruit, sliced into pieces
10 cloves garlic, smashed roughly
3 tbsp. fresh rosemary leaves
2 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
3 tbs. olive oil
6 chicken legs
4 chicken thighs – skin on – bone in
2 lbs. small red potatoes
Aforementioned French bread
Mix the first 8 ingredients in a medium bowl.
Heat oven to 425 degrees
Place a roasting pan over two burners on the stove. Add the oil to the pan and heat over medium high heat. Sprinkle chicken with desired amount of salt and pepper. Place skin sides down in pan. Add potatoes . Cook 9 to 10 minutes or until chicken is browned. Don’t turn it until the end of this cooking time. After, turn chicken, and pour lemon mixture over chicken and potatoes
Place in oven for 45 for 50 minutes or until chicken is brown. Remove chicken and potatoes and pour over pan drippings as sauce, which we never do…this is one best served straight from the pan
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