What Where? For the best chicken ever, pop open a tallboy and let Nature do her thing. by JOHN T EDGE "He was a bold man that first ate an oyster," says the old English proverb. I say it was a drunk man who first rammed a tallboy into the cavity formerly filled with a chicken's innards -- and a satisfied man who first ate the cooked results. You have no doubt heard of Graham Kerr, that fixture of '70s TV cooking shows, better known as the Galloping Gourmet? Well, meet my friend Tim Lee, that fixture of '80s power-pop bands like the Windbreakers, present-day chronicler of dirt-track racing, and henceforth to be known as the Speedway Gourmet. After years of experimentation at NASCAR events, Tim has devised a recipe for chicken that would make the Colonel blush. On a recent sultry summer afternoon I joined him, his wife Susan, and a few friends for a little backyard grilling. The chicken Tim cooked was some of the best to ever grace my palate. And now I'm here to tell you how to do the same in the comfort of your own backyard. Like many of life's great pleasures, drunk chicken is a deceptively simple dish. The ingredients are few: whole chickens, tallboy beers, Tony Chachere's Cajun spice mix, whole heads of garlic, and olive oil. That's it. But first things first. Pop the top on a tallboy. Drink it down -- all of it. Then reach for a second beer, drink a third of it, then set aside. Repeat. You will need one tallboy per 3-pound bird and each bird should feed two to three people. You do the math. Meanwhile, pick out a few choice, plump heads of garlic (you will need one per bird), place them in a small saucepan, cover with olive oil, and then simmer for 20 minutes or so. By the time the heads are somewhat softened, you and your friends should have finished off the required tallboys. Next, remove the little metal tab on the top of a beer can and pour in a healthy measure of Tony Chachere's Cajun spice mixture. Be careful. If you pour too much, the beer has a tendency to foam up and spew out like a grade-school science experiment gone horribly awry. Now it's time for the impaling. Take a chicken (which, by the way, you have already cleaned and gutted), and slip the open end over the tallboy. It is not a pretty sight -- the violation of this chicken. And, if you're like me, you may want to look away in much the same way as when your dog stops to squat and poop and you politely avert your eyes. Don't. This is a crucial step, requiring your undivided attention, for if you do not have proper weight distribution, the chicken can tip over when cooking. To achieve optimal balance, Tim suggests that you "push down on the chicken 'til you hear the crack of the rib cage." After impaling all the chickens, stick the heads of garlic in the opposite cavity -- the one previously occupied by the chicken's neck, rub the birds down with a bit more spice mix, and sit back to admire what drunken minds have wrought. Did I mention that you need to fire up the grill? Actually, you should have done that about 30 minutes earlier. After the coals are burning steady and rimmed in white, place the birds on the grill, taking care not to spill the potent mixture in the tallboys. Now, just close the grill, pop another tallboy, and sit back and wait for Mother Nature to have her way. What happens next, according to Tim, is something akin to the hydrologic cycle we all learned about in fifth grade. Remember the hydrologic cycle? I don't either, but it's the scientific phenomenon by which water evaporates from bodies of water, condenses, precipitates, and returns to those bodies of water. Well, that's sort of what happens to the beer in those tallboys over the course of the next hour: It evaporates, condenses in the cavity of the chicken, fuses with the chicken juices, and then cycles back into the can. Along the way, the bird and the beer become one, and a fine gravy fills the bottom of the tallboy can. Save that gravy, because after cutting the meat from the bones, you'll want to douse the whole platter with the contents of your can. Serve with a nice loaf of crusty bread, a mountain of mashed potatoes, and a side of cole slaw. And should anyone complain about the potentially harmful effects of cooking chicken with an aluminum beer can stuck up its arse, take their plate away and send them home hungry. John T Edge is a contributing writer for The Oxford American.