One of my favorite meals was a warm and delicious meal that I ate on a cool summer evening. My family drove to Shelter Island, part of the Hamptons on Long Island. The only way to get to Shelter Island is by driving to a dock at a special time, joining many other cars parked on a boat designed to transport cars across. Once your car gets to the tiny island, you drive off the boat and are free to enjoy a great dining experience at one of two local restaurants. My family chose to go to the more relaxed and friendly restaurant, where we did in fact run into some friends of ours that had taken the boat journey as well. The meal was simple. I ordered one thing and one thing only: half a roast chicken with all the fixings. The chicken was calling out to me, and I followed its voice. The meat was soft, juicy, and tender. I got to take a little white meat and some smooth dark meat from a drumstick too. The skin was crispy and flavorful, covered with salt, herbs, and garlic, dripping with oily fat. This large hunk of chicken rested gracefully on a pillow of fluffy and buttery mashed potatoes and caramelized onions and carrots, drizzled with the chicken's own jus. As my fork and knife descended on this heart-warming and heavenly meal, my mouth watered, awaiting exciting pleasure. My eyes widened as I brought a heaped forkful of moist chicken that I layered precisely with a piece of crispy skin and a slather of the light potatoes and smooth caramelized onions towards my face, going cross-eyed at the splendid sight. The first bite was dominated by the chicken's mild but meaty flavor and the slight al dente bite of salty skin. After my first bite that had been dominated by the meatiness of the chicken and its skin, a smoothe background of potato enveloped the rest of the forkful. A creamy and neutral flavor quelled the sharp saltiness of skin that had quickly dissolved on my tongue. After my jaw had done its work, the next forkful was ready to be consumed, and enjoyed.