So, as you can see, I’m kind of on a Barefoot Contessa kick right now. And it’s not stopping here. I’ve got one more recipe coming, something sweet and chocolaty and festive, and I can’t wait to share it.
In the meantime, let’s talk about this chicken, which has become a favorite around here, both piping hot right out of the oven for dinner and cold straight from the fridge for lunch. Like the vodka sauce, this one comes from Foolproof; unlike the vodka sauce, this one wasn’t entirely foolproof, for me at least.
When I think of summer dinners growing up at home, I think of this meal. I think of the smell of charred garlic and basil; I think of my stepfather sweating at the grill, a slave to his stopwatch, the wrath of my mother should the chicken be the slightest bit overcooked driving his utmost concentration; I think of sitting at the table in our screened-in porch with my brother and sister and eventually Ben, too. I think of eating for hours, a time of considerably faster metabolisms. I think of the candles melting into the tabletop, the humidity just beginning to subside and the buzz of the crickets as we clear the table at the end of the night.
In the spirit of old-fashioned, unsubtle, crowd-pleasing recipes, I offer another oldie but goodie from The New New York Times Cookbook (Craig Claiborne, 1979), a recipe my mother pulled out for nearly every cocktail party she hosted and attended for at least two decades. The original recipe calls for wings, which people go gaga over, but the sauce and cooking method work just as well with drumsticks and thighs, if you’re looking for a super-easy dinner adored by children and adults alike.
While the chicken bakes for a fairly long time — an hour to an hour and 15 minutes — in the brief time it takes for your oven to preheat, your chicken can be prepped and smothered with the magic sauce, a mixture of honey, soy sauce, ketchup, garlic and oil, leaving you with an hour of freedom, perhaps to prepare a simple salad or side dish, perhaps to sit down with a good book and a nice cocktail. As with the honey-baked chicken legs, it’s hard not to play caveman while eating these drummies — a fork and knife just can’t get the job done. What can I say? This is not gourmet cooking, and it’s not gourmet eating — you might just want to break out the moist towelettes for this one.
Do you ever find yourself needing to prepare a meal for a friend? Perhaps a new mom? Or someone on bed rest? Or just someone in need?
As comfortable as I feel in the kitchen, cooking for these sorts of occasions makes me panicky. I never know what to make. I know comfort food is the name of the game, but I worry that my comfort food might not comfort others.
Fortunately, I have friends who thrive in these situations — friends who can throw casseroles together in their sleep; friends whose pantries never fail them at these critical moments; friends whose freezers at any given time are stocked with a half dozen of these sorts of meals already. It was one of these such friends who passed along this recipe after I mentioned I had no idea what I was going to make for my friend who had just returned from the hospital with a new baby girl. I didn’t even have to note that this new mom was avoiding dairy and a few other foods. Amanda knew exactly the recipe I needed.
During my recent trip home to CT, my mother taught me how to make her homemade hamburger helper, a favorite of mine and my siblings growing up, a meal we thought the toddlers in the house would enjoy as well. While the children ate it without complaint, each favoring a different component — macaroni, hamburger, melted cheese — it was the adults who really went to town on it, in particular my brother and brother-in-law who polished off the leftovers after a late-night game of darts (and a few too many whiskeys).
I don’t know if it’s the need to feed the toddlers I suddenly find at my feet or the trip home or the winter weather, but recently I can’t get enough of these old family recipes. My mother learned this one from her aunt Rene, who has been serving it at dinner parties since the 1960′s. It is truly a crowd pleaser.
Now, a note, likely an obvious one: For those of you who like savoring the flavor of chicken in its most unadulterated form, perhaps roasted with a few herbs and maybe a lemon wedge or two, this one is not for you. It’s all about the sauce, a mixture of honey and mustard, curry powder and mango chutney, that thickens and concentrates during the hour or so spent in the oven. It’s the kind of thing that is nearly impossible not to pick up off the plate with your hands, gnaw at the bone, lick your fingers when you’re finished. Sorry for the image.
All of that said, the chicken cooks perfectly — the tender, moist meat, which retains its heat so nicely, falls off the bone with every prod of the fork, making a more civilized approach to its ingestion certainly an option.
My Great Aunt Rene would be so proud — my children gobbled it up, and for the first time in a long time, not a word about ketchup was uttered. Read More
I never imagined an eighth of a cow taking so long to polish off. Seven months after packing our freezer with meat, we have finally made a considerable dent, two pounds of ground beef, one liver, and a few soup bones being all that remain. We have eaten more burgers and tacos than we ever thought possible, and while it has been wonderful having such amazing beef on hand, Ben and I are thinking about our next move.
The thing is is that I miss chicken. I have been spoiled by modern living, by endless variety, by not having to have to buy meat by the quarter animal. This time of year I crave my mother’s chicken kapama (Greek red chicken) and these chicken legs baked with white wine and parmesan and the braised chicken pictured here, chicken au vinaigre, another favorite from Sally Schneider’s A New Way to Cook.
Subscribing to one of those meat shares that offer lamb, pork, chicken, goat and various other meats would be the ideal. But alas, you can’t always get what you want, and I would again be willing to sacrifice variety for grass-fed, local, incredibly delicious beef. It’s hardly a tradeoff, really.
Now, back to the chicken. This dish, a classic French preparation, is all about the sauce, a rich concentration of shallots, crushed tomatoes, mustard and reduced sherry and sherry vinegar. As with my mother’s chicken kapama, I love serving it with egg noodles, which soak up the delicious sauce so nicely, but a natural (perhaps even more delicious) alternative to the noodles is a hunk of bread. That time of year has certainly arrived, when cleaning dinner plates with crusty bread is more than acceptable. Read More
The latest addition to the food processor’s regimen is caesar dressing, made in the same fashion as the Bittman mayonnaise, through the teeny hole of the food pusher insert. It works like a charm, and I’ve discovered that if I give the processor bowl a quick little rinsey rinse immediately after I’m finished using it, it’s as if I never dirtied it. Umpteen parts? No big deal. Back onto its base it goes; onto the next job it moves.
Anyway, I’m planning a dinner party and thought it might be fun to make little flatbreads — “piadines” I saw them called in a Michael Chiarello cookbook — piled high with caesar salad — boring, I know, but perhaps made interesting by kale — tossed with sliced grilled chicken breasts — boring, I know, but safe. I love this kind of thing, when bread and vegetable and meat are all wrapped up in one casual, fun, summery, light dish.
As you can see, I gave this idea a little test run, and while I still think it has potential, my piadines need a little bit of work. They puffed way up in the oven, almost like pita bread, making them better suited for falafel or chicken souvlaki. I’m looking for something thin thin, as my grandmother would say, and not too crisp but a little less imposing than what I made here. Despite the shape of the bread, however, the combo was delicious, and fortunately, I still have some time to experiment. In the meantime I might just run a few more things by you.
One last thing. If you’re looking for a rustic, summery dessert for one of your own get togethers, here’s something that might interest you: Stone Fruit Galettes with Homemade Frangipane. Make one dough (in the food processor), a batch of frangipane (also in the food processor), and assemble three tarts each perhaps with a different stone fruit. Plum is my favorite this year. Get the recipe over at Lifestyle Mirror:
Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad Piadines:
Serves: As many as you like
Notes: As I mentioned above, my piadines are not quite there. They were delicious, just not flat. I used the Lahey No Knead Pizza Dough, which I adore, and which I think might work if I handle the dough a little more aggressively — next time I might even use a rolling pin to remove as many air pockets as possible.
What’s great about something like this for a party is that nearly everything can be prepared ahead of time: kale washed, cheese grated, dressing made, chicken grilled (though it is nice when the chicken is freshly grilled). And with everything prepped, the salad can be assembled in seconds while the flatbreads are baking.
Jim Lahey No Knead Pizza dough or your favorite pizza/flatbread/piadine dough portioned into 3-oz balls
kale, washed and torn into salad-sized pieces
freshly grated parmigiano reggiano
caesar dressing (recipe below)
grilled chicken breasts (recipe for two below), sliced
1. Preheat the oven to 500ºF. Stretch or roll dough balls into 5-inch rounds. Place on a parchment-lined sheet pan. Bake for 7 to 8 minutes or until lightly golden.
2. Meanwhile, place kale in a salad bowl with grated parmigiano and sliced grilled chicken breast. Toss with dressing to taste. Taste. Adjust seasoning accordingly.
3. Remove flatbreads from oven. Place one on each plate. Pile high with salad.
Food Processor Caesar Dressing:
Yield = 1.25 cups
3 cloves garlic
pinch kosher salt
1 egg yolk
1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar*
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
*Lemon juice is obviously more traditional, but white balsamic has a nice flavor, and using vinegar is also easier than juicing lemons… forgive my laziness.
1. In the bowl of a food processor, pulse the anchovies, garlic and salt until finely puréed. Add the yolk and quarter cup of white balsamic. Pulse until blended. With the machine running, add the oil in a slow, steady stream. (Your food processor should have a teeny hole in the food pusher insert in the top). When an emulsion forms you can add it a little faster. (Again, the little hole makes this unnecessary.)
Grilled Chicken Breasts
Yield = 2 breasts; serves 4 when sliced for a salad
2 chicken breasts
freshly ground black pepper
fresh herb of choice — I like basil
1. Preheat the grill to high. Season chicken breasts all over with salt and pepper. Toss with the fresh herb. Rub lightly with oil. Grill for 2 to 2.5 minutes a side if breasts are smallish. Let rest for five minutes before slicing.
Roasting a whole chicken used to feel like an ordeal to meal. It certainly was a process, one never attempted mid-week. After poking a lemon with a skewer 25 times, smashing garlic cloves, chopping up carrots and shallots, stuffing the cavity and pinning the neck closed, I would swaddle the dear bird with twine, a poor attempt at trussing. Geez Louise — just thinking about all of the steps makes me question why I ever attempted whole roasted chicken at all.
If you, too, reserve roasting a whole chicken for special occasions only, please know that a super moist, most delicious chicken can be achieved in 45 minutes. It’s true. Best of all, it requires no trussing.
Many of you already know about the much adored Zuni Cafe roast chicken and bread salad recipe. Some of you may have even had the luxury of enjoying it at the beloved San Francisco cafe. From oysters to wood-fired baked bread to ricotta gnocchi to chocolate gâteau and biscotti, the Zuni dinner my husband and I enjoyed there with two dear friends rates as one of the best ever.
And the roast chicken and bread salad for us (and many others) remains the most memorable course. The dish is a sort of roast chicken panzanella, a combination of spicy mustard greens, sweet currants, toasted pine nuts, and chewy peasant-style bread. And the bread. Oh the bread! Saturated with pan drippings and a light vinaigrette, these irresistible cubes are the star of the dish. Seriously, I could eat the whole batch of bread salad alone. The Zuni cookbook, one of my favorites for its stories and thoughtfully written recipes, offers detailed instructions on choosing a chicken, on salting the chicken (what they refer to as the “practice of salting early”), and on assembling this whole dish. (If you’re looking for a food-related gift, this book is prefect for any foodie — it’s filled with goodies.)
Anyway, while I rarely make the bread salad recipe — it indeed is a bit of a process — I make the roast chicken at least once a week. I can never find birds under 4 lbs. (Zuni recommends using a 2 3/4 to 3 1/2 lb bird) but even so, with a hot cast iron skillet and the oven at 475ºF, my chickens finish cooking in 45 minutes consistently. And they are the juiciest, most flavorful chickens ever to emerge from my oven — the dark meat, my favorite, nearly falls off the bone, and the white white, infused with the flavors of sage and thyme (or whatever herb you’ve tucked under the skin) remains tender and juicy. It’s hard to refrain from gnawing on the bones while carving.
This time of year, nothing tastes better to me than a whole roasted chicken. A whole roasted chicken smothering a bread salad that is. While there’s nothing tricky about the bread salad recipe, somehow it always becomes more of a process than I anticipate. Perhaps it’s the way the recipe has been written — I always find my eyes glued to the book, rereading every paragraph to make sure I’m not missing a step. The recipe does not lack details that’s for sure, but it pays. When you’re feeling up for it, take a stab at this recipe. You won’t be disappointed.
Mustard greens from our Olin-Fox Farms CSA:
Note: If you are making the bread salad recipe as well, read that recipe before starting the chicken. If you only have one oven, you might want to start on the bread salad recipe first — the bread needs to be briefly broiled.
Zuni Cafe Roast Chicken Adapted from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook
Serves 2 to 4
One small chicken, 2 3/4 to 3 1/2-pounds (I can only find chickens over 4 lbs., but I always dig for the smallest bird on the shelf)
4 tender sprigs fresh thyme, marjoram, rosemary or sage, about 1/2 inch long
freshly cracked black pepper
A little water
The Zuni recipe calls for seasoning the chicken one to three days before serving. I never am this organized and find the cooking method to work just as well when the chicken is seasoned just before cooking. If, however, you want to stick to the Zuni method, use about 3/4 teaspoon of sea salt per pound of chicken. Season the chicken liberally all over with salt and pepper. Season the thick sections a little more heavily than the skinny ankles and wings. Sprinkle a little of the salt just inside the cavity, on the backbone, but don’t otherwise worry about seasoning the inside. Twist and tuck the wing tips behind the shoulders. Cover loosely and refrigerate.
If you choose to season the chicken just before roasting, start here:
1. Remove and discard the lump of fat inside the chicken. Rinse the chicken and pat very dry inside and out. Be thorough — a wet chicken will spend too much time steaming before it begins to turn golden brown. Approaching from the edge of the cavity, slide a finger under the skin of each of the breasts, making 2 little pockets. Now use the tip of your finger to gently loosen a pocket of skin on the outside of the thickest section of each thigh. Using your finger, shove an herb sprig into each of the 4 pockets.
2. Preheat the oven to 475°F. Choose a shallow flameproof roasting pan or dish barely larger than the chicken, or use a 10-inch skillet with an all-metal handle (I use a cast iron skillet). Preheat the pan over medium heat. Wipe the chicken dry and set it breast side up in the pan. It should sizzle.
3. Place the chicken in the pan in the center of the oven and listen and watch for it to start browning within 20 minutes. If it doesn’t, raise the temperature progressively until it does. The skin should blister, but if the chicken begins to char, or the fat is smoking, reduce temperature by 25 degrees. After about 30 minutes, turn the bird over — drying the bird and preheating the pan should keep the skin from sticking. Roast for another 10 to 20 minutes, depending on size, then flip back over to recrisp the breast skin, another 5 to 10 minutes.
Note: Every oven is different, but I have found consistent results with cooking the chicken breast side up for 30 minutes and breast side down for 15 minutes. My chickens (all about 4 lbs.) are almost always finished cooking after 45 minutes total — in other words, I skip the final 5 to 10 minute recrisping of the chicken breast side up.
If you are making the bread salad, continue to recipe below.
If you’re not making the bread salad:
4. Remove the chicken from the oven and turn off the heat. Lift the chicken from the roasting pan and set on a plate. Carefully pour the fat from the roasting pan, leaving the lean drippings behind. Add about a tablespoon of water to the hot pan and swirl it. Slash the stretched skin between the thighs and breasts of the chicken, then tilt the bird and plate over the roasting pan to drain the juice into the drippings. Set the chicken in a warm spot (which may be your stovetop) and leave to rest while you finish preparing your dinner (or the bread salad (recipe below)). The meat will become more tender and uniformly succulent as it cools.
Set a platter in the oven to warm for a minute or two. Cut the chicken into pieces; arrange on the warm platter. Tilt the roasting pan and skim the last of the fat. Place over medium-low heat, add any juice that has collected under the chicken, and bring to a simmer. Stir and scrape to soften any hard golden drippings. Taste — the juices will be extremely flavorful.
At this point, drizzle the chicken with some pan drippings if you wish (taste the drippings first — they tend to be very salty, which is perfect for the bread salad, but maybe too much for the chicken alone) or add to bread salad (see recipe below).
Zuni Cafe Bread Salad Adapted from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook
Generous 8 ounces slightly stale open-crumbed, chewy, peasant-style bread (not sourdough)
6 to 8 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar (I use white balsamic — love it)
Salt and freshly cracked black pepper
1 tablespoon dried currants
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar (or any vinegar, I used white balsamic again)
1 tablespoon warm water
2 tablespoons pine nuts (or more)
2 to 3 garlic cloves, slivered
1/4 cup slivered scallions (about 4 scallions), including a little of the green part
2 tablespoons lightly salted chicken stock or lightly salted water
A few handfuls of arugula, frisée, or red mustard greens, carefully washed and dried
1. Preheat the broiler. Carve off all of the crusts from your bread. Cut into a couple of large chunks. Arrange on a sheet pan and drizzle with olive oil. Broil very briefly, to crisp and lightly color the surface. Turn the bread chunks over and crisp the other side. Tear the chunks into a combination of irregular 2- to 3-inch wads, bite-sized bits, and fat crumbs. You should get about 4 cups.
2. Combine about 1/4 cup of the olive oil with the vinegar and salt and pepper to taste. Toss about 1/4 cup of this tart vinaigrette with the torn bread in a wide salad bowl; the bread will be unevenly dressed. Taste one of the more saturated pieces. If it is bland, add a little salt and pepper and toss again.
3. Place the currants in a small bowl and moisten with the red wine vinegar and water. Set aside. Toast the pine nuts in a dry skillet over medium heat, checking frequently and stirring every so often to make sure the nuts do not burn. Remove skillet from heat when nuts are golden.
4. Heat a spoonful of the olive oil in a small skillet, add the garlic and scallions, and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until softened. Don’t let them color. Scrape into the bread and fold to combine. Drain the plumped currants and fold them in, along with the pine nuts. Dribble the chicken stock or lightly salted water over the salad and fold again.
Taste a few pieces of bread — a fairly saturated one and a dryish one. If it is bland, add salt, pepper, and/or a few drops of vinegar, then toss well.
Pile the bread salad in a 1-quart shallow baking dish and tent with foil. Set the salad bowl aside to be used again later. Place the bread salad in the oven after you flip the chicken the final time, for about 5 to 10 minutes. (Note: I skip this step. I prefer the texture of the bread at room temperature. When I heat it, I find it loses some of its crisp texture.)
5. Remove the chicken from the oven and turn off the heat. Lift the chicken from the roasting pan and set on a plate. Carefully pour the fat from the roasting pan, leaving the lean drippings behind. Add about a tablespoon of water to the hot pan and swirl it. Slash the stretched skin between the thighs and breasts of the chicken, then tilt the bird and plate over the roasting pan to drain the juice into the drippings. Set the chicken in a warm spot (which may be your stovetop) and leave to rest while you finish preparing the bread salad. The meat will become more tender and uniformly succulent as it cools.
6. Tip the bread salad back into the salad bowl. It will be steamy-hot, a mixture of soft, moist wads, crispy-on-the-outside-but-moist-in-the-middle-wads, and a few downright crispy ones. Drizzle and toss with a spoonful of the pan juices. Add the greens, a drizzle of vinaigrette, and fold well. Taste again. Arrange bread salad on a platter. Top with carved chicken.
Can you remember one-third cup? That’s really all you need to know in order to make this recipe: one-third cup olive oil, one-third cup white wine, one-third cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano. Garlic and thyme are nice additions but optional. Just whisk everything together, season the chicken with salt and pepper, throw it in a 450ºF oven and you’re done. Crispy skins. Tender meat. A delicious meal to add to your repertoire.
As the title of this post mentions, this is part two of a making-the-most-of-a-whole-chicken series. I have other recipes for the dark meat, but let’s just start with this one, k? It’s the simplest one I know and perhaps my favorite as well.
So you have a game plan now, right? Buy a chicken. Cut it up. Make stock. Serve broiled tarragon breasts for dinner one night, chicken legs baked with white wine, olive oil and Parmigiano Reggiano another. Fry up that liver for a snack. And cook up those little tenders to add to a salad or a sandwich? I don’t have many creative ideas for the tenders nor much experience with the liver but I’m confident you will not let these bits go to waste. And, any tips you might have for cooking the liver would be much appreciated … I sort of just throw it in a pan and cross my fingers. Yum yum yum.
Chicken Legs Baked with White Wine, Olive Oil & Parmigiano Reggiano
2 chicken drumsticks + 2 chicken thighs
kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper
1/3 cup white wine
1/3 cup olive oil
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
a few sprigs fresh thyme
1. Preheat the oven to 450ºF. Season chicken on both sides with salt and pepper.
2. In a small shallow baking dish such as a pie plate, whisk together the white wine, olive oil, about half of the cheese, and the garlic. Throw in the thyme sprigs and the chicken and toss all around to coat.
3. Turn chicken so that the skin is facing up and sprinkle with the remaining cheese. Place in the oven for 30 minutes. Take a peak. If the skin is getting too brown, reduce the heat to 400ºF. Continue baking for about 20 more minutes, or until the meat is pulling away from the bone on the drumstick. The time it takes to cook this chicken will vary depending on your oven, on the size of the legs, if the chicken was cooked directly from the refrigerator or if it had been brought to room temperature before baking, etc. Trust your nose — if you think it’s done, take a stab. After you’ve made the recipe once or twice, you’ll have a better idea about the timing.