Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

When I first read through the recipe sequence for That Cookbook Thing II, I had not thought of making the highlighted chicken dish, Poulet au Porto (chicken in port), the centrepiece of a casual dinner with great friends. I had imagined it as an easy Sunday dinner for one, not only because I have no great affection for fungi but also because I derive a lot of satisfaction from making roast chicken. Yet I am also a man of occasional drama. Knowing of the delight that the intellectually-ferocious and generous Anita and quick-witted and cool Craig would get from a bit of flambée action, it was clear that the otherwise simple recipe of roast chicken and mushrooms would lend a touch of the unexpected to a dynamic evening.

Of course, it also helps that it is expressly stated in Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck's first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking that Poulet au Porto is the perfect dish to make in the company of close friends. After all, the chicken can roast whilst host and guests imbibe the first of the evening's glasses of wine along with home-made pâté and charklis pkhali. After the first drinks have warmed the back of the throat and lightened the load in one's head, it is easier to rope friends into participating in the kitchen. Speaking of drinks, booze features rather prominently in this menu, for the home-made pâté (an on-going receipe development, becoming more nuanced with each attempt) is rich with brandy, the mushrooms for the poulet au porto are reduced with both brandy and port, the poulet itself is set alight after a splash of brandy, and the evening's dessert, Prune Tart, is made with brandy-sozzled prunes d'Agen.

Perhaps the aid of wine-happy friends is not what Ms. Child had in mind when suggesting that Poulet au Porto be made for the company of friends, but one cannot be too sure given how many cocktails housewives and cookie-cutter husbands knocked back in their square homes in the `60s (all in the name of sophistication, of course). And maybe it was the drink speaking, but the chapter on Poultry is quite hilarious, easily one of the most evocative of the period at the time the cookery book was originally released (1961). I don't know anyone with a trussing needle nor do I know anyone who "averts" his or her face when engaging in flambée - in fact, it would be a dangerous decision not to keep an eye on the development of the flames. The notion of stitching up a chicken or avoiding a flame in so prissy a manner comes to a head in these rushed, contemporary times when kitchen string does the trick (faster) and purposefully-created flames over food whoosh and wheeze before one has had time to think about looking the other way.

The French, in any period, are particularly revered for their poultry dishes. Whether the chicken be stewed in red wine, poached in an aromatic liquor, or bronzed to Biarritz perfection, the common chicken gets a real make-over when prepared á la française. Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck's Poulet au Porto also got a make-over by democratic decision-making.

Poulet au Porto
(Adapted from Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck's first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking)

The essential components of Poulet au Porto are: 1) roast chicken; 2) mushroom sauce.

By now you probably know me as someone who greatly respects tried and true methods by cooks and chefs, but even I have a preferred method for roasting chicken. I have no patience nor derive any enjoyment from spreading butter over the skin or between the skin and flesh of a chicken. I personally think it best if you roast a chicken in the way that pleases you most; otherwise, see Mike's version of Julia Child's method at Mel's Diner.

For the roast chicken:

1 whole chicken, to serve four people (or three greedy ones, like us)
2-3 tablespoons olive oil
fleur de sel
black pepper, freshly-ground
to fill the cavity: a citrus fruit of your choice (usually one orange or lemon, halved; if the fruit is small, use more and slice in half), and a bunch of fresh herbs. (I generally throw in a few whole cloves of garlic, but the quick-witted and cool Craig is allergic to members of the allium family.)

1) Pre-heat oven to 200C/400F.
2) Coat the chicken in the olive oil.
3) Sprinkle the chicken all over and inside the cavity with fleur de sel (or kosher salt) and pepper.
4) Fill the cavity with the citrus, herbs and garlic, if using.
5) Close the legs of the chicken with kitchen string and tuck the wings tips under the "neck" of the chicken to prevent early burning during the roasting period.
6) Put chicken in the oven, breast side up.
7) Baste every twenty minutes, turning the roasting tray every time until the chicken is done, approximately 80 minutes.
8) There are a couple of tests to do to ensure that the chicken is done. To my mind, the fastest method is to cut the inner thigh close to the bone. If the liquid runs clear yellow, the chicken is done. If it is rosy, then you need to roast the chicken longer. Check every 5 minutes.
9) Remove chicken from the oven and cover with aluminium foil for 10-15 minutes.

While the chicken is resting, prepare the mushrooms and sauce. The ferociously-intelligent and generous Anita, quick-witted and cool Craig and I dispensed with the notion of "boiling" the mushrooms by using but a couple of tablespoons of water to create steam.

For the mushrooms and sauce:

300g/10.5oz mushrooms (we used innocuous button mushrooms), trimmed and sliced thinly
1/4 tablespoon butter
spritz of lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup (heavy) cream
1/4 tablespoon cornstarch
salt, pepper, if necessary
1/5 cup port

1) Toss mushrooms, butter, lemon juice (a quick squeeze) and salt in a saucepan. Cover. Shake saucepan every now and then until mushrooms have softened, about 5 mintues.
2) Slicken with heavy cream.
3) Add cornstarch to one tablespoon of water and stir until combined.
4) Stir cornstarch into mushrooms. Check for seasoning - add salt and pepper, if required.
5) Stir in port. Leave uncovered until liquid has reduced somewhat and strongest notes of alcohol have evaporated.

To assemble the Poulet au Porto:

Roasted chicken, as above, jointed or carved into slices
Mushrooms in port, as above
salt
1/2 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup brandy

1) Smear a casserole dish with butter.
2) Arrange chicken pieces in casserole dish and dust lightly with salt.
3) Put casserole dish over a moderate heat.
4) When the butter begins to bubble and the chicken begins to sizzle, pour cognac over the chicken and set cognac alight.
5) Gently shake casserole dish until flames have abated.
6) Pour in the mushrooms in port, coating the chicken.

Perfect with an earthy red wine or an aromatic white wine alike, this silken dish is the essence of comfort cooking. The dish's lack of pretense is relaxing; therefore, it is conducive to good discussion around the table, underscoring Julia Child's recommendation of preparing it in the company of very good friends. We simply paired the poulet au porto with wilted down spinach, sautéed in olive oil and lightly seasoned. It is a perfect side dish to a modest main. Julia Child suggests potatoes sautéed in butter or a simple risotto as vegetable suggestions that do not interfere with the deep flavours of the Poulet au Porto.

After a cheese platter of gouda, English stilton, camembert, membrillo and cherry tomatoes, we yearned for a sweet note on which to end our fabulous evening. Sticking with the "cooking with booze" theme of the evening, I turned to a tart that I had not had since I lived in France more than ten years ago: Prune and Armagnac Tart. I reached for brandy instead, but it is practically the same as armagnac if one bears in mind that armagnac has vintages - good for remembering the best years - whereas more common brandy can be of varying quality. Use your preferred booze. (Stephanie Alexander recommends against telling the French of the south-west that cognac and armagnac are the same thing.)

The following recipe suits a 26cm/10.5" fluted tart pan, and the tart pastry is slightly boozy, too!

Prune and Brandy Tart
(from Prune and Armagnac Tart in Stephanie Alexander's Cooking and Travelling in South-West France)

For the pastry:

1 1/4 cups flour, sifted
tiny pinch of kosher salt
113g/4oz unsalted butter, diced
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon orange blossom water
1/2 teaspoon brandy

1) In a medium-sized bowl, mix flour and salt together.
2) With the tips of your fingers, rub the butter into the flour until sand-like granules are formed. This is your dry mixture.
3) In a separate bowl, gently whisk together egg, orange blossom water and brandy. This is your liquid mixture.
4) Stir the liquid mixture into the dry mixture until a ball is formed. You might not need all of the liquid for this.
5) Knead lightly and quickly with the goal of encouraging cohesion. Lightly flatten out to a disc, wrap dough in cling-film and refrigerate for thirty minutes.

For the tart:

1 tart recipe, as above
1 egg white, lightly beaten
20-24 prunes d'Agen, steeped in brandy (reserve the brandy)
4 eggs
100g/3oz ground almonds
125ml/4.5oz (whipping) cream
1 tablespoon brandy
60g/2oz unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1) Pre-heat oven to 200C/400F.
2) Lightly dust your pastry surface (marble stone, cool benchtop, cold wooden board), rolling pin and hands with flour, then gently roll out the pastry, always from the centre. Turn the pastry clockwise after every couple of passes of the rolling pin to ensure that it does not stick to your surface (throw some flour underneath every now and then for extra security).
3) Loosely roll pastry around rolling pin, and roll dough out over a prepared (with butter and flour) tart pan. Gently ease the pastry into the pan, then use the rolling pin to cut across the edges of the pan to remove the excess pastry.
4) Prick holes in the base of the tart with the tines of a fork and blind bake for 15 minutes. To "blind bake": line pastry with foil, cover with beans and bake for 10 minutes. Remove the foil and beans, brush pastry base with egg whites, then bake for a further 5 minutes).
5) Reset oven to 180C/375F.
6) Position the boozy prunes in the tart pan.
7) Mix the eggs, ground almonds, cream and melted butter in a small bowl, then gently pour over the prunes, trying not to disturb their layout.
8) Bake until the custard is firm, about 25 minutes.
9) Before the tart is completely cool, brush it with some of the reserved brandy.

Prune and Brandy Tart is simple as far as ingredients and method go, but the depth of the sweet yet spicy prunes combined with nutty, buttery almonds is a beguiling experience. So enchanting was the first slice (or so boozed were we) that we had seconds. This is the perfect tart for almost any occasion, as it is elegant, flavourful, and can be served at room temperature. A perfect ending to a perfect meal.

Please review the other bloggers' posts on Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck's Poulet au Porto - Mike at Mel's Diner, Ruth at Once Upon A Feast, and Sara at i like to cook.

Labels: Book Review, Brandy, Chicken, Cooking with booze, French, Fruit tart, Julia Child, Port, Prune Tart, Prunes, That Cookbook Thing II

Many foodies and everyday cooks (those who only cook because one needs to eat) enjoy Nigella Lawson's approach to cooking. She is a great magpie, picking from many cuisines and adapting them to largely unfussy presentations for everyday cooking and great parties. I think that which makes her more successful than most tv cooks and chefs is that she has finely tuned her analytical abilities developed through her work as a literature and restaurant/food critic. As such, she is able to make any ingredient and, by extension, any dish approachable and appealing. Nigella Lawson is the "theme" for this month's Weekend Cookbook Challenge, hosted by Ani at Foodie Chickie.

La Lawson first came to my attention through her television show Nigella Bites. I hadn't heard of her before then, and I managed to catch her quite by accident when I was alone on a rainy night with nothing better to do. In fact, I was thinking of changing the channel, for preparing food was not my "thing" - my angelheart Eric was the cook in our family; I was the barman. Anyway, it didn't take long for me to get hooked. I got caught up in Nigella's energy, the way she talks directly to the camera, drawing her audience in, and by the swift and uncomplicated editing. Nigella Bites and all of Nigella's subsequent shows are contemporary and ride on La Lawson's sass, charm and heady, descriptive powers.

Okay, so it took me a few years to actually get around to trying any of her recipes, but Nigella planted the seed and many a mental note was taken - her encouragement and lack of airs made it all seem so easy. To Nigella, I am grateful for ingredients and foods that I now couldn't imagine my cooking and baking life without - principally sumac and vanilla extract.

Nigella Lawson's books capture her shows' same humour and vivacity, which are not easily translatable to text. What I also enjoy about the texts so much is her detailed explanations of combinations of ingredients, aromas and textures, clipped from other writers and from her own travels and experiences. That she has a great bibliography section at the back of each book is a wonderful bonus, a direction to further one's own culinary curiosities. From La Lawson's recommendations alone, I have found myself purchasing books by Claudia Roden, Beatrice Ojakangas, Elizabeth David, Simon Hopkinson, Patricia Wells and Nigel Slater.

The following recipe is taken from Nigella Lawson's first book, How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food, which I reviewed last year. And while she, too, has adapted this recipe (from Claudia Roden), I find it summarises her approach to food really well. La Lawson extracts all the goodness from every ingredient, and it is no different with the incorporation of chicken fat in this recipe, used to coat the pasta, best enjoyed hot. If you want a quick and tasty lunch, this is the way to go: chicken thighs instead of a roast chicken. The Venetian ghetto is conjured up with the pinenuts and sultanas, necessary ingredients for haroset.

Fettucine with Chicken from the Venetian Ghetto
(Adapted from Nigella Lawson's How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food)

2 large chicken thighs, bone in and skin on
extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
1/4 cup sultanas, soaked in warm water for 30 minutes
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
fettucine, about 500g/1 lb
parsley

1) Cover the chicken thighs with olive oil, salt and pepper and start boiling a pot of water for the pasta.
2) Over a medium-high heat, pan-fry the chicken thighs - skin-side down first. It should take approximately 10-15 minutes for the thighs to be done, depending on their thickness.
3) When done, allow to become cool enough to handle. Ideally, this should be done about the time the pasta is ready to go into a pot of boiling, salted water.
4) Tear the chicken flesh from the bone either with your hands or two forks. Chop up the skin.
5) As the pasta nears completion, add the pinenuts and drained sultanas to the liquidised chicken fat and olive oil in the pan. Heat through over medium-low heat.
6) Drain pasta and immediately pour over the chicken fat, sultanas and pine nuts. Toss thoroughly.
7) Add the shredded chicken and sprinkle over with parsley.

This is incredibly comforting on a blowsy day like today. The inclusion of this recipe in Nigella Lawson's debut book is testament to her ability to create appealing and approachable food, showing off the best of each ingredient. The slickness of the oil-coated pasta is tempered by the sweet, juicy sultanas, the crunch of the toasted pinenuts and the freshness of the parsley. It took Nigella Lawson to teach me how so few ingredients are all it takes to make a good meal every day.

Labels: Chicken, Fettucine, Nigella Lawson, Weekend Cookbook Challenge

This is an after the fact entry commemorating the last dinner my angelheart Eric and I cooked before I returned to New Zealand this week after a two month trip to the US. Goodbyes are always heartbreaking, hellish even - each one saltier than the last. Recalling this Umbrian chicken preparation, though, vaunts the sweeter moments of the time with my angelheart Eric over the sadder ones.

This year's September issue of Food & Wine magazine is all about Italy. Broken up by region, there are articles aplenty waxing lyrical on food, wine and travel. This is an incredible primer on the regions of Italy for the page-flipping public of short attention span (and some days that includes me). Amongst the many dog-ear-mark-worthy articles, my angelheart Eric and I were intrigued by Nancy Harmon Jenkins' piece on contemporary trattorias.

Trattorias are to Italy are what bistros are to Paris. They are the heart and soul of a town, a continuation of lineage. With a firm hand on tradition, trattorias offer comfort food. In some parts of Italy, particularly Umbria, the area with which Harmon Jenkins in concerned, there is a rebirth of trattorias that provide sophisticated and modern twists on traditional fare.

In an effort to understand the relationship between ingredients better, I gravitate towards recipes that appear simple. That is to say, ingredients are pared down and the method is assumed to bring out the best in the chosen protein or vegetable. When my angelheart Eric pointed out the dish, not only was I keen to try another version of spatch-cocked chicken (that is to say, a whole chicken flattened once its backbone has been removed, which cuts down on cooking time), but I was also intrigued by the notion of a Pollo alla Diavola that didn't only rely on dried red peppers and black pepper as its seasoning condimento. My interest was also piqued by what Salvatore Denaro (the regional human subject of the quiet culinary movement) was substituting to amp up the flavour: a rosemary-spiked acidic marinade.

Salvatore Denaro's twist to Umbrian delights is the integration of flavours from the grand Italian islands of Sardignia and Sicily. In the following recipe, Ms. Harmon Jenkins replaces Salvatore Denaro's powder of Sicilian myrtle and Turkish Bay Leaf for dried sage. I have to say that I am not the biggest fan of sage, finding it very astringent (which, I know, is rich coming from he who loves juniper berries), but I was game nonetheless. The only change I made was to keep the quantity of ingredients for one chicken as opposed to two, for Eric and I wanted maximum flavour, knowing sometimes that magazine writers sometimes offer conservative amounts of seasonings for mass appeal. Just bear in mind that you will need to start two days in advance for maximum flavour (it shouldn't be difficult as the only advanced preparation requires that you combine a liquid and a dried herb).

Pollo alla Diavola
(closely following Nancy Harmon Jenkins' adaptation of Salvatore Denaro's recipe in Food & Wine, September 2007)

1/2 cup white wine
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 3-3 1/4 pound (1 1/2-1 3/4kg) whole chicken
2 teaspoons dried sage
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper (or 1 teaspoon piment d'Espelette or Aleppo pepper)
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground

1) In a bowl or small jar, combine white wine and dried oregano. Cover and leave at room temperature for two days.
2) Strain into a bowl and stir in the olive oil.
3) Remove the wing tips and backbone from the chicken with either poultry shears or a chef's knife.
4) Skin-side up on a baking sheet lined with aluminium foil, press down on the breastbone quite firmly to flatten the chicken.
5) Score the chicken to the bone with the tip of a chef's knife.
6) Drizzle over the chicken all but two tablespoons of the olive oil marinade. Rub into the flesh. Cover and refrigerate for one hour.
7) In a small bowl, combine the sage, salt, pepper, rosemary and black pepper. Rub all over the chicken. Feel free to use a pastry brush to pick up any spilled-over liquid. Get it into every crevice.
8) Leave at room temperature for 30 minutes to allow the flavours to meld.
9) Preheat oven to 220 C/425 F.
10) Roast chicken skin-side up in upper third of the oven until done, which is when it registers 75 C/165 F at the thickest part of the chicken, approximately 45 minutes. Baste with the remaining two tablespoons of olive oil half-way through the roasting procedure.
11) Preheat broiler.
12) Pour pan juices into a small saucepan and keep warm over a low heat.
13) Broil chicken 10cm/4" from the heat, rotating the pan until brown and crisp, approximately 3 minutes.
14) Carve chicken, pour warm pan juices over it and serve.

My inveterate skill as a failed food stylist aside, this is an incredibly tasty chicken. In fact, it doesn't bop you over with head. I find that the inclusion of wine actually creates a deeply savoury marinade, which is potentially akin to the result of Chef Denaro's myrtle and bay leaf condimento. Served with a creamy avocado and cherry tomato salad, this is a substantial Summer dish that doesn't require much fiddling about in a warm kitchen. Most importantly, the flavours are sophisticated and the chicken is tender and flavourful on either side of the bone.

Labels: Chicken, Italian, Rosemary, Spatch-cock Chicken

It is really too hot to do much in the kitchen these days (even with air conditioning in the house), but I can only eat so many salad and noodle dishes. My angelheart Eric has a lower salad tolerance than I do. Being a foodie, scanning the pantry for what we have on hand and the fridge or freezer for what needs to be used for a quick-cooking and flavoursome meal usually yields an interesting dish. Frankly, we probably have too many things that we have picked up on a whim or bought for only one recipe, leaving loads leftover. It seems such a waste to let things sit for too long, and most of us already know that some spices and dried herbs can lose their potentcy if unused within a year - give or take a few months.

I cannot remember for what particular recipe my angelheart Eric and I bought a bag of dried arból chiles. We do use them, but since we don't really eat especially spicy food (not because we can't take it, but mostly because I prefer to taste my food instead of being left with a numb tongue) we never seem to use more than one or two at a time. As usual, I turned to the Grand Bookcase for guidance. The lime green spine of Rick Bayless' Mexican Everyday stood out, like sun rays bursting from behind a ominous and billowy clouds (this reminds me: I need to dust the Grand Bookcase). I spoke a little about this book in a recent meme, during which I was to randomly select seven cookery books. I hadn't read or used it since last summer, so rereading the book for the meme was quite nostalgic - the recipes are from the fourth season of the PBS show, "Mexico One Plate at a Time". I really wanted to reacquaint myself with Mr. Bayless.

The Salsa Roja de Chile de Arból is a traditional sauce used to dribble on top of tacos, tostadas, or any grilled goodies. For this recipe, however, it was being adapted as a sauce in which to bake chicken breasts, which typically need some pepping up. Furthermore, tomatillos are used in this salsa for their volume, brightness, and acidity. I didn't have four (or any, actually) on hand today, so I used two yellow tomatoes growing on the vine in the backyard in their place. I'm not saying this is always going to be an adequate substitution, for tomatillos are actually relatives of gooseberries, but the just properties I needed for this salsa could be achieved from using ripe tomatoes. Arból chiles rate between 15,000 and 30,000 Scoville units on the heat index, placing them somewhere between fiery poblanos and incredibly hot habaneros. They remain red (the colour that is indicative of their maturity; they start out green) after the drying process. Remember to wash your hands after handling them.

The Salsa Roja de Chile de Arból makes approximately one cup, which is enough to cover 4 chicken breast halves or 8 chicken thighs. Please find in parentheses Mr. Bayless' suggestions.

Spicy Baked Chicken with White Peach
(closely followed in Rick Bayless' Mexican Everyday)

2 tablespoons olive oil (vegetable oil)
16 dried arból chiles (or 2 dried guajillo chiles), stemmed
3 garlic cloves, peeled
2 medium sized tomatoes, cut in thirds (4 tomatillos, husked, rinsed, and cut in half)
salt
pepper
5 chicken breasts (from 2 1/2 breasts, but you could use up to 4 breasts - boneless, skinless is fine)
1 white peach, pitted and diced (3 peaches, which is far too many for my taste, or 1 mango, peeled and diced)
1 tablespoon runny honey

For the salsa:
1) Roll the arból chiles in your fingers to loosen the seeds.
2) Split the chiles so that the seeds fall out. Discard the seeds.
3) Put olive oil in a 10"/25cm skillet. Place over a medium heat.
4) Add chiles to the hot oil, turning constantly until fragrant and a change in colour occurs, approximately 30 seconds.
5) Use a slotted spoon to remove the chiles to a blender, leaving behind as much oil as possible.
6) Remove oil from skillet with a paper towel, then set over medium-high heat. Lay garlic and tomatoes in cut-side down.
7) Once tomatoes and garlic are well-browned, turn over to do the other side. Keep an eye on the garlic as it will brown all over before the tomatoes do. Move them to the blender as they are browned. The tomatoes should be well-browned in approximately 10 minutes.
8) Add 1/2 cup water to the chiles, tomatoes and garlic in the blender. Blitz until almost smooth.
9) Cool salsa in a dish. Taste and season with salt.

For the baked chicken:
1) Preheat oven to 400 F/200 C.
2) Season the chicken breasts with salt and pepper and lay them on a baking tray (skin-side up if not using boneless, skinless breasts).
3) Pour salsa over the chicken breasts. If you do not have 8 chicken breast halves, then do not use all of the salsa, which can be refrigerated for up to one week and used to spoon over anything you grill.
4) Dot the diced peach on top of the salsa in a single-layer.
5) Bake until cooked through, approximately 20-30 minutes depending on their thickness (30-40 minutes if using chicken thighs).
6) Remove the chicken to a serving platter.
7) With a spoon, try to remove as much fat from the pan as possible.
8) Add honey to the sauce and stir, squelching the now-soft diced peach as you go. Spoon over the chicken and serve.

The most time is spent deseeding the chiles, but after that step is taken care of, the rest of the recipe is a breeze to complete. The peach is necessary to take some of the edge off the chiles, allowing you to actually taste the sauce. Be sure to season the chicken breasts or else they could taste bland in the event that the sauce doesn't sufficiently penetrate during the baking process. This recipe certainly makes for a bold step away from plain salads (and, yes, I know that salads needn't be boring, but eating them every day almost reduces me to tears), which is just what my angelheart and I were looking for. And we got to use half of the bag of arból chiles in the process.

Labels: Chicken, Chile, Mexican, Peach, Rick Bayless

In 2005 Waitrose released a list of the top ten most useful cookery books, which was compiled by a group of respected chefs and cooks, most of whom had experience with writing cookery books. They left Nigella Lawson's seminal text, How To Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food, off the list, citing that it had not yet stood the test of time. However, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book is fourth on the list and was published a good six years after La Lawson's book - clearly, his single-subject focus and trendy concern for the provenance of meat enraptured the panelists. I am not complaining about his presence on the list, of course, but I don't think I am alone out there in feeling that How To Eat is not only a useful and reliable cookery book, but in the nine years it has been on the shelves, it has saved my generation from would-only-be restaurant and takeout patrons. And I speak from experience, you understand.

How To Eat was the first cookery book my angelheart Eric and I received. It was a gift from the sassy sauciere queen Lily, who was also in the habit of watching Nigella Lawson's television programme, Nigella Bites, with us in 2000. There was something very mesmerising about the manner in which this sensible, efficient, and hilarious woman went about cooking. She made me think I could do it. Me? No, really...me? At that stage in my life, I was young, cosmopolitan, and had no sense to save money. Also, having not decided where to live yet, Eric and I were with my parents, and we decided to spend most nights out - that is, at restaurants, not cooking at home. It was only on nights home alone and, certainly when we had our own home, that I actually started paying attention to cooking seriously.

You don't have to be serious about cooking to have and use How To Eat. Think of it not only as literature, for those who would rather read than cook, but as a wise (and wise-cracking) friend, for everything you need and may be curious to know is revealed, confessionally, as if over a glass of wine, within 500-odd pages. Now, there are no overly technical passages on methods, so if you want that sort of cooking assistance, you need to refer to other sources; however, La Lawson's voice is clear and present through the method of each recipe, making you feel proficient in whatever recipe you choose to follow. In fact, La Lawson does not see the hundreds of recipes as ingredients and methods, but as a "conversation" she might be having with her readers. This very subjective perspective is greatly appealing and is part of Nigella Lawson's long-standing charm amongst the public - those who tout her abilities more than those in the professional circuit. Beyond the tone of the writing, the layout of How To Eat is organized by useful chapters (Basics, Etc, Cooking in Advance, One & Two, Fast Food, Weekend Lunch, Dinner, Low Fat, and Feeding Babies & Small Children) in addition to providing weight and temperature conversion tables, a purveyors' guide, and a complete bibliography.

In the Basics, Etc chapter, you will find that La Lawson not only provides information on how to achieve the classics (such as how to make mayonnaise, various sauces - hollandaise, bearnaise, and bechamel - and stock - chicken and vegetable), but she does it her way, insisting that time-honoured traditions are only as good as one's personal tastes. She often simplifies these dishes (not dumbing them down, though) for the home cook who often has little time and many demands. You may not need to ever make all of these, but if you want to dress up a steak, for example, there is a sauce to go with, other than a standard pan sauce, for which she has recipes aplenty peppered throughout the book. This first chapter is worth the price of the book alone, arming you with the skills to make pastry and custard, through to advice on how to roast chicken, make madeleines, and produce the perfect ice cream - in fact, she calls it The World's Best Chocolate Ice-Cream, and it is a recipe of Marcella Hazan's which is made in the usual way before adding a hit of luxury and depth: a custard base without vanilla into which is folded melted chocolate (I have used 100% before, which is too bitter; 70% was met - and continues to meet - with more success), cocoa powder and caramel - the wow factor, lending complex smokiness to the ice cream. I have never tasted a chocolate ice-cream that is better, and I can't agree more with its placement in the Basics, Etc chapter. Obviously, you need to know how to make this, and she also offers sincere advice to heed regarding what to keep in your fridge, freezer, and pantry.

Cooking In Advance offers recipes for those occasions when you have guests over and making numerous dishes at the last minute is the fast track to the nearest institution for the emotionally fragile. This chapter allows you to experiment and play - and if nothing works out, no one needs to know. Of course some food benefits from being cooked in advance, allowed to rest, and then reheated, such as soups and stews, like Italian Broth and Chicken and Chick Pea Tagine. La Lawson expresses the virtures of and offers assistance on planning for all these occasions.

For Nigella Lawson, the beauty of cooking for one is not sheer indulgence, though that is not a cardinal sin, but experimentation. Of course, some of us have compliant partners on whose tastebuds we can experiment. My angelheart Eric, fortunately, is most accomodating and is usually as curious as I am. I understand not everyone is that lucky, but what I know from La Lawson is that when you have guests over, it is not best to choose to make something wildly different and out of left-field. Best to try it on your own. In One & Two, I have been meaning to try the Duck with Pomegranate forever, but those of you who are foodies know well how this refrain goes and always have sticky page-markers on hand. Of course, this chapter is not replete with risk-taking ventures; there are extensions of well-known dishes, too, that have been amped up. La Lawson's Kale with Chorizo and Poached Egg simply amps up a Salade Lyonnaise by substituting the frisee for kale (which, in itself could be considered adventurous, but when cooked as tender as possible and stripped from the thick stems, it is like spinach but with less furry residue on your tongue) and the lardons for chorizo. The poached egg remains intact and acts to temper the spicy chorizo.

In Fast Food, Nigella Lawson points out a few things to consider for fast-cooking success, such as the preparation and overall cooking time, and that one must never take short-cuts with food that needs to cook longer. Cook only with ingredients that are supposed to be or can be cooked quickly. I have to say that this chapter is a sentimental favourite, for it contains the recipes I first used for Baked Figs (though her recipe in Forever Summer is infinitely better and provided the platform for the version my angelheart Eric and I now use) and for the famous Seven-Minute Steamed Chocolate Pudding, which friends still ask me to make, though I haven't for a couple of years actually (not to say I couldn't in a snap, for the pages in the book are chocolate-smudged, each smear a reminder of the times I relied on this page). I also love this chapter for introducing me to interesting spices to which added to meat, for example the Lamb with Garlicky Tahina and Cinnamon-Hot Rack of Lamb.

Weekend Food is one of the larger chapters in the book, celebrating the downtime of urbanites. Meals are often at lunchtime, for it is the more relaxed period for socialising around food. This is not to say that lunch is an after-thought but that menus can be simpler - the focus is on sharing time with friends, not embarking on culinary perfection. Menus are provided for these relaxed and intimate affairs as they are for grander feasts, for every now and then one just wants to have a dinner party, which is further explored in the following chapter, Dinner. In this chapter, though, some dishes require advance preparation and others just need to relax and hang around a bit. Though there are many favourites, the menu that most gets me drooling is the Spring-scented Lunch, which consists of: Tarragon French Roast Chicken; Leeks, Rice, Peas and Mangetouts; and Lemon Pie. This is an elegant menu, full of clean flavours. What I also greatly appreciate in this text are not only the musings peppered throughout the book (whether it be on the classic British Sunday roast, the virtues of salsa verde, or the best method for soft and crispy duck), but the extolling of recipes from previously-published cookery books as sources of inspiration. La Lawson gives credit to her inspirational references and then explains why she has changed things and what you might be interested in experimenting with, for example, the above-mentioned Lemon Pie is adapted from Norma McMillan's In A Shaker's Kitchen. Instead of macerating slices of lemons with the pith on, La Lawson removes them, preventing people from leaving the bitter rubble on the side of their plates. She also suggests topping it with a meringue, with indications on how to do so.

Personally, I am a sucker for menus; I love the time that has been taken to consider the relationship between each of the courses. So much of my re-reading of this book has been focussed on the Weekend Food and Dinner chapters - they are well-marked (and stained). The courses in the Dinner chapter may be more intensive and slightly more formal than the ones in the preceding chapter, but they are mood-enhancing, tangible yet atmospheric, and, above all, inspirational. Try this Early-Autumn Dinner on for size: Guacamole with Paprika-Toasted Potato Skins, Cod Wrapped in Ham and served with Sage and Onion Lentils, followed by Hazelnut Cake with a Redcurrant and Peach Salad. There is a harmony of the turning deciduous colours, starting with the pine-green skins of the guacamole, ending with the browns and reds of the cake and salad, the comforting hues of Autumn.

The Low Fat chapter restocks the fridge, freezer, and pantry with, obviously, low-fat alternatives. Not all flavour is to be done away with, for La Lawson eats big portions of low fat food and small portions of higher calorific food in order to maintain interest in eating while she is dieting. This chapter is broken into segments: Templefood (food with cleansing properties, such as Aromatic Chilli Beef Noodle Soup and Salmon Marinated in Den Miso), Salad Dressings (such as Roast Garlic and Lemon Dressing, which uses a healthy amount of vermouth), The Statutory Cook-and-Freeze-Ahead Section (this encourages you to always have low-fat and satisfying dishes on hand, which will hopefully prevent unhealthy snacking, like Vegetable Curry in Vegetable Sauce), and Pudding (the key tip is to not make high calorie desserts in low fat alternatives, for depravation may set it, so instead try her various ideas on what to do with fruit, and always keep a bar of chocolate handy, for small pieces to munch on from time to time).

When I first reached the chapter for Feeding Babies & Small Children, I skipped it. Children didn't feature on my path then, and for the moment I don't have any paternalistic urges, though my angelheart Eric does - but I don't need to invite you to witness our domestic differences on this important decision. There is a little baby-weaning chart and there is a mantra in this chapter: expose your children to everything. I suppose this is so they have appreciation for all foods as they get older and may prevent over-pickiness. There are a few recipes that appeal to me - and I mean, me, not my fictional children: Courgette Frittata, Veal, Liver and Bacon Mince Pie (apparently La Lawson has not found a child that dislikes this pie even though it contains liver), and Digestive Biscuits (these are hardy wheaten cookies that I grew up with, for they are my father's favourite cookie; it's great to have a recipe for them should I ever hanker for them and not be in New Zealand or any other part of the Commonwealth). Parents who are looking for standard dishes with a twist might find this chapter quite compelling.

Perhaps this is a biased review, for we have had this book for years, and it is a sentimental favourite. I do, however, hope the above hand-holding through the contents of the book more than suggests its utility. As is typical of Nigella Lawson's diplomatic manner, there are suggestions of what pairs well together and offerings of alternatives that encourage the reader to veer from her path. Additionally, there are dishes to create and summon for every occassion. If all else fails, there is, of course, her famously comforting and inspiring prose. Her voice, omniscient and encouraging, ensured my first forays into the previously-intimidating territory of the kitchen were successful. Because her recipes are drawn from years of experience and from all over the globe, I was willingly initiated along roads which up until then were unconsidered. Because of How To Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food), I discovered Claudia Roden and Paula Wolfert, and I have been set upon a path, still being laid, towards discovering my own palate, all the while being able to entertain for my nearest and dearest. I am confident this book will inspire you, too.

Chicken with Morels
(from the chapter One & Two of Nigella Lawson's How To Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food)

15g/ 1/4oz dried morels
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
4 chicken thighs
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons Marsala
1/2 stock cube (porcini or chicken)
1-2 tablespoons mascarpone

1) Place the morels in a measuring jug and pour hot (but not boiling) water over them, but no more than 200ml/6.7 fl. oz. Leave for 30 minutes.
2) Into a skillet, melt the butter and add the olive oil, then place the chicken thighs in, skin-side down. Make sure this is a skillet that has a lid, which will come into play later.
3) Remove the chicken thighs to a plate, skin-side up, when the skins are golden brown.
4) Over medium-heat and in the same skillet in which the thighs were browned, cook the onion and garlic.
5) Drain the morels, reserving the liquid, which you are to strain into a small saucepan. Heat the saucepan and keep the morel liquid hot.
6) Check the morels for any grit, then add them to the onion and garlic.
7) Put the chicken thighs back into the skillet, this time skin-side up, and add the Marsala.
8) Into the saucepan with the morel liquor, add the portion of stock cube and dissolve. Pour into the skillet with the thighs and cook until the thighs have cooked through, approximately 20-25 mintues.
9) Remove thighs to a warm plate and reduce the sauce, for which you can decide to remove the morels or keep them in the skillet. Push them to a side of the skillet away from the dominant hot spot if you keep them in the skillet, as I did.
10) Ladle out any fat before turning up the heat to high to reduce the sauce.
11) Stop when you have as much sauce as you like - generally, enough to coat the chicken thighs with a little for the merest hint of a pool. Turn off the heat.
12) Stir in the mascarpone. I only added 1 tablespoon, which provided enough creaminess for my tastes. You might like to add another. I also added a little more Marsala, following Nigella's suggestive lead.
13) Put the chicken thighs back into the skillet to cover with the sauce and then produce onto a plate, which you can fleck with finely chopped parsley.

For those who know me, this dish would evoke gasps as I usually detest mushrooms - don't ask me how many varieties I have tried. Though I am not fond of the texture of the morels - more for my angelheart Eric, then - I loved the morel poaching liquor. It was mildly sweet and without unusual earthy pungency, which I know some people happen to like. Immensely pleasurable and a cinch to make. Served wonderfully with brown rice and spinach sauted in olive oil and garlic.

Labels: Book Review, Chicken, Nigella Lawson

If I were still in New Zealand, I'm not sure that I would have participated in this month's Weekend Cookbook Challenge, for the theme is Red and White. What food has these colours during Winter? There is salsify, parsnip, and...what? Red onions maybe. And that is a bit of a stretch. Under the glorious Summer sun of Southern California, I find almost too much inspiration. Clearly, I am just difficult.




Reading Suzanne Goin's Sunday Suppers At Lucques has been a great ally in almost one year of cooking, and I purposely left it in the US for me to come back to. It was the first text I turned to for inspiration. I especially liked the sound of Ms. Goin's Roman Cherry Tart, though it technically falls under her Spring collection of menus, and I did not fancy making pastry - not yet anyway. The cherry compote sounded promising; it got the ball rolling.

For my first home-cooked meal back in the States - that I cooked, I mean - I did not want to miss out on using fennel, which is expensive and does not seem to be available all year in Auckland. And I have been having serious withdrawal issues. Roasted vegetables is a fabulous idea for a Summer lunch, but white vegetables? Ugh...I couldn't figure out what to do until I rummaged through the vials of spices...fennel seeds. Now we're talking.

I pretty much followed Ms. Goin's Sweet Cherry Compote, but used half the amount of cherries, more vanilla bean and kept the same amount of brandy (she suggests using grappa, too, if you happen to have any on hand). Of course, use whatever cut of meat you prefer - I'm just a thighs kinda guy. (Sorry, if you're vegan or vegetarian - you're on your own here.) We served these with a simple salad of mixed leaves (radicchio and romaine), walnuts, and a vinaigrette.

Sweet Cherry Compote
(From Suzanne Goin's Sunday Suppers At Lucques)

1/2 tablespoon cornstarch
1/2 tablespoon and 1/5 cup water
1 vanilla bean
1/5 cup sugar
1 pound cherries, pitted
2 tablespoons brandy

1) Make a slurry by stirring 1/2 tablespoon of water into the cornstarch. Reserve.
2) Split the vanilla bean, empty the innards out into a medium sized saucepan with a paring knife. Throw the now hollow pod in, too.
3) Add sugar (not in a mound, but scattered all over the base of the saucepan) and 1/5 cup of water.
4) Turn heat on to medium and cook the mixture without stirring.
5) When the mixture turns an amber colour, swirl the saucepan to ensure even colouring.
6) Once darker amber, add the cherries and swirl the pan.
7) Pour the brandy over the vanilla and caramel-slicked cherries, then turn down the heat to low, allowing the cherries to simmer and soften.
8) Take the cherries out with a small sieve and put them in a bowl. Keep aside.
9) Turn heat up to medium-high and stir the slurry into the juices. Keep stirring until liquid has thickened (approximately 90 seconds).
10) Pour liquid over the cherries, stir, and let cool. The cherries should hold their shape but will easily yield to the touch (or teeth!).

Pan-Fried Chicken Thighs with a Fennel Seed Crust

4 chicken thighs, approximately 1.25 pounds, at room temperature
2 tablespoons fennel seeds
1 teaspoon Kosher salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar

1) With a mortar and pestle, crush the fennel seeds, salt, and pepper, or at least until reasonably ground. You don't have to be perfect here if you don't mind munching on the odd whole seed or two.
2) Cover both sides of the chicken thighs with the fennel seed powder.
3) In a 10"/25cm frying pan, swirl in the olive oil and turn the heat up to high.
4) Put the chicken thighs in the pan, skin-side down.
5) Once the skin is golden, flip the thighs over. This could take 6-8 minutes.
6) Fry on the other side until the thighs are cooked all the way through, approximately 3 minutes.

This is a beautiful pairing. Sweet but not tooth-achingly so on account of the savoury dimensions of the fennel seeds. You can serve your glorious red cherry compote in a separate bowl for people to help themselves to or even serve it on the side of the chicken. Instead of crossing both knife and fork over to a pile of compote, I spread the compote around the chicken. This does not make for a glamourous presentation, but it ensures that I easily get a cherry half with each mouthful of chicken.

Labels: Cherry, Chicken, Suzanne Goin, Weekend Cookbook Challenge

Also known as "Butter Chicken," many non-Indians are introduced to the vast cuisine of the subcontinent through this New Delhi creation. The most likely reasons for its popularity are that there is no over-powering heat and that all the spices are subdued by the yoghurt in the marinade and the butter in the final sauce. I cannot tell you how many orders of this a great friend and I have had over the years. Today the sassy sauciere queen Lily has gone to New York City for two weeks, and I took it upon myself to learn how to make this dish so that we can enjoy it from the comfort of the couch in front of Sex and the City re-runs when we next meet up.

I was also drawn to this recipe because I learned that it includes a spice that I have never used before: fenugreek seeds. I was really curious to know what this spice tastes like, and now I know: curry. Seriously. Most Indian curries I have tried (though I am no authority on the subject) have evident notes of fenugreek. If you have never had a curry and are waiting to lose your murgh makhani virginity, fenugreek is like maple syrup but with peppery hits.

It is an odd remark, but - of all places - I drew my inspiration from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book. Found in his "Fast Cooking" chapter, his recipe comes from Indian sisters-in-law. My angelheart Eric scoffed at the notion of this being fast cooking; he noted, acerbically, that this obviously does not take into account the amount of time to take and return the spice vials. That being said, the actual cooking time is brief.

I made a few changes to the ingredients. I omitted green chillies but will include them in parentheses should you wish to use them. I did not have any mixed spice on hand (also known as pudding spice), but substituted 2 teaspoons of it for 1/2 teaspoon each of: cinnamon, nutmeg, coriander, and ginger. I used lemon juice instead of lime, finding it less acidic and more compatible with butter and chicken. Finally, I reduced the amount of butter from 125g/4.5oz to 100g/3.5oz. This serves four comfortably.

Murgh Makhani
(Adapted from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book)

750g/1.6lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts

For the Tikka marinade:
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons plain yoghurt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons garam masala
2 teaspoons chilli powder
2 teaspoons ground coriander
2 teaspoons mixed spice (or substitute as above)
2 teaspoons ground fenugreek
2 tablespoons fresh ginger, grated
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons groundnut (or sunflower) oil
(2-4 green chillies, finely chopped)

For the tomato sauce:
2 x 400g/14oz tins of chopped tomatoes plus their juice
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
2 cloves garlic, crushed
(1-3 small green chillies, finely grated)
5 cloves
1 teaspoon salt
175ml/6 fl. oz water

For the makhani sauce:
100g/3.5oz butter
2 teaspoons ground cumin
Tomato sauce (as above)
2 teaspoons tomato puree
4 teaspoons honey
150ml/5 fl. oz double/heavy cream
1 tablespoon ground fenugreek
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon ground black pepper

To prepare the chicken:
1) Mix the Tikka ingredients together in a large bowl.
2) Add the chicken to the bowl, rub Tikka in well.
3) Leave to marinate overnight or for about 6 hours.
4) Bring out of the fridge 30 minutes before roasting.
5) Preheat oven to 230 C/445 F.
6) Put chicken on a roasting dish with the marinade and cover with buttered foil.
7) Roast for 5 minutes, then turn down the heat to 200 C/390 F and roast for 20 minutes.
8) Once roasted, take out from oven and leave to rest.

To make the tomato sauce:
1) Put all the ingredients in a large pan and bring to the boil.
2) Once boiled, reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes.
3) Stir regularly. The sauce should thicken.
4) Push sauce into a bowl through a sieve, remember to include the sauce hanging on to the underside of the sieve. Discard remnants in the sieve.

To complete the makhani sauce:
1) Melt butter in a large pan.
2) Add cumin and let sizzle for 2 minutes.
3) Add the now-sieved tomato sauce.
4) Bring to a simmer, then leave for 5 minutes.
5) Add the rest of the ingredients.
6) Simmer gently, then stir occasionally until the sauce has thickened and is creamy, approximately 5 minutes.
7) Add chicken, which you can cut however you please; I cut mine into cubes.
8) Mix well and heat through, about 5 minutes.

While roasting the chicken, I made the tomato sauce. When the chicken was resting, I made the makhani sauce. Easily on the table within 45 minutes. I served the murgh makhani with a mound of plain boiled jasmine rice, but add whatever carbohydrate(s) you wish in order to soak up the brick-coloured sauce. Perfectly spicy to awaken one's tastebuds, and lusciously buttery to provide comfort and luxury.

Labels: Chicken, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, Indian

The theme of Weekend Cookbook Challenge # 16 is Something New. This is indeed a very relaxed theme, open to myriad interpretations. The dilemma for me was the angle to take with this theme: My most recent cookery book? A new ingredient? A Kiwi standard that I had not yet cooked? Whilst spending a very late night in bed after reading through yet another theoretical text to help orient the research for my master's thesis, cookery books up around my ears, open, half-opened, forming dangerous, sloping piles that threatened my existence with every change of position I made in bed, I came across a chapter in Silvena Rowe's Feasts: Food for Sharing from Central and Eastern Europe: the Boyar Table.

Intrigued? I was, too.

Though the boyars' supremacy ended in Russia in the 18th century when the Boyar Duma was abolished by Peter the Great, these highest-ranking military officials had wide-reaching power that extended to much of Central and Eastern Europe until the 19th century. Their power and wealth afforded them concomitant indulgence and opulence, propelling a revolutionary change in the culinary arts of this variegated region after bringing Western Europe's top chefs into the fray. You will have heard of chicken Kiev, beef Stroganoff, and veal Orloff - these were all created during this era of now classical cuisine.

I was drawn to Chicken Satsivi, a Georgian dish, because of the sauce, satsivi, which is a paste of walnuts, sauteed onions, coriander, and garlic, liquidized with a broth and perfumed with cinnamon and paprika. If you ask me, it was all too tempting, especially with the temperatures dropping in Auckland; a toasty, nutty sauce was both appealing and new - at least to me. According to Ms. Rowe, satsivi is the most popular sauce made in Georgian households, and it can accompany vegetables, fish, and turkey, in addition to chicken.

It took forever and a day to grind the walnuts because they bind together so quickly, so I suggest that you grind the paste's ingredients in small batches. If you do not have powdered marigold and are going to use saffron, steep it in hot water for 15 minutes first, which will colour the water wonderfully. This might actually give more warmth to the paste instead of just throwing it in with the chicken broth, like I did, consequently not making the resulting colour look very appetizing (brownish-grey).

The following recipe serves 4 (or 2 very hungry people!).

Chicken Satsivi
(from Silvena Rowe's Feasts: Food for Sharing from Central and Eastern Europe)

For the chicken:
10g or 1/3oz butter
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
4 chicken breasts, skinned and boned
salt and pepper

For the sauce:
25g or 1oz butter
1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped
300g or 10 1/2oz shelled walnuts
a small bunch of fresh coriander, chopped
4 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
1 small dried chilli pepper
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon powdered marigold or saffron
1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika
175ml or 6 fl oz chicken stock
60ml or 2 1/4 fl oz white wine vinegar
salt and pepper

Start with the sauce:
1) In a heavy non-stick pan, melt butter, then saute onion until translucent.
2) Place walnuts, coriander, garlic, chilli pepper in a blender and combine to a paste.
3) Add sauteed onions to the paste and pulse in the blender to combine.
4) Place paste in the pan, and over a low heat add cinnamon, marigold or saffron, and paprika. Mix well and then stir in salt and pepper.
5) Grudually stir in the chicken broth and finally stir in the white wine vinegar.
6) Cook on a low heat, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened, approximately 25 mins.

As the sauce is thickening, move on to the chicken breasts:
1) Over moderately high heat, melt butter in a frying pan and add the oil.
2) Salt and pepper both sides of the chicken breasts before browning in the frying pan. Brown in batches, approximately 2 minutes on each side, otherwise the breasts will steam and not caramelize properly. A 10" pan should contain all 4 average sized chicken breasts once browned.
3) Turn heat down to medium and slowly cook chicken breasts until done, approximately 15 minutes, turning halfway through.

If you would like the sauce to be thicker, simply add 1/2 tablespoon of flour, stir in well, and cook for another minute or so. This dish can be served either warm or cold. Simply slice the chicken breasts on the diagonal and pour the sauce over.

I know that the colour is not exactly hunger-inducing, but I have to say that the lingering taste of the sauce is interesting, haunting almost. There is a lot of mellow sweetness from the walnuts and garlic that is contrasted with the sharpness of the coriander and white wine vinegar. The palate gets a full workout, and this flavour profile is definitely something new to me.

Labels: Chicken, Silvena Rowe, Walnuts, Weekend Cookbook Challenge

  How does one recapture Paris at home? Plenty of cookery books have tried to answer this question, such as the most recent notable, Ina Garten's Barefoot in Paris, and Daniel Young's great recipe compilation of The Bistros, Brasseries and Wine Bars of Paris: Everyday Recipes from the Real Paris. I suppose it is really best to wait longer and see what comes to mind. For now though, my angelheart Eric and I miss going to the Coquelicot boulangerie in Montmartre and watching an old lady walk her strangely svelte German Shepherd every morning.

The food in Paris is much like any other city in that there are plenty of hits and misses, both categories in which we did well at striking. France really is known for its hearty fare, pastries (give me a religieuse - coffee or chocolate - any day, any time), and breads. Of course there are those dining institutions that step outside the bounds a little, such as: Fogón, a modern paella and tapas themed restaurant in the bustling Quartier Latin, which served an incredible paella valencia, redolent of pork and saffron; Pitchi Poï, a Jewish restaurant tucked away in a square in what is probably the best place for regular shoppers with a good eye (i.e. those not intent on taking out a second mortgage to shop on the Champs-Elysées or the Rue Saint Honoré), the Marais, which is famous for their blinis and vodkas...and I can vouch for their caramel vodka (!); and L'Écaille de la Fontaine near the gorgeous Opéra Garnier, which serves mostly seafood, so my angelheart Eric was incredibly satisfied - especially with his fat oysters. For traditional fare, the best places we went to were La Poule Au Pot, located near the Louvre, where one is served elegant and substantial mains (my angelheart Eric had a divine braised chicken with morrels, and for dessert I had the most gorgeous profiteroles with pistachio ice cream...Heaven!); and Le Repaire de Cartouche, whose creative chef offered, among other things, lamb terrine with figs and deer on mustard leaves and chanterelles.

The ingredients that most evoke French food to me are tarragon and leeks. So it is on the return from Paris that I use Jerry Traunfeld's fabulous The Herbal Kitchen to not only recreate a little bit of France but also to use as my submission to Weekend Cookbook Challenge #13, for which one is to use their latest acquired cookery book - well, it was the last one I acquired before going to Paris. Mr. Traunfeld's recipe calls for boneless, skinless chicken breasts, but I used bone-in, skin on chicken thighs, which I browned after sprinkling with kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper before embarking on the rest of the recipe. When using leeks, make sure to wash them properly because sand settles in the leaves. I chopped the leeks thinly then put them in a bowl of water to rest while the sand sunk to the bottom of the bowl and then repeated the process twice more.

Tarragon Chicken Thighs with Buttered Leeks
(from Jerry Traunfeld's The Herbal Kitchen)

2 cups thinly sliced leeks, white and green parts only
2 cups chicken broth
4 tablespoons (56.5g) butter
1 1/2 pounds chicken thighs (or boneless, skinless chicken breasts)
Kosher salt
black pepper, freshly ground
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons coarsley chopped tarragon

1) Put leeks in a large skillet with chicken broth and half of the butter and cook at a gently boil over medium heat until leeks are tender and the broth has boiled down such that the leeks are not completely submerged in the liquid.
2) If using boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sprinkle both sides with salt and pepper. If using chicken thighs, do as stated in paragraph preceding the recipe.
3) Place chicken on top of simmering leeks and spoon some of the leeks over the chicken.
4) Cover skillet tightly, reduce flame to low.
5) Check chicken for doneness, approximately 10 minutes if using boneless, skinless chicken breasts (15 minutes if the breasts are large), and 20 minutes if using bone-in, skin on, chicken thighs.
6) When the chicken is done, lift the pieces from the leeks and put on a warm platter.
7) Increase flame under leeks to high and stir in the lemon juice, remaining half of butter, and the tarragon. When the butter melts, taste the sauce and add salt and pepper according to your preference.
8) To serve: Pour leek sauce over chicken pieces.

I love the sharpness of the lemon and the creaminess of the leeks. I am glad that I decided to go with the chicken thighs because they gave a very light crunch, allowing for some play on the tongue; otherwise, it might have been too much like soft hospital food, however tasty.

Labels: Chicken, Jerry Traunfeld, Weekend Cookbook Challenge

Before the divine poetess Suzanne headed for Paris, she left my angelheart Eric and I with a few items she was afraid would "go off" while abroad. One of these items was buttermilk. I had never used it before but knew about its tanginess. Most buttermilk in the U.S. is of the cultured variety, whereby lactic acid is added to non-fat or low-fat milk, though there are some products in which the lactic acid has been added to whole milk, yielding a much creamier consistency.

 I had never heard of buttermilk before moving to the U.S., so I didn't know what to do with it. Upon its receipt, I recalled an episode of Barefoot Contessa in which Ina Garten marinated chicken pieces in buttermilk before lightly frying and oven-baking them. My angelheart Eric loves fried chicken, though he eats it infrequently, and he suggested we try it this healthier way. I pulled out Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Family Style and promptly set about making the chicken. The only adjustment I made was to the dredging flour to which, in addition to salt, I added Sichuan peppercorns and cumin. The quantities of the recipe serve 2-3.

Oven-Fried Chicken
(from Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Family Style)
1 chicken (1.5 pounds/almost 3/4 kg), or your favorite chicken pieces
1/2 quart buttermilk
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper (we didn't use this on account of the Sichuan peppercorns)
2 tablespoons Sichuan peppercorns, ground
1 tablespoon cumin, lightly toasted then ground
vegetable oil

1) Place chicken pieces in a large bowl and pour buttermilk over them.
2) Cover with cling film and refrigerate overnight.
3) Preheat oven to 350 F (180 C).
4) Combine flour, salt, pepper, or Sichuan pepper and cumin in a bowl; this is the dredging flour.
5) Take chicken out of buttermilk and coat each piece in the dredging flour and put aside.
6) Pour oil into a large heavy-bottomed pot (to avoid the splashing of oil over stove top) to a depth of one inch. Heat up to 360 F (185 C).
7) In batches, place pieces of chicken in the oil and fry for about three minutes on each side.
8) Place chicken on a metal baking rack set on a baking sheet, or place chicken on very lightly oiled aluminum lined baking sheet (but the chicken pieces will not turn out as crispy).
9) When all the chicken is fried, bake for 30-40 minutes, until the chicken is no longer pink inside.

In my humble opinion, if you do not add any herbs or spices to the dredging flour, then the chicken is pretty nondescript. The Sichuan peppercorns are quite lemony, and the cumin echoes that really well but on a lower, sort of background note, like a soothing double bass. They are great partners in crime for the dredging flour, giving the final product a little bite and a lot of soul.

The second recipe comes out a desire to enact a late-dawning realization: that I need a sweet hit in the late afternoon with my coffee. In my childhood this was known as afternoon tea. When I'd return home from a hard day at school (from primary right through to high school), there would be a homemade slice of cake or a cookie waiting for me. Once I was done with high school, I was pretty much done with afternoon tea - I was a grown up after all, or so I thought (but that's another story). In the last year or so I have noticed that I start craving for, what I thought was, something to eat at around 3pm. So, I'd just gorge myself on anything I could find: apples, bread, dried figs, walnuts...Sometimes the craving would be satisfied, sometimes it wouldn't. I slowly realized that it is a slice cake or a cookie, a hit of sweetness in a couple of bites, that satisfies the afternoon craving.

Now, back to the story at hand, I have heard of buttermilk being used in baking. For example, it is popularly used in pancake batter in Solvang, the former Danish town that acts as a gateway to Southern California's wine country. Whilst leafing through the (too?) many cookery books in my possession, I came across an interesting recipe in Tamasin Day-Lewis' Tamasin's Kitchen Bible. She, in turn, takes the recipe from Sally Clarke's repertoire. The only change I made was the substitution of pecans for walnuts, which I always seem to have on hand.

Sally Clarke's Buttermilk, Cinnamon and Pecan Cake
(from Tamasin Day-Lewis' Tamasin's Kitchen Bible)

8oz (225g) flour
salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
5oz (140g) sugar
5oz (140g) light muscovado sugar
2oz (55g) pecans (or walnuts in my case), chopped
5 fluid oz (150ml) vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda (bicarbonate of soda)
1 small egg
8 fluid oz (240ml) buttermilk

1) Heat oven to 325 F (170 C).
2) Mix flour with salt, cinammon, sugars, walnuts (pecans), and oil.
3) Mix in a separate bowl the baking powder, baking soda, egg, and buttermilk.
4) Add the buttermilk mixture to the flour mixture and combine until smooth.
5) Pour cake mix into a greased and lined tin and bake for approximately 40 minutes.
6) Test with a skewer, and if skewer is clean, then cool on a rack.

I love watching the cake deflate as it is cooling on a rack. For me, this very moist cake has satisfied the sweet late-afternoon cravings, but do not understand this to mean it is tooth-achingly sweet, for it is not. I love the crunch of the walnuts, the mild spice of the cinnamon, but most of all the moistness that the combination of buttermilk and vegetable oil imparts.

Labels: Afternoon Tea, buttermilk, Cake, Chicken, Ina Garten, Tamasin Day-Lewis

  One of the most warming aromas from the kitchen is the is the combination of garlic and rosemary - bolstering and soothing. My angelheart Eric could not survive without garlic, and, over the years, I find that I have often come to say "this needs more garlic". After a visit to the farmers' market on Friday, arms laden with garlic, we set about making a garlic-lovers' classic: 40-Clove Garlic Chicken, which is an opus in terms of the use of garlic: roasted, in a marinade, in a sauce...you really do use about 40 cloves of garlic...Heaven!

This dish requires a little preparation because timing is everything. You want the chicken, sauce, and roasted garlic all nice and hot. Each step, however, is really simple and the payoff is undeniable.

40-Clove Garlic Chicken
(from Andrea Froncillo and Jennifer Jeffrey's The Stinking Rose Restaurant Cookbook)

1 large chicken spearated into breast and leg pieces, approximately 2.5 pounds (you could, of course, just as easily just buy your favourite chicken pieces)
1 1/2 cups roasted garlic

For the marinade, combine together in a small bowl:
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons minced garlic
Leaves from 1 sprig rosemary, minced
salt and pepper

For the sauce:
1 cup dry red wine
1 shallot, quartered
4 cloves garlic, chopped
leaves from 1 sprig rosemary, minced
leaves from 2 sprigs thyme, minced
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup unsalted butter, cut into chunks
salt and pepper

To make the roasted garlic:
1) Preheat oven to 250 deg. f.
2) Combine 2 cups of garlic and 1 cup of olive oil in a heavy saucepan over low heat for 40 minutes, stirring once halfway through.
3) Transfer the garlic to a baking sheet and bake until golden brown and a bit wrinkly, approximately 20-30 minutes.

To make the marinade:
1) Combine ingredients in a bowl.

To bake the chicken:
1) Put chicken pieces into a resealable bag, pour the marinade into the bag and work hands over bag until liquid coats all the pieces. Alternatively, you could put chicken pieces in a bowl, pour the marinade over the pieces and use your hands to coat all of the pieces with the marinade, and then cover bowl with cling film.
2) Put either the resealable bag or cling film-covered bowl into the fridge for 1-3 hours.
3) Preheat oven to 350 deg. f.
4) Put chicken ina heavy baking dish and bake for 20 minutes.
5) Remove baking dish from oven, turn the chicken over and bake for a further 20 minutes, until skin is crackly and golden brown and chicken flesh is done.

To make the sauce:
1) In a heavy saucepan, combine wine, shallot, garlic, rosemeary, and thyme. Bring to a boiul over high heat, then decrease to medium-low and stir occassionally for 2-3 minutes.
2) Gradually stir in the cream and cook to reduce liquid by one-third, approximately 10 minutes.
3) Add butter in batches, stirring to melt.
4) Season with salt and pepper.
5) Pauce sauce through a fine-meshed sieve, cover, and set aside until chicken has come out of the oven.

To assemble:
1) Arrange the baked chicken pieces on a serving dish.
2) Pour the warm sauce over the chicken.
3) Sprinkle with roasted garlic cloves.

All the best for 2007!

Labels: Chicken

I happened to come across Suzanne Goin's cookery book, Sunday Suppers at Lucques: Seasonal Recipes from Market to Table, in my search for understanding and using seasonal ingredients in my cooking. I was getting tired of going to the supermarket because everything looks the same all year long, and anything that is considered organic costs an arm and a leg. Now that I go to the Long Beach Farmers' Market, I am able to purchase organic, seasonal produce that costs me no more than regular supermarket shopping for fruit and vegetables. Most people who read this blog are probably very serious foodies who do this already, but I have to say it has made a marked difference in the kitchen. I get such a buzz from knowing that what I make in the week is dependent on what is best at the market, instead of counting on supermarket regulars that quite often make me feel despondent.

Sunday Suppers at Lucques is organized by season, and though each dish does not necessarily require something unusual or unique to the season (as this one does not), each dish certainly captures the mood of the season. The braised chicken is as red as Autumn leaves, and the saffron onions and couscous are of the gorgeous orange and yellows that mark glorious autumnal sunsets. This meal begs you to eat it, and it is enough for six, or the night we had it, it was enough for a greedy three!

Braised Chicken with Saffron Onions and Couscous
(From Suzanne Goin's Sunday Suppers at Lucques: Seasonal Recipes from Market to Table)

For the braised chicken:

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
6 chicken legs with thighs attached
3 cloves garlic, smashed
1 tablespoon thyme leaves
2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley, sliced
1 chile de arbol, crumbled
2 teaspoons paprika
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup onion, sliced
1 cup fennel, sliced
2 bay leaves
1/4 cup tomatoes, chopped
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1/4 cup white wine
1/2 cup sherry
4 cups chicken stock
1/4 cup cilantro (coriander)

1) Toast cumin seeds in a pan for a few mintues until fragrant and lightly browned.
2) Pound cumin seeds in a mortar.
3) Repeat steps 1) and 2) with the coriander seeds.
4) Place chicken in large bowl with garlic, thyme, parsley, chile, cumin, coriander, and paprika. Toss chicken and spices together to coat chicken well.
5) Cover chicken and refrigerate at least 4 hours, but it is best if left overnight.
6) Season chicken with salt and pepper.
7) Preheat oven to 325 deg. f. (170 deg. c.).
8) Heat a large saute pan over high heat for 2 minutes.
9) Swirl in the olive oil and wait 1 minute.
10) Place chicken legs in saute pan skin side down and cook 8-10 minutes until golden brown and cripsy, occasionally swriling oil around the pan.
11) Turn chicken over, reduce heat to medium, and cook for 2 minutes.
12) Arrange chicken in a braising dish in one layer.
13) Pour off some fat and return saute pan to medium heat.
14) Add onion, fennel, and bay leaves, which are to be cooked for 6-7 minutes, stirred often until caremelized.
15) Add tomatoes and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring and scraping with a wooden spoon.
16) Add sherry vinegar, white wine, and sherry.
17) Turn up heat and reduce liquid to half.
18) Add chicken stock and bring to a boil.
19) Add cilantro and pour broth and vegetables over the chicken in the brasing dish, making sure the liquid does not entirely cover the chicken.
20) Cover the pan very tightly with plastic wrap and then aluminium foil.
21) Braise in oven for 1.5-2 hours.
22) To check for doneness, pierce chicken with a paring knife. Meat will give easily if done.
23) Turn oven up to 400 deg. f. (200 deg. c.), then transfer chicken to a baking sheet and return to oven to brown for 10 minutes.
24) Strain broth into saucepan, pressing down on the vegetables with a ladle to fully extract the juices.

For the couscous:

2.5 cups couscous
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley
Kosher salt and black pepper

1) Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil over high heat.
2) Add couscous and cook 8-10 minutes until tender but still al dente.
3) Drain couscous, return it to the pot, and toss with butter, parsley, and a pinch of pepper. Taste for seasoning.

For the saffron onions:

1 teaspoon saffron threads
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
5 cups onions, sliced
1 bay leaf
1 chile de arbol, crumbled
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1) Toast saffron threads in pan over medium heat until they are just dry and brittle.
2) Pound saffron with a pestle in a mortar to a fine powder.
3) Dab a tablespoons of butter in the powder, using butter to pick up the saffron.
4) Heat a large saute pan or Dutch oven over medium heat for 2 minutes.
5) Add olive oil, remaining butter, and saffron.
6) When butter foams, add onions, bay leaf, chile, thyme, 1.5 teaspoons salt, and some pepper, and cook for 8-10 minutes until the onions wilt.
7) Turn heat down low, and cook another 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until onions are sweet. Taste for seasoning.

As for the plating, the couscous forms the base, topped in the center with the saffron onions, onto which is placed the chicken. Ladle some of the juices over the chicken. The dish is nutty, spicy, sweet, fragrant...everything you could ever want on a cold Autumn's night.

Labels: Chicken, Suzanne Goin