There was chicken in the pot last night. Well, parts of chicken.

As I tweeted last night, near the end of this delicious simple meal, that doesn’t happen here very often, and, repeating something else I wrote, meals with chicken as good as this make me question my judgment.

I worked with the simple outlines of a Mark Bittman ‘recipe’ I’d used at least once before.

• four 6-ounce chicken thighs, the Cascun Farms‘ Cornish Cross breed, from Eataly Flatiron, rinsed, patted dry, and seasoned with sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a pinch or 2 of crushed dried habanada pepper, browned well on both sides in two tablespoons or so of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ inside a heavy antique high-sided copper pot, the pot covered and cooked over medium-low heat, turning occasionally, until the internal temperature was 155-165 degrees, or the juices run clear, this time taking slightly less than 15 minutes, transferred to plates resting inside my 1934 Magic Chef at the ‘slow oven’ setting, the door wedged ajar with the bamboo toast tongs that rest next to it, one minced ‘yellow shallot’ from Norwich Meadows Farm and about a fourth of a cup of white wine introduced to the pot, the heat raised to medium high and the liquid reduced until it had become a sauce, then more than a dozen chopped tarragon leaves from Flatiron Eataly added and stirred in, the sauce transferred to a glass sauce boat, from which some of it was poured over the chicken

• one bunch of sweet, absolutely delicious, slightly purple flat kale from Norwich Meadows Farm wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 halved and slightly bruised cloves of Windfall Farms ‘music’ garlic had first been allowed to sweat and begin to brown, the greens seasoned with salt, pepper, and a little more olive oil
• slices of ‘table bread’ from Lost Bread Company

There was a cheese course.

 

This time I mean it: Chicken, really good chicken like this, responsibly raised chicken, will show up on our table and on this blog more frequently in the future.

This one was was really delicious.

The excellent, very simple – and simply-outlined – ‘recipe‘ I used is from Mark Bittman.

• two 10-ounce chicken thighs, Cascun Farms‘ Cornish Cross breed, from Eataly Flatiron, browned well in two tablespoons or so of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ inside an oval enameled high-sided cast iron pot, then covered and cooked over medium-low heat, turning occasionally, until the internal temperature is 155-165 degrees, or the juices run clear, 15 to 20 minutes, transferred to plates resting on top of the hot oven (mine is a 1934 Magic Chef, with the oven above and to the left of the 4 burners, and so very useful for the purpose), one minced Camelot shallot from Quarton Farm and about a third of a cup of white wine added to the pot, the heat raised to medium high and the liquid reduced a little, and more than a dozen tarragon leaves form Stokes Farm, chopped, added and stirred in before the sauce was transferred to a glass sauce boat, from which some of it was poured over the chicken

• most of a small, very sweet ‘conehead’ cabbage (also known as ‘caraflex’ or ‘arrowhead’ cabbage) from Alewife Farm, washed, drained, and sliced crosswise into 1/2″ ribbons, sautéed in little more than a tablespoon of olive oil inside a large antique, high-sided heavy copper pot in a little olive oil along with two halved and chopped small to medium size leeks from from Hawthorne Valley Farm, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage had wilted but was still crunchy, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, adding also a little more than a teaspoon of toasted cumin seed and half of a teaspoon of Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar, the mix stirred and cooked for another couple minutes

• twelve ounces of small dragon carrots from Tamarack Hollow Farm, scrubbed, dried, halved lengthwise, tossed inside a bowl with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a teaspoon of ground Italian fennel seed and a bit of crushed orange/gold dried habanada pepper, arranged, not touching, on a medium size ceramic Pampered Chef oven pan, roasted at 400º for about 20 minutes, or until tender, arranged on the plates and garnished with a spray of long-stemmed pea shoots from Echo Creek Farm in the Saturday Chelsea Farmers Market

After the main course, there was a taste of a single very interesting cheese, one we’d never before experienced; it was delicious.

• Bobolink Dairy & Bakehouse’s cow’s milk Baudolino, with a seasonal twist, having been cured in pinot noir grape must
• a bit of Organic Valley butter
• thin slices of Bobolink’s ‘Flax Seed Armadillo’

 

 

• the wine throughout the meal was a California red, Sin Fronteras El Mechon California Red Blend 2017, from Naked Wines
• the music throughout was Michel Pignolet de Montéclair’s 1732  tragédie en musique, or tragédie biblique, ‘Jephté’, performed by William Christie and the Choir and Orchestra of Les Arts Florissants

So it was just chicken, but it seemed to me it would be a very good chicken. I also had the help of some wonderful foraged mushrooms.

It was very good chicken.

And there was excellent wine.

I had bought the wild mushrooms at the Union Square Greenmarket. I knew I wouldn’t be able to use them that night, but I hadn’t thought about what I would cook them with the next day until after I had left the square and was approaching 23rd Street. I realized I didn’t have anything suitable at home, but I was already some distance from the farmers’ market, so I checked out my local Flatiron district Eataly, where I found they had product, new to me, that it seemed a perfect candidate.

The peppers were also pretty special.

• two partially-boned Cascun Farm chicken thighs (a total of one pound) from Eataly, browned on both sides inside a heavy oval cast iron enameled pot (one with a secure cover) just large enough for the chicken in some olive oil, removed and set aside, a little butter added and melted, 3 whole Rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm; one small red onion from Norwich Meadows Farm, halved and broken up a bit; and some crushed dried dark habanada pepper added to the pot and heated over a moderate flame until the alliums had softened and colored, then nearly 4 ounces of foraged Wine-cap mushrooms [Stropharia rugosoannulata] from Windfall Farms, roughly chopped, tossed in, stirred, and allowed to soften, the chicken returned to the pot, about 1/4 cup of a proper white wine added (Quinta da Aveleda Vinho Verde 2016, which we have been enjoying as an aperitif) and brought to a boil, the heat lowered to a steady simmer, the pot covered and the chicken and the other ingredients cooked until all were tender, or about 40 minutes, served on a crusty slice of ’12 Grain & Seed Bread’ (organic wheat and whole wheat with 12 cracked grains and seeds) from Bread Alone, the chicken garnished with chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm [the recipe which inspired this, from ‘Chicken Parts, 12 Ways‘, one suggests spreading the softened garlic onto the bread before placing the chicken and the rest of the sauce on top, but I forgot]
• some ‘Mars’ (sweet, citrusy) French heirloom peppers from Campo Rosso Farm, cut once lengthwise, the seeds and membranes removed, sautéed over a high flame until slightly caramelized, one sliced Japanese scallion, a chopped section from a small Calabrian medium hot cherry pepper from Alewife Farm, and a pinch of crushed dark dried habanada pepper added near the end, the mix tossed with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper and sprinkled with some chopped summer savory from Ryder Farm, served with a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a terrific French (Chinon) red, Bernard Baudry ‘Les Grézeaux’ Chinon 2011, the gift of some wonderful friends
• the music was Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s 1693 tragédie mise en musique, ‘Médée’, composed with a libretto by Corneille, in a performance by William Christie and Les Arts Florissants

Chicken? Yeah, chicken.

I can’t remember ordering chicken in a restaurant, haven’t cooked chicken in ages, and haven’t cooked a chicken breast at least since starting this food post almost 8 years ago, but I’ve been thinking about the lowly bird for a while now. I’m also always interested in adding a new ingredient to my kitchen practice (especially if I don’t have to find room to store it), and I’ve been impressed with the current conversation about the current quality of chicken, when well sourced. I thought I’d give it another go.

I ignored the conventional wisdom, to which I had long subscribed myself, that dark meat is far preferable to white. I’m too contrary by nature to stay with the flow of almost anything for long, and I’ve been hearing murmurs from several sources that the distinction has been overvalued.

I did make at least one concession to ‘neo-hippie’ food trends by avoiding the ‘boneless breast of chicken’ protocol: My breast came with its original equipment, and stayed with it until after arriving on the plates.

It was fantastic.

The basic recipe is from Mark Bittman.

The chicken came from Zaid and Haifa’s Norwich Meadows Farm in Norwich, NY, and it was pasteur-raised, organic, never frozen, and, yes, still attached to the bone.

The vegetable, a radicchio, was from Campo Rosso Farm, whose origins are very closely linked with this gorgeous chicory.

• a glazed ceramic pan only large enough to hold the halves of a 20-ounce full chicken breast, with bone, from Norwich Meadows Farm (divided at home with, well, chicken shears), heated, with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, for 2 or 3 minutes inside a 425º oven, removed, and the breasts, first rolled in a mixture of chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm, chopped mint and garlic from Stokes Farm, and one wonderful chopped heatless Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, returned to the oven for about 15-20 minutes, or until just cooked through, turning once or twice, finished on the plates with some of the herb not included earlier, and topped with ‘Bull’s Blood’ micro beets from Windfall Farm
• one medium radicchio from Campo Rosso Farm, quartered, placed in a medium unglazed ceramic oven pan (Pampered Chef, well-seasoned), drizzled with olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper, roasted at 400º (more like 425º this time, because of the chicken’s demands) for about 15 minutes, turning once, finished with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar, and, scattered with shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano Vacche Rosse from Buon Italia
• the wine was a very special German (Pfaltz) red, Weingut Friedrich Becker Pinot Noir 2010, which appears to not be available anywhere, but there’s more information here
• the music was Wagner’s ‘Der Fliegende Holländer’, Giuseppe Sinopoli conducting the Berlin Deutsche Oper Orchestra and the Deutsche Oper Chorus, with Cheryl Studer, Bernd Weikl, Placido Domingo, Peter Seiffert, and others

Rarely do I post about lunch, mostly because we don’t usually make much of a deal about midday meals at home, but when I assemble something out of leftovers and other things I might have on hand – especially if there may be some lesson in it, for me at least – I’m tempted to share it.  For it to happen, of course, the picture also has to be presentable.

I started out only wanting to put together a quick meal for the two of us, but the soup which resulted was even more delicious than it deserved to be under the circumstances.

I know that I’m supposed to cook everything from scratch, and as much as possible with local ingredients, but this was just lunch.  Never underestimate the usefulness, or goodness, of Knorr leek mix.  I’ve had a soft spot for the company, founded in 1838 to make a coffee substitute, since I was living in Hanover in 1961.  I think part of my fascination with the rudimentary German supermarkets at the time might have been the discovery that there was such a thing as Ersatzkaffee, but I’m not certain it was Carl Heinrich Theodor‘s product I knew then.  Today the Knorr brand is owned by Unilever.  I go for long stretches not thinking about it, but then I’ll  spot the tidy icon in a store, and I melt just a bit.  I don’t know what I had in mind when I bought the firm’s leek mix packets perhaps a couple years ago, but the last one came in very handy today.  The fact that the dry mix tasted as good as it always does/did probably helps explain it’s usefulness – and popularity.

• a package of Knorr ‘Leek recipe mix’ I had found in the larder, simmered for five minutes and with two and a half cups of chicken broth made with Better Than Bullion chicken base (another kitchen savior, as are the company’s beef and vegetable versions), after which I added some wilted Golden Beet greens which I had left over from a dinner I made three days before
• slices of a crusty loaf of Trucio from Sullivan Street Bakery
• the beverage was a cold pitcher of still New York tap water