Chicken
Little
Still on the
poultry theme…
In 1963,
gallantly flying the flag for real food and proper cookery methods in the
wasteland of a largely indifferent New Zealand, Graham Kerr wrote:
“‘CHOOKS’
“Chickens, at the time of writing this book, are not frequently served
in most Australasian homes. This is a pity, not so much from the obvious
variety point of view, but because when chicken is eaten the desire to
experiment is reduced by the equally powerful desire to avoid ‘making a mess of
it’ and thus waste a considerable sum of money. Because of this, the most often
used method of cooking chicken is that of roasting, and roasting is the most
expensive of all cookery procedures. Hence the circle is complete. Chicken is—ipso facto—a luxury.”
(Graham Kerr. Entertaining with Kerr. Rev. ed., Wellington, A.H. & A.W. Reed,
1966 (first published 1963))
It’s such a standard these days. Funny to
think we only had chicken as the greatest treat when I was growing up in New
Zealand in the 1950s: roasted, for Christmas dinner, and sometimes for New Year’s
Day. Chooks cost, as Graham Kerr says, “a considerable sum of money.” These
weren't the battery-raised birds we know today, but what we’d call free-range
these days. Much tastier and much, much leaner: in fact the earlier cookbooks
all tell you to lard &/or bard a chicken for roasting, or possibly, if a
younger one, to slather it in butter.
We’d
been in our house in Hauraki on Auckland’s North Shore for some time by the
time we got frozen chooks. We moved there when I was about 16, in 1960, I think.
Chicken was still very dear, as Graham Kerr says; I remember having roast
chicken for Christmas in that house, too, sitting at the long table crammed
into the dinette, separated off from the cooking area by a bank of tall cupboards
that Dad had misguidedly put in practically the minute we moved in, thus making
the kitchen proper very dark. It was some years later that frozen chickens
became readily available in New Zealand.
Ironically, by the time I left NZ for
Australia in the late Eighties, Mum and Dad were practically living off “roast
chicken”: done in a so-called roasting bag in the oven, so in actual fact steamed,
and then eaten with all the skin then taken off it, into the bargain. Mum’s claim
was she couldn’t digest the skin (possibly one of the factors necessitating
that fibre supplement), and Dad wasn’t allowed to have it because it was too greasy
in the wake of that gall bladder operation (25 years earlier, no kidding). Yeah,
well. It matched the plain boiled (peeled
and boiled) potatoes and the frozen peas, true. Presumably by this time their
tastebuds weren’t working at all—seventy-odd years of discouragement would tend
to do that—because Mum had developed a mania for scrubbing out her pots and
pans with Vim. The result being that the boiled potatoes and peas tasted discernibly
of Vim, at least to me.
By this time they were all frozen chooks,
of course. It’s not the far-off glow from Christmas itself nor my imagination that
the modern ones are practically tasteless in comparison to the ones we used to
eat at Christmas. I have managed to afford a tasty free-range chicken once or twice
since—not from my local Foodland supermarket in Thebarton, though, since the
day I caught them crossing out the “use by” date with an indelible black felt
marker pen. Free-range is what those Christmas chickens were, which is why they
had some taste, and didn’t need
slathering in brown dye like the takeaway ones today.
I’ve got well
over two hundred recipes for chicken in my database, but only a few favourites.
So I’ll spare you the historical dissertation this time round, and just give
you some of the ones I like best. Plus some interesting vintage chicken
illustrations!
An Oldie But A
Goodie – à la française
There are
loads of recipes for Coq au vin, and
the cognoscenti argue about what’s proper and what isn’t, but this is the version
I like. It’s quite easy; the only fiddly bit is peeling the pickling onions.
Coq au Vin
1
chicken; 1/2 bottle of red wine (e.g.
Shiraz);
2
rashers of bacon; 12 button mushrooms;
12
small (pickling) onions; 1 clove garlic;
a
bouquet garni; 90-100 g butter or
margarine;
1
scant dessertspoon sugar (optional);
salt and pepper
1. Cut up the chicken: wings, two pieces of
breast, thighs and drumsticks. Cut the bacon into dice.
2. Heat a saucepan or a deep, lidded frying-pan
or electric frypan over moderate heat, and
fry the bacon in the butter.
3. Add the pieces of chicken and brown them
all over.
4. Remove the chicken and bacon and put in
the onions (whole, peeled) and mushrooms. Cook until the onions begin to brown.
5. Return the chicken and bacon to the pan, with
the garlic, chopped, the bouquet garni and salt and pepper. Add the wine and
the sugar, if using.*
6. Cover and simmer on medium-low heat for
3/4 hour to an hour (the longer time if it is a large chicken).
To serve, remove the bouquet garni and serve
hot.
Serves 4-6.
* At this point the original recipe adds a
small glass of brandy and flambés it. Personally I don’t fancy setting myself
and the kitchen on fire. The dish tastes good without it. The sugar is my
addition: to me, it compensates for the omission of the brandy and just takes
the edge off the wine, which otherwise I find makes the dish too tart.
(Adapted from: Robin McDouall. Robin McDouall’s Cookery Book for the
Greedy. Harmondsworth, England, Penguin Books in association with Michael
Joseph, 1965. (First published as: Collins
Pocket Guide to Good Cooking. London, Collins, 1955))
Sour and Spicy
Try this dish
if you like the occasional sour treat. The original uses the famous North
African salted lemons, but I can’t take that much salt, so I just tried lemon qua lemon. It’s become one of my
favourites: I often make it. It’s nice with warm burghul or couscous just
lightly drizzled with olive oil, and a green vegetable or salad.
Moroccan-Style
Chicken with Lemon and Green Olives
1 chicken or about 1 kg chicken pieces (bone
in);
1 to 2 onions, sliced; 1 or 2 cloves garlic,
chopped fine;
1 teaspoon turmeric; 3/4 teaspoon cumin powder;
1 1/2 teaspoons coriander powder;
1 tablespoon coarsely ground black pepper;
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon chilli powder or cayenne;
12 to 16 green or black Spanish olives;
1 Lisbon lemon (not a Mayer); 4 tablespoons olive oil
1. Firstly, cut the lemon in half lengthwise
on a plate. Remove any pips. Then slice each half crosswise into about six
slices, preserving all the juice.*
2. Joint the chicken, remove any excess fat,
dry well. In a deep lidded frying pan or large electric frypan on medium heat,
brown the chicken pieces in the olive oil with the onion and garlic.
3. Add the black pepper and other spices, and
stir well. Add the olives and the sliced lemon, plus any juice from it.
4. Put in enough water to come about halfway
up the chicken. Bring to the boil.
5. Turn the heat down to medium-low, cover
and simmer. Add a little more water if it dries out too much. The result should
be a stew with some gravy but not too much. The chicken should be very tender and
falling off the bones. Takes about 1 hour, or 1 1/2 if you use chicken
drumsticks.
* If you prefer a less bitter dish, use only
the lemon skin and the flesh: peel finely or remove all the yellow outer skin
with a zester; retain. Halve the lemon and slice as in the recipe, and then cut
all the white rind off the slices and discard it.
You can vary
the amount of onion and spices to suit but the main point of this dish is that
while the chicken is almost creamy in texture, the lemon and olives with the
spices add a real wow factor.
If you prefer it less salty (especially if
you’re using green olives), the day before pour boiling water over the olives.
Leave for at least an hour, drain and repeat the process. Then soak in the
fridge overnight. Next day, drain very well before using. I read this tip in an
English book and didn’t believe it, but actually the olive flavour comes
through better this way.
The recipe is directly inspired by a
Moroccan one. And possibly indirectly by my North African heritage via a Spanish ancestor. When Mum had her
op the doctor looked at the way the scar had healed, with the sort of cicatrice
seen in African tribal markings, and asked her a trifle anxiously if she had
Polynesian blood—the natural assumption if you grew up in New Zealand. He was relieved
when she said “No,” because that meant there was no risk of her and us kids all
being prone to some horrid thing that he’d need to check us for (I can’t recall
what it was). On thinking it over she decided the fabled Spanish great-grandmother,
or whatever she was, wasn’t a fable after all and that we must have Black
African blood through her. I guess it isn’t impossible, and it would explain my
taste for spicy food, but on the other hand Mum always loathed anything even
faintly spicy! So there you are.
For a Special
Treat—Forget the Cholesterol, For Once
This tarragon
chicken recipe is another one of Robin McDouall’s. His original uses a stock
made from the carcass of the chicken. However, I’ve done this with water
instead and the result is fine.
Poulet sauté à l’estragon
1
chicken; a bunch of tarragon;
1
onion; 1 dessertspoonful of flour;
1 glass
of white wine; 1/2 cup of stock or water;
1/2
cup of cream; 3 oz [80 g] butter; salt & pepper
Cut the chicken into eight pieces: two wings,
two thighs, two breasts. Sauter them in butter till they begin to colour,
turning them over so that they cook all round. As they brown, take them out and
keep them hot.
Chop the onion and add it to the butter and
cook until it gets soft. Stir in the flour. Add the white wine, the stock or
water, and most of the leaves of the tarragon, chopped finely. Season and
reduce slightly on a high heat.
Return the chicken to the pan (preferably a
lidded frying-pan or an electric frypan). Cover and cook on medium heat for
twenty minutes.
Take out chicken and keep warm on a serving
dish in a low oven.
If the sauce seems very liquid, bring it to
the boil and then cook on a high heat until it reduces.
Turn down the heat to low. Add the cream and
stir gently until heated through and slightly thickened. Do not allow to boil.
Add the remaining leaves of tarragon, roughly
chopped. Pour over the pieces of chicken.
Serves 4.
(Adapted from: Robin McDouall. Robin McDouall’s Cookery Book for the
Greedy. Harmondsworth, England, Penguin Books in association with Michael
Joseph, 1965. (First published as: Collins
Pocket Guide to Good Cooking. London, Collins, 1955))
A lovely,
delicate dish for a special dinner. Make sure the white wine you use is not
over-oaked, like many of the Australian whites, or it will ruin the dish.
A Tribute to
D.L.S.: For Lovers of the Detective Novel & The Chicken Casserole
This is my
own recipe, inspired by D.L Sayers’s description of the fatal meal served to
the victim in Strong Poison. (It
wasn’t in the casserole!)
The turnip is essential to this very English
and strangely delicate dish:
Chicken Dorothy
May be casseroled in the oven, or stewed in a
heavy saucepan, electric frypan or slow cooker. I prefer it casseroled.
1
chicken; 1 onion; 1 large carrot;
1
piece of Swede turnip, about the same bulk as the carrot;
few
sprigs fresh thyme; 1 bay leaf; 1 to 2 cups water;
1
tablespoon flour or cornflour; 2
tablespoons butter or oil;
1/2
teaspoon black pepper; 1/2 teaspoon salt
1. Joint chicken and remove as much fat as
possible. Peel and slice onion. Peel carrot and Swede and cut them into pieces
about 4 cm long and 2 wide. If intending to use the oven, put it on at a
low-to-medium heat.
2. Heat the butter or oil in a heavy
saucepan, an electric frypan or a frying pan on moderate heat.
3. Fry the chicken pieces a few at a time until
just lightly browned. Remove. If using a slow cooker or casserole dish, put
them in it.
4. Fry the onions until just golden but not
browned. Remove.
5. Add 1 cup water and stir well, scraping up
any pieces that have stuck to the bottom.
6. Put all ingredients except flour/cornflour
and the 2nd cup water in the pot in which you intend to finish the cooking,
distributing the vegetables evenly round the chicken.
7. For a slow cooker, add 1/2 cup water; for
other methods, add 1 cup.
8. Cover with lid and cook on low-to-medium
heat for 3/4 hour (stove top, electric frypan or oven) or on low for 6 hours
(slow cooker).
9. To thicken the sauce: mix the flour or
cornflour with a tablespoon of water and then add a tablespoon of the chicken
liquid to it, stirring well. Add this to the stew and mix in well. Close the
lid and cook for a further 20 to 30 minutes, or another 1 to 2 hours in the
slow cooker, until tender.
Serve hot, removing the herbs before serving.
Serves 4-6.
Back to the
Future? Kitschy but Yummy!
Okay, it’s kitschy,
and it probably dates from the mid-Sixties, or even the Fifties, when we didn’t
know from cuisine. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it! On a hot day, this cold
chicken dish is a winner for a special lunch.
Cold Curry of Chicken
1 frying chicken, about 3 lbs [1 1/2 kilos]
cut up, plus 1 extra whole breast or 2 thighs;
2 onions, thinly sliced; 1 cup finely chopped celery (optional);
1 teaspoon lemon zest; about 1 tablespoon curry powder**
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger; 1 1/2 cups chicken stock;
1 envelope gelatine; 1 cup cream;
lemon juice;
2 tablespoons butter or light oil; salt & pepper
Pat chicken dry with paper towels. Brown lightly
in 2 teaspoons butter or a light cooking oil in heavy pan. Remove to a bowl and
season with salt and pepper.
Heat remaining butter, add onions, cook on medium-low
till soft, and remove. They should be only lightly browned at most.
Stir curry powder, ginger and grated lemon
zest into drippings and cook for a few moments.
Add the cooked onions, the chicken and any
chicken juices. Pour in 3/4 cup chicken stock, cover tightly and simmer 45 mins
to 1 hour, or till tender.
Cool slightly and strip chicken in large
pieces from bones. Remove fat and skin. Lay breast slices in bottom of a glass
loaf pan or oval mould. Alternate rest of chicken with finely sliced celery, if
desired.
Skim the remaining onion mixture of excess
fat. Then stir well, making sure you get any drippings from the bottom of the
pan, and puree in blender a few seconds or till smooth. Return to the pan and warm
on a low heat.
Sprinkle gelatine on the mixture and stir
over low heat till dissolved.
Take off the heat, and add cream and a little
lemon juice. Pour over chicken in mould and refrigerate overnight.
Turn out on serving platter.
Serves 8.
(Possibly from Woman’s Day (U.S.), late 1960s.)
** If you can’t find a mild and pleasant
curry powder, try using 1 teaspoon of turmeric powder and making up the rest of
the tablespoon with the mixture below. The cumin seed helps gives it that
“curry powder” taste, but it avoids the fenugreek which dominates many
commercial curry powders.
Garam Masala
Grind together 4 parts black peppercorns, 4
parts coriander seed, 3 parts cumin seed or fennel seed, 1 part cloves, 1 part
cardamom seed, 1 part cinnamon.
(Jack Santa Maria. Indian Vegetarian Cookery. London, Rider, 1973)
The dish
isn’t curry, no, it’s completely ersatz, but boy, it’s yummy!
Rice with Your Chicken?
I haven’t included
my favourite Indian rice and chicken dish here. It’s “Pullao with Chicken”: you’ll
find it in the earlier blog entry, “The Silver-Leaf Pullao.”
A Quick and
Easy Touch of the Ol’ Southwest
Five minutes
and you’ve got a spicy, yummy plateful with my Tex-Mex-inspired favourite for
cold chicken leftovers. If you’ve bought some fresh coriander for another dish
and can’t think what to do to use it up, add it to finish.
Easy-Peasy Chicken Tortillas
Per person:
leftover
cold chicken, e.g. 1/2 breast;
1
corn or wheat tortilla; 1/4 cup shredded
lettuce;
2
tablespoons grated cheese or Ricotta;
3/4
teaspoon smoked paprika; 1/2 teaspoon
cumin powder;
3/4
teaspoon dried marjoram or oregano;
pinch
chilli powder or cayenne; 2 tablespoons
olive oil
Fry the tortilla in 1 tablespoon oil over medium-high
heat. When crisp and browning round the edges with bubbles forming in the
centre, turn over (it should be dotted with brown spots) and fry on the other
side till crisp. Remove from pan, and drain on kitchen paper.
Add 2nd spoonful of oil to pan with spices
and herbs (I prefer marjoram, which is sweeter) and stir gently for a few
seconds. Put in chicken, stir gently to coat with spice mixture and fry on one
side till warmed through. Turn over and quickly do the other side. Take care
not to get the pan too hot or the spices will burn.
To plate up: put the cheese on top of the
warm tortilla, add shredded lettuce and chicken, plus a drizzle of the spicy
oil from the pan, and serve at once.
The effect is quite different according to
whether you choose Ricotta or grated cheddar, but both are yummy.
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