How to Braise a Chicken

Well, I finally did it -- I announced Things with Wings. This latest addition to our class list is supposed to teach you everything you ever wanted to know about poultry but were afraid to ask.

Developing a new class also has a wonderful side effect of providing me with blogging material (or more precisely with a deadline). I can no longer procrastinate writing down these recipes, so I might just as well blog about them.

Today's topic will be how to braise chicken, which very conveniently applies to braising duck too. What is braising? Braising is a combination cooking method: first you brown the protein and then you cook it in liquid. There is an insane amount of braising chicken recipes in this world: coq au vin, chicken Provençal, chicken with 40 garlic cloves, chicken Cacciatore, Moroccan chicken tagine, etc. Most of the recipes I've seen for these dishes provide mediocre results: flabby skin and tough dry meat. Their only saving grace is the sauce.

Is it possible to make braised chicken that's all about the chicken? Turns out it is, but it took a bit of work to figure it out.

How to solve the dry meat problem:
Don't use breasts! Would you braise a beef tenderloin? No, not even the most idiotic of cookbooks would suggest that. But for some strange reason, most braising recipes suggest that you cut up the chicken into 8 pieces and cook legs and breasts together. Chicken breasts have no connective tissue or fat making them a terrible choice for a braise. Just like you wouldn't put tenderloin and chuck into one stew pot, you shouldn't put poultry breasts and legs into one stew pot either. The reason for braising a whole chicken is historic (or at least that's my best guess). If you wanted to braise a chicken in the old days, you had to buy a whole chicken at the market or kill one from your own backyard. Finding two different chicken preparations for legs and breasts when you had a large family to feed was simply not practical. But since it's very easy to go to the store and buy only legs or only breasts these days, why not use this to our advantage?

How to solve the tough meat problem:
Assuming you are using chicken legs, you are not likely to end up with dry results, but can easily end up with tough ones. Chicken legs need a good long time to become tender, and indirect heat, but most recipes tell you to cook them "just until done" and to use a stove top. That doesn't do braised chicken justice. I found that the optimal way to cook them (after you browned on the stovetop and assembled your sauce) is in the oven at a gentle 325F heat for about an hour or until they are fork tender. Don't be alarmed if your thermometer registers 190-200F (not the usual 170F you expect to see in done chicken legs). That's the point at which the connective tissue melts and leaves you with the most tender results.

How to solve the flabby skin problem:
Oh, this has been the thorn in my side for years. No matter what I did, it seemed impossible to keep the skin crisp. I tried re-crisping it in the skillet or under the broiler when the braise was done, but results were never satisfactory. The answer finally came from my culinary heroine Judy Rodgers, the author of the Zuni Cafe cookbook. Only submerge the chicken in the sauce half way to make sure the skin stays above the liquid. Oh Judy, I love you! Finally, it's braised chicken skin that actually tastes good. I know what you must be thinking -- why not just remove the skin? Sure, you can do that, but I want my skin and I want to eat it too :)

Another tip from Judy Rodgers is to pre-salt the chicken 1-3 days in advance. It makes it way more flavorful and in my opinion improves the texture too. Though that's not just a tip for braising chicken, but cooking chicken in general.

That's all there is to it, and we are ready to braise.



Moroccan inspired chicken braise

Serves 6

6 chicken legs, cut into thighs and drumsticks (or 12 chicken thighs)
1 Tbsp + 1 tsp kosher salt (or 2 tsp table salt) or less if using chicken stock with salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cardamom
2 Tbsp canola or olive oil
2 medium yellow onions, sliced pole to pole
1 Tbsp + 1 tsp all-purpose flour
4 garlic cloves, finely minced
1 inch ginger, peeled and finely minced
1/2 preserved lemon (a.k.a Moroccan lemon), pulp removed, skin rinsed, and sliced paper thin
12 green olives, pitted and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup golden raisins
2 and 1/2 cup chicken stock (plus more as needed), if possible home-made, unsalted

Salting the chicken (if possible, do this 1-3 days in advance)

1. Press the chicken pieces between paper towels to dry and sprinkle with salt on all sides.
   
2. If possible let the chicken air-dry in the fridge for a day to help the skin crisp as it cooks. To do that, arrange it in a single layer on a rimmed cookie sheet skin side up and let sit in the fridge uncovered. If you don't have room in your fridge for this, just pile it all into a zip lock bag.
   

Browning the chicken:

1. Preheat oven to 325F.
   
2. Press the chicken pieces between paper towels to dry before searing. Mix pepper, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, and cardamom and sprinkle all over chicken.
   
3. Set a large (if possible NOT non-stick) skillet over medium high heat and add the oil (1 Tbsp for 10 inch skillet, 2 Tbsp for 12 inch). When the skillet is hot, add chicken pieces skin-side down without overlapping (if your skillet is not large enough, do this in batches). Do not disturb the chicken for at least 5 minutes. Regulate heat so that the chicken is making sizzling noises, but is not burning. When the first side is brown, flip the chicken to brown briefly on the other side. You'll have to rotate drumsticks more than 1 time to brown them on all sides.
   

Making the sauce and braising:

1. Remove the chicken to a large plate and add the onions to the skillet. Turn down the heat to medium and cook stirring occasionally until tender, 8-10 minutes. Add garlic and ginger and cook stirring constantly until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add flour and cook stirring constantly until no streaks remain, at least 1 minute. Add stock, olives, and preserved lemon. Bring to a simmer stirring constantly.
   
2. If you are working in a large skillet that can fit all chicken pieces in 1 layer, put the chicken pieces into the skillet skin-side up. If your skillet is not large enough to fit all the chicken, pour the sauce into some baking dish (like 13 by 9 inch pyrex) and set the chicken on top. The liquid should come half way up the chicken pieces. Be careful to keep most of the skin above the liquid. If it looks like you have too much liquid, take some out. You can simmer it in a small pot and use it as extra sauce. If you don't have enough liquid, add some stock.
3. Place the dish with chicken in the middle of the oven for 1 hour or until chicken is fork tender.
   
4. Remove chicken pieces to a serving dish, tilt the pan, and skim off excess fat. Serve with rice or couscous.

Leftovers keep very well. To warm up, lightly brown chicken pieces skin-side down in a little bit of butter using a non-stick skillet. Flip, add sauce, and simmer on medium-low until heated through.

Would you like some mussels with your grit?

I'll put up with almost any unwanted element found in food if I can remove it: feathers on chickens, worms in fish, bugs in vegetables, or dirt caked onto really good potatoes you get at the farmers' market. But grit inside the mussels drives me nuts, and as much as I love mussels, I haven't cooked them for over a year after a terrible experience with mussels on the Cape. The guy swore that all I have to do is rinse them!!!

What's so annoying about the grit inside the mussels is that it's INSIDE! I've tried every trick known to man to get rid of it: soak them in salted water, soak them in salted water with cornmeal -- nothing really worked. Unfortunately, grit is one of those things I just don't tolerate, and it's not ok to remove most of it, I need to remove absolutely all of it to make mussels worth eating. Finally, I think I have a solution. Here are 3 things that worked for me:

1) Buy farm-raised mussels.
They are farmed on ropes that are raised above the ocean floor minimizing the amount of grit that gets into them. Most of them come from Prince Edward Island and are sold as P.E.I. mussels. For years fishmongers told me that wild mussels are tastier than P.E.I. (supposedly more flavor). For years I believed them. But after trying both types repeatedly, I actually prefer P.E.I. They are plumper and way less gritty. I am not sure about the flavor difference, but I'll gladly trade some flavor for less grit.

2) Clean mussels thoroughly.
Fishmongers always try to downplay this part. My guess is they don't want to discourage us from cooking mussels. I had fishmongers tell him that farm-raised mussels need absolutely no cleaning. "Just put them in the pot right out of the bag!" Even with farm-raised mussels that doesn't work. Here is how I store and clean them. When you bring mussels home, put them in a bowl, cover with a wet towel and put in the fridge until ready to use. This ensures that they can breath, but don't dry out. When you are ready to cook your mussels, cover them with cold water in a bowl and agitate with your hands. There is no need to add salt to water. A few minutes in fresh water won't kill them (though prolonged soak without salt will). Scoop out the mussels with your hands into another bowl and pour out the gritty water. Repeat until the water is not gritty any more. You can simplify the process by using a salad spinner as long as you wash it thoroughly afterwords. Don't spin your mussels dry, but the holey insert makes removing them out of the water easy.

3) Check the mussel liquid for grit
When your mussels are clean, put them in a pan that is large enough to give them room to open while the pan is covered. Don't use a non-stick skillet if you don't want the mussel shells to scratch your Teflon coating. There is no need to add water since mussels will release their own incredibly delicious liquid, but a splash of white wine can be good. Set the pan over high heat, cover, and wait for the mussels to open. This can take 3-5 minutes, and it's important not to overcook them. I start checking them at 3 minutes and check every 30 seconds after that. Once the mussels open, remove them to a bowl leaving the liquid in a pan. Carefully pour the liquid over them, leaving the grit (if any) in the pan.

I know what some of you are thinking. "What about shallots, garlic, tomatoes, or other fun flavorings?" Most recipes start by having you cook some aromatics in the pan before adding mussels. That's all good as long as there is no grit in your mussels. Otherwise those lovely tomatoes will be gritty and there is no way to take the grit out at that point without removing all those delicious aromatics that you probably wanted to eat. A more labor intensive approach, but a safer one is to cook all your aromatics in another skills. When your mussels are ready, pour their liquid over the aromatics being careful to let any grit stay on the bottom of the pan where the mussels cooked. Boil the aromatics with the mussel liquid for 30 seconds or so and pour over your mussels.

You can flavor mussels with almost anything. Here are some ideas:

1) shallots, white wine, garlic, parsley (save to sprinkle in the end)
2) shallots, garlic, chilies, coconut milk, lime juice, cilantro (save to sprinkle in the end)
3) shallots, garlic, tomatoes, basil (save to sprinkle in the end)

I am sure you can find recipes galore on-line and now that you know how to avoid grit, there is nothing to stop you from trying all those cool ideas. One thing I love to do is to swirl a piece of butter into the mussel liquid before pouring over the mussels. Oh, and go easy on salt. Mussel liquid is naturally salty, so taste before adding more.

Crème fraîche at home

Remember my ricotta experiment and my quest for farmer's cheese? Well, I have a confession to make. I cheated. I found a very decent farmer's cheese in a local Russian store and thus my quest for malolactic fermentation died a sad death. Except for one thing... I started making my own crème fraîche inspired by Diana at Off the Bone and got kind of addicted to it.

No, it's not real crème fraîche. For the real stuff you have to go to France. Real crème fraîche is what happens when unpasteurized cream matures on its own. It gets thicker and much more complex tasting (sweet, nutty, and a little tangy). Mock crème fraîche is what happens when you introduce lactic bacteria to pasteurized cream and let it ferment. It's not quite the same thing, but on this side of the Atlantic, it will do. You can buy crème fraîche in most upscale super markets (like Whole Foods), but I am not crazy about it. That stuff is as stiff as mascarpone and drizzling it over soup or dessert doesn't work. When you make it at home, you are in full control of thickness, so that's one reason I started doing it myself.

The second reason was practicality. My favorite brand of cream is High Lawn. It's inexpensive and has great flavor, but spoils extremely quickly. I used to view it as a drawback, but after I got onto my crème fraîche kick, I realized it's a blessing. Since this cream is only pasteurized (not ultra-pasteurized), you can ferment it. That's the same reason, it spoils fast. Once it's fermented, it can live in the fridge for a very long time. I am not sure how long exactly because my jar of crème fraîche disappears too quickly. But I've kept it as long as 3 weeks, and I am sure it could go even longer.

The good news is that unlike other fermenting activities that require washing lots of dishes (strainers, pots, bowls, cheesecloth, slotted spoons, and thermometers) and a good bit of active time, crème fraîche requires almost no work and no dishes.

1. Pour heavy cream (pasteurized is fine, but not ultra-pasteurized) into a clean glass jar. You want to start this process when your cream is still perfectly good. In other words, don't wait for it to sit in your fridge for a week and spoil and then try to ferment it.
2. Microwave until very warm, but not hot. If you want to use a thermometer, you want to get to 110-120F.
   
3. Add plain yogurt (full-fat if possible). I use Stony Field Farm's. The rough proportion is 1 cup cream to 2 Tbsp yogurt, but I never measure it. The exact ratio is not crucial as long as you are introducing some lactic bacteria and have way more cream than yogurt. Stir well and leave uncovered (or covered with cheesecloth) at room temperature until it thickens, 24-48 hours.
   
4. If your cream is not homogenized (the one I use isn't), you'll get a thin yellow fat cap on top. Do not stir it in or you'll get little chunks of solid fat in your cream. To test if your cream is done, shake the jar gently. If the fat cap doesn't jiggle (or only barely), it's worth a real test. Carefully remove and discard the fat cap and check the consistency of cream. How thick you want it is a personal preference. Keep in mind that it will thicken slightly after it's refrigerated. If it turns out that it's too thin, try to keep it in a warm place and continue fermenting it.
5. When the cream is done, cover and keep in the fridge for several weeks.
   

The tough part is getting the bacteria to grow and the cream to thicken. Here are some guiding principles and tips on that. Every ten degrees, bacteria growth doubles (up to 120F -- after that the heat might kill them). The warmer the better. Bacteria grow really well between 90-120F. As you can imagine that's a hard temperature to maintain especially in winter. My guess is that my kitchen is at about 65F right now. At that rate, the cream might spoil faster than it ferments. How will you know if it spoils? You'll know -- it will start to smell and taste absolutely awful, not tangy and pleasant, but disgusting.

Here is how I get it to ferment in about 24 hours in winter. I put the jar in a bowl of hot water and change the water whenever I remember. I also found that my oven keeps the heat extremely well. It will still be warm 4 hours after I turn it off. If yours is like that, you can pre-heat it to 200F, then turn it off, and put your cream into it.

If you start your creme fraiche today, you will have it ready for Christmas, and that's not a bad thing to have on hand over the holidays :)


At least Samantha thinks so.

Happy and Delicious Holidays to you, my dear readers!

Butternut squash with green beans

My blogging laziness in the past month is embarrassing. I do have an excuse -- I am swamped with Helen's Kitchen gift certificates. But still enough is enough. I have a ton of yummy pictures on my camera and a ton of recipes in my head. It's about time I get off my ass and posted something useful for the holidays.

Here is my new favorite side dish for the Tender at the Bone class: roasted butternut squash and sauteed green beans with cranberries and nuts. It has two unbeatable qualities: yumminess and flexibility. It tastes good hot, it taste good warm, it even tastes good cold. I bet you can't say that about mashed potatoes. In the Tender at the Bone class, I want my students to concentrated on the meat. Sure, the braises are forgiving, but the medium-rare dishes require a lot of attention. Who has time to worry about the side dish when the doneness of their steak is on the line. This veggie dish is a savior. It goes well with any meat or poultry and can happily sit for a few hours at room temperature while you fret over your meat.

I don't peel the squash. The skin crisps up beautifully during roasting and becomes delicious. If you have some picky guests, they can easily remove it at the time of eating, but I find that most people love it. The grassiness of the beans is such a wonderful contrast to the squash with its caramelized edges and creamy flesh. Once the beans are done, I toss them in a mixture of balsamic vinegar, Japanese style soy sauce, and honey. It coats them in a light glaze, and elevates the boring old green beans to a whole new level.

If you need to feed a crowd this holiday season, this dish might come in handy.

Serves 8

For the squash:
1 large butternut squash
1/4 to 1/3 cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

For the green beans:
1 Lb snapped green beans (I prefer to use the thin "French" ones)
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 Tbsp Japanese style soy sauce (or Teriyaki sauce)
1 Tbsp honey
1/2 cup chopped cashews or almonds
1/2 cup dries cranberries or cherries or golden raisins

Roast squash:

1. Preheat the oven to 425F and set a rack at the lowest position.
   
2. Cut the squash in half lengthwise, scoop out the seeds, and slice crosswise into 2/3 inch thick half circles.
3. Arrange the squash in a single layer on a large rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle with salt and pepper on both sides, drizzle with olive oil (enough to generously coat all squash slices), and rub all over with your hands. Arrange the squash slices so that the solid half circles are around the edges of the pan, and the thin slices (cut from the part of the squash that had seeds) are in the middle of the pan. This way they'll cook more evenly since the edges are hotter than the center of the pan.
   
4. Place the baking sheet in the oven (on the lowest rack) and roast until the bottom of the squash slices is golden brown (30-45 minutes). Don't move the squash around until you get some browning. When the bottom of the slices has a nice color, flip, and roast until the other side is golden brown (15-25 minutes longer).

Cook green beans:

1. Spread the green beans on a towel after washing to remove extra moisture. This way, they won't splatter quite as much.
2. Set a 12 inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add the oil and wait for it to heat up. Swirl the pan to coat it evenly with oil. Add the beans and cover the pan. Cook covered for 3-5 minutes depending on the thickness of green beans, uncovering the pan and stirring the beans with tongs every minute. The beans should be developing little brown patches. As soon as they are crisp tender (err on the side of too crisp), take them off the heat and uncover.
3. Mix vinegar, soy sauce, and honey in a little bowl and pour over the beans. Sprinkle with nuts and cranberries. Return beans to medium heat and cook tossing constantly until the liquid is syrupy, about 2 minutes. Taste and add more salt and pepper as needed.

Pour the beans into a serving dish and arrange the squash slices on top. Serve whenever convenient.

Sweet and Sour Rabbit

A few weeks ago, I had lunch with Mark DesLauriers from Artepicure and his wife Daniela. Mark is starting to teach cooking classes after retiring from a long career in the restaurant business. I was looking for chef instructors for Helen's Kitchen to help me meet the growing demand. It looked like a very promising collaboration, and Mark invited me to his place to show me his kitchen and his cooking.

You know you've found the right chef instructor when you go to his house for lunch and stay until 4:30pm. When I looked at my cell phone, I jumped. Hmm, maybe I should start wearing a watch. I had to make it to daycare by 5pm to get Samantha. How didn't I notice that four hours passed? But somehow I didn't. I haven't had this much food fun in ages. We talked about knives, stoves, butchers, fishmongers, restaurants, sauce thickeners, smoking temperatures of oils, food magazines, and teaching philosophy.

What did Mark cook for us? The first course was a salad with watermelon radish, cucumber, croutons, sun-flower seeds, and tomato vinaigrette. That vinaigrette is seriously addictive. Last week, I made it both for us and for my Sauce class. What a simple but versatile concept: you peel and seed a tomato, add vinegar (I used red and balsamic), olive oil, and buzz with an immersion blender. Shallots and dijon mustard make welcome additions too. I served it with a salad like Mark did; then enriched the leftover vinaigrette with creme fraiche, added some tarragon, and served it on seared tuna.

The main dish Mark made for our lunch was Sweet and Sour Rabbit with pasta. This braise was a happy marriage of polar opposites: briny olives and capers, sweet raisins and honey, and a strong kick of vinegar. After spending a couple of hours mingling in a pot, all the flavors rounded out and fused into a beautiful sauce -- bright and comforting at the same time.

If this was a normal lunch, I'd be too full for dessert. But this was a deliciously slow meal I haven't had since living in France, so by the time Mark placed in front of us plates of chocolate and ricotta filled crepes topped with poached pears, I couldn't resist.

The meal was made with thought and skill. Nothing showy, but perfectly executed and delicious. It made me want to go home and cook these dishes and infinite variations on their theme.

I asked Mark if he'd like to teach for Helen's Kitchen. To my delight, he said he would.



Here is my interpretation of Mark's Sweet and Sour Rabbit.

Serves 6-8

Notes: If you have a large dutch oven, this rabbit braise can be a one pot dish. You brown the rabbit in batches, remove it, make a sauce, and return the rabbit back to your pot. Cover and cook in the oven. If a large dutch oven is not available, you can cook the rabbit in a large skillet, remove it, make a sauce in the same skillet, and then bake everything in a large roasting pan.

If you are not sure how to cut up a rabbit, go to Savenor's (if you are in the Boston area) and get rabbit legs, or ask them to cut up a whole rabbit for you.

I prefer to buy olives with pits and pit them myself by smashing them with the flat side of the chef's knife. They have a cleaner flavor this way.

2 rabbits, cut into 8 pieces (or 8 rabbit legs)
flour for coating the rabbit (2-3 cups)
olive oil for browning the rabbit (about 1 cup)
2 onions, thinly sliced
2 celery stalks, small dice
2 carrots, small dice
4 Tbsp small salted capers, rinsed
1/2 cup sultanas (or other seedless raisins), plumped in water for 5 minutes
3/4 Lb large green olives, pitted, roughly chopped
1/2 cup honey
1 cup red wine vinegar
6 cups chicken stock
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 325F. Dry the rabbit thoroughly on paper towels and coat with flour on all sides, shaking off access. Heat enough oil in a large frying pan to make 1/4 inch layer. When hot, add the rabbit in batches without crowding and brown on all sides. Remove all the rabbit from the skillet into a large roasting pan and season with salt and pepper on all sides.
   
2. Add the onion, celery and carrot to the pan. Season with salt, and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 10 minutes.
   
3. Add capers, raisins, and olives, and cook stirring for about 5 minutes.
4. Add the honey and vinegar. When the honey has dissolved, add stock and bring to a simmer.
   
5. Pour the onion mixture over the rabbit, cover tightly with foil and bake until the rabbit starts to fall off the bone, 1.5-2.5 hours. The dish is even better reheated the next day.