Since Christmas morning, I’ve been nursing a mild but persistent cold,
the sort of thing that manifests itself in unladylike snorts every few
minutes and a nasal bedroom voice by early evening. It hasn’t slowed me
down, but it’s made soup sound exceptionally good. So this New Year’s
Day, I shelved my tentative plans for good-luck black-eyed peas masala
and opted instead for a cauldron of rustic chicken stew.
And because it was indeed a cauldron, I invited my favorite Dutchman, he who crafts beautiful cutting boards, spoils me with sausage and greens, and boasts woodsman biceps
as big around as my head. [And I don’t take this last lightly, seeing
as the diameter of my head is pretty large; when I was little, I’d wind
up in tears every time my mother tried to put me in a turtleneck.]
Nicho arrived, as is now the norm, with Swiss chard and a bag of dog
food for Index, who trotted in happily and curled up on the floor in
the hallway. I put a small pot of stew on the stove to reheat and cut
thick slices of the Essential Baking Company’s Columbia Bread, brushed
them with olive oil, and slid them into the oven to warm and crisp. Nicho set to work cleaning and chopping the chard,
which we sautéed quickly with olive oil, a dash of white wine, sea salt, and—at Nicho’s wise suggestion—a few dabs of Dijon mustard stirred in at the very end.
We sat down to deep, wide bowlfuls of stew ladled over the crisped
bread, which slowly swelled with broth and yielded deliciously to our
spoons. Nicho’s mustard chard made a wonderfully earthy and complex
side-note, and we scraped our bowls and plates contentedly, talking
between slurpy mouthfuls, watching Index sleep alarmingly soundly at
Nicho’s feet. Then, rising to clear the dishes, Nicho presented me with a
suspicious pink-and-white striped Victoria’s Secret box, hinting only
that what lay within “could be worn.” Tucked beneath a layer of pink tissue paper I found a Ziploc bag full of homemade oliebollen and appelbeignets, doughnuts traditionally served in Holland to celebrate the New Year. And wear them I did—in my belly.
The oliebollen (which translates enticingly to “oily balls”) were
cakey, dense, and only slightly sweet, freckled throughout with currants
and golden raisins,
and the appelbeignets were surprisingly light, a round slice of apple tossed in cinnamon, coated in batter, and fried to golden.
I can only imagine how treacherously delicious they were the night
before, fresh from the fryer and still warm. Nicho blames them for his so-called “winter chub,”
which, by all appearances, does not exist and anyway is seasonless,
having been a topic of conversation since early fall. He was admirably
restrained, only eating half an appelbeignet, but I threw caution to the
wind and downed one and a half oliebollen and the other half of his
appelbeignet. After all, I’ve got the old “feed a cold; starve a fever” thing on my side.
Chicken Stew with a Secret Weapon
My half-brother Adam and his kitchen-savvy wife and kids made this
stew for our family the day after Thanksgiving 2004, when we all needed a
low-key, soothing, and restorative dinner. They based their recipe on
one created by Jody Adams, a well-known Boston-area chef, and they
served it ladled over big pieces of olive-oil-rubbed and grilled
baguette. It was absolutely slurp-worthy—comforting and familiar, rustic yet sophisticated.
Recently, my sister-in-law Susan sent me a link to one version of Adams’ recipe, and through a bit of Internet searching, I found another version
that resembles even more closely the one they served me. My own version
falls somewhere in between the two, featuring, among other things, the
addition of a Parmigiano Reggiano rind. An old trick favored by Italian grandmothers, it’s my secret weapon for adding body, richness, salt, and a round, luscious aroma to soups. And if you need a back-up weapon, slip Q and Not U’s Different Damage into your stereo while cooking. It’s delicious too.
3 large, bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (roughly 3 lbs, preferably free range)
Olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Fresh thyme (about 10-12 sprigs)
2 quarts chicken broth (I used Imagine brand Organic Free Range), plus a bit more broth or water for thinning if needed
3 large carrots, cut into rounds roughly ¼-inch thick
3 medium leeks, trimmed, halved lengthwise, rinsed thoroughly, and cut into rough 1-inch pieces
1 Parmigiano Reggiano rind, roughly 2 inches square
1/3 cup tiny soup pasta (I used Ronzoni brand acini pepe, but you
could also try stelline, which takes me instantly back to the Campbell’s
Chicken and Stars of my childhood)
Preheat oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Rinse and dry chicken
breasts, and place them in a single layer in a baking dish. Rub them
with olive oil, and sprinkle them with salt, pepper, and roughly 3
sprigs’ worth of thyme leaves. Roast the chicken for 30 minutes, or
until it is cooked through and the skin is golden. Set the meat aside
until cool enough to handle; then shred the chicken from the bone in
large flakes, discarding the skin. [Note, however, that most of the
seasonings are stuck to the outside of the skin, so as you remove it,
you might consider rubbing it, seasoning side down, against the meat.]
Pour chicken broth into a large pot, Dutch oven, or stockpot. Add
the carrots, leeks, cheese rind, and a dash of salt. Bring to a boil,
reduce to a simmer, and let cook about 25 minutes, until vegetables are
tender and broth smells lightly of the cheese. Add the leaves of 7 or so
sprigs of thyme, and let cook another five minutes. Add chicken and
pasta (and a bit of additional broth or water, if you feel the mixture
is too thick), return the soup to a boil, turn down the heat, and let
the soup simmer for 5 minutes. Taste for seasoning, and add more salt
and pepper if needed. Retrieve and discard the cheese rind. Ladle into
bowls.
Serves a lot.
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