Chicken

Five days ago I helped a friend process nine of his chickens. That's a nice way of saying that I assisted in killing, scalding, and making ready for the pot nine birds of his dwindling flock of fifty. Having already assisted at a pig slaughter, I thought I could probably handle chickens. Don't get me wrong--killing animals is never easy, I just thought slaughtering small(ish, at this point) birds would be somewhat less affecting than doing the same to large mammals. And it was, though I was still only able to kill one of them--the second one I just couldn't do. The only good things about killing your own chickens (or those of someone you know) are knowing what they've been eating, where they've been living, that they were killed in the open air under sanitary conditions, and, of course, eating them. Well raised, happy chicken just tastes better, which I know because Y. was generous enough to give me one and I cooked it up this morning.

I have neither a decent-sized roasting pan nor a rack so I use my wide 3 1/2-quart Le Creuset and whatever vegetable/citrus fruit/tuber I happen to have on hand to keep my chicken off the bottom of the pot. Rings of onion or rounds of sweet potato are my favorites, but this morning I only had a lemon so I used that along with four cloves of fresh garlic. Resting your bird on food instead of a rack has its perks: you're left with some delicious morsels in the bottom of the pan. I wasn't sure what to do with the lemon and garlic, but I saved them anyway. At lunch I decided to make a sandwich with the wings and it occurred to me to spread the roasted garlic cloves on the bread. So I did. And it was good.

A well roasted chicken is a wonderful thing; a dry roast chicken is so disappointing. If you've ever heard the twenty-minutes-per-pound-plus-twenty-minutes rule, forget it. If I had followed it today I would have left my four-and-a-half pound chicken in the oven for 110 minutes or 20 minutes longer than the 90 minutes it took to roast it to moist, succulent perfection. After 90 minutes the juices were clear and 20 minutes of resting under foil ensured a done (and moist, 'cause it gives the juices a chance to run back into the meat) chicken. Never underestimate the power of holdover cooking.

Basic Roast Chicken

infinitely adaptable

• 1 4 to 5-pound chicken
• 1 lemon
• 2 Tbs. butter
• salt
• freshly ground pepper
• an onion or potato or sweet potato or lemon ororor

• Bring your chicken to room temperature. This means leaving it on the kitchen counter for several hours, which might scare you, but it needn't.
• Preheat oven to 450°F. Instead of rinsing your chicken, cut a lemon into quarters and use to clean the chicken, rubbing it with the lemon wedges inside and out. Discard lemon.
• Cut onion or potato or sweet potato or lemon or whatever you choose into rings and arrange on the bottom of what you have chosen to roast your chicken in. Add a few whole cloves of garlic (peeled or not) if you feel like. Place chicken on sliced fruit/veg/tuber and tie up its legs. Melt butter and pour over chicken, using your fingers to make sure the butter is evenly distributed and covering everything. Season generously with salt and pepper.
• Place in 450-degree oven and immediately reduce the temperature to 375°F. Roast for an hour and a half. After this time check that the juices are running clear and remove from oven. Allow to rest 20 minutes under foil before carving.

Keep the carcass to make stock.

It is almost a shame that it turned out so well. I wish now that I'd saved it and shared it with somebody, but at least I'll be eating like a king this week.

Chicken Pasties

I roasted a chicken last Tuesday and on Sunday I still had both wings, a leg, and a breast left. It was still perfectly good, of course, but had to be used soon and probably all at once. Sounded like pie to me. Sunday morning after breakfast my family was discussing what to have for our pic-nic the next day and pasties popped to mind. Pasties are wonderful for pic-nics--all the goodness of a pot pie made easily transportable and eaten. Not to mention completely adorable.

I've been using white whole wheat flour a lot lately in conjunction with unbleached all-purpose flour. I like it. It adds a certain something to your baked goods and doesn't feel at all wrong, as substituting whole wheat flour can. I used it in the best biscuits I've ever made, I used it in a cake, and I substituted a cup of it for one cup all-purpose flour in my go-to pie crust recipe for these pasties with excellent results. The pie crust recipe for one 8 to 9-inch two crust pie made 6 decent-sized pasties. You should end up with about 480 grams of dough from this recipe and then you can divide it into six 80g pieces, keeping all but the one you're working on in the fridge.

For the filling I used what I had of leftover chicken--the afore mentioned wings, leg, and breast--plus one thigh. I roasted three thighs, but only ended up using one of them. I didn't really need any of them, but the pasties were nice and chicken-y, so you can use as much or as little chicken as you have/want. Add the peas right at the last so they don't get too mushy. I made the filling the night before assembling the pasties, mostly because I didn't think I'd have enough time the day of, but it worked out well. The next morning I added the still frozen peas and a handful of minced parsley to the cold filling. Working with cold filling meant that the dough didn't start to melt as I was working with it, which makes everything easier, but also helps to ensure a flaky crust.

Chicken Pasties

makes enough filling for 6-8 pasties

• 1 recipe pie crust
• what you have of leftover chicken, cut into pieces
• 1 medium onion
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 carrot
• 2 small potatoes (Yukon Golds are nice)
• 1 turnip
• one small package peas
• any other veg that appeal
• a generous pinch each of dried thyme, oregano, sage, and crushed rosemary (or any other mix of herbs that you like)
• 1 handful parsley, minced
• 2 Tbs. butter
• 2 Tbs. flour
• 1 cup stock or water, hot
• 1 egg plus 1 Tbs. milk or cream, beaten to brush on top

• Cut leftover chicken into nice bite-sized pieces. Chop veg to a 1/4-inch dice. I like all the veg to be about the same size as the peas.
• Put a couple tablespoons of olive oil in aheavy bottomed pan over medium heat. Sauté the onion until soft and transparent, about 10 minutes. Add the rest of the vegetables, except for the peas, and sauté until the potatoes begin to soften. Add the chicken to the pan. Plop in the butter and once it has melted sprinkle the flour over the lot. Stir the pot until the flour is combined. Slowly pour in the hot stock, stirring as you pour. Stir the filling to make sure there are no lumps. Add your herb mix and allow to burgle a little while, adjust the seasoning, then pull it off the heat. Let the filling cool, then add the peas and parsley.
• The filling should be cold before you assemble pasties. To make a pasty measure out 80g pie dough and roll it out into a circle (roughly). Put a generous scoop of filling on one side. Wet the rim of the bottom half of dough with water. Pick up the top of the circle and, pulling it up and over the filling, match it up with the opposite edge of the circle. Crimp the dough together, making it as attractive as possible. Place the pasty on a parchment lined baking sheet and go on to the next one.
• Once all your pasties are on the baking sheet, beat together the egg and milk or cream to make a wash. Brush pasties with egg wash and then cut one or more slits to allow steam to escape with out rupturing your pasties.
• Bake in a 350°F oven until pasties are burgling and golden, 40-50 minutes. Cool pasties on racks before wrapping them up for your pic-nic.

Eat out of doors with good friends.

Pesto (and an Accidental Feast)

I don't know how other people make pesto. There are probably recipes and ratios and methods I should know about. But I don't. There are probably entire villages of Italian grandmothers feeling shivers up their collective spine as I reach for my Little Pro Plus (TM). But I don't care. I just make it so it tastes good. And besides, how far wrong can you go?

This is what I do: I ask someone in produce for half a bunch of basil. (For some reason they don't keep it on the floor so you have to ask for it.) Sometimes I get half a bunch; sometimes I get a whole bunch with a 'reduced' sticker on it, like I did today. (Thank you.) I take it home and wash it, because I didn't once and ate gritty pesto for a week. I pick the leaves from the stems and put them in my food processor and then go about collecting the other ingredients. You'll need garlic. Today I used 4 cloves, because it seemed right. I started with three, tasted the result, then added one more. Nuts of some description are required, though pine nuts are not necessary. I used a handful of crispy walnuts, though not as many as I might have--I'm running low and wanted some to put in my oats tomorrow. (The pesto was none the worse for it and breakfast will be better.) And cheese. You'll want some parmesan. I still had some 'Ferrari of the Parmesans' in the fridge so I grated a good handful of that and tossed it in the processor. Bit of salt, bit of pepper, and you're ready to go. I turn on the processor and drizzle the olive oil into it in a steady stream until the pesto looks happy. I really have no idea how much I used tonight. Use your judgement. If it looks too dry to you, it probably is. Add more oil. Give your pesto a taste and adjust it accordingly, knowing the flavors will marry and mature as it sits. More garlic? Pinch more salt? Just right? Then bottle it up, remembering to drizzle a layer of olive oil on top so it doesn't discolor. I always feel better knowing there's a jar of pesto in the fridge.

I roasted a chicken this afternoon before making pesto. I like to have some roast chicken in the fridge. It makes taking dinner to work that much easier and the possibilities with leftover chicken are endless. But, anyway, I roasted a chicken. I usually eat one of the more distinguishable parts on the first night, saving the scraps from the carcass for pasties or a pie or a salad, but tonight I did it differently. As I was carving my chicken and putting it in a dish for the fridge I thought, 'Why not save all the best bits for later, put an entire chicken worth of parts in the fridge, and have the scraps tonight.' So that's what I did. I boiled 2 ounces of this delicious pasta made with Jerusalem artichoke flour, sautéed 4 spears of asparagus with a quarter of a red bell pepper ('cause that's what I had left of one), tossed in the oysters of the chicken along with other assorted scraps from the carcass, added a very heaping soup spoon of fresh pesto to the pan followed by the noodles and some of their cooking water and ate like a king. Oh, and I had roasted the chicken on top of an onion cut into rings so I chopped up a couple of those and added them to the pot. Divine. I think (hope) MFK would approve.