Conquering the coq (au vin), keep it clean people

So I thought I’d do a quick post up of my experience cooking the Coq au Vin. As promised by El Chef Nick, it was surprisingly easy to create this French classic from scratch – and, proof in the pudding, my Dad had seconds, despite the onions.

It all kicked off the night before my parents arrived. I’d been cleaning the house for 3 evenings straight, wiping down baseboards, alphabetizing the cupboards and fridge, throwing out the various science projects that may have been growing in the back of each, stuffing all of my laundry into a downstairs closet I was 95% sure my mother wouldn’t open…the usual. Suffice to say – my body not accustomed to all this domestic activity – I was exhausted. Could I get away with pasta? I admit, the thought flitted through my mind.

But Nick, you’ll be proud: I took the dogs on their walk and then we drove, furry friends and I, direct to Tesco to make my purchases for the Coq. A small moment of panic, when I realized I’d forgotten my carefully written shopping list chez moi -- before realizing with much gratitude that I could just look at the blog online from my phone. Oh, the Power and Genius of online recipes. (A shout out also to my phone, itself, and to my employer for having gifted me said phone last Christmas. I would never have bought a smartphone of my own volition, but now cannot recall how on earth I coped without immediate, direct access to Internet at ALL TIMES, ANYWHERE, including the aisles of Tesco.)

Anyway, once I had all the ingredients back the house, I panicked a little again. Did I really want to start this at 9 p.m. at night? But thoughts of serving tortellini in pre-made sauce to my mother (horror, shame!) spurred me on and, once I got into my groove, it was fine. PLUS, I got to use my fabulous turquoise Le Creuset casserole pot – the only item in my kitchen (barring Miguel, the dogs or my cafetiere coffee maker) on which I consistently lavish love and attention.

What I liked most about making this is that, once the chicken thighs are browned, it’s basically just a question adding everything to the pot (in stages) and letting the oven do the work. I am a big fan of the one-pot recipe – this is only slightly more complicated.

Anyway, long story short – by the time I took the dish out of the oven on Thursday night, it was laaaate. Actually, it was so late and I was sufficiently tired that I set my alarm for 2:30 in the morning, so I could get up and pop it in the fridge once it had cooled to an appropriate temperature. But don’t let these machinations put you off – most normal people wouldn’t start making Coq au Vin at 9 p.m. at night and can easily avoid the above.

So, the question you’re all wondering, did I cheat at all? Well, no, not really. I did only cook 6 chicken thighs instead of the recommended 8. And I caved and bought a ready prepared “bouquet garni for white meat” (shhhhh, maybe Nick won’t notice), instead of the individual herbs. But other than that, it really was straightforward enough for an occasional cook to handle from start to finish. And the divine smell of onions (among other things) cooking in wine and chicken stock is worth the effort alone.

As Julia Child herself might say, “un grand succes!”

And now we go WAAAAY old school, at my OLDer sisters request

What better way to start a post than with a big, slightly disturbing, and classically overly enthusiastic picture of the one & only Julia Child. There are many things that we could poke a little fun at her about, but you can't deny her passion for all things culinary (as long as they were french anyway). As a quick side note, that Julie & Julia movie was godawful. First of all, it should have been called Julie stalking Julia, and secondly, if my friend invited me over to her house and was dressed up as JC, including impersonating her accent, I'd probably have her mental stability checked.

Enough of all that. The reason we're starting this post off with a Julia Child reference is that my sister called asking me for a recipe that she can make for my parents when they come to visit. My dad is a slightly picky eater.....as in if he can identify it as a vegetable, no go. My mom is thankfully gastronomically adventurous, and also the reason I fell in love with cooking, so she's easy. I decided to pull one out of the archives for her because, a)my dad will actually eat it & b)you make this a day ahead, so it leaves her time to frantically make sure there are no crumbs in her silverware drawer and hide the non-crystal wine glasses in preparation for my mother entering her humble abode. This is just a little friendly teasing of both of them, and their very close, but sometimes nitpicky relationship. So without further ado, from the archives, here is one of Julia Child herselfs' favorite recipes:

COQ AU VIN - for those of you who ne parle pas le francais, this literally means rooster in wine, but we will be going for the ultra modern version using chicken thighs. It's actually hard to find a rooster nowadays, especially one from Bresse, which most authentique recipes call for.
That being said, it is a fairly simple, utterly comforting dish, which is best eaten the second day after all the flavors have gotten together. HERE GOES..............

4 chicken leg and thighs, skin-on - if you can only find thighs, make it 8
8 shallots, peeled, but left whole
2 ripe tomatoes
1/2 lb mushrooms, simple buttons work fine
1 onion, diced
1 carrot, peeled & diced
2 stalks celery, diced
5 cloves garlic, peeled
1 large sprig fresh rosemary
1 bunch fresh thyme, left whole
2 bay leaves
6 oz bacon, or fatback, cut into lardons - Noush, you cannot leave this out
1/4 c AP flour
1/2 stick butter
1 bottle of red wine, or if you follow the JC recipe 2 bottles, one to drink, one to cook
2 1/2 cups, roasted chicken stock, this should be from your stash of homemade stock in the freezer --- check early august post
S & P to taste

1)Place bacon in cold pot(this pot should be oven proof, and large enough to fit all the ingredients in it at once) over medium heat and render out fat. Once bacon is crispy, set aside, but leave the delicious fat in the pan. While this is happening, get some kitchen twine, and tie it around your herbs. This makes it easy to simply remove them before serving. Preheat oven to 275 degrees F.

2)Season chicken with salt and pepper and sear in the pot until nicely caramelized on all sides. Don't crowd the pot. If you have to do this in stages to not bunch the chicken together, do so. It will be better and easier this way.

3)Set chicken aside with bacon, and add the onion, garlic, carrots, and celery to this mixture of rendered chicken and bacon fats.....this is how we build layers of flavor. Cook until vegetables are lightly caramelized. Then add shrooms and tomatoes and cook until mushrooms release their liquid

4)add herbs to the pot, then butter. Once butter is melted, stir in the flour, ensuring that no lumps occur. Cook the roux (that what the mix of fat and flour is called) for 2 minutes, stirring pretty much constantly

5)Add wine and stock to pot SLOWLY, stirring constantly to ensure no lumps yet again. Return chicken to pot, and add shallots. Cover and place in oven for 1 to 1 1/2 hours. You can't really cook this too long.

6)Remove from oven, let cool, then refridgerate. The next day, 2 hours before serving, simply pop it back in a 250 degree oven and forget about it until you're ready to eat.

To serve, remove chicken and shallots and place on serving platter. At this point, you can either drain your sauce (if like my dad, you aren't a veggie fan...I like veggies, so I leave them in) or not. It should be a consistency somewhere between stock and gravy, enough to coat the back of the spoon. If it's still to thin, just cook it down a bit more...if it's too thick, just add a bit more stock. Pour sauce over chicken and shallots, and top with your crispy bacon from yesterday (if you didn't snack it all down during the cooking process). This can really be served with any starch....good old mashers, rice, polenta...whatever you like. I usually like to go with a slightly lighter vegetable option like a nice, fresh green salad, or marinated tomatoes, just so the meal doesn't get too heavy.

As far as wine pairings go, this is a fairly obvious choice --- a nice burgundy. Really, any red with some nice backbone, but not overpowering tannins. This isn't the dish for your 1988 barolo, but nor is it a chicken dish to have a nice light sauvignon blanc with. A good rule of thumb would be to drink it with what you cooked it with.

Anyway, I say I say, enjoy..............
And to finish, some great quotes from Mrs. Childs
Find something you're passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it
Life itself is the proper binge.
Everything in moderation, including moderation.
I think every woman should have a blowtorch.
How can a nation be called great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?

AT LONG, LONG, LONG LAST.....Noush's Response

Okay Nick, you’ve been asking for my desert island post for weeks now and I finally sat down last night to write it up, old school, in Word – since we’re now going on Week Fecking 6 at my house with no Internet. I don’t think I’ve ever met a customer service so incompetent as that of our (for now, unnamed) service provider. Deep breaths.

So I’m on a desert island. (Is it desert island – or deserted island? By dint of the fact there’s water around, it wouldn’t be “desert,” right?) No matter – we probably don’t need to get into semantics.

The point is I’m on an island and there’s not much around in the way of a supermarket, but thankfully, the Power-That-Is (a cross between Buddha and Elvis) has seen fit to grant me a small, but essential request – my favourite five foods (and only my favourite five) in plentiful supply for the rest of my life. I must choose quickly, but carefully. Not to be melodramatic, but this is Fo-eh-vuh.

So here goes:

Tomato-Fennel Soup: I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting my mother’s tomato-fennel soup. If you have, then you already understand why it’s top of list. If you haven’t yet tried it, well…I’ll just say it’s a revelation. I could happily eat it for dinner for the rest of my life, accompanied by:

Pita Bread: So practical, so tasty. What a perfect pocket for stuffing all your favourite “stuff “ into. Assuming that if I leave it out on a rock in the hot, desert island sun, the process will act as a toaster, crisping and breaking it open – ready for all the delicious extras, like:

Goat Cheese: I know what you’re going to say: “ew, goat cheese – it smells like old socks.” Whereas, I think it’s the most perfect cheese ever blended. As fundamental as “you say potato, I say pot-ah-toe.” Let’s just agree to disagree on this one, eh?

Avocado: My favourite thing about you, Avocado, is your versatility. I can fill you with oil, vinegar, salt and pepper and you’re a meal in yourself. I can mush you on top of pita bread with a little salt and pepper and you’re better than butter. I can slice you up with goat cheese and boiled egg (see below) inside a pita pocket and you’re my perfect lunch. For this reason, you must accompany my desert (ed) island existence.

Eggs: The weird thing is, I couldn’t stand the taste, texture or smell of eggs until I was about 15. I actually used to tell everyone I was allergic to egg when I was a kid because this seemed the most sure-fire way to make sure no one ever served them to me, in any pure form. (On a side note, this caused consternation at more than a few birthday parties, when, proclaiming my “allergy” after Slice 4 of birthday cake, the supervising mother in question would stare in horror, awaiting the closure of my throat and other such “allergic” reactions, which obviously never materialized.)

But I digress: Eggs -- I love them now. So versatile, so edible. An omelette for dinner, boiled for breakfast or lunch, scrambled in a pita pocket for…whenever. And poached, for a treat.

Wow, I can’t believe that’s five. There are so many things I’m conflicted about leaving off – the biggest one being tomatoes. I debated having them as a straight-up on the list, rather than as part of a soup. Suffice to say, it was a very hard choice that kept me up nights. I’m still a little teary-eyed at the thought of never having an Insalata Caprese again – I love you basil, tomato, mozzarella. Guess I’ll just have to hope I’m rescued from the island at some point and the full world of food re-opened to me? Insalata Caprese, I’ll make you a deal: if I ever make it off this tropical, magical, godforsaken, tomato-free island, you’ll be my first mainland meal. Agreed? Agreed.

In the meantime, I’m off to cook my goat cheese omelette with avocado salsa.