Flip the bird.

I subscribe to a lovely website called Tasting Table, filled with cooking tips, restaurant highlights, food trends and more. This week they re-ran a piece from earlier in the year, called 20 Recipes Every Twentysomething Should Know How to Make. The list includes many of the usual suspects: a good steak, mashed potatoes, chicken noodle soup, cheesecake, etc. As I cling to twentysomething status just a bit longer, I'm happy to say that for me this list is mostly under the (tightening) belt.

One which has always intimidated me, however, is Number 16: roast chicken. Now, I actually roast chicken quite often: my mom's foolproof 350*F/35 minute method is perfect for bone-in, skin-on chicken legs, thighs, wings and breast pieces. The parts all cook pretty evenly, and cook time is weeknight-friendly. But there's something about a crisp, golden-brown, whole bird which is just so mouthwatering and virtuous. Of course, it's also time-consuming and high-maintenance: pat dry. Season. Truss. Baste. Invert to keep the white meat juicy and dark meat cooked. Do a chicken dance. Every Thanksgiving I summon all my courage to tackle the turkey because I love sharing it with friends and loved ones (and because there's no gravy like turkey roasting pan gravy), but I will admit that I get quite stressed about it. In theory, chicken is a nice way to practice throughout the rest of the year, and it makes a grand weekend dinner with practical leftovers for weekday lunches.

Last winter we went skiing with a family friend who shared her favorite, low-maintenance roast chicken: the key is to blast it with heat and keep flipping - this ensures a nice even tan, no basting required. It's Joel Robuchon's roast chicken, minus the giblets and plus equator-sliced heads of garlic as stabilizers (lay them cut-side down on the pan to prevent the bird from tipping over as you lay it on various sides). Here's the magic formula once you've buttered and seasoned it:

400*F/25 min/25 min/10 min/5 min (start on its side, flip to the other side, then lay on the back and then end on front)

My sister gave me the encouragement (and the recipe link) to try it together, and we were well rewarded for our experimentation. What did we learn? In general, as with many other intimidating foods, just show it who's boss. If it falls down, nudge it back up. If you tear the skin as I did once during the flipping process...

...just turn it around for the photo.

(No one will see after you carve it anyway.)

Monday night braise.

Pats playing at home, time for another braise. Tonight's post is about how to braise on a weeknight. What? After a day of conference calls and commuting, you want to slave over a hot stove for hours? Certainly not. The key is not to plan to eat it for dinner, but to make a not-sad-desk-lunch for the next day. Remember, a braise is best the second day. True, you'll need to plan for something else for tonight's dinner, but we're braising on Monday night...and nobody said anything about slaving.

Here's how:

• Grocery shop the day before - no need to fight both the clock and traffic
• Prep what you can the day before - mincing, chopping, measuring can all be done ahead
• This is true for cooking any day, but identify the long pole in your meal plan and start it first. For example, I cooked pasta and sautéed kale once the chicken was in the oven...and managed to make two loaves of pumpkin bread too, but I've been doing this for a while.
• Chicken braises fastest - for best results, use dark meat...don't worry, nestling everything together in the heavenly sauce will protect it from microwave sadness the next day, and dishing it up into to-go containers will cool it quickly so you don't have to stay up waiting for it.

The Score: (W - L / home game braise coverage - misses)

Patriots: 9 - 0, Bev: 2 - 1 (out of town)

*

Braised Chicken with Lemon and Capers

Adapted from NYTimes Cooking - because I don't care for olives, and I like it saucy.

Serves 4

2 chicken legs, cut into thighs and leg pieces, skin-on and bone-in

Salt and pepper

1/2 t red pepper flakes

6 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 t fennel seeds

1 T roughly chopped rosemary

1 T olive oil

2 lemons, cut in wedges

2 T capers

1 1/4 - 1 1/2 c chicken broth

Mix salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, minced garlic, fennel seeds, rosemary and olive oil in a baking dish. Rub seasoning all over chicken parts, sprinkle with capers, tuck lemon wedges in wherever they fit and let sit for 15 minutes. Preheat oven to 375*F.

Put baking dish in oven, uncovered, and bake 20 min. Cover with foil tightly (don't burn your palm like I did) and bake for 1 hour, until meat is very tender and falling off the bones when poked. Remove thighs and lemon wedges. Pour remaining juices into a pan and simmer until reduced by half; meanwhile, shred the chicken and remove skin and bones (for an easier desk lunch experience). Mix shredded chicken back into sauce and serve over a bed of spicy sautéed kale and pasta.

Dinner part(y)ing.

Leaves are changing, jobs are changing (wish me luck on my first day of the new gig Tuesday!), times are changing...last month we said "see you soon" (because I refused to say "farewell") to two dear friends both moving west. Janet and Michael have been a huge part of our lives since moving to Boston, so a proper send-off was in order. The theme of our little gathering was fairly simple: "things we like to eat together." Those who have been following Food and Bev for a while know that family and friendship are at the core of my food exploits - so it was easy come up with a meaningful menu.

Rules for any dinner party (more comprehensive tips here):

1. Make it scale (don't attempt anything with precise timing/requiring individual attention, especially if you have a larger group)
2. Make it personal (remember your guests' preferences; bonus points for nostalgia)
3. Make it tasty (a given)

Here's what we ate:

Pork bulgogi dumplings in bacon broth with baby bok choy: (in honor of many bulgogi cookouts at Mehul's place, shared Chinese New Year feast dumplings, and the time we had stocked up on one pack of bacon per person at a lake house in New Hampshire)

My new favorite fried chicken with biscuits, bourbon caramel drizzle, mustard greens salad with pickled peaches: (commemorating many a Bev's brunch biscuit, peach picking and comfort food in general)

S'mores cake (graham cracker layer cake with marshmallow and dark chocolate buttercream - I got to use my hand torch!): (as an homage to our group's tradition of toasting marshmallows whenever getting near/sometimes creating our own open flame)

We look forward to their early/often returns!

Southern comfort.

Hello, everyone -- another crazed week of travel (followed by a few days of getting back into the swing of things). Last week I went to Boston to celebrate Nick's birthday, and on my way home, I swung down to Savannah, GA for my dear middle-through-high-school friend's wedding. Kelli and I shared crushes, passed notes, participated in the same school activities, and dreamed of being wedding-planners-slash-interior-decorators together. When she brought Russell to DC visiting his family two years ago, you could see how happy they were together. (Congratulations, Kelli and Russell!)

Despite the four airports and nearly 2000 miles clocked, it was an amazing week of reunions: old friends, new friends, some folks I hadn't seen since high school graduation, and I even -- shockingly -- ran into a college friend during a layover in Charlotte. Amid the reminiscing, I was reminded of how seeing old friends gives you the same cozy, warm-tummy feeling as good comfort food.

Even though I live south of the Mason-Dixon Line, DC/Northern Virginia is still relatively far north. Having gone directly from Yankee country to the Deep South, it was truly like stepping into another country: people smiled at you, the airport restrooms had mints and other refreshments, and everywhere I turned, historic-looking buildings with gingerbread trim and white verandas looked as though they had come right off the set of Gone with the Wind.


Of course, the food at Russell and Kelli's wedding reception reflected the locale.
Instead of rolls in the bread basket, flaky biscuits with butter and orange marmalade:

Shrimp 'n' smoked cheddar grits with rosemary barbecue, smoked bacon, and arugula:

Unfortunately, immediately following the beautiful reception, I had to dash to the airport for my flight home. Pearls, high heels and all, I ended up stuck in Charlotte for a few hours due to mechanical failure. The silver lining was that I got to be reacquainted with another old friend: 

My sisters and I were born in Durham, NC. Every year (even after we moved to Illinois), my family would go to Atlantic Beach for summer vacation. Landmarks: a giant pier (most recently destroyed by Hurricane Irene), Jungle Land (a now-closed amusement park with putt-putt across the road from our usual hotel), and Sanitary (an unfortunately-named restaurant with famous hush puppies which we used to feed to the seagulls before the practice was outlawed). We knew we were almost there when we stopped at the Bojangles' for lunch. For those of you Northerners who don't know Bojangles' Chicken 'n Biscuits, you're missing out on some sweet goodness that is spicy fried chicken.

Naturally, as my parting reminder of Southern Hospitality, the gentleman at the fast food stand flashed me a big smile, read my name off the credit card and said, "Have a great flight, Beverly!" All-around good feelings for the weekend.

A tisket, a tasket, a random picnic basket.

Do you remember when we first met? I sure do.
It was sometime in early September....
I was crazy about you then and now

The craziest thing of all,

Over seven years have gone by

And you're still mine,

We're locked in time

Let's rewind.

-- Jack Johnson, "Do You Remember"

Most of you can figure logically that the best time to start a relationship is not the summer before college (particularly when you're about to head off to schools 1000 miles apart). But sometimes, perseverance, luck,  support from friends and family, and a solid foundation of random picnics can make it all work out in the end.

That summer, I worked for Cyd's, a lovely catering and carry-out store that has since grown into a fully fledged eat-in shop in my hometown. I worked from noon-6pm, so Nick would wake up and drive to my house by 8am. Our usual spot was Detweiller Park, home of expansive grounds, forest, and picnic shelters (also the host of the annual Illinois High School Association's state cross country meet -- any runners?). We would lay down a blanket and talk, read, listen to music, watch movies on a portable DVD player, nap, and fight off ants. On our way to the park most days we stopped at Kroger, where we would buy whatever we felt like eating for a "random picnic" -- a pint of raspberries, a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, grapes, ice cream sandwiches, string cheese -- often supplemented by goodies I had brought home from work.

The perks of working for a food shop is that by a certain day, you no longer sell certain items to customers but give them away for staff to enjoy. Our random picnics often featured Bonnie's fabulous frosted cookies (in seasonal cutout shapes), my favorite lemon scones, and countless boxes of pita chips. I would also buy and bring home food the night before, such as cold noodle salads or my favorite: Cyd's apricot chicken salad.

To this day, her chicken salad is my favorite. The creamy chicken is studded with crunchy celery and sweet morsels of dried apricot, best served on lettuce and a buttery croissant. I couldn't really remember the dressing recipe, which is all for the best since I wouldn't want to divulge her secrets. But one weekend recently I had a hankering for chicken salad and attempted to reproduce it. Though it was not a perfect replica, the first bite skyrocketed me back in time to that summer and some of my favorite memories to date.

As much as I love coordinated picnics, there will always be a special place in my heart for the spur-of-the-moment, grab-and-go kind.

(Happy anniversary, Nick <3)


*

Apricot Chicken Salad
Adapted from Cyd's
Serves 4

2 roasted chicken breasts (bone-in, skin on for best flavor)
1/2 c small-chopped celery
1/2 c diced dried apricots

Dressing: this makes quite a bit, you can dress as much as you want and save the rest
2 T sour cream
2 T mayo
2 t lemon juice or champagne vinegar
2 t sugar
salt and pepper to taste

Note: The great thing about this salad is you can adjust everything very easily. You can add more apricots, use less celery, adjust the dressing proportions for a creamier or tangier flavor (just don't put in so much vinegar/lemon juice that it gets too runny).

Remove skin and bones from chicken; cut into bite-sized chunks. Mix well with celery and apricots, then add dressing, about a tablespoon at a time, until dressed as desired.

To Serve: Slice fresh croissants (through the equator) and lay down a large lettuce leaf. Scoop on chicken salad, and serve.

Comfort food.

What a terrible week this has been. Thank goodness we've finally crossed the threshold into Friday. It's times like these that make me really appreciate comfort food. Carbs, butter, and overall flavor -- that's the stuff.

For so many of us, the automatic response to a birth/death/launch/milestone is to cook, bake, or buy food for the folks involved. Besides being a surefire way to lure people to events (think open houses, or every club meeting in college), food shows people you care -- it's a way of sharing something of yourself with others, a way of invoking those who have cooked for you to pass on the good feeling. Sometimes it's celebratory, other times offered in comfort. Either way, it's an important part of our social fabric. In Filipino culture, the standard greeting literally translates to, "Have you eaten yet?"

And few things are more comforting or welcoming than a flaky, buttery, double-crusted chicken pot pie. For me, a bottom layer of crust is mandatory. For all pies, sweet or savory, mine must be a tidy little pocket with crisp layers of pastry enveloping whatever goodness bubbles within. In this case, it's a rich, creamy sauce studded with cubes of roast chicken and vegetables -- irresistible.

As with all slow-cooking comfort food, I'm sure you could speed up the prep time considerably by using rotisserie chicken, frozen vegetables (perfectly respectable), and store-bought crust. Otherwise I recommend splitting the project into multiple days. It takes some time, but it's totally worth it. It's like a hug for your mouth.

What's your favorite comfort food?

*
Chicken Pot Pie
Adapted from Ina Garten
Makes four individual pies (5-6" in diameter) plus some extra filling

3 split chicken breasts, bone-in, skin-on, roasted*
Olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 c chicken stock
12 T unsalted butter
2 c chopped onion
1-2 T fresh thyme
3/4 c all-purpose flour
3 T heavy cream
2 c medium-diced carrots, blanched for 2 minutes
1 1/2-2 c frozen peas
1/2 c minced fresh parsley leaves
1 1/2 recipes pie crust (sans topping)
1 egg
1 T water

Remove roast chicken from skin and bones, then cut into 1" cubes. In a small saucepan, heat the chicken stock. In a large pot, melt the butter and saute onions and thyme over medium-low heat for 10-15, until onion is translucent. Add the flour and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, for 2 min. Add the hot chicken stock to the sauce. Simmer over low heat for 1 min., stirring, until thick. Add 2 t salt, 1/2 t pepper, and heavy cream. Add the cubed chicken, carrots, peas, onion, and parsley. Mix well.

Preheat the oven to 375ºF. Roll out pastry crust and fill oven-proof bowls or individual pie plates. Divide the filling equally among vessels. You will likely have extra filling, which can be saved for future pies or topped with biscuit dough. Roll out the rest of the pie crust and top the pies. Crimp edges, cut slits on top, and brush with egg and water, beaten together. Sprinkle with salt and cracked pepper. Place on a baking sheet and bake for 1 hour, or until the top is golden brown and the filling is bubbling hot.

* To roast chicken, preheat oven to 350ºF. Drizzle split breasts with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roast for 35-40 min, depending on the size. Let cool and remove from skin and bones.

Hot pocket.

In college there was a Sunday brunch special the dining hall chefs nicknamed "hangover chicken." It was a breaded chicken breast stuffed with broccoli and cheese. Admittedly fairly uniform in size and shape (not much resembling chicken) and probably devoid of any nutritional value, no matter how you were feeling Sunday morning, these melty golden pockets of joy were devoured by all.

Which is why I didn't hesitate to try my own when I saw Anne Burrell prepare a stuffed, breaded chicken breast on TV. I modified her recipe slightly (adding some lemon zest for freshness, cutting the chicken livers because I didn't have any on hand), and though I had some technical difficulties with squeezing the filling into the pocket, these golden beauties turned out to be delicious as well. I had planned on trying to do these not breaded to be more healthful, but when I stepped out of the elevator at home someone in my hallway was clearly deep-frying shrimp or something, and I lost all my willpower. The lemon zest in the filling and the tangy white wine and lemon sauce cuts some of the fat and balances the flavors nicely.

Tips for Success:

1. BE CAREFUL - as you're cutting the pocket with a pointy, sharp knife, make sure not to slice your hand off.
2. Take extra care not to cut through the side of the chicken; without a nice, closed-up pocket, the filling will, um, leak.
3. If you cut through the chicken and your filling leaks, don't worry, because you're going to dredge the thing in flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, and it'll all stay inside anyway.
4. Don't skip refrigerating the chicken before you cook it - the cheese filling needs time to solidify and set up so it won't ooze everywhere as soon as it hits the pan. (Finishing in a relatively low-temperature oven also helps with this.)

*

Mushroom and Goat Cheese-Stuffed Chicken

(Adapted from Anne Burrell)

Serves 2

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

4 oz goat cheese

8 oz cremini mushrooms, large-diced

1 shallot, minced

1 scallion, chopped

olive oil

salt

zest from one lemon

1/2 c breadcrumbs

1 egg

1/4 c flour

1 c chicken stock

1 c white wine

1 T butter

Heat oil in a pan over medium heat and saute shallots for two minutes, until translucent. Raise heat to medium-high and add mushrooms, browning for about three more minutes. Add 1/2 c white wine and let it burn off for a few minutes (when the mushrooms are almost dry again, they're done). Season with salt. Remove from heat and mix with goat cheese, scallion, and lemon zest. Take a Ziploc bag and spoon the mixture in, cutting off a corner to make a piping bag.

Take a boning or paring knife and cut into one end of each chicken breast, creating a narrow, blade-sized incision. Wiggle to create a pocket, taking care not to cut yourself or open up any other parts of the chicken breast "pocket." Pipe cheese, mushroom, shallot, wine, scallion, and lemon filling into the chicken pocket. Sprinkle chicken breast with salt.

Set up three shallow bowls with flour, beaten egg (and a dash of water), and breadcrumbs. Dredge pockets in flour (shaking off excess), then egg, then breadcrumbs and refrigerate for 45 min.

Preheat oven to 300ºF, and line a baking pan with foil. Place an oven-safe cooling rack on the baking sheet. After the pocket has time to set up in the fridge, heat oil in a skillet over medium heat. Brown breaded pockets on each side for 3-5 minutes, then place on the cooling rack/baking sheet and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the chicken is fully cooked.

Meanwhile, when the chicken goes in the oven, remove excess oil from the skillet and then reduce the remaining 1/2 c of white wine over high heat. When the wine is down to 1/4 c, add 1/2 c chicken stock. Reduce again to half, then add the rest of the chicken stock. If you have a pinch of lemon zest, you can also add it for extra lemony zing.

When the chicken is cooked, sprinkle with salt, then spoon sauce over crispy pockets and serve immediately.

A morel dilemma.

Two weeks ago, my mom sent me bags of dried wild mushrooms as part of a birthday package. Sunday night, at the end of a busy weekend/long week, I was curled up on the couch (feeling a little under the weather) and could barely keep my eyes open when I suddenly remembered that there was a recipe I had wanted to try from a new cookbook (also a birthday gift) with my new morels. But in my current state, could I muster the energy to cook something new and relatively involved?

Strike one: I was already in pajamas. Strike two: I didn't have one of the key ingredients, Madeira, a fortified Portuguese wine. Fortified wines are wine + some kind of liquor (hence the fortification), and they're often used in cooking. I find them to be difficult because many recipes call for a specific type (chicken Marsala, Cognac-lacquered quail), and I'm not inclined to spend a lot of money keeping around a variety of seldom-used cooking wines.

There I was, with two strikes against me. But I really wanted to try my morels, and I knew I wouldn't have much time the next week to cook. So I called home for a quick consulation: my mom is an excellent cook and my dad knows more about wine than anyone I know. They recommended I buy a Port, which is versatile yet complex enough to cover the bases for some cooking and baking needs (and isn't bad as an after-dinner drink either). (Does anyone have any suggestions for must-have cooking liquor, preferably a flexible booze that is useful for sweet and savory recipes?)

At this point, I was fully in gear: I Googled the nearest wine store, rented a Zipcar, leaped off the couch, picked up the Zipcar, and drove like a mad woman to World Market just in time to buy a bottle of Port before closing time (I left my apartment just 15 minutes before the store closed).

An hour later, one bite drenched in the velvety-rich, buttery Port-reduction cream sauce told me I'd absolutely made the right decision. The morels were full of all that wonderful woody flavor, the chicken was juicy, the fruity Port and subtle lemon zing cut the richness of the sauce perfectly, and I was happily comatose (back on the couch) soon after dinner.

~

Chicken with Morels

(from Ina Garten)

1 oz dried morels, soaked for 30 minutes in 3 c very hot water

6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

All-purpose flour, for dredging

1⁄4 c clarified butter

1⁄3 c chopped shallots (2 large)

1 T minced garlic (3 cloves)

1 c Madeira wine (I successfully substituted Port)

1 c (8 oz) crème fraîche

1 c heavy cream

2 T freshly squeezed lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 375*F.

Lift the morels carefully from the hot water in order to leave any grit behind in the liquid. Rinse a few times to be sure all the grittiness is gone. Discard the liquid and dry the morels lightly with paper towels. Set aside.

Sprinkle the chicken breasts with salt and pepper. Dredge them in flour and shake off the excess. Heat half the clarified butter in a large saute pan and cook the chicken in two batches over medium-low heat until browned on both sides, 8-10 min. Remove to an ovenproof casserole.

Add the rest of the clarified butter to the pan along with the shallots, drained morels, and garlic. Saute over medium heat for 2 min, tossing and stirring constantly. Pour the Madeira into the pan and reduce the liquid by half over high heat, 2-4 min. Add the crème fraîche, cream, lemon juice, 1 t salt, and 3⁄4 t pepper. Boil until the mixture starts to thicken, 5-10 min. Pour the sauce over the chicken and bake for 12 min, or until the chicken is heated through.

Smitten kitchen.

Okay, I know that's the name of another (fabulous) food blog, but it's the perfect title for this post.

Last weekend my boyfriend and chief taste tester, Nick, visited to celebrate my birthday. Over the last few years we've been together, his culinary prowess has improved significantly from deftly flicking a frozen pizza in the oven. In the last two years of our long-distance relationship, we've started a series of (in theory) weekly "cook-alongs": we'll agree on a recipe, block off a couple hours one evening, set up our webcams and cook the same step-by-step recipe, and have a laptop-lit dinner date (fine, pause for eye roll -- after over six years of long distance, we'll take what we can get). Besides getting a good grasp on knife skills and a pretty perfect sear on a chicken breast (my webcam has some serious oil splatter from being plunged down to pan level so he can see what color to look for), Nick has cooked a respectable repertoire including hand-rolled meatballs, mini quiches, fennel-crusted pork tenderloin, and perfectly poached eggs over asparagus. We went from "Which end of the onion do I cut off first?" to garlic minced so fast your head would spin. I'm no expert chef, but I've been teaching him the basics which I've picked up over the last few years, and we're continuing to learn together.

Which is why I was checking the clock at work every five minutes after 5pm on Friday, as I was due home for a birthday dinner surprise to be served at 7pm ("It's not going to be fancy...I just hope it works out," he said). I got home around 6:30pm and dawdled a bit in my apartment lobby. I stepped out of the elevator around 6:45pm and smelled butter in the hallway -- a good sign. Entering my apartment, it was worth the wait: chicken piccata with pencil asparagus. The chicken was perfectly browned, flavorful and juicy -- bathed in a perfectly tangy and tart buttery lemon sauce dotted with briny capers that burst with flavor. The asparagus, a brilliant green and still pleasantly toothsome, was a perfect complement. I've never made a piccata, but I've had it enough in restaurants to know this one was delicious.

And then, just as I was contemplating lifting my nearly empty plate to drink the sauce, another surprise out of the kitchen: my mom and I had earlier this week been lamenting the fact that we were breaking from tradition by not having a home-baked birthday cake this year. Nick came to the rescue and made not just any home-baked cake, but my very favorite Suzy McMullen's chocolate cake. He had called my sister who had to get the frosting recipe from my mom (and some cake-baking coaching and tips), but through a spectacular team effort, he saved my sweet streak. I have to admit, he got a few tears out of me -- both for how thoughtful he was and for how proud I was of how far his cooking skills have come.

Of course, he ignored my mom's instructions that "half a recipe is plenty," and now I have an enormous block of chocolate decadence in my fridge (which is disappearing alarmingly fast). Just confirms my belief that dining at home can be more special than a three Michelin-star meal.

The process:

We were trying to get a picture of an enormous slice of the cake, but the camera kept focusing on my wriggling cat.