Thomas Keller's Roast Chicken (By a Far Inferior Cook)

I've roasted a lot of chickens in my personal and professional life. Well, mostly in my professional life. Mostly because one of my first jobs in the culinary world was as a chicken roaster. That's right, I spent most of my 12-to-17 hour shifts cutting, seasoning, panning up, and roasting chickens for a restaurant that served predominantly roasted chicken.

Spending years with the smell of chicken grease on my hands, clothes, and hair got me to a point where I didn't like chicken any more. In fact I went at least ten years without voluntarily having chicken after that job. I just never had any sort of craving for roast chicken.

After meeting Jen and hearing her talk, for years, about how much she loved a simple roast chicken I finally gave in and decided to give the dish another go. Since then I have found it to be quite enjoyable to have a nice roast chicken from time to time.

So, tonight, I set to work to make roast chicken for dinner!



Then I saw the state of the kitchen. Jen had made a cake last night. Tornadoes are generally easier on kitchens than Jen is when she is baking. This is a mixed bag because on the one hand I have to clean up a huge mess but on the other hand there are usually delicious baked treats for me to eat.

The interesting thing is her statement this morning: "I thought I did a good job cleaning last night after I was done baking. Apparently I was wrong."

The morning sun casts its light on the truth.



I decided, after watching a recent episode of No Reservations to break with my traditional way of roasting a chicken and go with Thomas Keller's method. I figured that it just might be possible that Thomas Keller could possess a better technique than even I had for roasting chicken.

I know, this was a long shot, but life is about taking risks.



It seemed to work pretty well. The main differences from my normal technique were really that this technique requires no oil, removing the wishbone, and involves a figure eight truss around the legs. Since my trussing skills are around the level of your average third grader this didn't go particularly well but once you remove the twine no one is the wiser.



What did I pair with this dinner? Why this pale ale from Lake of Bays Brewing in Baysville, Ontario. There is a lot on the bottle boasting about how it is a northern beer. I assumed the bay it was referring to was the Hudson Bay but it's actually less than three hours north of Toronto and an impossible distance south of the Hudson Bay. According to Google Maps there is no actual way to get to the Hudson Bay from where Baysville, Ontario is. I know that this is unlikely to be true but let's just say it's not an afternoon trip.



To accompany the chicken I also made this couscous with dried fig, carrot, green onion, almond, olive oil, butter, salt, and pepper.



It was interesting to try an alien technique for roast chicken. I think next time I'm going to give Heston Blumenthal's roast chicken a go.

All I need is a chicken and six days of prep time and I'm trying this technique out!

Quattro Carciofi

If you don't want to miss a single moment of me ruining artichokes, you should follow us on Facebook! The 1 millionth follower gets a free Jen & Nate Buy the Farm . . . Share baseball cap (valued at $9.99). Don't miss this amazing opportunity!

Each spring I like to attempt, again, to do something with artichokes. I purchased a couple of artichokes for Easter then forgot I had them until I discovered them in the crisper last night. They were a little past their prime so I was forced to do something with them this evening.

The first time I ever really learned about how to prepare an artichoke was from Jacques Pepin. He had a show on PBS when I was in culinary school and my mother used to watch it all the time.



I don't think this is the actual video I saw as it is undated but it was something very similar to this. Artichokes always worried me so this video gave me the kick in the pants to try preparing them. I never really got the hang of it and every time I make artichokes I always imagine Jacques Pepin's ghost hovering over me and shaking his head in disappointment.

This is very unusual especially considering the fact that Jacques Pepin is still alive.



I took out all the items in my fridge that I was tired of looking at and decided, after steaming the cleaned artichokes, that I would prepare each halved artichoke in a different way. This would maximize the amount of ingredients I was able to clear out of the fridge, freezer, and pantry.

The first artichoke I made with some leftover tasso, cornbread, and cotija cheese with a little melted butter and smoked paprika. This was Jen's favorite as it incorporated cornbread in a stuffing form which is one of her greatest culinary pleasures.

For the second artichoke I used the remaining pesto from last night, some roast chicken from Sunday's dinner, sliced grape tomato, toasted and crumbled rosemary bread, and shaved Robusto cheese.

The third artichoke was filled with rice, kidney beans, cilantro, smoked paprika, cumin, feta, and a little lime juice.

I served the last artichoke simply with a poached egg, a drizzle of lemon juice, some cracked black pepper, and truffle salt. I gave this one to Jen first to get it out of the way since she has a strong dislike for eggs, particularly of the poached variety.



To wash down this odd collections of poorly-prepared artichokes I selected the blonde beer from Boréale that's we'd picked up on our weekend jaunt to Montreal. I don't know what the prescribed beer pairing for artichokes generally is but since there was no real theme tying these artichokes together it worked out just fine.

What thing will we clear out of our fridge next? What Canadian beer will we pair with it? Tune in tomorrow, or maybe the next day, or maybe next week, to find out!

En Papillote: A Personal Culinary Journey

En papillote. For some reason when I hear those words it conjures up disturbing images of culinary failure. I haven't really been able to pinpoint it until tonight but I guess I have some repressed memories of en papillote.

My first encounter with this cooking technique was in culinary school. I'd been assigned a project with some students and we met after class to experiment. The three of us managed to happen upon what had to be the sketchiest butcher shop in all of Providence where we purchased something the butcher claimed to be lamb. I'm not really sure why we thought doing lamb en papillote was good idea but I supposed that is irrelevant.

By the time we got back to the other student's apartment we determined, even with our lack of culinary knowledge, that this meat was either from a very different animal than a lamb -- perhaps from another solar system -- or from a very diseased and elderly lamb normally referred to as mutton. After smashing the "lamb" meat for about twenty minutes with all manner of object from the kitchen we were able to tenderize it to the point where it was almost chewable.



Tonight I started on better footing by laying out my parchment paper and getting started on tonight's papillotes. I laid down a bed of arugula, topped it with boiled, sliced Yukon Gold potatoes, and then a seasoned piece of tilapia. On top of that I laid out some thinly sliced zucchini and some Seggiano roasted tomatoes with the oil they were in. I also topped it with a few pats of butter, lemon zest, and a splash of white wine.



After that I wrapped it up and, for some reason, place the most poorly wrapped of the bunch up front for the photo.



For salad I tossed some kale with the remaining roasted tomatoes and their oil and threw in the leftover stilton and some toasted pecans along with lemon juice, salt, and pepper. The strong tomato flavor from the oil made up for the fact that there were only about three or four tiny tomatoes floating around in the salad.

I'm reminded of another en papillote experience. At my first post-college cooking gig I was working at a restaurant and the chef had made a special en papillote. I was the one he assigned to make them and, wouldn't you know, his parents came in for dinner that night. Then I mad them and they came into the kitchen to ask who the marvelous chef was who had prepared this for them. The chef told them it was me which gained me applause from all the kitchen staff. As I moved past the chef, tears in his eyes, and out of the kitchen I found that the entire dining room was filled with clapping patrons, those who were facing away had turned in their seats and I was given approving nods from the well-dressed clientele.

No, that's not actually what happened.

Instead the dish got sent back because it was undercooked. This caused the chef to take the small paper sack from the waiter and throw it into the oven with such force that the partially eaten meal was planted against the back of the oven as he shut the door. He never said anything directly to me about it but the personal shame from the incident carries over to this day.



Hence, the difficult thing about en papillote: there's really no way to tell when it's done. That's why I cooked tonight's dinner until I was 100% positive that it was done.

Then I cooked it an additional 10 minutes.

I couldn't run the risk of Jen biting into partially cooked tilapia then storming off to the kitchen and throwing it back into the oven with all her might.

Those wounds run pretty deep.



When opened I found they were perfectly done. And quite tasty. After more than twelve years hiatus I had returned to the en papillote scene triumphant.



This afternoon we went to Ikea. That always seems like a good idea until you get there and have been there for several hours and realize that all the strength has left your body and you're only halfway through the store. To pay myself back for this trial I purchased some little tiny glasses for grappa. I hadn't intended to use them so soon but all of the old traumatic memories of en papillote failures had made me feel I needed a drink.

So it was that I wasn't sure if I was drinking this grappa to celebrate tonight's success or lament the failures of yesteryear.

One thing was sure though: my new grappa glasses are pretty awesome. The best $1.99 I ever spent.

A Vegan Breakfast, Lunch, and Snack

Jen was kind enough to prepare tonight's dinner on Sunday. My only instructions: put the enchiladas in the oven. As of late Jen has been wondering what it would be like to have something different for breakfast. Unlike me she does not possess an endless tolerance to eat the same exact thing for breakfast every day until the end of time.

How sad for her.



Based on her strong suggestion I took some inspiration from this recipe and made a spiced oatmeal for breakfast using steel cut oats, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, vanilla, brown sugar, currants, and raisins. I also drizzled a small amount of coconut milk over the top along with some sliced almonds and ground flax seed.

I used to make steel cut oats all the time. I generally don't make them at home because A) until I moved in with Jen I didn't even have breakfast at all and B) now that I do have breakfast I just use it as a vehicle to get something in my stomach in the morning. I certainly don't care to spend 30 minutes on cooking breakfast. Particularly when I need to leave the house by 6:00 A.M. most mornings to go to work.

Steel cut oats are remarkable in that you wonder how they are at all connected to the instant oatmeal flakes that we all grew up eating. I'm not knocking instant oatmeal, it's what I have for breakfast most mornings. It's good in its own right but it bears little to no resemblance to its original form, something that makes fans on both sides a little uneasy at tasting the other.

With all this free time, what as I to do with the rest of my day? Well, I had big plans. I downloaded Le Voyage dans la Lune and got ready for an incredible viewing experience. What I failed to realize is that this film is only 14 minutes long. With that over I decided it was time to make some lunch.



I made a sandwich with some day old whole wheat bread, red pepper hummus, spinach, avocado, tomato, and sliced almonds. I also tossed some more spinach in some remaining fig, sesame, and dijon dressing as a side salad.

Then I read this article on ConsumerReports.org about high bacteria levels being found in packaged greens and was saddened. Washing salad greens has, for unknown reasons, long been one of my least favorite culinary tasks. The prospect of having to start washing my pre-packaged salad greens from now on may be even more or a deal breaker than possibly getting salmonella every so often.



For a mid-day snack with my tea I decided to try this new cake-making technique I heard about (though I can't remember where). The idea goes something like this: take a cake mix and, instead of using the ingredients listed on the back of the box, just combine the dry mix with one can of canned pumpkin. Then bake it following the cake mix's instructions. This turns a 260 calorie slice of cake with oil, milk, and eggs into a vegan cake slice which is fat free and only 170 calories.



The result was not bad. Because of the lack of eggs you can't underbake this cake. In the future I would probably bake it a little less. I'd strongly recommend playing around with this technique for all you vegans out there.

I found some interesting discussions about this techniques on some recipe sites where people were suggesting alterations to this recipe. The most common alteration, suggested by multiple people, was to add some eggs to the recipe. I'm not quite sure what their goal was in trying this recipe int he first place.

However, this is a great suggestion if you are looking for a tastier cake. I'd also recommend slathering on a nice chocolate ganache over the top. My suggestion: 1 cup dark Belgian chocolate, 1/2 cup heavy cream, 2 tablespoons of high-fat European butter (e.g. Plugra).

Also, replace the canned pumpkin with 6 ounces of coconut oil and 6 ounces of 6 ounces of peanut butter.

Enjoy!

No Knead To Boast

A couple of days ago I was reading an article about Jim Lahey from Sullivan St. Bakery and how he had perfected a technique for making bread without any kneading involved. While I had no reason to not believe Mr. Lahey, I was very skeptical. After all, I started off my fine dining career as a morning bread baker. I would show up to the restaurant in the still dark hours of the morning there I would start up a series of scales to weigh ingredients, and whirring mixers each tirelessly kneading balls of dough for the various types of house breads we offered. I would meticulously measure each ingredient, even testing the day's air and adjusting the water-to-flour ratio slightly to achieve the the right consistency. Each day as I showered after work I would have to remove the hardened clumps of dried bread dough which bound themselves mercilessly along my arms up to the elbow.

You can imagine my anger when I discovered this technique for making bread which basically requires no work. To think, I could have been sleeping in all those days and coming in only to read a magazine while the bread was baking in the ovens. I was further angered to discover the article I was reading was from 2006!



The result was beautiful. It looked done at the 30 minute mark but it took a full 50 to actually be cooked. Looks great, right? The top of the bread is perfect! I couldn't ask for anything better.



Unfortunately the only hiccup was that it stuck to the pan in such a way that I could barely get it out. Next time I will use a much more generous amount of dusting flour on the bottom of the loaf to prevent sticking. The pan was 500 degrees when I put the dough in so I thought that would be adequate to quickly sear the crust and avoid sticking. I could not have been more wrong.



Jen and I had a disagreement yesterday about wedge salads. Jen proposed that a wedge salad could only be done with iceberg lettuce. I made it a point to prove her wrong. This particular wedge is made with Boston lettuce (ironically from Tiverton, Rhode Island) along with a mustard-bacon vinaigrette (rendered bacon, shallots, cider vinegar, Lyle's Golden Syrup, Dijon mustard, salt, and pepper). It's also not in the shape of a wedge but I'm sticking by my guns and calling it a wedge salad. Pesto used to only mean basil, garlic, cheese, pine nuts, and oil. Now pesto seems to refer to anything that is ground up. I think I'm a trendsetter. I'm breaking down the walls of wedge salads so that our children can grow up in a world where you can't put a label on a salad based merely on its appearance.



For dinner I used the remaining mustard and made a creamy mustard sauce with mustard, Worchestershire sauce, diced shallot, some chicken stock, whole grain mustard (that we got in France last summer!) and a touch of cream. I used this as a base for some of these beautiful pork sirloin steaks. I also grilled up these beautiful little baby bell peppers for the top.



Tonight's dinner was brought to you by Cricket Hill East Coast Lager. I wish I could say that was because they paid me a lump sum of hard cash to write this but unfortunately it was only because that's what I had to drink while I prepared the tail end of dinner. Cricket hill is brewed in Fairfield, New Jersey which, as far as I can tell, was named using the random New Jersey Town/City Name Generator. All you do is put the words: River, Fair, Lawn, Field, Ridge, and Water into a hat and pick out two at random. Give it a try!

• Ridgelawn
  
• Fieldwater
  
• Fairriver
  
• Waterlawn
  
• Ridgeridge
  
• Waterfield
  
• Fieldlawn
  
• Etc.river

See? Anybody can do it!