Posts Tagged poultry
When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the Two Fat Ladies. This was when I was still the pickiest eater in the known universe, so I might as well have been watching Fear Factor. These ladies would slather a pile of butter over an artichoke, that horrid bitter thistle (Hey, I love artichokes now, but as a kid? They were weird-looking and therefore definitely not edible.) and then they would eat it. They made muttachar, which horrified me, and not only because it included tomatoes. They ate chocolate cake without frosting, which my five-year-old mind thought was rather missing the point.
Through every episode, no matter what they were making, they were deadly serious with their admonitions against reducing calories. “The butter is a must.” “There is no substitute for lard or beef drippings–if you object, eat something else.” And always, at the end when they tried their creations, their faces conveyed absolute happiness.
So when I grew up and started eating real food, I picked up the Two Fat Ladies’ cookbooks all at once, without even looking through them. I had so many wonderful memories of their show, despite never having eaten anything they’d featured, that I couldn’t resist. Then I let the books sit on the counter for two years because, well, I didn’t want to become a fat lady.
I don’t care if I do anymore. Not that this particular dish is unhealthy in the least. Quail are such little birds, even if you cooked them in their weight in butter they’d still be little more than snacks. This version, with honey and lemon, is simply delightful. I adapted the recipe from this book only slightly, to add more garlic. I changed the method to make it a one-dish affair, because my dishwasher is broken and I don’t want to deal with it. It was perfect.
Ingredients (serves 2 with a generous helping of steamed vegetables)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 T honey
juice of 1/2 lemon
salt to taste
Heat the oven to 450°F
I get my quail frozen, in packs that encourage the ice to cement them together like tiny poultry bricks. If I don’t thaw them completely before separating the birds, they will end up missing limbs. Fair warning.
I always remove the wingtips, not because I worry that I might accidentally try to eat them, but because they have a tendancy to stick straight up in the oven and then they burn. I dislike the smell of burning. Here is a wingtip:
Here is no wingtip:
There, that’s much better.
Melt the butter in a cast iron pan (or another heavy, oven safe pan), sauté the garlic until it begins to brown. Add the lemon juice and honey and stir briefly, then toss in the quail.
Brown the quail on all sides, then toss the whole pan in the oven for 10 minutes.
I decided to toss about 1/2 a cup of white wine into the pan after removing the quail and reducing it with the honey-lemon remnants for a quick sauce.
Serve with loads of steamed vegetables, preferably with lemon to complement the lemon on the quail, and bread to mop up your sauce. Delicious!
Poaching and pulling chicken is really very simple, and very worth doing. I know boiled meat is generally pale and unappetizing, but the pulled chicken is so meltingly tender it can’t be resisted. Once you’ve made it, you have several meals’ worth of prepared meat that make weeknight cooking that much easier. I made enchiladas and chicken pot pie with this, and there are dozens of other dishes that would benefit from it as well. This recipe is adapted from Rosalea Murphy’s Pink Adobe Cookbook. Incidentally, if you’re ever looking for a nice place to get good New Mexican food in Santa Fe, the pink Adobe is definitely on my list. What won me over there isn’t traditional New Mexican (a whole baking potato deep fried. Holy Schnikies, that stuff is good.), but the real New Mexican food there is the sort of bold yet simple fare I couldn’t wait to try making at home. Anyway, on to the food.
1 pound chicken meat
about 3 cups chicken broth (or water, if your chicken has bones)
1 to 2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 cloves garlic
1 T mustard
salt, to taste
Most people would probably add onion and celery as well. Go for it, if you like. I was out of celery, and Mr. B and I don’t really eat onions, so we just use garlic a lot.
Fry garlic in a bit of olive oil until soft and stinky. Add broth (or water) and mustard and bring to a boil. Add carrots (and onion and celery) and chicken, turn down to a simmer, and cook about 40 minutes.
Turn off the heat and let the chicken and broth cool just enough that you won’t burn yourself. (Full disclosure: I burned myself. Oh, well.)
Put the chicken on a cutting board and pour the liquid through a strainer into a jar or something. Congrats, you’ve made (or improved upon store-bought) chicken broth! Now we pull chicken.
Just hold it in place with one fork and scrape on it with another as though you were trying to comb it. Strings of chicken will ensue. Continue until all the chicken is pulled.