Had I been alive and cooking and American in 1928, Herbert Hoover’s campaign promise of “A chicken in every pot” wouldn’t have convinced me to vote for him.
I have this thing, you see, about cooking chicken. I don’t like it. Never have. It’s not because I love the birds so much (and believe me, I do, chickens are like cats in avian form), I’ve just always been somewhat revolted by raw poultry. Since my husband doesn’t eat meat, I’ve only rarely had to deal with a chicken’s slippery, goose-pimpled, oddly humanoid form in the kitchen. And yet for the past few months, I’ve had this inexplicable urge to roast a bird. Not just because I’ve never done it and feel its one of those basics that everyone should be able to master, but because I’ve had an odd craving for really good chicken. Not the bland meat of the ubiquitous boneless, skinless chicken breast, but real chickeny chicken, do you know what I mean?
I was delighted, then, to find an article in an old copy of Cook’s Illustrated called “Introducing French Chicken in a Pot“. The writer, Charles Kelsey, describes his introduction to poulet an cocotte (whole chicken baked in a covered pot) in a Paris bistro, raving that “its deep aroma was better than that of any roast chicken I could remember. My first bite confirmed that the dish was very special, indeed — the meat was incredibly tender and juicy, with a rich, soul-satisfying flavour.” Here, surely, was the chickeny chicken I was looking for!
Since I was going to spend much of Valentines Day in the kitchen anyway, I figured it the perfect time to make French Chicken in a Pot. It is unusual for me to follow any recipe to the letter (or at all, for that matter), but given that this was the first time I was actually roasting a bird, AND given the amount of work Mr. Kelsey had done to perfect his version of poulet en cocotte, I measured ingredients and followed instructions like a champ.
Cooked low and slow, with very little added to it, this recipe results in mouthwateringly tender meat that tastes strongly and simply of itself. Plus, because it’s baked in a covered pot, there’s no need to worry about basting the meat — you just shove the whole thing in the oven and the next 80 to 110 minutes are your own — nap time! Serve with simple vegetables, some roast potatoes and blanched green beans perhaps, and a chilled glass of The Good Earth’s chardonnay. Or, do as I shamefacedly did and stand at the kitchen island, dipping the hot, tender sliced meat in the fragrant jus with your fingers, ignoring your dog’s pleading looks.
French Chicken in a Pot
From Cook’s Illustrated, Jan/Feb 2008
- 1 whole roasting chicken (4 1/2 to 5 pounds)*, giblets removed and wings tucked under the back
- 2 teaspoons kosher salt or 1 teaspoon table salt
- 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 small onion, chopped medium (about 1/2 cup)
- 1 small celery stalk, chopped medium (about 1/4 cup)
- 6 medium garlic cloves, peeled and trimmed
- 1 bay leaf
- 1 medium sprig fresh rosemary (optional)
- 1/2 to 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
Browning the bird on the stove top
Time for a nap!
Out of the oven and awaiting its foil tent. Look at the juice!
Finished! Famished!
mmmmmm jus mmmmmmmm
Where's my chicken?