Last night I was thrilled to come home to the smell of good old fashioned roasted chicken.  I was not thrilled however, with the fact that my kitchen was ‘roasted chicken hot’ on such a humid night, but I’ll sacrifice comfort for roasted chicken any day!

So Marnie roasted a chicken, there was a cold beer in the fridge, life was good.  One thing missing.  SAUCE.

I love Sauce (as opposed to ‘the sauce’, which, for those who know me…but I digress).  Hollandaise, shallot jus, pan reductions, old fashioned gravy.  Sauce me up, and be heavy handed.

I started to think back to my own culinary history.  The fancier the joint I’ve worked in, the smaller the sauce spoon.  I recall chefs constantly monitoring plates – “That’s veal glace man!!! Do you know how expensive that is?!?”  –  “Whoa, easy on the lobster cream, is your girlfriend at that table?!?”.   The ire when table 12 asks for ‘more gravy’.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand balance.  One can kill the subtlety of butter poached halibut with a gallon of gastrique or completely hide the character of venison under too much juniper and rosemary.  But, my friends, when it comes the comfort foods – roast chicken, pork, prime rib – More is More.  But what to do at 9:30 on a Tuesday night?

Fear not!!  For Cheffer has planned for such an occasion.  The last turkey dinner I cooked left me with a stock, which I thickened with roux, flavoured with herbs (some dried – see my previous posted ‘soapbox’ rant) and froze in 250 ml deli containers for nights like this.

Salvation was a rummage through the freezer away.

I will not apologize for drowning my chicken (and the carrots, onions, and spuds) in glorious sage gravy.  Think less of me if you will, but if you’re going to look down on me, do it over a full ladle!!

If you share my love of saucy goodness – why not spend the afternoon with me on October 18 for my class ‘Bechamel Mucho’. I’ll be exploring the world of sauces, from classic to contemporary.  A few seats are still available.