"Roast Chicken"

Rather than sneak up on this week's topic, as is my usual want, this time I thought we'd jump right in. I've be deconstructing chicken. Dissecting if you will. Picking (pecking?) apart certain flavors I love and wondering how I might reassemble them in a surprising fashion. Namely I've been thinking about my favorite dinner - roast chicken with lemon and thyme - and how I might mix things up. Admittedly, I'm oft quite quick to disparage over-thought, molecular mangling of food that is so in vogue right now; poking fun at the veritable avalanche of flavored smokes and gels and foams is, after all, something I quite enjoy. However, to be honest, I am quite a fan of the glossy, large format books filled with such examples of this modern gastronomy, and I own several. Flipping through them, as I do, fills one's thoughts with images of fine cylinders of savory sorbets, crisp arches of caramelized onion, and food as architecture in general. The whole concept is, to understate, a bit infectious.

As with so many of my cooking projects, the genesis of this particular idea was both accidental and planted long ago. When first learning to cook professionally, I became particularly enamored with the method of confit, wherein a joint of meat is slowly cooked, submerged in rendered fat, until it is moist, tender, and flavorful. When cooking a tray of chicken legs in this manner I discovered, by accident, that if you have your oven a bit too high, and the, say chicken legs, cook a bit too fast, two things happen: One, the meat is not as good as it could be: neither tender nor moist enough. And two, a thin raft of cooked chook juices form on top of the fat in which the meat is cooking, upon removal and cooling these form a chicken-flavored, artificial “skin” which is both tasty and crunchy while also being, I assume, terribly detrimental to the well-being of your heart. This, I thought, was something too precious to let go of, and I tucked it away mentally for years.



Some time later, upon pulling from the oven a roast chicken which I had stuffed with quartered lemons, I discovered the most delicious pan drippings known to man. Through some brilliant serendipity the bird juices, escaping lemon juice, and roasting fats all combined in the bottom of the pan to form a roast chicken and lemon toffee. It was addictive, crunchy, sticky, salty, and sweet, it tasted of lemon and roast chicken concentrated. My mouth is watering now as I recall. I tried several times to reproduce this toffee by combining varying amounts of lemon and roast chicken stock with butter or duck fat, but ultimately couldn't make it work. I eventually gave up but held onto the general idea.

Recently I began experiments with making savory jelly, namely a mint and vinegar jelly to be served with roast lamb at the restaurant. Unwilling to use gelatin (seems too easy) I opted for the pectin in apples. Only, just as I added a generous splash of vinegar to a bit of apple jelly as it cooked, I realized I'd forgotten to order a bunch a mint, which I hoped to chop and stir in just as my jelly was about to set. Figuring I could still test the concept, I tossed in some thyme leaves and a squeeze of lemon and let the jelly cool. Upon tasting I couldn't help but think of how good this would taste with a roast chicken. This brought back my fascination with the lemon chicken pan drippings, and crisp, salty confit. From there, it was a few short jumps to complete culinary disassembly.

And here's what I came up with:



Slow Roast Chicken with Crisp Skin,
Vegetables, Lemon and Thyme Jelly, and Chicken Toffee Wafers

Right. This is totally out of control, and so is the method. I'll keep the commentary to a minimum – something I am not, admittedly, all that good at. A few of these tasks are best done in advance, namely the “slow roast chicken,” the roast chicken jus, and the lemon and thyme jelly. The rest are best prepared withing 24 hours of serving.

Slow Roast Chicken

This is actually chicken rillettes, slow cooked until the meat falls apart, wherein it is removed from the bone, shredded, mixed with it's cooking fats and juices, and set in pots capped with fat until it is, traditionally, to be spread on bread and eaten cold. Here I shape it and give it a quick sear for color and a bit of extra roast meat flavor. Allow a week, at least, in the refrigerator between cooking and eating for the flavors to mature. This will make far more than you need

2 k chicken legs, bone in, skin on
1 garlic clove, peeled and cracked
1 shallot, peeled and sliced
1 bay leaf
1 sprig thyme
zest of ¼ lemon
2 Tbsp duck fat
150 ml chicken stock

Place the chicken into a large dish with a tight-fitting lid. Drop the garlic, shallot bay, thyme, zest, and duck fat around the sides. Pour the stock over. Season with generous amounts of salt and pepper. Cook, covered, in a slow oven for 2- 4 hours – until the meat is falling apart. The key is to not allow the liquid to come to a rapid boil; rather it should “tick” slowly.

Strain the contents of the pot, keeping the liquid and the solids in separate bowls. Allow the meat to cool until you can handle it. Carefully peel the skin from the legs, keeping it in as large of pieces as possible. Transfer the skin to a sheet of cling film, lightly season, top with more cling film, roll up, and freeze until ready to use for the crisp skin (see below).

Pick the meat from the bones and discard the bones, along with the hard herbs. Using your fingers or a couple of forks, shred the meat and cooked vegetables. You should end up with a fine-grained texture product, not a paste.

Using a ladle, transfer into the meat all of the fat that has risen to the top of the reserved cooking liquid. This will (hopefully) be quite a bit. Mix this into the meat, tasting and adjusting seasoning – adding more salt, pepper, as needed and a bit of the cooking liquid as well, until the mixture is moist and rich. .

Sterilize some small ceramic pots or jars or glasses. Divide the warm meat evenly, packing it down and attempting to prevent air bubbles; leave at least 1-2 cm of space at the top of each one. Smooth the top and cool in the refrigerator for a couple of hours. When they have cooled, melt the 200g of clarified butter (just melt, don't heat it beyond that). Pour the butter over the top of the meat until it is about ½ cm thick, taking care that no meat protrudes from the fat. Return to the refrigerator and store for at least one week before serving. Be sure to wrap them the morning after making them so tat they don't take on that “fridge smell.”

Brown Chicken Jus

The method for all brown jus is essentially the same: roast the bones, brown the veg, simmer, skim, skim, skim, strain, reduce, strain again, and cool. Nothing special here.

6 k chicken bones
100 ml red wine (or water)
1 carrot, peeled, roughly chopped
1 brown onion, peeled, roughly chopped
1 stick celery, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 bay leaf
1 sprig of thyme
4 whole black peppercorns

Heat your oven to 200º C. Arrange the bones in a single layer on roasting trays and roast in the oven, turning occasionally, until they are dark brown, but in no places black. Any burnt bits will add bitter flavor to your stock. Using tongs, transfer the bones to a large pot. Carefully pour off any accumulated fat and then splash a bit of the red wine (or water) into each hot roasting tray. Using a wooden spoon scrape off any bits of meat and cooked juices that have stuck to the pan. Pour all of this into the pot with the bones.

Roast the veggies in the oven until they are colored but not burnt. Don't worry if they are not cooked through; a bit of caramelization is what we are after here. Add these to the roasted bones in the pot as well as the thyme, bay, and peppercorns.

Fill the pot with cold water. Cold is important as it helps any fat to gel and rise to the surface. Skim all of this fat of. Bring the stock just to a simmer. It is of utmost importance that this does not come to a rolling boil, as this tends to produce a cloudy stock with cloudy flavors.

When the stock simmers, turn the heat down to the barest of simmers, skim again, and walk away.

Let the stock simmer thus for at least 4 hours. Occasionally skim any accumulated fat that rises to the surface and top up the water-level with cold water.

When the stock has finished simmering, remove it from the heat and allow it to stand for ten minutes to settle. Gently strain the stock through a fine sieve, discarding the solids as you go.

Simmer the strained stock, skimming any impurities, until it is thick and sticky, and, when spooned onto a plate, is very viscous and slightly cohesive; if it runs freely, reduce some more. Be careful, however, not to over-reduce; your stock will take on a deeply salty and slightly bitter flavor.

Strain the jus through a fine sieve and allow to cool, uncovered in the fridge until it is completely set. Remove any fat and impurities – they'll be a lighter color than the rest of the jus - that rise to the surface upon setting (just spoon or cut them off).

Lemon and Thyme Jelly

I really dislike the flavor of cooked citrus, so I add the lemon at the last possible moment here.

1k apples, quartered, skins and cores intact
1 litre water
sugar
200ml cider vinegar
5 thyme sprigs, leaves only
1 lemon, juice only

Gently simmer the apples in the water for 1 hour. Strain through muslin or cheese cloth overnight, reserving the liquid and discarding the solids. For every 1cup of apple liquid, weigh out 180g of sugar. Mix the liquid, sugar, and vinegar. Bring to a boil and simmer until the mixture reaches setting stage – about 105ºC. If you drop a bit on a cold plate, wait a moment, and then run your finger through it, the surface will wrinkle up.

When your jelly has reached setting stage, add the lemon juice and the thyme leaves, stir to mix and transfer to a sterilized jar to set.

--Try to do these things on the day you plan on serving.--

Crisp Chicken Skin

reserved chicken skin from chicken rillettes (above)
salt

Preheat your oven to 200ºC. Thaw (if you've frozen) the reserved skin from the rillettes (above). Line a tray with baking paper and lay out the skin, making sure that it does not overlap. Salt liberally. Top with another layer of baking paper and lightly press with another tray. Bake until the skin is golden and shatteringly crisp – about 10-15 minutes. Cool, break into shards, and store in an airtight container at room temperature.

Roast Vegetables

I use two veggies here to make purées: carrots and corn. The carrots, I leave alone, simply blanching them and then blending them with a touch of seasoning keeps both their color and flavor quite bright. The corn I prepare in my favorite way, removing the kernels from the cob and then pan-roasting them in foaming butter with a touch of garlic and thyme, after which I process them in a blender with a touch of cream until they become a velvety puree.

Carrot Puree

1 carrot, peeled and roughly chopped

Simmer the carrot pieces in just enough water until they are soft but still firm. Transfer the carrot to a blender and process until smooth, adding just enough of the cooking water to make a smooth puree. Finish with a few drops of lemon, and salt to taste.

Roast Corn Puree

1 ear of corn, shucked, kernels cut from cob
1 tsp veg oil
1 tbsp butter
1 clove garlic
1 sprig thyme
2 Tbsp cream

In a medium pan on high heat, bring the oil to nearly smoke point. Add the corn, and sauté until the kernels begin to color. Add the butter, garlic, and thyme. Cook, tossing often, in the foaming butter until many of the the kernels caramelize. Remove the garlic and the thyme and transfer to a blender. Process, adding the cream to loosen the mix, until very smooth. You can pass this puree through a fine sieve to remove any remaining corn skins, but I find the odd bit of texture here and there refreshing.

Chicken Toffee Wafers

These are the result of an attempt at reproducing the pan juices of myth I once accidentally made. These translucent crisps are not really wafers as much as paper-thin, sticky meat cellophane with a hint of lemon. It sticks to the recesses of your molars in a way only the most decadent of sweets are wont to do, but packs a savory, umami burst for a wonderful, trans-palate surprise. Very intense and quite good in very small amounts. This recipe shouldn't use all the jus you've made.

2 Tbsp brown chicken jus (see above)
½ tsp lemon juice

Heat your oven to 50ºC. Line a tray with baking paper. Just melt the jus in a small pot and then add the lemon juice. Drop small spoonfuls onto the the tray, allowing them to spread as they will. Transfer to the oven and dry 4-6 hours, until they are crunchy. Remove from oven and cool, remove from paper and store in airtight containers.

To Serve

Remove the cap of fat from the chicken rillettes and form a couple of quenelles using two large spoons. Gently brown these in a bit of oil in a pan on medium heat. Meanwhile, prepare two plates with a bit of both the corn and carrot purées, a dollop of the thyme jelly, shards of chicken skin, jus wafers, and dots of warmed, liquid brown chicken jus. Finish with the warm chicken and a sprig of thyme (mine's been crisped up in brown butter, yum!).

Finally, you can eat.