Fraiiiiiiid Chickin

Every day I work, I begin and end my day with the same little ritual. It's more a custom; a tradition really. I spend the first and last few moments of every shift looking over the specials board. I take the time, habitually, in no small part to satisfy my narcissism. Sure, I read it over at night to make sure I've ordered the foods I need and written all the jobs to be done down on my prep list. I scan it again to make sure I haven't missed anything and to note any changes that need to be made. Mostly, I peruse the board twice daily solely to admire my handiwork, to fluff my pride. I love looking over all the dishes, visualizing how they look when plated, thinking, as I often do when I serve food, how pleased I would be if I were served any one of those meals. It is pure vainglory. I'm OK with that. As I've said more than once, a disproportionate sense of self-worth is a prerequisite for being a chef. Nothing new there. What might be news is that, if I read my specials board to satisfy my ego, I write my specials board to satiate my appetite.

When I put dishes on the specials board I consider several factors. First is cost. I have to figure out exactly how much I am going to spend plating each serve of a dish. How much do I spend on the protein? The veg components? The sauce? The butter used in the cooking? The salt? (Confession: I don't actually factor in the salt. “O, that way madness lies.”) This cost breakdown is, of course, tied to the variable market cost of fresh foods, and must be reevaluated on a daily basis. A great part of this evaluation, and my second overall consideration when putting a dish on the menu, revolves around produce as it comes in and goes out of season.

The cost of fresh fruit and veggies follows a reverse bell curve. As a particular item – say peaches – comes into season, the price starts out prohibitively high, drops slowly initially, and then plummets in price as the market is flooded with in-season peaches, only to climb again sharply at the end of the season when availability drops off. Part of my job is to keep an eye on these prices and change the specials board accordingly.



Less obvious factors are that of weather and climate. I'll lump these two together because they are obviously connected, but they are not really the same concern. The weather, and its day to day variations greatly affect what people eat. Had a week or two of cold, spring rain but the forecast tomorrow is for a mild, sunny afternoon? Don't bother stocking up on pasta or your slow-cooked dishes. Everyone will be ordering the salads. Think it's difficult enough having to follow the weather forecast in order to forecast your sales? Now factor in the fact that sweeping movements in climate, both local and abroad which affect the price of meats, fruits and vegetables. Floods in Queensland mean a spike in the price of lamb. A mild spring in Chile means a bumper asparagus crop and spears will be obscenely cheap.

Even more obscure factors influence my specials board. I have to, believe it or not, consider international politics. Southeast Asia no longer accepting our rice imports? The US ceasing cattle exports? Japan refusing to buy Australian blueberries? All of these have an effect on the prices of my goods, and therefore on the items which make the specials board cut. I suspect running a kitchen is good training for being an international stock broker – you have to understand how decisions on one continent will affect prices on another tomorrow.

The single most influential factor which determines the contents of my special board is, diametrically, as local as possible: my stomach. I cook the foods I want to eat. And not in a general sense, but on a day-to-day basis. In other words, the special board is a sounding board for my cravings. Do I feel like French onion soup on a cold morning, check my specials board in the afternoon. Pasta with sauce putanesca sound good for dinner? I'm betting my customers will feel the same.

A quick check of my specials board recently would indicate I'm craving a Southern-style picnic. Recently I've been selling BBQ pork ribs, corn and bacon fritters, and peach cobbler. Cobbler, is not a known desert here in OZ, and my customers find it quite exotic. If all of that were not enough, this week, thanks to a a flare-up of something of an annual craving I have, I added fried chicken and coleslaw.

Fried Chicken and Coleslaw

I love fried chicken, but only about once a year. I usually have my fill of grease and then can't stand the thought of doing it again for quite some time. Which is why this time I decided to fry chicken wings. They are tasty, juicy, and small. As long as you don't fry too many, it's difficult to overeat.

The wings need to be soaked in a brine overnight to ensure that the meat is flavorful all the way through. The next day it is drained, dipped in buttermilk, dredged in a seasoned flour, and fried at a relatively low temperature so that it cooks through without becoming too dark.

Fried chicken is just as good hot as it is cold. If you think you can eat this meal two days in a row, make extra and treat yourself to a lovely cold lunch.

1 k chicken wings, tips removed, cut in half at the joint

For the Brine

1 litre water
40g salt
60g sugar
5 cloves garlic, cracked
1 sprig thyme
2 stalks of parsley
6 bay leaves
12 black peppercorns
1 lemon, quartered

Combine all the ingredients and bring to a boil. Simmer for two minutes. Remove from the heat and cool to room temperature. Strain, discarding solids, and transfer to the fridge. When the brine is cold, submerge the wings and refrigerate overnight.

The next day drain well, discarding the brine.

Seasoned Flour

100g flour
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp salt
½ tsp cayenne pepper
½ tsp white pepper
2 Tbsp smoked paprika
pinch chipotle powder (optional)

Combine all the ingredients.

Frying the Chicken

1 cup buttermilk

Heat your fryer (or pot of oil) to 140ºC. Working in batches, dip the wings in the buttermilk and then toss them in the flour. Lower into the oil and fry for 8-10 minutes. Drain well and serve with coleslaw (below).

Pickled Coleslaw

Calling this pickled cabbage coleslaw is a bit of poetic license. I like vinegary bite as a contrast to the rich chicken. I also like that the red cabbage becomes an unnatural shade of fuchsia – not many natural foods we eat are quite this bright. This improves with age, make this a few days in advance.

½ red cabbage, cored and sliced as thinly as possible
½ spanish onion, peeled and sliced as thinly as possible
1 carrot, peeled and shredded
white vinegar
water
sugar
salt

Mix the cabbage, onion, and carrot. Pack this mix tightly into a sterilized jar just large enough to hold the lot. Bring a 50/50 mixture of vinegar and water to a simmer – enough to fill the remaining space in the jar. Season to taste with salt and sugar (roughly equal amounts of each. Pour the boiling liquid into the jar with the cabbage mix, tapping the jar gently to remove any air bubbles. Fill the jar to the top and seal. Cool to room temperature and refrigerate until ready to use.

To serve, drain the liquid away, dress with a bit of olive oil and toss in some parsley, if you like.