Chicken and pie, oh my!

The first thing to, when undertaking chicken pot pie, is to buy a chicken. Or maybe it's to buy an egg...

Let's start with the chicken, butchered, giblets and wishbone removed, all done up with your prettiest trussing twine. It makes me so happy, the potential of chicken.

I was inspired to make a good pot pie, one done right, after eating a terribly mediocre version at Knee High Stocking Co. The drinks were good, the company bearded and intelligent, but the pot pie was bland with a thin brothy filling and, sin of sins... No. Bottom. Crust. I wanted to fix all their wrongs.

Preferring a salt-based rub on my chicken, I started by mincing together garlic with thyme and parsley. These are some of my favorites for the purpose, but use whatever fresh herbs you have on hand. Next I poured quite a lot of coarse kosher salt on my butcher block cutting board and continued to mince. I rubbed my chicken, previously patted dry, inside and out and stuffed a halved lemon and some halved garlic into the cavity.

I roast my chicken, one wing up and one wing down, for about 30 minutes at 400 degrees, then rotate, using a wooden spoon stuck in the cavity or some paper towels to protect my hands, so the opposite side is facing up. Then I rotate the chicken breast up and brush the skin with my favorite roasted garlic and onion jam and roast for another 25-50 minutes, depending on the size of the bird. Brush more jam on the skin once or twice, heating it up or diluting with a little balsamic vinegar for easy spreading. The result is a flavorful bird, the skin sticky with sheen, more savory than sweet. You may want to dig it right away, but it's important to let it sit for about 15 minutes before carving.

I'm most happy when I'm able to eat a roasted chicken alone because I like to pull the bird apart with my hands. It's a delicate and careful process, but I like to relish in the textile feel of it and lick the greasy mess from my fingers. The wing tips are my favorite part of the whole bird. I get extraordinary pleasure from crunching on the delicate bones, tasting and swallowing the brittle little cavities of marrow.

After I've satisfied myself (eating and masturbating are so similar), I cut the chicken meat into bite-sized pieces to be used in another recipe. Perhaps chicken salad veronique or a chicken noodle soup, but today, chicken pot pie.

Always inspired by Sally Shneider, I used her creamy root vegetable velouté, a riff off on one of my favorite soups and a healthier alternative to cream-based sauces, as the pot pie filling. Recipe follows. 

The crust was straight from Joy of Cooking, half butter and half shortening, rolled out, 2 disks per pie, for a top and bottom crust. The bottom crust was blind baked before filling and both crusts were brushed with an egg wash for a glossy appearance and added crunch.

In a restrained amount of butter, I sauteed chopped onions and coins of carrots and parsnips, cooked just until soft (5 or 6 minutes), then added some peas, fresh lemon juice and salt and pepper. I added my veggies and cubed chicken to the velouté and baked until the crust was browned and the filling bubbled up between the slits.

With Lacy and The D, my closest friends and some of my favorite dining companions, I cracked my crust and spooned up the thick hot filling. They both loved it and were impressed to hear that the filling wasn't thickened with flour or cornstarch. I loved that in the middle of this messy ramekin of warmth and flavor, the chicken was still the star.

Roast yourself a chicken. Do it. Pot pie is just one of so many possibilities.

Creamy Root Vegetable Velouté  (makes 3 cups)

1 medium waxy potato, peeled, quartered and thinly sliced crosswise

1 small celery root, same

2 medium parsnips, same

1 medium leek, white and pale green parts thinly sliced

2 garlic cloves, thinly slices

1/4 teaspoon each kosher salt and sugar

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, olive oil or rendered bacon fat

3/4 cup water

3 cups low sodium chicken or vegetable broth

freshly ground white pepper

1/4 cup chopped flat leaf parsley

Braise the veggies. In a medium saucepan, combine the vegetables, salt, sugar, butter and water. Bring to a simmer, cover and cook 15 minutes or until the water has almost evaporated.

Add more liquid and simmer until tender. Add the remaining broth and return to a simmer, cooking an additional 15 minutes or until quite soft.

Taste, adjust the seasoning, and puree in a blender. This soup is so thick and smooth it feels like it's full of cream. Add parsley last. 

This soup can be served on its own, with a drizzle of truffle oil or heavy cream (and perhaps a grating of nutmeg) if desired. 

Cleansing Cucumbers

I needed something healthy and invigorating. 

I'd recently stuffed myself to the brim, eating my way through a weekend in Portland. On Saturday I lunched on Bijou's salad Nicoise, perfectly and minimally dressed though the herbs lacked fragrance and I longed for a few capers. Dinner began with the flaky biscuits piled high in the bread basket at Mother's Bistro, continued with Mother's roasted beet and blood orange salad and ended with her crab cakes. The decor impressed though the service did not, and the food, though slightly flawed, was rich and flavorful. I would return for the biscuits alone. Sunday started with Morning Star's eggs benedict, necessary after the night's libations. 

Back in Seattle, I came home to quietude, flipped through my cookbooks and went on a sunny stroll through Cal Anderson park, running into several neighbors on the way. We chatted on park benches until the shadows crept over us, relegating the sun to slender stripes on the grass and gravel. Still mildly hung over, faintly tired, I craved something light and cleansing. Cucumbers.

I played with David Tanis' Vietnamese cucumber salad, trying out a bias cut on my vegetables, adding rice vinegar and extra ginger, reducing the sugar. The results were flavorful and just short of fiery. I preferred all of my improvisations except for the bias cut. Simply sliced cucumbers make a more manageable mouthful. I garnished the salad with thinly sliced sweet onions and, though pretty, they were more delicious when tossed and marinated with the rest of the salad. I suggest taste over aesthetics on this one. 

After salad came sleep. A new week. A date with a new boy, even. I laughed at myself as I shared camera-phone images of my recent concoctions, lovingly pointing out ingredients like a grandparent naming children in a wallet photo. "I want that," the boy said as he pointed at the cucumber salad with his chopsticks, his gorgeous gray eyes lighting up. I smiled, remembering how the sweet crunch contrasted with the tangy, slightly salty dressing, the bite of onions and peppers. Suffice it to say, I hope to make it again soon. 

Vietnamese Cucumber Salad

Adapted from "A Platter of Figs and other Recipes" by David Tanis

4 large cucumbers

salt and pepper

vietnamese (nuoc mamma) or thai (nam pla) fish sauce

rice vinegar
2-inch piece of ginger, peeled and cut into fine julienne

palm sugar

3 serranos or jalapenos

2-3 limes

mint sprigs

basil sprigs

thinly sliced sweet onion

Peel cucumbers, cut them lengthwise in half and slice into half-moons. Place in a large bowl, add salt and pepper to taste, a dash each of fish sauce and vinegar, the ginger and a tablespoon of palm sugar. Toss well and let sit for at least 5 minutes.

David suggests finely chopping the chiles and adding them to taste by the spoonful, but I prefer them thinly sliced and added with a bold liberality. Add the onions, douse with freshly-squeezed lime juice and toss again. Cover and refrigerate till serving.

Just before serving, add a fistful of mint and basil leaves, roughly chopped or perhaps stacked, rolled and sliced into a pretty chiffonade. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more lime juice, fish sauce or salt as necessary. Though I halved this and enjoyed it as a hefty meal for one, Tanis serves it as a side to wild salmon. 

Caketastic Birthday Blowout

Being an Aquarius and born in the ghastly year of 1985, I recently turned 25.

I didn’t really have a big birthday blowout, or anything as crazy as the word suggests. I did put on a pretty party dress and have a few friends over, though. I even received a singing telegram, compliments of my father, along with two noise complaints from neighbors. And I baked a cake.

A friend who bakes for a hobby and has made a few wedding cakes lent me her professional cake pans. I’d been planning on doing a big 3-tiered beast but when I saw the 6”, 10” and 14” square pans and realized I’d have to bake 2 layers of each if I didn’t want a squat-looking dessert, I decided to nix the bottom layer. It alone was supposed to serve 50 people! I may not be the most practical girl, but even I knew that would be entirely unnecessary.

Since I couldn’t decide between red velvet cake and traditional yellow birthday cake, I set about making both. I scoured cake recipes in my cookbooks and online and inevitably chose the ones with the most butter and eggs, deeming them “authentic.” My alarm set for 6 am on my birthday formally observed (since my real birthday was on a workday), I woke up and removed 2 whole packages of butter and 10 eggs from my fridge to bring to room temperature and went back to sleep. Don’t think I’d forgotten the half-pound of cream cheese or the pint each of buttermilk and heavy cream. I let them warm up and gave them some loving later on in my leisurely day.

Hours passed pleasurably as I oscillated between mess making and cleaning. When the cloud of sugar settled, I’d stained my white seat covers with red food coloring, spattered creamed butter on the walls and dirtied every bowl I owned. A birthday baking success!

After my cooked layers cooled, I frosted the yellow cake with a satiny chocolate frosting, easily made in the blender. The recipe that follows was actually my favorite discovery of the day.

I torted (divided each of my two layers in half) and frosted my red velvet tier with an airy cream cheese frosting. The whole cake was refrigerated with a crumb layer, then given a final frost a few hours later.

I piped melted chocolate onto parchment paper and then firmed it up in the fridge before transferring it to my cake. Atop the pristinely pale cream cheese screamed the words “Fuck Yeah 25.”

I declined to try my hand at prettily piped borders and instead tossed on some coconut, creating a fun effect that reminded me of Top Pot’s feather boa donuts. Lacy and The D, who showed up early with take-out Ezell’s fried chicken, helped my haphazardly throw some sprinkles on the side edges. Lacy made me the sweetest card - dedicated to 10 years of best-friend status, a gorgeous secretary pen necklace, and The D installed a dimmer in my kitchen, providing the perfect atmosphere for my birthday-candle-blowing-and-wish-making moment!

By the time Jamie and Niel of Seattle Singing Telegrams were wildly performing The Beatles' “Birthday” (which transitioned awesomely into “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”), I was ready to cut my fucking cake, yo! Jamie and Neil passed, but I don't blame 'em. I’m sure they get offered a lot of cake. It's a job hazard.

Savoring a sample of each layer, I nestled into my couch with a White Russian cocktail and watched The Big Lebowski with my remaining friends.

The birthday girl abides.

Chocolate Satin Frosting
Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

By Irma Rombauer, Marion Rombauer-Becker and Ethan Becker

6 ounces unsweetened or bittersweet chocolate, broken into small pieces

1 cup heavy cream : )

1 ½ cups sugar

6 tablespoons (¾ stick) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1 teaspoon vanilla (or booze!)

In a small saucepan, bring cream to a boil. Remove from heat and add chocolate without stirring. Cover and set aside for exactly 10 minutes. Scrape into a food processor or blender and add the remaining ingredients. A drizzle of rum or strong coffee would be welcome additions at this stage, too. Process until perfectly smooth. Set aside until thickened to desired spreading consistency. This keeps in the fridge for one week. But if you're me, you'll find yourself pulling out the Tupperware two weeks later and spooning it up while you watch Thumbsucker and World's Greatest Dad back to back on a Friday night.