French Connection

While we're still on the topic of Provence and its cuisine...

So, as expected, this summer food magazines were filled with all kinds of tempting recipes for the 2014 barbecue season.  The July issue of Bon Appétit alone contained a full spread on DIY Korean barbecue; an Austin, TX spread featuring an outrageous-looking citrus-brined pork loin and a grilled rib eye recipe; a Middle Eastern/North African spread featuring mint and cumin-spiced lamb chops and Moroccan chicken brochettes; an article on cold smoking; and a guide to making and grilling your own sausages.  Just that single issue was enough to keep someone busy over their barbecue for months--and, trust me, it did.

But the recipe that turned out to be the single biggest revelation of the summer here at AEB--at least when it comes to the thrill of the grill--was a lonely little number accompanying a book review in the June/July 2014 edition of "Fare," the front section of Saveur.

 fig. a:  in print

The book in question was a compendium of more than a century's worth of writing on grilling and grilled foods culled from the pages of The New York Times by Peter Kaminsky.  The Times has been on fire* with their food journalism of late, with a bolder, multimedia-savvy approach that's smart, informative, au courant, and well-designed, and this tome sounds like another play to further establish position within the lucrative food & wine media market.  It's called The Essential New York Times Grilling Cookbook, and it's as much of a legacy-builder as it is a collection of hits from the Times' recent generation of superstar food writers--it's clearly meant to prove that the Times has been writing about food with insight and passion all along, decades before the advent of modern-day foodie-ism.

Anyway, Betsy Andrews' review only features one recipe, but it was one that definitely caught my attention.  The recipe was for poulet grillé au gingembre--grilled chicken with ginger--it was co-authored by those old masters of the Times' '60s, '70s, and '80s heyday, Craig Claiborne and Pierre Franey, and it first appeared in the May 25, 1980 edition.

Andrews was effusive in her praise, but what really caught my eye was that French connection to ginger.  Though it's had a presence in European cuisine since at least the days of the Roman Empire, ginger is a rarity in French cuisine.  Waverley Root, in spite of his name,** is utterly silent on the subject in his magisterial The Food of France.  Ginger is entirely absent from Richard Olney's Simple French Food and his The French Menu Cookbook.  And the rhizome appears only once in Julia Child's two-volume Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and then only in a beef recipe that already contains gingerbread as an ingredient.

The only place I'd actually ever noticed ginger in a French cookbook before was in yet another Richard Olney book:  A Provençal Table:  The Exuberant Food and Wine from the Domaine Tempier Vineyard, a.k.a, Lulu's Provençal Table.  There, Olney doesn't make a fuss about it at all, but the recipe in question always intrigued me because it just seemed so unlikely:  "Poulet Rôti au Gingembre, Coudes au Jus" (Roast Chicken with Ginger, Macaroni with Roasting Juices).  "Macaroni & chicken?"  I'd never ever tried it, but it has been near the top of my "to make" list for a long time.  When I spied Claiborne and Franey's recipe my decision was made:  there was no doubt about it, I was finally going to test this Provençal chicken & ginger combo.  I still wasn't sure about its origins (North African?  North African by way of Italy?  Was Lulu's preparation some kind of clue?), but its apparition in Andrews' book review was clearly a sign.

Plus, the recipe is dead simple.  Mysteriously so.  As Andrews puts it, "It worried me at first:  It called simply for grilling 'until the chicken is cooked,' with no specifics as to method or signs of doneness.  And it yielded so little marinade I felt it might starve the bird of flavor."  But, according to her, the results were a classic example of one of those recipes that defies logic, one of those recipes whose process is almost alchemical:  "[When] the chicken was indeed done (a condition I ascertained with the use of a modern-day digital thermometer), how exquisite it was.  Dried thyme and bay leaf and garlic added aromatic flourish.  An abundance of lemon mingled with bristling ginger to stroke the flesh with sweetness and tenderize it to a mouthwatering moistness, abetted by a final drizzle of butter" (!).

And you know what?  I couldn't have agreed more.  I, too, had the feeling that the recipe couldn't possibly work as I prepared it.  And I, too, experienced something magical instead when I cooked the chicken.  The final product looked great, but it tasted a hundred times better--it had a perfect skin, and was literally bursting with flavour.  The ginger was subtle, but present.  And that final blast of butter...  I couldn't believe what I was tasting, and neither could Michelle.

 fig. b:  in real life

Without any further ado...

Poulet grillé au gingembre 

1 2.5-3-lb organic chicken, halved, backbone removed
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 tsp dried thyme, or 1 sprig fresh thyme (with fresh thyme in our garden right now, this has been my preference)
1 bay leaf, crumbled
1 clove garlic, minced
1 1-inch piece ginger, peeled and minced
3 tbsp unsalted butter, melted 

Season the chicken generously with salt and pepper.  Stir lemon juice, oil, thyme, bay leaf, garlic, and ginger in a bowl.  Add chicken and toss to coat.  Cover with plastic wrap and chill for 2-4 hours. 

Heat a charcoal grill, making sure that your charcoals are evenly spread and of an even height.  Ideally, you want a fire that's medium-hot.  Be patient.  Grill a bunch of vegetables first, if you have to. 

Grill chicken, turning as needed, until slightly charred and cooked through, about 35 minutes, or until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of a thigh reads 165º F.  Transfer to a serving platter and drizzle with melted butter.  Tent the chicken with aluminum foil and allow to rest for 10 minutes.  This will complete the cooking process and allow the chicken to release its delicious juices into your platter.  Serve and devour. 

Serves 2 to 4 people, depending on appetite and number of side dishes. 

[based very closely on a recipe that co-authored by Craig Claiborne and Pierre Franey for The New York Times and then adapted slightly by Betsy Andrews for Saveur]

I still haven't tried Lulu's chicken, ginger, and elbow macaroni recipe yet, but I will.  Believe me, I will.  And I haven't fully figured out that French connection to ginger yet, but I like it--I really, really like it. In fact, there have been times recently when I've declared it the very best grilled chicken I've ever tasted.

aj

* Sorry.

**Apologies, once again.

Greens Revolution

Labo Culinaire (a.k.a. Foodlab) made it into the pages of Bon Appétit last month!

They appeared in the RSVP section of the magazine, where readers write in asking Bon Appétit to lobby on their behalf and get a restaurant's heretofore secret recipe, because Elizabeth Munsell, of Boston, MA, did just that--she was curious about a dish she'd had at Foodlab last summer.

She wrote:

Dear Bon Appétit, 

The sautéed greens at Labo Culinaire in Montreal were the highlight of our vacation.

E.M. 

These were the greens she had in mind,

 fig. a:  sautéed greens with labneh

they appeared as part of Foodlab's Jerusalem menu last summer, and I fully understand Ms. Munsell's interest.  They were seriously delicious--a key part of Foodlab's Greens Revolution Summer--and a total crowd-pleaser, and I, too, have been curious about the recipe ever since.  So, thank you, Elizabeth Munsell, and thank you, Bon Appétit!  You made Seth and Michelle very happy, and you made me happy, too.  You'd be surprised how difficult it can be to get a recipe from a chef, even when you live with one.

If you're having a hard time figuring out what's going on in the photograph above.  The greens are wilted with garlic.  There's a dollop of labneh on top, which has been drizzled with olive oil.  And the ensemble has been topped with toasted pine nuts, fried shallots, and lemon zest.  Sounds good, right?

The brilliant thing about this dish is that it's great year-round:  it's just as good with winter greens as it is with summer greens.  It would be great right now as a Lenten dish; but it would also be delicious with an Easter lamb.  Serve it alongside grilled meats and seafood all summer long, or as part of a meze-style meal.  You get the idea...

And it's not difficult to make.  It's really all about the balance of flavours, and, for me, it's the fried shallots that really make it (although the pine nuts and the lemon zest are killer touches, too).

Sautéed Greens with Labneh and Pine Nuts 

2 tbsp pine nuts
2 medium shallots, thinly sliced into rings and separated
1/2 cup vegetable oil
kosher salt
3 tbsp olive oil, plus more for serving
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 lb hardy greens, ribs and stems removed if necessary, leaves torn
1 tsp finely grated lemon zest
1 tsp fresh lemon juice
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup labneh 

Preheat the oven to 350º F.  Toast nuts on a baking sheet, tossing occasionally, until golden brown, 6-8 minutes.  Let cool. 

Combine shallots and vegetable oil in a small saucepan.  Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until shallots are golden, 8-10 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer the shallots to a paper towel-line plate and season with salt. 

Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat; cook garlic, stirring until fragrant, about 30 seconds.  Add greens in batches, tossing to wilt slightly before adding more, about 2 minutes.  Add lemon juice and toss; season assertively with salt and pepper. 

Serve greens with a dollop of labneh; top with lemon zest, shallots, nuts, and a drizzle of olive oil. 

Serves 4.

Bring on the Greens Revolution!

aj

On the Road 2: Bon-Ton Mini Mart

fig. a: my kind of UFC

I haven't had a chance to test out Bon Appétit's "ultimate fried chicken" yet, but that damn cover image has had the appropriate Pavlovian effect on me. I need ultimate fried chicken now.

Thing is, good fried chicken takes a while. There's definitely a bit of commitment involved. So, I'm pretty sure I won't be frying up a batch of UFC tonight. And true fried chicken--the real deal--can be exceedingly difficult to find.

But that cover does have me thinking about fried chicken (obviously). And, these days, when I think about fried chicken, my thoughts tend to take me to Henderson, KY, sometime last August.

Nearby Owensboro, KY, is one of a number of American towns and cities that proudly proclaims itself the "BBQ Capital of the World." And they've certainly got a claim to that title. That town runs on hickory smoke (and bluegrass).

Henderson, too, is home to a number of reputable BBQ establishments, most of them specializing in the same mix of pork, beef, and mutton that has made Owensboro famous. But as soon as you get to Henderson, what really stands out is the unusual number of fried chicken joints they've got there. None of them major chains (at least, not that I saw). I mean, this town is swimming in Kentucky fried chicken.

Is Henderson the Fried Chicken Capital of the World? I can't rightly say. For one thing, I didn't get a chance to conduct a survey of Henderson's fried chicken scene.  For another, I haven't had the pleasure of visiting any of the Fried Chicken Capitals of the World (Barberton, OH? Gordonsville, VA?) yet. But Henderson certainly looks like it could be a Fried Chicken Capital of the World.

And I can tell you that there's at least one championship fried chicken joint there: Bon-Ton Mini Mart.

Great name. Bold, even. But it's a little hard to find, and it's the most nondescript place imaginable. Just look at it:

fig. b: Bon-Ton Mini Mart

Is there any indication whatsoever that this is a premium fried chicken joint?

I was going on good authority (Jane & Michael Stern), it certainly seemed legit, and it was pretty busy for 2:45 in the afternoon. But you never know.

I had a pretty good feeling when I entered the Mini Mart, though. It smelled good in there, and the set-up was home-style.

I had an even better feeling when I placed my order, however. I was told, "Go ahead and grab a seat. It's going to take about 25 minutes." In other words, real fried chicken, skillet-fried and made to order.

And I had the best feeling of all when those 25 minutes were up. I mean, just look at that crust.

fig. c: Bon-Ton's UFC

Those ladies know their fried chicken.

Oops. I did it again. I'm driving myself crazy. Kentucky Fried Crazy.

Bon-Ton Mini Mart, 2036 Madison Street, Henderson, KY, (270) 826-1207

aj