A New Old Way to Cook Chicken

What good is having a clay baker if you’re not going to cook anything in it? So, I scoured the interweb looking for something that might make good use of my newest kitchen toy.

On about.com, I found a recipe for chicken tarragon that sounded promising. When I made the recipe, I did 1½ times the amount of the recipe because I needed six servings (Brand new to clay cooking and I’m doing it for a dinner party. I know! I’m a crazy risk taker!).

I give you the original recipe here. If you don’t feel like breaking down a whole chicken (or only like white meat), just use bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts (four to six of them should do the trick).

Chicken Tarragon for the Clay Cooker

• 1 frying chicken, cut in half or quarters
• ½ C chicken broth
• Juice of 1 fresh lemon (about 2 T)
• 1 T tarragon vinegar
• 1 t dried tarragon leaves
• 1½ t kosher salt
• ½ t black pepper
• 1 t Hungarian sweet paprika (thanks to my sister-in-law, I happened to have some directly from Hungary)
• 2 shallots, finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• ½ C heavy cream
• 1 T all-purpose flour

Pre-soak both top and bottom of a large clay cooker in water for at least 15 minutes. Drain. Line with parchment paper for easier clean-up. (I didn’t line with parchment because I thought the whole point was to have the darn thing get seasoned over time. Yes, there was scraping, but nothing too difficult.)

Arrange chicken, skin-side up, in the bottom of the clay cooker (I definitely had to layer them as I had a few extra breasts in the pot. But, one chicken should fit pretty nicely in a standard sized baker). Pour chicken broth down the side into the bottom. Whisk together the lemon juice and tarragon vinegar. Drizzle evenly over the chicken.

In a small bowl, stir together tarragon leaves, salt, pepper, and paprika. Sprinkle mixture over chicken pieces. Top with shallots and garlic.

Cover the clay cooker with the lid and place into a cold oven. Turn on oven to 450°. Bake about 1¼ hours, until chicken is lightly golden.

Remove chicken and cover to keep warm. Whisk flour into heavy cream. Pour juices from the bottom of the clay cooker into a small saucepan over medium heat. Whisk in heavy cream. Bring to a boil and cook until slightly thickened, stirring often. Serve gravy over chicken. (So, I did the gravy a more traditionally. I heated 1 T butter and then added the flour so as to make a roux. Then, I mixed in the cream and pan juices. I just felt this would result in a better gravy.)

Results

I was skeptical—especially about the whole cold oven business. I thought for sure the skin would be mushy or that the chicken would have a boiled meat taste. Neither one happened. It was, in fact, remarkably good. Moist (I know, I know, but it wasn’t really juicy… just moist.) on the inside and skin that was tasty. It’s not crispy skin that you’d get from baking in a traditional casserole, but it’s quite nice. The paprika gave it a bit of color as well.

I am a happy convert to the clay baking way.

 

More in the Way of Beans

And, when last we left our intrepid heroine, she was sucking down a large bowl of lima beans. Today, you can find me Hoovering lentils. Apparently, I am bean and/or fiber obsessed.

I am a Johnny-come-lately to the magic of lentils. For years, they were just those things that swim around making soup mushy. Then, I went to Spain and had lunch with my friend’s host family. As we walked through the plaza toward their apartment, she said, “Don’t freak out. But, we’re going to have lentejas and squid in black ink sauce.”

Not to sound like a boor, I asked, “What are lentejas?” My friend looked confused. “Lentejas. You know, lentejas!” I didn’t want to point out that she was just repeating the same word over and over. Perhaps, I thought, she is so fluent in Spanish she doesn’t really know when she’s not speaking it. Needless to say, when lunch was served, I looked at my bowl and across the table to her. “Lentils. They’re lentils.” I guess she didn’t eat too many of them back home either.

But, thanks to my Frenchy style culinary school, I have a pretty great recipe for cold lentil salad. (It also tastes good warm.) What follows is my modified version. If you’re veg-friendly, just sauté with olive oil instead of the bacon.

Lentil Salad

• 8 oz green puy lentils
• 1 sprig thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 oz bacon
• 1 large shallot, finely chopped
• 3 oz extra virgin olive oil
• 1 oz red wine vinegar
• Salt and pepper

Place the lentils in cold water and cook for 20 minutes with salt, thyme, and bay leaf.

In a large sauté pan, heat bacon until crispy. Remove from pan, and when cool crumble. While bacon fat is still hot, add shallot and sauté until browned.

Remove thyme and bay leaf from lentils and drain any remaining water from the pan. Add lentils to shallots. (You can use pre-cooked, frozen lentils as well. Just add them frozen to the pan once the shallots are brown.) Stir and remove from heat.

Once the lentils are cooled, add the bacon, then toss with olive oil and vinegar. Season with salt and pepper.

Results

I would eat this every day if I could. Well, I’m a grown-up so I can, but maybe it’s not that wise to eat all these beans. People might not want to be around me so much.

The recipe keeps well in the fridge and tastes delish cold, so make scads of it… then, you’ll never be without lentils.

Dressing Up Lima Beans

With the exception of Brussels sprouts, I cannot think of a more maligned vegetable than lima beans. Children the world over have scrunched up their noses at the sight of this pale legume sitting in a pile on their plates. As a wee one, I always had to be contrary. So, of course, lima beans were the only bean or legume I would readily eat. I preferred them plain or slathered in butter.

As I grew up, I stopped remembering that I liked lima beans. I just didn’t ever think to buy them when I was out grocery shopping. And, it’s not like you see them on the menu of many restaurants. (Think about it. When was the last time you ever thought… I wish I could get a side of lima beans. That would really top off this dish nicely.)

After we named our dog Lima Bean, they just became a joke vegetable. I’m serious. My dog’s name is really Lima Bean. She’s 65 pounds of border collie and terrier fun. If you ever think that life is dragging you down, I recommend naming your pet after a foodstuff. Running down an alley while wearing slippers and jammie pants calling, “Stop, Lima Bean! Stop!” after your dog has managed her great escape out the back gate, has got to make anyone feel a bit silly. Just ask Paul. I think he’s had to do it twice now.

So, leaving dog names aside, lima beans can really be a great side dish (especially in the winter when there’s not much going on in the fresh fruits and veggies category). They just need a bit of dressing up. This recipe comes from The Cook’s Encyclopedia of Vegetarian Cooking by Linda Fraser.

Lima Beans in Chili Sauce

• 1 lb lima or fava beans, thawed if frozen
• 2 T olive oil
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, chopped
• 12 oz tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped (I’ll admit it, I used a can of tomatoes for simplicity)
• 1 or 2 drained canned jalapeño chiles, seeded and chopped (and here, I used one fresh jalapeño but I roasted it first, then seeded and chopped it)
• Salt
• Chopped cilantro, to garnish

Cook the beans in a saucepan of boiling water for 15-20 minutes, until tender. Drain and keep hot, to one side, in the covered saucepan. (I used frozen lima beans for this recipe. I thought, 15-20 minutes of cooking after they’ve been thawed is going to result in some mushy, mushy beans. Instead, I thawed the beans and then added the thawed beans to the sauce at the end to heat them up. Not only did this allow for the beans to be a bit firmer, but they absorbed a bit more of the sauce flavor.)

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan and sauté the onion and garlic until the onion is soft but not brown. Add the tomatoes and cook until the mixture thickens.

Add the jalapeño and cook for 1-2 minutes. Season with salt. (Because I used canned tomatoes, I didn’t really add salt.)

Pour the mixture over the reserved beans and check that they are hot. If not, return everything to the frying pan and cook over low heat for just long enough to heat through. Place in a warmed serving dish, garnish with cilantro, and serve. (So, as I mentioned before, I just threw the thawed beans in here and simmered for a about 5 minutes.)

Results

Despite my lack of garnishing with cilantro, these turned out pretty well. Not overly spicy, but with just enough kick to give the blandish lima beans some flavor. As my sister said when she ate our leftovers, “I liked them and I’m not the hugest fan of lima beans.” They also got a yummy vote from Mr. Moo. But, that kid will eat anything.

Wanna Grab Some Ethiopian?

There are a lot of benefits to living in a rather large city. For me, one of the top reasons is the abundance of ethnic cuisine. Chicago is teeming with diversity when it comes to non-American culinary delights. Authentic restaurants of any ethnicity are typically clustered in one neighborhood or a few square blocks (in the case of Greek town door-to-door along one street).

That’s pretty much the case with Chicago’s best Ethiopian restaurants. Take a hike along Broadway in Edgewater, and you’ll find more than a few gems. My favorite is Ras Dashen. Judging by the reviews, I’m not alone.

If you’re unfamiliar with Ethiopian, Ras Dashen is a fabulous place to start. They lay out how the food is prepared and served right on their menu, and the wait staff is very helpful explaining how much food you should order and in what sizes. In addition to traditionally brewed coffees and teas, Ras Dashen has a full bar with signature cocktails.

The decor is pretty basic. Restaurant chairs and faux wood Formica tables. But, around the edge of the dining room, they have a few traditional Ethiopian tables. So, if you want exotic seating in addition to the exotic food, go for it.

My most recent expedition included a group of five adults and Mr. Moo. Just my opinion, but Ethiopian is best eaten with a group. (You’ll see why in a minute.)

What We Ate

Ethiopian food is served communally and eaten without utensils. So, everyone at the table each orders an entree. And, then the table decides on three side dishes. The food is served on a rather large piece of injera (a spongy bread that has the consistency of an airy pancake, but is tart… a bit lemony). There is a basket of smaller injera. Rip off a piece from the basket, scoop up some food, and be completely amazed. The best is at the end, when the sauces have gotten soaked by the large injera and you just rip and plop it in your mouth.

Although there are meat options, Ethiopian is heavy on the veggies (and especially heavy on lentils). You can also get any side dish as an entree-sized portion. We went all veg:

• Mushroom wat: Wat is basically a thick, spicy stew. In addition to the mushrooms, there were potatoes and onions as well. It was tangy and had a really good texture.
• Dupa wat: Yummy pumpkin stew. The pumpkin made the wat creamy. I picked up definite curry-flavors.
• Shirro: Ground chick peas pureed with spices. This was a bit soupy for my taste. It made it difficult to grab with the injera. Don’t get me wrong, still delicious. But, it would probably be better as a soup.
• Yeqaysur salata: Chilled beet salad in tangy dressing. So, there are beets and carrots in the salad, and something that seemed like a potato but might not have been. I’m not a fan of beets, but the potato-like thing was awesome. The dressing (especially after soaking into the injera) is brilliant.
• Simbera asa wat: Chick pea dough balls in a berbere sauce. Berbere is a spice blend made of chile peppers, ginger, basil, garlic, and a ton of other spices. It’s got some kick to it. But a good kind of kick that doesn’t feel like the top layer of your tongue has been seared off.
• Gomen: Chopped greens cooked with spices. If you don’t like spicy food, this is a safe bet. It doesn’t taste all that different than steamed spinach in any other culture.
• Misser wat: Red lentils in a spicy berbere sauce. I’d liken this to spicy red lentil soup.
• Yeqay tikil gomen: Red cabbage in a sweet and sour sauce. Like your best Asian cole slaws, it’s tangy and sugary all at once.
• Lentil soup: I ordered a cup for Mr. Moo as I wasn’t sure how he’d handle the injera. He loved it and ate the entire thing. (He also loved about half of the dishes [never a fan of spinach], but seemed to stop loving the injera toward the end. Ethiopian is great for kids of all ages because what child doesn’t love eating with their fingers?!?)

For dessert we split baklava, coconut creme brulee, and bread pudding (made with injera). I liked the baklava the best, but the creme brulee is pretty good. They also have vegan mint chocolate chip ice cream which I’ve had before and tastes like the real thing (well, my lactose intolerant belly thinks it tastes like the real thing).

What We Drank

I had an Ethio Chai which is black tea with Ethiopian spices. This is a non-dairy chai drink that is served hot. I liked mine with added sugar, but some people prefer theirs plain.

My sister and others at the table had pot of buna be jebena. (It’s Ethiopian coffee and has a similar taste to espresso.)

One other great thing about this restaurant is the prices. Nothing is terribly expensive, and you come away with a happy full feeling. Not an overstuffed, I just ate my weight in wat feeling… but a man, that was good, I’m done now feeling.

Location: 5846 N. Broadway. Metered street parking is readily available.

Old, Really Old, School Baking

What Is It?

A clay baker—for baking meats and veggies and fishies and other good things in the oven. Apparently, you can even do bread in them. The idea is to return to how things were cooked way back when. You know, before the Bronze Age and the smelting of metal.

How Does It Work?

It’s made out of clay (hence the name), so it retains moisture like a champ. You soak it for at least 15 minutes before each use. Once you have your dinner items inside, you put it in a cold oven and set the temperature. Depending on the recipe, in an hour or so, your goose (or whatever) is cooked. Now, obviously, the oven part is a bit post-Bronze, if you will. But, I think the clay baker gives you the illusion of cooking like a newly non-nomadic tribesperson without all the hassle of hunting down your food, building a fire, AND then soaking your pottery in the nearest creek.

I’m not going to pretend to understand the science behind the combo of steam and dry heat (see the heat from the oven eventually dries the clay). And, I was skeptical, to be sure. But my first recipe in the clay baker came out really well—not over or under cooked, moist chicken with crispy skin. Now, the magic of clay is no longer confined to Gumby and Pokey.

The only creepy thing about clay bakers is that you’re not supposed to use soap to clean them. (Well, some web sites say it’s OK and others say it’s not.) The reasoning is that the clay holds onto flavors, and then could give your dinner a soapy taste. This is the same reason they recommend having a separate fish clay baker. The oils from cooking will eventually season and seal the clay. But, it’s a bit creepy to me to just flush something with hot water and scrub with a plastic brush.

Do I Really Need It?

No, but now that I have one, I’m kind of in love. I think this may be how people feel when they get crock pots. Look, it does all of this amazing stuff! And, then you make three recipes and they all taste the same. (At least, that’s how it was for me.) So, you lose a bit of interest. I’ll let you know after a few more recipes whether it holds up to wear and tear.

Also, if you’re weak-limbed, you should probably stay away. These suckers are heavy little beasts.

Where Can I Buy My Very Own?

Mine is made by Römertopf (it’s German, it must be good!) and was a gift so I’m not sure how much they typically cost. If you want to give clay roasting and baking a whirl, but don’t want to shell out the cash, start with a small potato or garlic roaster. (I bought one for my parents a while ago and they swear by it for perfect potatoes.)