Recipes: Poultry

Normally, when I cook, I like to find a recipe online, then cook something completely different. That way, every time I make something, it's an organic, unique recipe, and different whenever I make it. The few times a recipe comes out perfect, of course, I prepare it the same way; however, usually I'm trying to find a new way to make food.

And so today's recipe comes into play. I'd been browsing the chicken recipes in the wikibooks cookbook, and found my way to a recipe for Garlic Lemon Chicken. The thing that drew my attention was a Lebanese sauce named toum. So, after glancing at both recipes for about half a second, I was off.

The first goal was to make the toum. I knew that it involved garlic, olive oil, salt, and lemon juice; it was only about halfway through the recipe that I realized it required the oil and lemon juice to be added to the macerated garlic-salt mixture in small doses, to increase the volume. I'd also added cayenne to the recipe; the first taste, before I thinned it out with the garlic and oil, was like a garlic nuclear bomb.

I started by shucking two full bulbs of garlic and running them through the processor, then adding salt, pepper, cayenne, sesame oil (I was out of olive), and lemon juice, until I had a mighty bowl of deadly garlic paste. At this point in the recipe, my plan was to saute the chicken breasts, slather them with this liquid kryptonite, and then braise them for a scary long time.

Things changed when I noticed that the original chicken recipe called for a completely different marinade, and for the toum to be used as a dipping sauce for something else entirely. Funny how the little details kick in at the last minute. To make up for the lack of moisture (I doubted that the toum would keep the chicken moist during a long cooking time), I deglazed the skillet I cooked the chicken in with a can of chicken broth and some gin. I didn't bother reducing because (1) I needed moisture, and (2) I wanted to find a way to weaken the gargantuan garlic heat in the toum. In order to justify my decision, I found a recipe online labeled Shish Taouk Toum, which involves making chicken kebabs after marinating in a liquid that included (a tiny amount of) toum. Alright. Somebody made chicken and let it touch the Garlic Death. I was treading in somewhat charted territory. Onwards.

I put the chicken breasts into the oven, slathered with toum, and poured in my deglazing liquid, setting the temperature to 250 degrees. My plan was to make the chicken, taste it, and see if it was too strong to eat. At this point, if it were indeed too strong, I'm pretty sure my plans to fix it involved making rice.

After a couple hours on low heat, I opened the oven. The house smelled like garlic for three days. We eventually served it over orzo. Not the best garlic chicken ever, but not bad either.

Sorry, I didn't get this up sooner. Better late than never though!

Well, for the pie crust I went with my trusted Pampered Chef recipe. Simply known as Perfect Pie Crust. Really any pie crust recipe would do for a chicken pot pie as long as it is not on the sweet side.

Where have I been indeed? I've been out, seeing the world and eating food. Actually I haven't, I've been frequenting many adult cake shops looking for the one of Al Roker with Hershey Kiss nipples. Ok, that's a lie too. Honestly? I had food writers block. What? that is so a condition :P. For some reason, I just couldn't compile a coherent string of thoughts on the subject of easy chicken stir fry. I don't think I'm still there yet, but with everyone attacking my credibility with tales of pornographic baked goods, I have to write something. And we're off.

Stir Fry!

For Asian night that occurred centuries ago, I made chicken stir fry. The recipe came from here. The biggest ordeal I had to go through was finding the Stir Fry mixed vegetables. There are close to no stores in the greater Las Vegas area that carry frozen water chestnuts, red bell pepper, and whatever those other two things are in the same bag. Except Walmart. Next time I am most certainly going to just buy those things and cut them myself. It probably would turn out better. For a bit of insanity, I soaked some Soba noodles in water while I was frying and threw them in. Unfortunately, they came out a bit clumpy and didnt really lend itself at all to the stir fry. The sauce itself was great though and I will definitely keep that morsel stashed away for my next Iron chef appearance. Or asian night. Whatever.

There! it has been posted! you've read it! you can't un-read it!

Chicken Pot Pie.

Think about that steam curling up from the crust.

Chicken Freaking Pot Pie.

The Pennsylvania Dutch enslaved an entire nation with this rustic dish, which is one of the few meat pies enjoyed this side of the Atlantic (I KNOW YOU'RE THERE, NATCHITOCHES MEAT PIE. I will find the filthy, forbidden love that is deep fried meat pie some day).

The PD's (like they call them back in the hood) also brought us pretzels, apple butter, and funnel cakes, because they are sheer butter-encrusted evil. Their plan is to fatten all of humanity and use their disgusting man-fat to grease the largest slip-n-slide in history. But, you're not cleared for that information.

Her Tartness did the crust for this one, so I'll let her add that one.

1. I cut up two chicken breasts (p.s. - they liked it) and half a white onion (small cubes for the chicken, finely chopped for the onion). Utterly confused by what I was going to do to make these chunks into some sort of pie, I sweated the onion in a stick of butter.

WHAT? Butter comes by the stick. It's how I measure. We are a very skinny family. Bite me.

1. The chicken went in after the onion was clear, along with some soy sauce, pepper, paprika, finely chopped celery (2 sticks) and garlic powder.

2. Double barrel action after the chicken was thoroughly cooked as I unceremoniously plopped one can of cream of chicken and one can of cream of mushroom into the skillet. It sat there, jellied, like some disgusting panna cotta. I stirred it all in anyways.

3. Once it was less... upright, I threw in some mixed vegetables (frozen). What goes with mushroom and chicken? The T herbs! In went some fresh thyme (man, what I would have given for a marijuana smoker to break down those two twigs) and dried tarragon. When things thinned out a bit too much I added a tablespoon of cornstarch and stirred it in.

4. Tasting... what do I need? More soy sauce. A dab of worcestershire. Meanwhile, Tart-on was making some kind of dough as I simmered everything on low.

Magically, all those ingredients with the crust fit perfectly in a circular 9-inch baker. Turned oven to 400. Docked the crust with a fork and brushed it with one beaten egg. Put into the oven. WAITED A HORRIBLY LONG FORTY FIVE MINUTES.

1. Littleroq asked for chicken pot pie for BREAKFAST the next day. Take that, Marie Callender. I have evaded your charms.

Note: Why do I add soy sauce to so many things? Because the MSG in soy sauce makes everything taste like store-bought.

While doing a rush dinner, I decided to take some very basic cooking applications and try to come up with something fast and unique. Here's the cooking method and the result.

First, I sweated a mirepoix (carrots, celery, and onions chopped thin) in butter over low heat while I halved some chicken tenders and flattened them (with a plastic potato masher). After giving them a once-over in pepper, kosher salt, a crushed red pepper, and some garlic and onion powder, I spread them evenly around the skillet (where the onions had gone clear).

Since the tenders had been flattened, I was afraid to lose moisture, so I covered them and let each side cook on low for about seven minutes apiece (until white). Finally, I got out the bear of honey and spread a thin glaze across the tops of the chicken, raised the heat to high, and scorched the honey on both sides. It came out tasty, with a good balance between spicy and sweet; it was a little too spicy for LittleRoq (I actually used three crushed red peppers in my initial run) but can be toned down without losing much flavor.

The balance in this one is between red pepper and honey; it would also work well with a bit of smoky sweet paprika in the initial spice mix. I'll have to delve into honey-pepper-paprika more fully in future unrecipes.

We have this big bag of chicken breasts in the freezer. Not the good, boneless, dinner-in-ten-minutes kind, but the genetically enhanced, buffalo-breast, bone-in stewing kind. Tonight, I figured I'd try the bake-and-broil method to cook it.

I started by sweating some onions and garlic over medium-low heat, then increasing the heat to medium and dumping in:

1. A glazing liquid. (I used half soy sauce and half molasses; you could use honey, or heck, even mango syrup). About 1/2 cup.

2. One green herb. I used a little mexican oregano; thyme and/or rosemary might have been better, but I didn't have any.

3. One egg yolk. Just to make it more glaze-y.

4. Some small additions. For me- pepper, a spritz of lime juice, one crushed dried red pepper, and a little salt (not much- soy sauce, remember?)

After all this, I had a thick brown liquid that smelled like pureed awesome. I folded a long piece of aluminum foil into thirds, dumped in one breast, made a pouch, and slathered it with sauce. (Two breasts total, so I split it among both).

Next, the bake-then-broil. While the pouches of aluminum foil are closed, bake on 350 degrees for about half an hour- then, open the tops and broil on full blast for three-five minutes until the onions start to caramelize.

It was wonderful. The foil kept the chicken from drying out, and the glaze, once broiled in, was enough to make this dish a repeat customer.

Hello citizens! CaptainCrumb here with a special treat from the delicious(?) future. That's right, in my hands is a copy of the Official 1978 Star Trek Cooking Manual. Let me explain something: I can't really cook. I could really use a food replicator, so that idealized future seems tantalizing indeed. Unfortunately, this book only covers manual food assembly techniques. I guess that will have to do.

As far as I know, there have been 3 Star Trek cook books attempted. This was the first of them so it seems like a good place to start. The second one was never actually published, so we'll be skipping it for obvious reasons. I'll also probably look into the new Star Trek Cookbook some time in the future.

I don't have any plans for trying to cook something tonight, so we'll have to start with something a little different. This is an old book - it was published a year before I was born. One of the really cool things about it that really shows its age is that it includes a Fortran IV program source listing. That's right - I said IV, not even Fortran 66. Just for the hell of it, I decided to convert it over to ruby, a much more modern language. Be warned, it's still just a conversion of a fortran program so it looks like utter crap.

And now again, in ruby:

food = ' SIHT MARGORP SI' dish = ' NETTIRW NI ATAD' pan = ' LARENEG NARTROF' fryer = ' VI TI YAM NUR N' waffl = ' O KNUJ SENIHCAM'

fmt007 = ' ' * 2 + "n" * 3 + ' ' * 5 + '%2c' * 20 fmt73 = ' ' * 2 + "n" * 3 + ' ' * 5 + '%2c' * 7 + '%12.6f' pad = Array.new(20).fill(20)

puts fmt007 % [ food[1], waffl[3], dish[2], food[12], dish[3], fryer[2], waffl[13], *pad ]

baked = 5 recip = 71.0 / 113 recip *= baked

puts fmt73 % [ waffl[13], food[3], dish[10], waffl[13], waffl[3], pan[6], waffl[4], recip ] puts fmt007 % [ dish[2], pan[5], waffl[6], food[10], fryer[7], waffl[2], dish[10], fryer[4], food[5], waffl[11], dish[1], pan[8], *pad ] puts fmt007 % [ pan[7], waffl[1], pan[14], dish[15], fryer[6], food[3], waffl[9], fryer[8], pan[1], dish[4], waffl[12], *pad ]

May the gods of agile programming spare my tarnished soul. Notice the extra spaces so that we can still use 1-based arrays, fortran style. The *pad is another necessary hack since ruby's C-style sprintf code doesn't like getting too few parameters (oddly enough, it doesn't complain about getting too many).

Next post, I'll actually attempt to cook one of the recipes - the necessary ingredients have already been acquired. Till then...

Go ahead. Use Google. Search for fried chicken. You'll find a plethora of articles that all tell you the same basic things. Everybody knows how to fry chicken. It's the next step on the evolutionary ladder above boiling water. The ability to fry chicken is what makes us BETTER than the most common bird on the planet, for goodness sakes. It's part of our genetic cerebral snide superiority- if we can eat it, we're better than it is. That's why people seek out alligator, bear, and shark meat in markets- the ability to eat something that has at some point eaten one of us makes us not only better than the animal, but the poor primate it managed to digest.

But I digress.

I'm not going to tell you how to fry chicken. It's more intuitive than the screwdriver. But there are certain things that should be part of your regular shopping list and they all make our ruthless domestication policies worthwhile.

1. BUY LARD. Or, if you're one of these health-conscious types, BUY SHORTENING. For the sake of the species, buy SOMETHING that is thick, greasy to the touch, white, and melts into a massive pool of chicken frying goodness. Any neighborhood is likely close to an ethnic or just-plain American store that sells pig kidney fat in huge blocks (love the Manteca). If nothing else, invest in a deep fryer (with which you can cook EVERYTHING) and some peanut oil. Culinary adventurers, buy ambergris. Shark fat. Clarified schmaltz for the ultimate one-upsmanship of the chicken. Or take a note from Fight Club (enough said).

2. Get something to bread chicken in. I use tupperware. Grandma used paper lunch bags. Dump in flour, breadcrumbs, and whatever you want- last night I used basil, thyme, cayenne, pepper, garlic salt, and anything else I could grab from the spice cabinet. Don't get the expensive spice jars full of old, tasteless stuff- buy the cheap little sacks on the sidekick-display at the end of the produce aisle. 99 cent cayenne goes in everything. Even a little cayenne and paprika will make it taste better without appreciably increasing the hotness factor (capsaicin pansy).

3. Have chicken on hand. I've been stalled from frying chicken several times just by not having it around. During Hobo Week, I buy the huge bags of frozen, genetically-engineered Elephant Whale Buffalo chicken breasts. Boneless and skinless = easy cutting. This is an economy based upon ease of attainment and use, people. Get your nearest livejournal self-inflicted injury specialist and a razor blade to cut the meat into strips if all else fails.

4. Insert chicken in choppy chunks into your mixed and shaken flour-crumb-goodness mixture. Raise temperature to medium (for shortening, which otherwise has a slight tendency to EXPLODE) or medium-high (for good old god-given lard) and let it boil into a puddle of clear, fatty goodness. Have a skillet lid, or at least another skillet. Burning fat hurts, which is why they used to dump it from crenellations onto erstwhile castle invaders.

5. Since not everybody appreciates spice like I do, I don't put crushed red pepper into the crumb mixture. Instead, I buy the bag of whole dried peppers and crush them in my fist into the heated lard. I am therefore genetically superior to the red pepper. Don't let the pinks crush the peppers for you- nothing says loving like the horrible imagined screams of chiles while you pulverize them in your opposable-thumb having fist (people without thumbs: you're still superior to them. The chiles aren't going to squeeze YOU into boiling lard).

At first, I was just pouring in the seeds; however, since I know that the heat actually comes from the chile's placenta (which coats the seeds), I just toss the whole mangled pepper corpse in.

And yes, I talk about corpses often while cooking. And eating.

Cook until meat stops being pink, then cover and jack that heat up to high (take THAT, shortening can warnings) so you get a mild scorch on your crumbs. Then reduce heat, flip chicken, and scorch it AGAIN.

Covering the skillet makes for juicier chicken. Minor scorch action makes for crispier outsides. You can do what you want to it- you're BETTER than chicken.

If we weren't meant to eat them, they wouldn't be made of meat.