Chicken

Achiote paste is a distinctive staple marinade of the Yucatán peninsula that infuses food with a brick-red hue, a part bitter–part acidic flavor, and an earthy intensity that lingers on the palate. It’s usually combined with the bitter orange of the Yucatán and the fierce, tropical habanero chile. This recipe has a distinctly Caribbean flair, evoking personal memories of the early market in Merida, capital of the Yucatan and famous for its beaches. There, you’ll find wonderful whole fish marinated in achiote paste and cooked on fires on the beach over coconut husks. Or chicken tamales with achiote paste wrapped in banana leaves steamed, then finished over an open fire. These tacos are traditionally served with black beans, rice, and a heaping side of fried plantains (see page 140). You can make your own pickled onions for the garnish: Slice red onions into thin half-moons, sprinkle with oregano, and marinate in the juice from a jar of pickled jalapeños for about 20 minutes.

Chorizo is usually made from pork, but you can find wonderful beef or chicken chorizo as well as an excellent vegetarian chorizo made from tofu. I’ve had a delicious green chorizo in Puebla that was a regional specialty composed of fresh green herbs and chiles blended with pork. The green marinade for the chicken plays wonderfully against the red chile of the chorizo. These hearty tacos are also great served with queso fresco or grated Cheddar or gouda cheese. Quail eggs fried sunny-side up makes a tasty garnish, if you like.

Here in New Mexico, we have a number of really good goat-cheese producers who sell their products at farmer’s markets. Spanish settlers originally introduced goats to the region along with the craft of making goat cheese. For Mexican recipes, I prefer the flavor of goat cheese to American cheeses made with cow’s milk. Mexican cooking is rich and needs the counterpoint of a sharp cheese for balance and lively taste. Cow’s milk cheeses are usually too creamy and flat in flavor, absorb too much of the flavor accents from a dish, and lack a certain acidity and sharpness common to Mexican cheeses. New Mexico also has great apples, as good as those I grew up with in New England. At an elevation of 7,000 feet, Santa Fe experiences very cold nights in the fall that “crisp” the apples and set the juices. The sweet juiciness of apples is a perfect match to the mild creaminess, tang, and richness of goat cheese. You can use the goat cheese as a garnish, if you prefer, rather than mixing it into the filling.

The town of Puebla, a serene and peaceful oasis about one hour south from the congestion and commotion of Mexico City, is known for its charming inns that serve a rich array of traditional dishes. The most famous mole (the word is from a pre-Columbian language of Mexico and means a sauce that is blended with more than one chile or ingredient) originated in the kitchen of a large, wealthy Puebla convent with chocolate as its most acclaimed ingredient. But there are six other moles from the region. This filling, the green mole that uses all fresh herbs and fresh green chiles, is one of the simpler ones and the one that I usually eat for breakfast at the market—one huge bowl of chicken mole verde with fresh warm corn tortillas. Admittedly, it is a little time-consuming, but your effort will be rewarded with enough mole sauce to use for these tacos and many others. Leftover mole will keep in the refrigerator for at least a week, or you can freeze it for up to 3 months. This sauce makes a tasty complement to chicken, turkey, fish, and pork.

This recipe makes use of nopales cooked sous vide—under vacuum, a technique from the professional kitchen that I’ve modified here for home cooks (see also Nopales en Bolso with Vegetables Escabeche, page 28). Nopales—cactus leaves—have a wonderful texture and fresh flavor almost like fresh green beans or green squash. In Mexico, they grow wild everywhere, available for the picking. The most amazing place to see nopales is at the central market of Mexico City, one of the truly great markets of the world. Arranged in circles are huge, round burlap bags, five feet tall by four feet wide. Each bag holds hundreds of nopales, and workers handle sixty to seventy-five bags simultaneously. Women whittle away at mountains of nopales with long, sharp knives, trimming off their sharp spines in seconds while gossiping with their neighbors, stopping only to sell to shoppers. The enormous amount of nopales sold underscores how important they are to the daily diet.

The Spanish word tinga means “unruly” or “messy.” But there is nothing messy about the wonderful flavors of this dish with its layers of smoky and sweet. The browned chicken has accents of balsamic vinegar, roasted sweet peppers, and chiles—a sort of Mexican chicken cacciatore. I consider it one of Mexican cuisine’s top ten classic dishes. Tinga tacos are a perennial favorite in northern New Mexico and can have other fillings beside chicken. In addition to tacos or burritos, this filling—really a homey soul-satisfying stew—can be served in a bowl over rice. It also makes a great bocadillo, a Mexican sandwich served on a square crispy roll. To reduce the heat level of this dish, decrease or leave out the chipotle puree.

Tortellini are traditionally served in broth; Basic Chicken Stock (page 41) or Basic Brown Stock (page 50) would be equally delicious.

This simple yet timeless Italian dish demonstrates beautifully the process of sautéing: cutlets—most often chicken or veal—are dredged with flour, then sautéed in a mixture of olive oil and butter, a typical combination that is practical and flavorful. The flour encourages the chicken to form a light crust (and helps thicken the pan sauce), the butter helps it to brown, and the oil raises the smoke point so the butter doesn’t brown too much before the chicken is cooked through. A simple pan sauce is the only accompaniment, and is designed to make good use of the tasty browned bits left in the pan from cooking the chicken.

A composed salad of marinated seasonal vegetables becomes a main course when fortified with sliced poached chicken. Not only is this an economical way to stretch a meal, it is practical in other ways, too. For starters, many of the components can be prepared (and refrigerated) ahead, and when served as shown, guests can select the ingredients they prefer. This salad offers an array of springtime’s fresh bounty, including asparagus, new potatoes, leeks, and artichokes, all gently cooked just until tender. You can adapt this formula to take advantage of whatever is in season throughout the year.

Poaching chicken breasts on the bone results in more flavorful and juicy meat than poached boneless breasts. It’s also harder to overcook the meat. The aromatics used in the poaching liquid below are designed to add flavor to the chicken, but Basic Chicken Stock (page 41) can be used to similar effect. Poached chicken has myriad uses: add shredded chicken to soups, casseroles, pot pies, and Mexican dishes such as enchiladas, burritos, and quesadillas, or to all kinds of green salads. This one’s a particular favorite: Cut the chicken in to 1-inch pieces and toss with chopped tomatoes and cucumbers, torn fresh basil leaves, shredded Romaine, and a creamy dressing, such as Green Goddess (page 359).

Portion-size cuts of meat or chicken take a relatively short amount of time to cook through (as opposed to, say, a whole chicken or leg of lamb), so you can’t rely on the high temperature of the oven to sear the surface of the meat to a golden brown. (In other words, it would take longer for the meat to brown on the outside than to cook through on the inside.) Instead, the meat is first seared on the stove. This recipe is for chicken breast halves (with the skin left on during cooking for added flavor and to keep the meat from drying out), but the method can be used to cook thick pork or lamb chops; skin-on fish fillets, such as bass, salmon, and snapper; or even steaks, such as porterhouse or T-bone, which take too long to cook entirely on the stove. Pan-roasting is frequently practiced in restaurants, as it allows chefs to get a nice crust on the meat and then quickly finish it in the oven. Choose quick-cooking vegetables and other accompaniments, such as the grape tomatoes here, so that everything is ready at once.

Few dishes are as gratifying to prepare (and eat) as a simple roast chicken. Every cook should have this technique in his or her repertoire. It may seem like an easy feat, but making the best roast chicken—with crisp, golden skin and tender, juicy meat—takes some dexterity. The challenge lies in the bird itself, with the lean breast meat requiring less time to cook than the richer, fattier legs. Moreover, there’s the goal of achieving the proper degrees of crispness, color, flavor, and moistness. Many recipes require you to turn and baste the chicken as it cooks, or to start at a lower temperature (presumably to allow the inside to cook through), then finish at a higher temperature (to crisp the skin). The technique in this recipe relies on “fast and high” roasting, whereby the chicken is cooked in a hot (450°F) oven for the entire time. Keep in mind that roast chicken is infinitely adaptable, and consider this recipe as the starting point for creating your own variations. Building flavor can be accomplished in many ways. You can stuff the cavity with fresh herbs, such as thyme, sage, or savory; citrus slices; or other aromatics, such as garlic or onion. Or make a rack of sliced onion, then place the bird on top. Spreading butter over the skin makes it even more brown and crisp; tucking butter and herbs under the skin has a similar effect and adds another flavor component. (These steps will also lend much flavor to the pan sauce.) You can roast potatoes, carrots, parsnips, or other vegetables along with the chicken for a practically effortless one-pan dish. Also, you may want to roast two birds, side by side (leaving room between for ample browning); with a roast chicken in the refrigerator—it will keep for days—other dishes are within easy reach. Shred the meat to toss into green salads or to add to soups, casseroles, or pasta dishes. Or combine it with mayonnaise for a sandwich filling.

Curry paste, the flavor base for many Indian stews, often begins with a puree of onion, garlic, and ginger, which is sautéed with spice blends (masalas) until golden brown and caramelized. There are countless varieties of curry pastes in Indian cooking, and the one in this recipe is among the most basic and traditional. The spice blends used in Indian curries are first either toasted in a dry pan or sautéed in oil; in both methods, the heat stimulates the oils in the spices—you’ll know they are ready when they are fragrant (keep a very close eye on them, to prevent burning). Once you’ve mastered the technique, you can make a variety of curries using fish, shrimp, beef, lamb, goat, or one or more vegetables, such as cauliflower or peas and potatoes.

Consommer means “to accomplish” or “to finish” in French, and consommé is indeed a “finished” stock. (In a culinary context, one could say that to make a consommé is to bring out in full all of the flavors.) What gives consommé its purity and clarity is a bit of culinary magic: Egg whites (combined with mirepoix and ground meat) coagulate in the soup and rise to the top (forming a “raft”), drawing up any impurities that would otherwise cloud the stock. This mixture also infuses the broth with deeper flavor, as does an onion brûlé (or charred onion), which imparts deeper color to the broth. After an hour or two of simmering, the raft is also discarded, leaving behind a clear, intense broth. Consommé can be served either hot or cold, usually garnished in some way or another (there are literally hundreds employed in formal French cuisine); one of the more common embellishments is vegetables cut into julienne or brunoise (page 14), such as the blanched carrot and leek shown here.

Next time you want to welcome guests Southern-style, cook up a batch (or two) of crisp fried chicken. It’s hard to imagine anything else that exudes both down-home appeal and true culinary wizardry. The recipe here is for one chicken, but you can easily double the ingredients to fry two. Whenever you are preparing a mixture for dredging, start off by whisking together only half the amounts called for; then, if you find you need more, whisk together the rest. Many recipes call for more dredging ingredients than you’ll need, and the excess must be discarded because it came into contact with raw meat. Or, you can whisk everything together, transfer some to the bowl for dredging, and then freeze any unused (and untainted) portion in a resealable plastic bag. When pan-frying most foods, you do not want to crowd the pan. But fried chicken is an exception. Placing more pieces in the pan helps to stabilize the temperature of the oil during frying so that it does not spike as much or as quickly. The chicken can be soaked in ice water overnight in a covered dish in the refrigerator to remove any blood or impurities; be sure to change the water a few times. If you prefer a thicker crust, double dredge: coat the chicken in the flour mixture and let sit for 15 minutes, then dredge in the flour again, tapping off excess.

A flattened, or spatchcocked, chicken will cook more quickly and evenly than when left intact. The parts that take the longest to cook (legs and wings) are conveniently on the edges (meaning they are exposed to more heat), while the quicker-cooking breast is in the center (where it is insulated a bit from the heat). The origin of the term spatchcock is debatable, but one theory has it that it derives from “dispatch the cock,” apparently shorthand for “prepare the chicken for roasting over a spit.” No matter its past, cooks today understand that to spatchcock a chicken is to remove the backbone and open it like a book. While most commonly used for chicken that will be grilled or broiled, the method also works well for roasting. To further promote even cooking, the flattened chicken is weighted with a foil-wrapped brick while it grills, a technique borrowed from an Italian dish known as pollo al mattone (“chicken under a brick”). Brining helps keep the meat tender and juicy, and glazing adds another layer of flavor and promotes browning. In this recipe, citrus marries the brine and glaze, but you can forgo the glaze and make a brine solution of only salt, sugar, and water. A good ratio is 1 cup of coarse salt (never table salt, which will cause the meat to taste too salty) and 1/2 cup sugar to 1 gallon of water. For best results, brine the chicken for at least 1 hour and no more than 3 hours (any longer and the meat can develop an unpleasant texture).

Unlike other chicken soups that begin with water, this Mexican version starts with chicken stock; the resulting broth is richer and more complex than for basic chicken soup (page 43), since stock will impart flavor to (and be fortified by) the chicken. To make the soup, a whole chicken is simmered in chicken stock, which is then strained and combined with a fiery puree of dried chiles, charred tomatoes, and sautéed onion and garlic. Before being pureed, the chiles are toasted in a dry skillet to enhance their smokiness, then soaked in water to soften, a process that is widely used in Mexican cooking as a building block for many types of dishes (this is comparable to the way spices are toasted in Indian cooking as a flavor-building component for masalas and curry pastes). What distinguishes tortilla soup is the way it is served, since the garnishes are essential to the overall flavor; plus, they are incorporated at the table—not in the kitchen—so that each guest has a hand in creating and customizing the final dish. The garnishes suggested below are traditional and offer a nice balance of taste and texture, but sliced jalapeños (seeded for less heat) or radishes, diced fresh tomatoes, or other types of cheese (such as queso fresco or queso blanco) are also authentic, as is a dollop of crema (Mexican sour cream) or sour cream.

If soup-making is an indication of a cook’s talents, chicken soup is the truest test, since the soup should ideally offer warmth and nourishment as well as flavor. It is, after all, the ultimate comfort food. Once you’ve committed this basic soup technique to memory, the possibilities for variations—and other meals—are limitless. Making the soup is essentially a form of poaching chicken in an aromatic broth. The chicken should always be just covered with liquid—in this case, water—which should remain at a gentle simmer. Skimming the surface is critical to the soup’s success, since the impurities from the chicken would cause the broth to become cloudy. Straining out the aromatics will also help produce a cleaner broth; the vegetables will have become very soft and lost much of their individual flavors by this time, so it is necessary to replenish them with “garnish” vegetables, added at the end. The variations below provide flavorful alternatives to the basic soup recipe—one with matzo balls and the other with springtime vegetables, including green beans, peas, and watercress.

The first lesson in stock making is also the simplest: everything (bones and aromatics) is covered in a pot with water and gently simmered, yielding a stock with a pure, clean flavor. This technique can be applied to making stock with chicken, meat, fish, or only vegetables. Of these, no stock is more versatile and flexible than white chicken stock, which is flavorful but not overpowering, lending itself to a vast array of uses: white sauces, such as velouté; any number of soups (it is the default choice for many); and many stews and braises, among other dishes where there are layers of flavor (think risotto). White beef stock is equally classic, and a better option in dishes such as Wine-Braised Short Ribs (page 188). For this stock, there are several ways to alter the outcome, depending on how it will be used. The longer the stock simmers, the stronger it will taste. Simmer for 1 1/2 hours for vegetable soups or other delicate dishes (including white sauces), longer for more robust sauces and soups. To give the stock a more pronounced chicken flavor, add 1 1/2 pounds chicken thighs along with the other parts (take them out of the pot as soon as they are done if you plan to reserve the meat for another purpose, returning bones to pot after removing meat).

This is a neutral chicken stock that doesn’t contain any seasonings other than peppercorns. We keep it simple because we use it in a variety of dishes, each of which will contain its own seasonings. We go through an astonishing amount of this stock and as you cook from this book, you will, too.