How to Cut Up a Chicken and Feel Totally French
Put on a stripey top and an apron. Grab a whole chicken. Wielding a boning knife and kitchen shears — or, if you are a girl with a less fully equipped kitchen, a sharp knife and a lot of determination — cut chicken into pieces, fearlessly, and with the cold detachment of a surgeon. For dinner, sauté the chicken parts with shallots and fresh tomatoes; serve with a chilled Macon Chardonnay. Toss the leftover neck and back into a stockpot with whatever bits you have rolling around in the fridge: celery, carrots, an onion, some sprigs of parsley and thyme. Cover with water and let simmer for a few hours to make stock while twist in the living room to Francoise Hardy. When tired, recline on the couch with Cheri, and later, when complimented on your cooking prowess, shrug your shoulders as if it’s nothing. Buf.
Even if you skip the French shenanigans, I would highly recommend attempting to cut up your own chicken. I was scared, I’ll admit, and had successfully avoided the task since I first learned to cook chicken. But then there it was in Week 3 of my Grand Diplôme program, and I couldn’t hide anymore. I channeled my imaginary boyfriend, Jacques Pepin, and his relaxed efficiency as well as his no-waste policy, and here’s the thing: there was immense satisfaction in buying the least processed poultry available in the highest quality available and doing the heavy lifting myself. Some people may squirm at the up-close-and-personalness of this process, but I saw it this way: if I choose to eat animal products, the least I can do is learn how to handle it with skill myself and not to waste a bit of it.
Do you know Patricia Wells’s Bistro Cooking? It sat in my Amazon wishlist for a few years until I went to an impromptu poetry reading (!) in Brooklyn’s Vinegar Hill hosted by a woman with a flawless eye for making things lovely. I plucked the book off her shelf, sat down at her farmhouse table with my glass of rosé and could not stop oohing and ahhing: I wanted to make everything and spend the rest of my life eating lunch, drinking wine, and thinking big thoughts in the sunshine. I checked a copy out from the library, spattered the pages with spitting-hot butter and oil, and now think it’s time to spring for a used copy to call my own.
Chicken Sautéed with Shallots
Serves 4
adapted from Bistro Cooking by Patricia Wells
3 tablespoons canola oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 chicken (about 3-4 pounds), cut into 8 serving pieces
salt and pepper
2 cups shallots, peeled
3 garlic cloves
2 tablespoons water
3 large tomatoes, peeled, cored, seeded and chopped
Hot brown rice, to serve
In a large, deep-sided skillet heat the oil and butter over high heat. Season the chicken liberally with salt and pepper. When the fats are hot but not smoking, add 3 or 4 pieces of chicken and cook on one side until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Turn the pieces and brown them on the other side, an additional 5 minutes, remove from pan and repeat process with remaining chicken pieces.
Reduce the heat to moderately-high heat. Add the shallots and garlic, burying them under the chicken at the bottom of the skillet. Return all of the chicken to the pan. Sauté, covered, shaking the pan frequently, until the shallots are soft and begin to brown, and the chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes.
Add water to pan and let cook for a couple of minutes. Add in tomatoes and continue cooking until the sauce is nicely blended, about 5 minutes.
To serve, place a bed of cooked rice on a platter, cover with the sauce, and arrange chicken pieces on top.
Anne: Wow! That makes cutting up chicken look easy!1 year ago
Kristina: Barbara Kingsolver says, “If you’re going to eat it, you shouldn’t be scared to look under the hood.” Hurrah for stock-making.1 year ago
Betsy: I usually fill like ‘farm’ when I butcher a chicken. From now on I shall concentrate on the ‘french’ part. So not to sound gross, but I can also ’slaughter’ and ‘dress’ a chicken, (hence the ‘farm’ feeling). Can you?1 year ago
Betsy: Oh yes, the shallot is an elegant little onion!1 year ago
Rebecca: Just last week I skinned and deboned my first chicken breasts and afterward felt like I was on top of the world. I have vowed to never by skinless boneless chicken breasts ever again.
The skin just peels right off! I couldn’t believe it!1 year ago
Lisa (dinner party): Sounds delish, especially with the rice. Yum. I am totally with you on learning how to handle animal protein with skill. It’s too expensive to waste nowadays! (Yikes. I sound like my grandmother…)1 year ago
bethh: The last time I bought a whole chicken, I asked the guy at the butcher counter to cut it up for me. I felt very brave for finally having the courage to ask for help, and of course he was totally cool about it!1 year ago
Anne, That’s the thing — it IS kind of easy!
Kristina, That Barbara’s full of gems, isn’t she?
Betsy, Wait, I know what the slaughter part is, but what does it mean to “dress” a chicken? Is that pulling the feathers out? Small steps…
Rebecca, Wow! Deboning is the next step and looks harder. I’m so impressed! Hurrah for self-sufficiency!
Lisa, This recipe is so homey and nice — perfect for all the rainy weather we’ve been having.
Beth, I am always afraid to ask the butcher to do anything. I didn’t, for example, even know you could ask them to cut the chicken up. But now I don’t need to!1 year ago
Betsy: Pulling the feathers out is part of ‘dressing a chicken’. It is a polite way of saying “chop it’s head off, gut it, plunge it in boiling water, and pull the feathers off!” Bon Appetite!1 year ago
Christine S.: I thought of you at the beginning of this past week…took an altered book class where we perused a used book store to find the book we would like to alter. Of course, I make a bee-line to the cookbook section…found two copies of the Grand Diplome that you have been writing about lately!
In the end, I choose “Renoir’s Table” as the book to deconstruct and recreate - lovely pictures however lacked culinary substance - perfect to remake!1 year ago
Helen: Sarah, this made me reminisce when I first stumbled on POP in 2006 with How to Roast a Lazy Chicken. Successfully accomplished I might add, in a toaster oven in a doll house sized kitchen in Japan. The humour and energy evident in your writing are so encouraging…it makes any challenge (including dissecting a slippery raw bird) one worth trying. Thank you for continuing POP.1 year ago
Christine, That sounds like a truly awesome class!
Helen, Is it possible that I remember when you first wrote to me from Japan all those years ago? Your kind words then and today are so generous — thank you so much.1 year ago
The Blushing Hostess: Bistro was one of my first cookbooks and I still adore it. Now I have the rest of PW books and adore those just as much, though Provence is a favorite for simplicity. Thank you for reminding me I should revisit this book!1 year ago
The Factchecker: Sarah,
I love this Grand Diplome series on POP! For the record, though, I didn’t discard those booklets. I *picked them out for you* at the book tent of the Far Hills rummage sale, and they cost a pretty penny (aka at least $10.) They were intended as a Christmas present, I just kind of blew it on the timing (and the presentation.)
I wonder if you could to a modern take on aspic, though? (Like a tomato bullion gelee?)
Love,
katy1 year ago