smitten kitchen » Poultry

baked chicken meatballs

deb — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 01:38:06 +0000

As it turns out, I’m a sucker for a good meatball. It’s a funny thing because ground meat has rarely done it for me; I’m certain I’m the lone American who doesn’t get in a frenzy over hamburgers or meatloaf. But something happens when you mix otherwise dull ground meats up with softened bread, herbs, seasonings and bits of extra ingredients, oof — I will swat your fork away to get at them first.

I’ve found some good ones over the years, such as the only ones you should ever serve with your spaghetti and these guys, which, if you have not already, you should not wait until next summer to try, not to mention the ones I sneak into sliders and soup. But as I hadn’t tried these before, my meatball recipe collection — and possibly even my life — was woefully deficient.

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devil’s chicken thighs + braised leeks

deb — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 00:48:12 +0000

This, my friends, is all the evidence you will ever need that you can never go wrong with a Suzanne Goin recipe (also: that ugly food is the tastiest). Because despite having a horrible cold (not just any cold, mind you, but a Man Cold) all week, zero appetite, even less inclination to stand (upright! like on my two feet! how exhausting!) in the kitchen and cook and actually briefly calculating the food costs in my head of chucking the dish (already marinating) and trying it again another week, with Alex’s help we trudged on through and had this for dinner last night and it was amazing. Curative, even. I feel 50 percent better today.

So what’s all this about? Well, you start by braising leeks, which if you’re me, already has you sold. Amusingly, I was halfway into the leek prep when I had a vague feeling of deja-vu and you know what? I told you about these last year, to the day! Memory, what memory? Anyway, they’re unbelievable and seriously, if you’d like, you can stop right here. Serve them with some proscuito, a poached or sliced hard-cooked egg, mustard vinaigrette, some thick bread and maybe a sharp little salad on the side and you’ll be happy as a clam. Swap the chicken stock for vegetable stock and you can even make them amenable to vegetarians.

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chicken milanese + an escarole salad

deb — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 00:16:33 +0000

I have a new, colossal Food Network crush on Secrets of a Restaurant Chef and the first time I saw the show, I completely forgot every food personal crush that had come before. “Ina Garten who?” “Michael Chiarello? I never heard of him.” Because seriously, Anne Burell trumps all that came before. She’s got the kind of real cooking and fresh ideas you’d hope for from a television show, but too rarely get. I immediately want to make everything she does.

And if I saw chicken milanese on a restaurant menu, I wouldn’t order it. If you told me you were breading and frying chicken cutlets for dinner, I’d feign excitement but inwardly groan. Because if there are two foods in the world that will never hold my interest, they’d be chicken cutlets and anything that has been dredged in breadcrumbs and fried. I find the former bland and the latter makes everything taste the same, not that I need to learn how to form an opinion or anything. Yet, when Ms. Burell made it, I counted down the days until I could find an excuse to make it, which brings us to Tuesday night’s inauguration dinner party (where the caramel sauce was homemade, ahem, but that story for a different day).

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zuni cafe’s roasted chicken + bread salad

deb — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 19:30:48 +0000

I recently realized that I didn’t have a single recipe for a whole roasted chicken on this site which seemed wrong somehow, coming from a nice Jewish girl such as myself. I know the real reason I don’t — which is that I don’t like 75 percent of the roasted chicken I eat (not yours, of course; promise!). Mostly, I find the pieces too big, the meat overcooked and the entire thing kind of like pressed sawdust… um, not that I need to learn to form an opinion or something. Sticking to dark meat helps a bit, but not as much as just bypassing the roasted chicken altogether.

There is only one home recipe for roasted chicken I have ever wanted to try and it is from the Zuni Cafe in San Francisco. Google “zuni cafe roasted chicken” and you’ll see — quickly — that this is something of a religion for people; they are mad for it. And yet, the technique, which hinges on three things, isn’t actually that crazed, and can be easily replicated at home. Win-win!

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chicken pot pie

deb — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 04:48:15 +0000

“No kitty, that’s my pot pie!”

People, if I were savvy enough to know how to insert a voice recording of Alex doing his Cartman voice, or savvy enough to convince him to let me record it in the first place, I think we could safely say that Alex could quit his day job (hey, it’s all the rage). His impression is impeccable.

I got to hear it at least six times this week, which alone was enough reason for making Ina Garten’s Un-freaking-believable Chicken Pot Pies for dinner last night. I don’t think calling this recipe a “hit” even halfway does it justice. They are fantastic, transcendent. Lumped in a toasty category with Chicken and Dumplings, they were so good that I almost wished it was 20 degrees colder–an absolute sacrilege in a place that has the nerve to stay winter-like through May–when this recipe will be no doubt dusted off again.

And again.

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cranberry-walnut chicken salad

deb — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 05:00:41 +0000

I often read comments and emails from people who talk about liking or wanting to make a dish but they can’t “because my significant other doesn’t like [insert ingredient]!” I have to admit, I am often perplexed. If they want to eat it, why don’t they just make it anyway?

But then I look at my own cooking repertoire, and I get it. It’s enough of a pain to make one dish some nights after a long day of work, but to make one only one of you wants to eat? There’s no logic in it. So, I shy away from Things Alex Thinks He Doesn’t Like, such as coconut (sigh), tofu (sigh) and well, this.

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garlic-mustard glazed skewers

deb — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 16:08:54 +0000

Growing up, I couldn’t stand mustard. Hated it. It was spicy and gloppy and it usually looked like a bucket of yellow paint. Even a smidgen on a sandwich, burger or hot dog was enough to make me reject the whole meal. Er, you might have guessed I didn’t just learn how to be “difficult” yesterday!

I still don’t like the yellow shellac in a squeeze bottle, ubiquitous in the U.S. from street carts to beach burger huts. (A Google search points me to a Mustard Museum in Wisconsin, by the way. You’re welcome!) But Dijon and I have struck a perfect harmony in the last couple years as I have realized it has nothing to do with that jaundiced stuff, and everything to do with two of my favorite things on earth: France and wine.

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chicken with almonds and green olives

deb — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 13:34:21 +0000

March is a confusing month for me. It seems sunnier out, there are fluke 50 and–gasp!–52 degree days and then there is this “first day of spring” that shows up on my calendar but does precisely nothing to thaw my cold fingertips. I’m sick to death of all of my winter clothes but if I am dumb enough to go out in new short or half-sleeve tops, I shiver all day.

The produce isn’t much better. The peas, rhubarb and other spring goodies either haven’t appeared yet or have made a sub-par showing just when I am 100-thousand percent winter squash-ed and brussels sprout-ed out. Worse yet, even though it remains light out at 6:30 p.m., I still crave rich, heavy braises.

But digging through my recipe files a couple weeks ago, I found gold: an old article from the New York Times magazine that really gets this–in fact, it was published three years ago this week. The chicken recipe enclosed is warm enough to make the 40-degree day more bearable but with lighter, brighter ingredients than traditional braises.

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alex’s chicken and mushroom marsala

deb — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 17:44:14 +0000

We’ve discussed this before, but I really hate cooking anything twice. I know what an awful shame this is–falling upon gasp-worthy, decadent and even flawless recipes, broadcasting their merits across the Web, then filing them away only to never speak of them again–but I am going to have to insist that you do not judge me for this; after all, what would thesmittenkitchen be without my impatience for the next new thing?

Nevertheless, there are certain recipes that Alex, less appalled with the concept of having to eat anything twice in two whole years, frequently and politely requests that I make again. And what do I do? Do I tie on my apron, pour him a drink and say “of course, honey! Anything for you, baby! You’re the love of my life, baby!”? No, I suggest that he make it himself.

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escarole and orzo soup with meatballs

deb — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 18:01:07 +0000

You know those stories about when you were a kid that your parents can’t get enough of? That they’d go on. And on. And on about to their friends, your friends, prom date and future in-laws? Because apparently, when you were little you were cute. I mean, really cute. And you did cute things. And those cute things were hilarious. And still are, nearly 30 years later.

Well, apparently long before I had achieved actual literacy, I went for the next closest thing: memorizing books. But I used to call it–start cooing now, please–”rememorizing” because doesn’t that make more sense, as you must “remember” it? Honestly, it still does. So, as the story goes, I came into my parents bedroom one morning and told them I had learned to read and I would demonstrate with my Favorite Book In the Whole World, Snow, a Dr. Seuss book. “Snow, snow, come out in the snow. Snow, snow, just look at the snow….” It didn’t take them long to figure out I was neither looking at the book, or likely, holding it right side up but, oh, were they charmed.

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