Fettuccine with Leeks, Walnuts & Cream

I love pasta “sauces” that showcase one main vegetable. A quick scan of pastas I’ve posted over the years will bear this out:  peppers, broccoli, mushrooms, zucchini, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, corn, peas, winter squash, Swiss chard, tomatoes … although… maybe tomatoes don’t count….   Anyway, I obviously can’t get enough of these kinds of pastas.  They are a great way for someone in a small household to use up vegetables…or for the cook in any sized household to take advantage of seasonal abundance.  They are also usually fairly straightforward in their preparation…which means they can make for a quick dinner.  Furthermore, from a cook’s perspective they are instructive in that you can learn what spices, herbs, etc set off that one vegetable to advantage—making these pastas a great way to get to really know a vegetable and at the same time train your palate.    

Recently I was reminded of a “single ingredient” pasta I hadn’t made in a while when I found myself with several leeks in my pantry that had been intended for an event that ultimately didn’t happen.  (A lot of my eating this past year had been dictated by having to find ways to use ingredients that were purchased for an event that was canceled due to the pandemic.)  I could have used the leeks for an overdue “leek weekend” (à la French Women Don’t Get Fat)…but I didn’t really have enough for a whole weekend of dining (or to be more precise, not dining….). So I settled on other uses:  in a tart…a soup…and a pasta.  I was able to spread my leek fest out since they—like most winter vegetables—store pretty well.

The pasta I made is from a book by Janet Fletcher called Four Seasons Pasta.  If you have never run across this book…and you love pasta…you should check it out.  The book is organized by the seasons and is filled with recipes featuring authentic Italian sauces that aren’t necessarily familiar to American audiences.  The recipes work well…and are delicious.  And if you are interested in learning how to make your own pasta, there’s a good section on that too.

To make the leek sauce, leeks are softened in butter…reduced with a bit of cream…and finished with minced toasted walnuts and parsley.  Like other members of the onion family, leeks become sweet with prolonged cooking.  This cooking also gives them a silky texture.  The cream enhances both the sweetness and silkiness.  The slightly bitter toasted walnuts provide a nice flavor counterpoint and interesting texture.  Once the leeks are cleaned (the most difficult part of the recipe) the sauce comes together quickly and easily, making this a simple, elegant…and slightly different…winter weeknight meal. 

 Fettuccine with Leeks, Walnuts & Cream 

4 T. unsalted butter
5 or 6 leeks—white and pale green parts only—halved lengthwise, sliced thinly crosswise and well rinsed (5 to 6 cups sliced leeks)
Salt & Pepper, to taste
3/4 c. chicken stock
1 c. heavy cream
1 lb. fettuccine
2 T. minced flat leaf parsley
1/2 c. walnuts, plus more for garnish—toasted and chopped medium fine

Melt the butter in a large sauté pan over medium low heat.  Add the leeks and season lightly with salt.  Stir to coat with the butter.  Cover and cook gently until the leeks are tender, about 15 to 20 minutes—reducing the heat if necessary.  There should be a few tablespoons of flavorful liquid in the pan when they are done.  Add the stock and cream to the leeks and bring to a simmer.  Cook briefly, until the sauce is just slightly thickened.  Remove from the heat and keep warm.

While the leeks cook, bring 6 quarts of water to the boil in a large stock/pasta pot.  Add 2-3 Tablespoons of salt.  Add the pasta and cook until al dente.  Drain, reserving some of the pasta cooking liquid.

Add the parsley, walnuts and a generous amount of pepper to the leeks.  Add the pasta and toss to coat—adding some of the reserved pasta water if it seems dry.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serve, garnished with more walnuts if desired.  Serves 4 to 6.

Variations:

• Add a clove or two of minced garlic and/or some minced fresh thyme to the leeks while they cook.
• Stir in a few tablespoons of mascarpone to the finished sauce.
• Garnish the pasta with crumbled goat cheese or blue cheese.

(Recipe from Four Seasons Pasta, by Janet Fletcher)

Printable Version

Celery Root & Wild Rice Chowder

For the past two or three years I have been teaching a series of classes called “Inspired Cooking by the Book.”  The idea of the series is to teach recipes culled from the cookbooks that tend to get the most use in my cookbook library: those that have been written by chefs or seasoned cooks and that are either organized by the season…or by ingredient.  

 

As regular readers know, I really do cook and eat seasonally.  No matter what the season, I shop for food in a produce-centric way, choosing what looks good at the moment (whether at the farmers’ market or grocery store) and then supplementing with meat, fish, eggs, cheese, grains/pastas/legumes, etc.  When I’m faced with the inevitable “what are we going to have for dinner?” question—and I come up blank—these kinds of cookbooks provide the perfect inspiration for cooking with what I already have in my fridge and pantry.

 

Sometimes I don’t change the original recipes at all for these classes.  And in some cases the original recipe is really nothing more than a spring board.  The title…or picture…or list of ingredients…appealed to me, but the actual recipe wasn’t what I wanted or expected, so I just create my own recipe using the things that inspired me about the original recipe.  In either case, the resulting recipes make for interesting classes of seasonal foods that provide some insight into the daily home cooking habits of a professional chef.  The classes have been immensely popular and I am currently in the middle of round 2 of the series.

 

In the winter installment of the series this second time around I included a recipe from Deborah Madison’s Local Flavors for Celery Root & Wild Rice Chowder.  I was attracted to the combination of celery root and wild rice (a fantastic, earthy, pairing).  And I was intrigued by the fact that she called this a “chowder.”  The origin of the term chowder is open to debate (generally thought to have something to do with the name of a cooking vessel), but with few exceptions, it refers to hearty seafood and/or fish soups.  The fact that these soups almost always include chunks of potato…and cream or milk (in which case they are generally thickened with a roux)…has led to a few variations that don’t contain seafood.  Corn chowder and potato chowder come to mind.

This soup does indeed include chunks of potato and heavy cream.  And it has the rustic feel that I associate with a chowder.  If I hadn’t known the name, but had been served a steaming bowl of this soup—with wild rice and little chunks of celery root and potatoes suspended in a rich, creamy base—I think I would have dubbed it a chowder, too.

I changed the chowder very little from Madison’s original (it definitely still qualifies as a chowder!).  I increased the quantity of broth, potatoes and wild rice a bit…and elected to stir the rice in (rather than placing a mound in the center of each bowl).  It is delicious…and it keeps well (reheating beautifully without becoming overly thick and stodgy).  And as one would expect from a chowder, I have found it to be especially satisfying during our recent spate of cold and unusually stormy weather.  

Celery Root & Wild Rice Chowder

4 oz. (2/3 c.) wild rice

1 qt. chicken stock

Salt & Pepper to taste

3 T. butter, divided

1 stalk celery, cut in 1/8th-inch dice (about 1/3 c.)

2 large leeks, white & pale green parts only, cut in 1/4-inch dice and thoroughly rinsed (2 cups)

1 large or 2 medium cloves garlic, minced

2 or 3 well-branched sprigs of thyme

2 or 3 parsley stems

1 large celery root (1 to 1 1/4 lb.), peeled and cut in 1/4-inch dice (3 to 3 2/3 cups)

1 Yukon potato (about 8 oz.), peeled and cut in 1/4-inch dice

1/2 c. heavy cream

1 T. freshly squeezed lemon juice, if needed

Finely sliced flat leaf parsley

Olive oil for garnish

If time, soak the rice (see note):  In a medium bowl, pour boiling water over the wild rice. Allow the rice to soak for one hour, then drain.  Place the rice (drained or raw) and the stock in a large saucepan and bring to a simmer. Simmer until the rice is just tender—about 30 to 40 minutes. Strain, reserving the stock and the rice separately.  Measure the stock and add water to make 4 cups.

Melt 2 T. of the butter in a large saucepan set over medium heat, sweat the celery and leeks until beginning to soften—about 5 minutes.  While the celery and leeks cook, tie the herb stems securely together with a piece of cotton kitchen twine (see note).  When the leeks and celery are ready, add the remaining tablespoon of butter.  When the butter has melted, add the celery root and herb bundle along with a good pinch of salt.  Cook until the celery root is beginning to soften on the surface and all the vegetables are sizzling gently—about 5 minutes. 

Add the reserved stock and potatoes.  Bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to a simmer and season to taste with salt.  Simmer gently until all of the vegetables are tender—about 20 minutes.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer a cup of the vegetables to the cup of a blender or immersion blender.  Add enough of the cooking liquid to cover the vegetables and purée until smooth.  Scrape the purée back into the soup pot.  Add the heavy cream.  If the soup is too thin, purée some more of the vegetables.  If it is too thick, add some water or stock or milk.   Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper.  If the soup is well-seasoned but still tastes bland, add a squeeze of lemon to lift the flavors.

Add the rice, bring to a simmer and serve garnished with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of parsley.

Makes a generous 1 1/2 quarts soup—serves 4 to 6.

(Adapted from Local Flavors by Deborah Madison)

Notes:

• Soaking the rice will cut down on the cooking time only slightly. The main reason to do it is that it helps the rice absorb water more evenly as it cooks.
• If you don’t have any kitchen twine, you can of course just throw the herb sprigs/stems into the soup. Just remember to count them so you will know how many to fish out of the soup before you serve it.
• Because this is chowder—and I associate bacon with clam, potato and corn chowders—I think bacon would be a delicious addition. Cut 2 slices (about 2 oz.) of bacon into 1/2-inch squares. In the soup pot, render until just beginning to crisp. Add enough butter to make 2 T. Add the celery and leek and proceed with the recipe.
• Deborah Madison suggests drizzling a bit of truffle oil over the soup. If you happen to have some on hand, it would be delicious in place of the olive oil. I think a nut oil—particularly walnut or hazelnut oil—would also be good.

Printable Version

French-Style Baked Eggs (Oeufs en Cocotte) with Spring Onions

I love eggs.  I love them on things, in things…and all by themselves.  I can’t imagine a life without eggs.  They really are a perfect food.  Over the years I have written countless posts that feature eggs…from the simple (poached, fried, baked on a bed of vegetables)...to the more complex (frittatas, tortillas, quiche, savory bread pudding)…to desserts where eggs play a prominent and irreplaceable role (ice creams, custards, tarts, bread & butter puddings).  I am not alone in my feelings. Yesterday as I was reading some of the tributes written about Anthony Bourdain, I happened across his thoughts on eggs:  “An egg in anything makes it better.”  Quite so.

I have for years included a classic French egg dish (Oeufs en Cocotte) in my spring brunch class.  I have always intended to post a recipe for this dish, but have refrained for a couple of reasons.  The first is that versions of this recipe can be found everywhere….both in cookbooks and on line.  But this of course has not stopped me with other classic recipes when I thought I had something to add to the conversation.  So the main reason is really the second one.  And that is that this dish is deceptive in its simplicity.  It requires being engaged with your senses in a way that is difficult to describe.  I can give some guidelines…but you will have to practice getting it done just to your liking in your kitchen…with your equipment.  (As one writer said when describing how to know when an egg en cocotte is done:  It’s “…the egg dish that's done when it's done.”) The good news is that you will get to eat eggs while you practice.   And since Oeufs en Cocotte are fantastic for brunch…or lunch…or dinner—accompanied by all kinds of delicious vegetable and meat side dishes—you should be able to create lots of opportunities to practice. 

The nuts and bolts of method for Oeufs en Cocotte are easy to describe:  Butter a ramekin. Add a few cooked vegetables.  My favorite thing is softly cooked leeks or spring onions…and a little cream—but you could add almost anything:  cooked greens, a vegetable medley like ratatouille, mushroom duxelles, a bit of ham or smoked salmon, a thick tomato compote, etc…

When you place your garnish in the ramekin, make a little divot on the center.  This will help center the yolk.  Crack an egg into a small dish and then tilt the egg into the prepared ramekin, being careful to center the yolk as much as you can. 

Pour a little cream over the top…or add a dab of butter…and season lightly with salt and pepper.  Place the ramekins in a baking dish lined with a towel.  When you are ready to bake, add boiling water to the pan to come half way up the sides of the ramekins.  Cover with foil and bake, uncovering a couple minutes before you think they will be done.  When they are done, serve right away (with buttered toast).    

So what exactly is “done?”  To me these eggs are perfect when the white is just set—but still a bit delicate and trembly—and the yolks are a barely thickened liquid.  Some people like them when the whites are a bit more solid and the yolk is even more thickened.  But this difference is a narrow window—and either way is, as far as I am concerned, a successfully baked Oeuf en Cocotte.  Visually you can tell when the white is done—it will go from clear to white.  Even if you have poured a thin film of cream over the top, you will still be able to see when this happens.  The problem is that once this happens, the yolk will be well on its way to setting too.  (Whites begin to coagulate between 144° and 149° and yolks begin to coagulate between 149° and 158°.  From 160° to 180° the whole egg gets progressively firmer until it becomes fully coagulated and hard.)  Herein lies the rub—an uncooked white is unappetizing…and an overcooked yolk, while not unappetizing, is not the goal of this dish.  If you pull your eggs out of the oven too soon, the white will be undercooked…too late, and the yolk will be hard…and the length of time between these two outcomes might be just a minute or two.

I have given an oven temperature and a range of cooking time in my recipe below—but this is just to get you in the ball park.  You will need to look at the eggs....perhaps prod the surface of the egg with your finger…or jiggle the ramekin itself to see if the eggs are where you want them. When you are first getting started, inserting an instant read thermometer in the white (right next to the yolk…but not in the yolk, as this will cause the yolk to break before it gets to the eater) will tell you a couple of things.  It will give you a temperature—I think you should be around 155°—and it will give you the added visual clue that the egg is done because when the white is done, the tip of the probe will come out clean (you can use a paring knife to test this latter thing if you don’t have an instant read thermometer).   And of course it is important that you do all of this checking quickly so that your oven temperature doesn't drop drastically.

The eggs bake best in a moderate to moderately hot oven.   They will bake well at higher temperatures, but your window of time when they are just right will be narrower.  You will have a much wider window of time if the temperature is low—but too low and they will take a longer and much more unpredictable length of time to bake (you and your fellow eaters will be standing around, tapping your toes, while the toast gets cold as you wait).

It is for this latter reason that you want to make sure your water bath (the point of which is to stabilize the ambient cooking temperature—helping the eggs to cook uniformly, protecting the edges of the egg until the center bakes) is made with boiling water (not just tap water).  Loading a full pan of hot tap water into the oven will significantly lower the temperature of the oven and lengthen your cooking time by an unpredictable amount. 

By the same logic, if you are feeding a crowd…and perhaps putting a very large pan—or two or three smaller pans—of eggs into the oven, you might want to start out at a higher oven temperature (a sufficient volume of boiling water will still lower the oven temperature).  When I prepare 32 eggs in 4 to 6 pans (in two ovens) for my classes, I bump the oven temperatures up to a 450° to 500° starting point.  I am able to observe with an oven thermometer that the oven temperature drops almost immediately after I put the pans in the ovens to below 400°.   Some ovens recover well enough that you don’t need to alter the temperature for a large number…or be careful to heat your water to boiling.  All ovens are different.  If you bake/cook a lot, you probably already know if you will need to make some of these adjustments.  If you don’t know, then making Oeufs en Cocotte would be a great exercise in getting to know your oven better. 

One final observation.  I have seen several recipes that encourage you to put two eggs per ramekin for “larger appetites.”  This seems like a bad idea to me since it will necessarily put egg whites in the center of the ramekin….and not the yolks.  Since the center will be the last spot to come up to a coagulating temperature.  Keeping the yolks runny in this situation will probably mean that there will be undercooked white in the center.  While true that the yolks coagulate at a slightly higher temperature than the whites…and it might be technically possible to get the whites in the center set and still have two runny yolks…this would be a difficult thing to pull off.

If all of this is more detailed information than you like, I would encourage you to just print the recipe and jump in.  If you have difficulties in your first attempt, then return and read the above tips (which will make much more sense after you have some practice).  I would never want an excess of explanation to discourage anyone from trying to make Oeufs en Cocotte.  Once you have made them a time or two you will know that they are actually quite easy.  And they are a classic that belongs in everyone’s repertoire…perfect for a festive brunch…or a dinner for one when you are feeling under the weather…or just when you feel like pampering yourself.  

 French-style Baked Eggs with Spring Onions

1 c. thinly sliced spring onions (use roughly equal quantities of white and green)

1 to 2 T. thinly sliced green garlic (optional)

1 T. unsalted butter
6 T. Heavy cream
4 large eggs (room temperature)

Preheat oven to 375˚F.  Butter 4 4 oz. ramekins or custard cups.  Line a roasting pan with a kitchen towel or a double thickness of paper towels and place the custard cups in the roasting pan.  Set aside.
 

In a medium-sized sauté pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the spring onions and green garlic and toss to coat in the butter.  Add a pinch of salt, cover and cook over low heat until the onions are wilted and tender. If they release a lot of liquid as they cook, uncover during the last few moments of cooking to allow the liquid to evaporate.  Set aside briefly to cool.  (The onions may be cooked ahead.  Cover and refrigerate.  Bring to room temperature before proceeding with the recipe.) 

Divide the onion mixture among the buttered ramekins.  Spread the mixture out, mounding it up a bit around the edges—you are making a "nest" for the egg that will help center the yolk.  Drizzle 1/2 T. of cream into each ramekin.

One at a time, crack eggs into a small bowl and then transfer the egg to a ramekin, centering the yolk as much as possible as you do.  

Carefully pour a tablespoon of cream over each egg.  Sprinkle each sparingly with salt. 

Pour boiling water into the roasting pan until it comes up to the same level as the eggs in the ramekins.  Cover the pan with foil.  Bake for 10 minutes.  Uncover and continue to bake until the white is opaque and just barely set—the yolk should still be liquid—another 2 to 4 minutes. (If you like, you make carefully insert an instant read thermometer into the white right next to the yolk—be careful not to pierce the yolk.  (The temperature should read somewhere between 155° and 160° for jiggly white and liquid yolk.)  Remove the pan from the oven.  The eggs will hold in their hot water bath for a few minutes.  If you know you will need to hold them, undercook them slightly as they will continue to cook as they sit.  They should be served as soon as possible.  Sprinkle each with a bit of freshly ground black pepper and serve with buttered toast.

Serves 4

Notes & Variations:

• You will probably have to experiment with baking times in your oven. I have given what works in my oven. Classically, oeufs en cocotte are baked uncovered, but this produces a hard surface and an undercooked white in my oven. You will find some sources that recommend as little as 7 minutes baking time (Julia Child). The initial temperature of your eggs will also make a difference—if your eggs are refrigerator cold, consider allowing them to sit in a bowl of hot tap water for a few minutes before cracking them into the saucers. 
• If you like, sprinkle a bit of finely grated Parmesan or Pecorino over the egg before baking. 
• The onions may be omitted for the simplest of baked eggs. 
• Replace the onions with the same quantity of thinly sliced leek—one leek should yield a cup of thinly sliced leeks. 
• Instead of onions, any finely cut, cooked vegetable may be used—diced sautéed mushrooms, a spoonful of ratatouille, minced braised artichokes, a few cooked fresh peas, etc. 
• You may bake as many or as few ramekins at one time as you like (a French-style baked egg makes a wonderful lunch for one!). Simply adjust the size of the pan that you use for your hot water bath accordingly. For a baked egg for one, you could use a small oven-proof sauté pan or a metal pie pan. For two or three, a medium-sized sauté pan works well. Etc.

Printable Version

Coq au Riesling (Sautéed Chicken in Riesling Sauce)

For many years now I have been teaching a couple of classes that feature what I consider to be typical French bistro food:  Beef Daube, French apple tart, pot de crème, profiteroles with strawberry ice cream, tarte flambée, etc.  In the spring, I like to teach a class that includes a classic from the Alsace region of France:  Coq au Riesling (or Sautéed Chicken in Riesling Sauce).  Although this dish does not include ingredients that I typically associate with spring, I think the floral and acidic character that the wine gives to the sauce goes particularly well with asparagus.  So even though it is probably more often served in its homeland during the winter months (with red cabbage and spaetzle), I find myself thinking about it during the early, cooler days of spring.

Chicken in Riesling is an example of the classic, regional sautéed/braised chicken dishes that one finds all across France.  The method or preparation—brown, moisten and simmer—is fairly universal.  What separates each from the others—giving each its unique character and flavor—is the use of local and traditional ingredients.  In this case the particular wine (a dry Alsace Riesling) and a sauce enhanced with bacon and cream. Almost every version of this dish I have ever encountered also includes mushrooms.  And all include onions of some kind—most often pearl onions or leeks…but you will also find versions that use sliced shallots, or even just diced yellow onions.  I have seen versions that include carrots, but this seems to me to be an anomaly…and not very much in keeping with the fact that this is a “white” stew and really should be made with all white, beige/brown and pale green ingredients.

A finished half recipe...

I have posted two other recipes for French chicken sautés:  Poulet Basquaise from Southwestern France…and Poulet Valléed’Auge from Normandy.  Comparing these three examples is instructive.  It of course shows the similarity of method (mentioned above)…but it also shows how the personality of each dish is affected by how and when the “garnish” ingredients are added.  In the Chicken in Riesling the mushrooms and leeks are added at the beginning so they are cooked with the chicken…and remain in the sauce for service.  This way of incorporating the garnish lends a slightly rustic quality to the dish…and results in a dish that is a harmonious blending of the flavors of all the ingredients.  

In the Basque recipe (at least the version of it that I made) the peppers and ham that are cooked with the chicken are strained out before the sauce is finished.  Freshly cooked peppers and ham are then added just before service.  This creates a complex and refined sauce for a dish where the chicken, peppers and ham all have a distinct voice in the final dish.  

The Norman dish is a great example of one that straddles these two styles.  The mushrooms and shallots are cooked with the chicken…and left in the dish.  Then, freshly sautéed apples are added at the end with the cream.  This method gives the apples a prominent place in the final dish. 

I imagine there are cultural and practical reasons that these dishes came together in their respective styles...unfortunately I'm not familiar with the "whys."  As a cook though, I am fascinated by the differences in the results.

Of course I can’t end this post without commenting on the wine.  All Rieslings are not appropriate for this dish.  Riesling is a German grape.  But it is also grown in Alsace (which touches Germany…and due to its history is a bit of a cultural and culinary crossroads of the two countries).  German Rieslings are almost always sweet.  French are always dry.  This dish is French and should be made with a French-style dry Riesling…not a sweet German-style. You don’t have to use a French Riesling as long as the one you use is dry.  To make sure you are getting a dry one, look for the following on the label:  “Qualitätswein Trocken” on German bottles, “Dry” from Washington State.  Any  Riesling from New York State should be fine…and most Australian Rieslings from Clare Valley or Eden Valley will be dry as well. (Ask your purveyor if you are unsure.)  And finally, whatever you purchase, make sure you purchase enough so that you will have plenty to drink alongside this delicious dish.  It is of course the perfect match.

Coq au Riesling

(Chicken in Riesling)

2 slices thick cut bacon (2 to 3 oz.), cut cross-wise in 1/2-inch pieces

2 to 3 T. butter, divided

8 oz. white button mushrooms, sliced 1/4-inch thick

2 leeks (one if they are very large), white and pale green parts only, halved, sliced cross-wise into 1/2-inch pieces and rinsed in several changes of water—you should have 2 cups prepared leeks

1 1/2 c. Alsace-style Riesling (see note)

1 T. vegetable oil

A 3 1/2 lb. chicken, cut up (see note) or 3 lbs. chicken parts of your choice

Several sprigs of thyme

1 bay leaf

3 or 4 parsley stems

1/2 c. heavy cream

2 T. minced Italian flat-leaf parsley

lemon, if necessary

Salt & Pepper

Ingredients for a half recipe...

In a straight-sided sauté pan or wide enameled cast-iron pot, render the bacon over medium-low heat until crisp.  Remove the bacon to a plate and increase the heat to medium-high.  Add enough butter to the pan to make 2 T. fat (if the bacon was very fatty, you will not need to add any butter).  Add the mushrooms and sauté until soft and browned—about 5 minutes.  Reduce the heat to low and season with salt.  If the pan seems dry, add a bit more butter.  Add the leeks to the pan, along with a pinch of salt and cook until wilted, stirring frequently.  Don't let the leeks brown.  When the leeks have softened a bit (after about 5 minutes), add about 2/3 of the Riesling (a cup) to the pan and reduce by a third.  Set aside.

While the bacon, mushrooms and leeks are cooking heat a tablespoon of butter along with the vegetable oil in a large sauté pan set over medium-high heat.  Pat the chicken dry and season generously with salt and pepper.  Add the chicken to the pan, skin side down, and brown all over, in batches if necessary to keep from crowding the pan.  Regulate the heat as necessary to maintain an active sizzle.  When the chicken is golden brown and the skin is crisp and well-rendered, transfer the chicken to a plate and pour off all of the fat.  Deglaze the pan with the remaining Riesling…bringing it to a simmer, reducing (by a third to a half), and scraping the browned bits off of the bottom of the pan as the wine reduces.

Add the deglazings from the pan the chicken was sautéed in to the pan with the leeks and mushrooms.  Return the bacon and the chicken (skin side up), along with any accumulated juices, to the pan.  Bring the contents of the pan to a simmer and add the thyme, parsley stems and bay leaf.  Cover the pan with a tight fitting lid.  At this point you may either reduce the heat or transfer the pan to a 325° to 350° oven.  With either method, the goal is the maintenance of a gentle simmer.  You will note that there is only a small amount of liquid in the pan—perhaps coming a quarter to a third of the way up the sides of the meat and no more. 

When the white meat pieces are cooked through (to 150° or 155°…after about 15 minutes), remove them to a plate.  Continue to cook the remaining chicken until very tender and cooked through (a skewer inserted in the meat will not encounter resistance going in, or “grab” coming out)—another 10 to 20 minutes or so.

Remove the dark meat pieces to the plate with the white meat.  Remove the thyme, parsley and bay and discard.  Add the cream to the pan and bring to a simmer.  Simmer until the sauce has thickened slightly.  Taste the sauce and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper and a little lemon, if necessary.  Reduce the heat to very low, swirl in the parsley and return the chicken to the pan.  Cover the pan and briefly allow the chicken to heat through. 

Coq au Riesling is traditionally served with Spaetzle, rice, noodles or steamed potatoes.

Serves 4 to 6

Notes: 

• Riesling is a German grape. In Germany it is almost always made into sweet wines. French Rieslings from Alsace are always dry wines. This dish requires a dry Riesling. French Rieslings can be very expensive…and, in the states, sometimes difficult to find. You may use any dry Riesling for this dish. When looking for a dry Riesling, choose one labeled as follows: Alsace, “Qualitätswein Trocken” from Germany, “Dry” from Washington State, any from New York State, and most Australian Rieslings from Clare Valley or Eden Valley. 
• The chicken may be cut into 4 or 8 serving pieces (or you may use parts, as noted in the recipe). For these "Sauté-style" stews, the French traditionally cut the chicken into 8 pieces—2 legs, 2 thighs and 4 breast pieces. The four breast pieces are obtained by taking each split breast and cutting it cross-wise into 2 equal pieces. You may also simply cut the chicken into quarters—2 leg-thigh joints and 2 breasts. For both methods, the first joint of the wing may be left attached to the breasts. My preferred way to prepare this dish is with 2 breasts plus 3 leg thigh-joints or 6 thighs. I remove the breast meat from the bone before returning it to the pan to reheat it for service. The dish will then serve 6, each person getting a third of a breast and one piece of dark meat. 

Printable Version

Creamy Parsnip Soup with Walnut-Sage Pesto

I don’t think I tasted a parsnip until I was well into adulthood.  This is not to say I would have tasted them (or liked them) had I been served some when I was a child (as I have mentioned many times, I was an extremely picky eater).  For some reason they just never crossed my path.  I think that many Americans would tell a similar story…and that almost as many American adults would say they had still not tasted them.   

Even if I didn’t know of this lack of exposure from my cooking classes, the sad, wax-covered (an attempt to preserve moisture for an overly long stay in the produce aisle) parsnips available in many grocery stores would tell the tale.  But, if the reaction of the people who have attended my classes is any indication, most people will like them when given the chance.   If you have never sampled a parsnip…or if you have only had the old, tired, waxed ones...the parsnip soup I am posting today would be a great starting place to experience just how delicious a parsnip can be.

It is a surprise to me that parsnips aren’t more widely served on American tables.  One of the unfortunate things about our national palate is that Americans gravitate towards sweet flavors…even in savory dishes.  This proclivity should work in the favor of parsnips…they are quite sweet.  So sweet in fact that I find they need a bit of tempering from complimentary flavors.  They go beautifully with pungent turnips and rutabagas (roasted together…baked in a gratin…folded into a purée…).  And they are fantastic with the slightly bitter and musty flavor of the walnut and sage garnish for this soup.

The recipe for this soup is from Alice Waters’ book The Art of Simple Food II.  As is almost always the case, the balance of flavors in her recipe is just about perfect.  I have changed it in only one respect:  Waters serves it as a chunky vegetable soup.  I like to purée it (suggested as a variation in the original recipe).  Parsnips purée into an incredibly velvety soup—and the drizzle of the coarse walnut-sage pesto is beautiful against the off white color of the soup. 

Furthermore, because parsnips aren’t the most popular vegetables on the produce aisle, sometimes the ones I have access to (even though they haven’t been waxed) have hard cores that resist cooking—even after the exterior has been completely broken down by the cooking process.  Puréeing the soup…and then quickly straining it…is a great way to deal with any unyielding, fibrous bits. 

To get good parsnips, go to a grocery store that has a reputation for carrying local produce…or one that sells an abundant variety.  Whole Foods, for example, almost always has them during the cooler months.  If you have a winter farmers' market in your area, one of the growers will probably have them.  As with most fresh vegetables, choose specimens that are heavy for their size (this means they will still be full of moisture) and as unblemished as possible.  And, if it isn’t already clear from my comments, avoid the ones in the grocery story that have been waxed.  You will be disappointed and possibly even disinclined to give them a second chance…which would be a shame. 

On a final technical note, when you make this soup, use the amounts of liquid given in the recipe as a guideline.  As with all puréed soups, err on the side of too little liquid while the soup is cooking (if you have too much, the soup might be too thin after puréeing).  Add just enough liquid so that the vegetables are moving freely and a bit loosely in the stock/water.  You can always add more (and the recipe indicates that you probably will) when you actually purée the soup.  While puréeing, add just enough liquid (water or stock) to allow the soup to move freely in the blender.  After you add the cream, adjust the thickness again (with water or stock).  I mention all of this because it is impossible to give an exactly correct amount of liquid in a recipe.  I have no way of knowing how much liquid will evaporate during the cooking process (you may cook at a higher or lower level of heat…your pot may be wider or narrower than mine…etc.).  Also, we may have different ideas of what constitutes a nice texture. In my opinion, a puréed soup should be on the thin side… Sippable, with a viscosity that is just slightly thicker than heavy cream, is just about perfect.

Cream of Parsnip Soup with Sage & Walnuts

3 to 4 T. unsalted butter

4 large shallots (about 5 to 6 oz.), sliced

1 large leek—white & pale green parts only—trimmed, halved lengthwise, sliced (to obtain 1 to 1 1/4 cups) and rinsed well in several changes of water

1 sage sprig

Salt

1 1/2 lbs. parsnips, trimmed, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch half moons

4 cups chicken (or vegetable) stock

3 1/2 T. olive oil, divided—plus more as desired

12 to 15 sage leaves

1/2 cup walnuts, toasted and chopped medium fine

Salt & pepper

1 large or 2 small cloves of garlic

Water as needed (about 2 cups)

2/3 cup heavy cream

Mise en place tray for class...

In a heavy soup pot set over medium heat, melt 3 T. of the butter.  Add the shallots and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent—about 10 minutes.  Add the leeks, the sprig of sage and a good pinch of salt.  If the pan seems dry, add the remaining tablespoon of butter.  Continue to cook until the leeks begin to collapse—about 4 to 5 minutes.  Add the parsnips and cook, stirring occasionally, until the parsnips have begun to soften on the surfaces—about 5 to 7 minutes.  

Pour in the stock.  Raise the heat, bring to a boil, then immediately reduce the heat to a simmer and cook until the parsnips are tender—about 12 to 15 minutes. 

While the soup cooks, heat 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil in a small sauté pan.  Add the sage leaves and cook until they have crisped and turned translucent.  

Remove the pan from the heat and add the walnuts and stir to coat.  

Season with salt and pepper.  Place the garlic in a mortar and pestle and pound until smooth.  Pound in a pinch of salt.  Pour in the sage and walnut mixture, along with another 2 tablespoons of oil.  Pound lightly.  Taste and correct the seasoning with salt.  Add more olive oil to achieve a consistency that pleases you.  Set aside while you purée the soup. 

When the parsnips are tender, remove the sage sprig.  Purée the soup.  If the soup is too thick to move freely in the blender, add a bit of water.  Strain the soup into a clean pot; add the cream and heat through, adding more water if the soup is too thick.  Taste and correct the seasoning with salt.  Serve with a spoonful of the sage and walnuts drizzled and dolloped over the surface of the soup. 

Makes a scant 2 quarts soup.

(Recipe adapted from The Art of Simple Food II by Alice Waters) 

Printable Recipe