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

A Traditional Menu for St. Patrick’s Day

This week I taught one of my favorite classes…a traditional Irish menu for St. Patrick’s Day.  American’s seem to love St. Patrick’s Day….and they celebrate with gusto. The tradition of marking the day with a platter of corned beef and cabbage is firmly entrenched.  But my understanding is that in the land of St. Patrick himself, this is not the dish upon which most will feast.  Irish tables are more likely to feature a hearty beef or lamb stew.  Cabbage might appear, but will probably show up folded into a dish of fluffy and buttery mashed potatoes.  So rather than follow the traditions of my own country, I have hopped back over the Atlantic for my St. Patrick’s day spread….one that features soda bread, colcannon potatoes, a delicious Guinness beef stew and a double-crusted lemon curd tart.

The stew that I make for our St. Patrick’s Day meal is a simple—and to be honest, classically French—beef stew featuring Guinness and root vegetables.  A few years ago I wrote a post detailing the basic processes of braising and stewing.  If you have never made a stew before, this post would be a great primer—all of the rules that apply to the red wine-based stew that I posted then would apply to this Guinness stew.   It is the Guinness—not the technique—that plants this stew firmly in Ireland. 

It is worth noting that even though this stew is Irish because of the ingredients, it would not be correct to call my Guinness stew “Irish Stew”.  A traditional Irish stew is a baked casserole of layered onions, potatoes and lamb.  Occasionally a few carrots are added.  It is a rustic and delicious dish…and if I don’t make Guinness stew, this is the stew that I make.  My favorite example of it can be found in the March 2004 issue of Martha Stewart Living.  Because I can’t help myself, I do make a couple of changes to her recipe.  First, I brown the lamb and soften the onions (in the same pan in which the lamb has been browned) prior to layering everything into the casserole.  Then, I add two or three large carrots—peeled and cut into thirds—placing them on top among the whole potatoes after the stew has been in the oven for an hour or so.    

I have already posted the recipes for Brown Soda Bread and Colcannon potatoes.  I will only add here that I am always….   always    ….struck by how delicious these two foods can be.  People who think they don’t like whole grains will enjoy this bread—slathered with a generous quantity of sweet (unsalted) butter.  The same goes for the potatoes and those who think they hate cabbage.  The glory of Irish cooking is its simplicity and its connection to the land—which produces soft, low-protein wheat, oats, rich dairy products and abundant cool weather crops (among other things).  These things are on full display in these two dishes.  If you have never tasted either of these foods, you should definitely give one…or both…of them a try. 

I finish my Irish menu with a double crusted lemon curd tart.  This recipe is from a column that ran in Bon Appetit in March of 1992.  The author of the article (Gerri Gilliland) was raised in Ireland but was living and working in the United States as a chef.  Her article was written to introduce Americans to a more traditionally Irish St. Patrick’s Day feast.  Because I was curious to see how much I had altered her tart recipe over the years, I pulled my copy of that issue this week.  I was gratified to discover that our menus are almost identical.  In fact, the origin of my Guinness stew is probably her recipe.  I have altered both the stew and the tart over the years, but not so much as to make them unrecognizable from the originals.  I am pleased to give her credit.

As Gilliland points out in her article, this menu is perfectly suited to a weeknight party.  (Serendipitously, in the year her article was published, St. Patrick’s Day fell on a Tuesday…just as it will this year.)  For the tart, the lemon curd should be made the day before (so it will be thoroughly chilled)—and the dough can be made—and even rolled out—the day before.  It is then a simple matter to fill the crust and bake the tart after work.  The stew can also be made ahead—in fact, it is better this way since this allows the flavors to develop more fully.  Simply make the stew on Sunday or Monday, cool it down and then before reheating, scrape any solidified fat off of the top.  Bring it to a simmer over very low heat—or in a low oven—while you are making the Colcannon.  If you would like to greet your guests with an appetizer, Gilliland suggests that nothing is more Irish than a platter of thinly sliced smoked salmon to accompany your brown soda bread.  Barring that, a nice platter of Irish cheddar or Dubliner cheese would be good too.

Whether you prepare all—or even just one—of these dishes, I hope that you and your family and friends will take the opportunity afforded by this holiday to gather at a table and experience the traditional tastes of the delicious foods of Ireland.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Guinness Beef Stew

2 1/2 to 3 lbs. boneless beef chuck (trimmed of excess sinew and fat), cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces

Salt and pepper

Flour for dredging

3 to 4 T. olive or vegetable oil

2 medium yellow onions, diced

6 to 8 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced

4 or 5 sprigs thyme

1 sprig rosemary

1 12-ounce bottle Guinness stout

3 to 4 cups stock (beef, lamb or chicken) or water

2 lbs. root vegetables (carrots, parsnips, celeriac, turnips and/or rutabagas) peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks

Getting ready to make a double batch...

Season the meat generously with salt and pepper.  If time allows, season the meat up to 24 hours ahead.  Wrap and refrigerate.  Dredge in flour and shake off the excess. 

In a wide deep sauté pan or Dutch oven, heat some of the oil over medium-high heat.  Add the meat and brown on all sides.  Don't crowd the meat in the pan.  If necessary, brown in batches, removing each batch to a plate while you do the next.  

It will take 10 to 20 minutes per batch to brown the meat.  Regulate the heat as necessary to maintain an active sizzle—it shouldn’t spatter and smoke.

Remove the final batch to a platter and reduce the heat to medium or medium-low.  Add the onions to the pan—adding  more oil if necessary.  Sweat the onions until translucent and beginning to caramelize—about 10 minutes.  Add the garlic and continue to cook until fragrant.  Add the Stout to the pan and bring to a simmer, scraping up all of the caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan.  Reduce the Stout by half.  Return the meat to the pan along with any accumulated juices and the herbs.   Add enough hot water or stock to cover the meat.  Bring to a boil; reduce the heat, cover and simmer (heat should be very low), stirring occasionally, until the meat is almost tender—about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.  (The stew may also be transferred to a 325° oven to be cooked.)  

Add the root vegetables and continue to simmer, covered, until the meat and vegetables are tender (another hour or so).  Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and pepper.  Remove the herb sprigs before serving.

Serves 6 to 8.

Note:  If you prefer a thicker stew, you may thicken it with a roux after it is done cooking.  To prepare the roux, melt 2 T. of butter in a small saucepan.  When foam subsides, whisk 2 or 3 T. of flour.  Cook stirring constantly for a minute or two—the roux will be bubbly and straw yellow. Remove from the heat.  You may use the roux immediately, or let it solidify and use it later.  To thicken the stew, place the stew over moderate heat.  Maintaining a gentle simmer, add the roux, bit by bit, until you have achieved the thickness you desire.  It is unlikely that you will need all of the roux.  In my opinion, the stew is more delicious if the sauce is only lightly thickened. 

Printable Version

Double Crust Lemon Curd Tart

 

Sweet Tart Dough:

1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter (227g)

3/4 c. sugar (150g)

2 egg yolks (40g)

2 t. vanilla

2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour (300g)

2/3 c. cake flour (92g)

Briefly cream the butter and sugar.  Beat in the egg yolks and the vanilla.  Add the flours and mix until just combined.  Divide the dough into three equal portions.  The dough may be used right away, or chilled and rolled out later (let it soften slightly before rolling it out).  Press each portion into a thick disk.  Wrap in plastic and chill until ready to use.  For the lemon curd tart you will only need 2 of the disks.  The other may be frozen for another use. 

Lemon Curd:

1 c. sugar

Zest of 3 lemons

2/3 c. strained lemon juice

3 eggs

4 oz. (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into pieces

Combine the sugar, lemon zest and lemon juice in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat.  In a medium-sized bowl, whisk the eggs until homogenous.  When the lemon syrup boils, whisk it into the eggs in a thin stream.  Return this mixture to the saucepan and place over medium heat.  Stir constantly until the mixture is visibly thickened—this will only take about 3 minutes.  Remove from the heat and whisk in the butter, piece by piece.  When the butter is fully incorporated, turn the curd into a bowl and press a piece of plastic wrap to the surface.  Chill overnight.

Build and Bake the tart:

2 disks of tart dough

Cold lemon curd filling

1 egg white, beaten until frothy

Additional sugar for sprinkling (1 T. or so)

Sweetened whipped cream

Fresh raspberries (or other favorite berry)

Between 2 sheets of plastic wrap, roll one disk of dough into a round about 1/8-inch thick.  Peel off the top sheet of plastic and invert the round of dough into a buttered 9- to 9 1/2-inch removable-bottom tart pan.  Ease the dough into the pan being careful not to stretch it and pressing it against the sides of the tart pan.  Use your hands to gently press the dough against the upper rim of the tart pan so that the dough is trimmed flush with the pan.  Spoon the cold lemon curd into the tart shell.  Roll out the second round of dough.  Place it on top of the filling.  Press the edges together to seal.

Place the tart onto a cookie sheet and bake in a preheated 375° oven until the top and sides are golden brown—about 35 minutes.  Remove to a rack and let stand for 5 minutes.  Brush the top of the tart with the beaten egg white; sprinkle with the sugar.  Bake 10 minutes more.  Cool the tart on a wire rack.  When completely cool, slice and serve with whipped cream and fresh berries. 

Printable Version

(Recipes adapted from Bon Appetit, March 1992)

End-of-Winter Vegetable Soup with Farro

I have christened the soup we had for dinner last night "End-of-Winter Soup".  Sadly, the name reflects my wishes more than the reality of the weather.  Yes, it is March...and we should be beginning to warm up, but this has been such a strange winter that I don't hold out too much hope that winter is actually done.  Certainly soup was an appropriate dinner choice in the context of yesterday's weather:  It was the coldest it has been all year. Soup...or a braise...or something similarly warming...was definitely in order.  

It was actually the contents of my vegetable drawer that caused me to think of my soup as "end of winter".  I knew that I ought to be able to come up with something for dinner without making a trip to the store...but my vegetable crisper was filled with lots of odds and ends...no one thing leapt out.  Since it was almost entirely root vegetables, it really did look to me like the culinary remains of winter.  I had singletons of parsnip and celery root...a couple of kohlrabi (from a bunch purchased to test a recipe which only called for one...)...a big bag of carrots (I always have carrots)...and--on the counter—a scrawny sweet potato.  I also had some winter squash and cauliflower, but I decided I really wanted to use up the lonely sweet potato, parsnip and celery root.  Soup was the perfect solution. 

Several years ago I taught a few classes at my local Williams-Sonoma.  The classes were a bit different than those that I normally teach in that I was given a list of topics to choose from and then asked to teach recipes that had already been developed for Williams-Sonoma. (In all of my other classes I propose my own topics and choose my own recipes—often recipes I have developed myself.)  I have kept many of these Williams-Sonoma recipes in my repertoire...tweaking them as time has gone by.  The inspiration for yesterday's soup was one of those recipes:  a simple vegetable barley soup developed by Joanne Weir.  

As I looked at the original recipe so I could credit it for this post, I noticed that I have changed it so much over the years that it is not really recognizable any more.  Even if I made it with the same list of vegetables and herbs...and used pearled barley instead of farro...it wouldn't be.  But I wanted to mention it for a couple of reasons.  First, I always want to credit inspiration.  Inspiration is elusive...and it always means so much when I hear that I have inspired someone else. I want to try and do the same for others.  But secondly, and probably of more interest to readers, is that I think the changes will be instructive for anyone wanting to make a soup with the current contents of their pantry. 

The first thing I changed was to begin the soup by sweating some onion in some melted butter. As far as I am concerned, this is pretty much the only way to begin making soup.  Cooking onions (or leeks...or shallots....) in a generous quantity of fat (butter, rendered bacon fat, olive oil, etc.) until softened infuses the fat with the sweet flavor of the onions.  The fat then carries this flavor throughout the soup, giving it a depth of flavor not found in soups made by simply simmering the onions in the liquid.  The result is completely worth the extra fifteen minutes or so that it will take.  And if you are worried about the added calories, please don't be.  Without it, the soup won't be nearly as satisfying.  And even considering that I began my soup with five tablespoons of butter, it really isn't that much when you take into account the fact that you will be making at least two quarts of soup.  

The other main difference in the soups (obvious from the pictures) is the size of the vegetables.  I cut my vegetables much smaller.  I love getting lots of different kinds of vegetables in each bite, and this is made possible by the smaller cuts.  I also wanted to mirror the size of the cooked grain more closely.  Somehow large, fat chunks of vegetables didn't seem like a harmonious combination with the comparatively diminutive grains of farro (or barley, in the case of Weir's soup).  

From left to right: kohlrabi, celeriac, sweet potato, carrot and parsnip.

If you don't want to cut the vegetables quite so small (although...this is a great way to practice your knife skills!), then consider replacing the grain with something large...like some cooked white beans or a large noodle (orrechiette, for example).  If you make the soup with beans, add them with the Brussels sprouts.  If you use canned beans, rinse them before adding.  If you have cooked your own, add them along with their delicious cooking liquid.  Pasta should be cooked separately and added only to the soup that will be served.  If it is added to all of the soup and allowed to sit, it will continue to absorb liquid and become large, soft and mushy.  Simply place a small amount in each bowl and ladle the hot soup right over it.

As far as the actual contents of my soup went, I really did just use what I had:  celeriac, parsnip, carrot, sweet potato, kohlrabi, onion, Brussels sprouts and farro.   

You should see what you could make with the contents of your pantry.  Maybe you have potatoes or winter squash on your counter instead of a sweet potato.  If you happened to have them, turnip or rutabaga (Swedish turnip) would be delicious instead of one of the other root vegetables.  I happen to think that the parsnip was a particularly important addition...too much would have been overpowering, but I would have missed its aromatic presence, so I'm glad I happened to have it.  The Brussels sprouts could be replaced by diced cabbage...or even finely chopped broccoli florets (as in Weir's original).  If you use broccoli florets, consider peeling and dicing the stems and adding them to the soup with the root vegetables.

The cored and thinly sliced Brussels sprouts could be replaced with diced 
cabbage or minced broccoli florets.

Finally, when composing your soup, I would recommend limiting your selection of root vegetables to five (or fewer) different kinds.  More than that and it seems like the flavors might be too muddied.  Finally, please don't use old, tired, wrinkled or otherwise decaying vegetables in your soup.  Since root vegetables are good keepers, if you cook with vegetables on a regular basis it would not be unusual to amass a small quantity of odds and ends appropriate for a soup like this one.  But if the vegetables in your larder look like they are beginning to compost, they would not be improved by adding them to your soup.  And worse the soup will suffer; you will have wasted your time and effort.  It is so much better to go with a lesser variety (or a smaller batch of soup).

Last night's soup...served with some cheese and whole grain bread...did make a very satisfying end to a bitterly cold day.  Happily, it also used up most of the stray items in my vegetable bin.  I do still have half of my celery root...and now I have one solitary kohlrabi...but, not to worry, I'm sure I'll come up with something.  The weather is set to warm up by the end of the week.  Maybe I'll make a batch of "end-of-winter" slaw....

End of Winter Vegetable Soup with Farro

5 T. unsalted butter

1 large or two small onions (about 10 oz.), cut in 1/4-inch dice (2 cups)

3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

1 T. minced fresh thyme

5 c. diced (1/4- to 1/3-inch) root vegetables (see note)

6 cups chicken stock (or more, if you prefer a soup with a greater proportion of broth)

1/2 c. pearled or semi-pearled farro, rinsed

4 to 5 oz. Brussels sprouts, trimmed, cored and thinly sliced (1 1/2 cups sliced)

2 T. coarsely chopped flat leaf parsley, optional

In a large soup pot over medium heat, melt butter.  Add the onion along with a pinch of salt and sweat until very soft (about 15 minutes).  Add the garlic and thyme and cook another minute or two, or until fragrant.  Add the root vegetables and cook until hot and beginning to sizzle in the butter. 

Add the stock and bring to a boil.   Taste and season with salt.  Add the farro, return to a simmer, cover and simmer gently until the vegetables are almost tender—15 minutes.  Add the sprouts, return to a simmer and cook until the farro is tender—another 10 minutes or so.  If you would like a soup with a greater proportion of broth, simply add broth (or water) to obtain a soup that pleases you—I prefer a soup that is filled with vegetables that are snug, but moving freely in the broth.  Taste and correct the seasoning.  Serve sprinkled with minced parsley if desired. 

Makes about 2  quarts of soup.

Notes &Variations: 

• As noted in my post, I simply used the root vegetables that I had on hand...1 large parsnip, 1 small (6 oz.) sweet potato, 1 medium kohlrabi, 1/2 a celeriac and 1 large carrot to round it out.  But you could also use potato, turnip, rutabaga (swede), or winter squash.  I would limit the variety of root vegetables to 3 to 5 different kinds. 
• If you like...and you have it on hand...a couple of leeks would be a delicious substitution for the onion.
• Cabbage would be a fine substitute for the Brussels sprouts.  Cut it small squares to mirror the other vegetable shapes.  Or, follow Joanne Weir's lead and use chopped (small) broccoli tips instead of cabbage.  If you use broccoli, peel and dice the stems and use them as part of your volume of "root vegetables"...adding them to the soup when you add the root vegetables.

Printable Version

Baked Chicken with Garlic, Leeks & Thyme—"Pot Roasted" Chicken

If you mention the words "pot roast", most Americans will immediately think of a rustic and hearty dish of beef and vegetables—beef so tender it is practically falling apart and vegetables that are soft and infused with the rich flavor of the beef. But beef isn't the only meat that can be "pot roasted". Pot roasting is simply the procedure. It can be used to cook any tough, fatty, sinewy cut of meat. Today I thought I would share a favorite recipe for pot roasted chicken thighs.

One of the best things about pot roasted chicken is that it is a relatively fast procedure. Whereas a beef pot roast will take 3 hours or more, pot roasted chicken thighs can be on the table in as little as an hour and fifteen minutes (including the time it takes to brown the chicken and prep the vegetables).

The technique is simple. Brown the chicken, remove the chicken to a plate and toss the vegetables in the hot fat until they begin to soften. Return the chicken to the pan, cover with a tight fitting lid and transfer to a low oven. Bake until the chicken is meltingly tender. While the chicken bakes, prepare some kind of plain starch—buttered noodles, mashed potatoes, steamed rice—and, if you like, a green salad. This meal is quick enough for a simple weeknight family dinner...but nice enough to serve on a weekend for a gathering of friends.

The original version of this recipe (published by Parade Magazine and developed by Sheila Lukins) calls for a whole chicken (cut into eight pieces). Frankly, I would never prepare the chicken breasts this way. Like braising (another slow, moist-heat cooking procedure), pot roasting is best suited to tough, sinewy cuts of meat. In general, lean, tender cuts (like the chicken breast) are better served by quick, dry-heat procedures like pan-frying or grilling or fast, high heat roasting. You can make this recipe with thighs and drumsticks, but I prefer to make it with all thighs. Thighs are nice and meaty and are also easier to eat than drumsticks.

As with braising, the first step in pot roasting is browning the meat. Don't shortcut this step. Not only is this step meant to brown the skin, it is also serves to render the fat from the skin. If the skin is only superficially browned, the chicken skin will remain unappetizingly flabby and the fat will render into the pot as the chicken cooks, resulting in a greasy final dish.

Well-browned and crisped chicken skin.  The excess rendered fat will be poured off before the vegetables are added to the pan

Unlike a braise, there is no added liquid in this recipe. None is needed. As long as you use a pan with a tight fitting lid, there is plenty of moisture in the vegetables and the chicken to facilitate the cooking process. If your lid is not tight, this moisture will escape from the pan and the vegetables might stick and burn. If you are at all concerned, check the pan occasionally. If it ever seems dry, add a small splash of water. Even with no added liquid, the chicken and vegetables will naturally produce a small amount of very flavorful broth during the cooking process—perfect for moistening some noodles, rice or potatoes.

If you don't have a pan with a tight fitting lid that will go from the stove top to the oven, the recipe can be prepared using a sauté pan and a lidded casserole. Brown the chicken and vegetables as described in the recipe. When the vegetables have just begun to soften (after 3 or 4 minutes) transfer them to a shallow casserole that will hold the chicken in a single layer. Deglaze the sauté pan with a splash of water, stock or white wine and reduce until there is only a very small amount of liquid in the pan (1 or 2 tablespoons). Add the chicken to the casserole and drizzle the deglazings over all. Cover and place in the oven. Bake and serve as directed (increasing the cooking time a bit since the casserole will not be hot from cooking on the stove top and will take a few minutes to come up to temperature once in the oven). This method works particularly well if you are multiplying the recipe to serve a crowd.

Finally, don't feel that you must stick to using just carrots and leeks as the vegetables. While I love leeks, the original recipe called for a large, thinly sliced onion instead. I have made it this way, and it is very good. As far as the other vegetables are concerned, I always include carrots in the mix, but any root vegetable will work well. All of the vegetables should be cut into similarly-sized, largish chunks. This week when I was shopping for the ingredients for my pot roasted chicken, I found some beautiful parsnips at the store. The resulting dish, made with half carrots and half parsnips, was particularly delicious.

Ingredients for a half recipe--using a mix of parsnips and carrots for the vegetables

Baked Chicken with Garlic, Leeks & Thyme

8 chicken thighs (or 4 thighs and 4 drumsticks)—about 2 1/3 to 3 lbs total weight
1 T. unsalted butter
1 T. olive oil
1 1/4 to 1 1/2 lb. carrots, trimmed, peeled and cut diagonally into 1/2-inch thick slices
3 to 4 leeks, white & pale green parts only, halved lengthwise, sliced 1/2-inch thick and rinsed in several changes of water in order to remove all grit
5 to 6 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
1 T. picked fresh thyme

Pat chicken dry and season with salt and pepper. Heat butter and olive oil in a 12-inch ovenproof deep heavy sauté pan over moderately high heat until foam subsides. Add the chicken, 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. This will take about 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a plate and pour off all but a tablespoon or two of fat from the pan.

Reduce the heat slightly and add the carrots, leeks, garlic and thyme to the pan and cook for 3 or 4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Season the vegetables with salt and pepper. 

Return the chicken to the pan, along with any accumulated juices, skin side up. Cover the pan with a tight fitting lid and transfer to a 325° oven. Bake for 45 minutes to an hour—until the chicken is cooked through and the vegetables are tender.

Serve with buttered noodles, plain rice, couscous or mashed potatoes. Serves 4 to 6

(Recipe adapted from Parade Magazine)

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