Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat

by Samin Nosrat

  Place the flour in a shallow bowl or pie plate and season with a generous pinch of salt. Dredge the chicken pieces in flour, shake off the excess, and lay in a single layer on a wire rack or parchment-lined baking sheet.

  Place a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat and add just enough olive oil to coat the pan. Brown the chicken in two batches, so as not to crowd the pan. Begin with the skin side down, then turn and rotate the chicken around the pan to get even browning on both sides, about 4 minutes per side. Place the browned chicken on a baking sheet, then carefully discard the fat and wipe out the pan.

  Return the pan to medium heat and melt the butter. Add the onions, season with salt, and stir. Cook the onions, stirring occasionally, until they are tender and brown, about 25 minutes.

  Increase the flame to high, add the wine and vinegar, and scrape the pan with a wooden spoon to deglaze. Add half of the tarragon and stir. Return the chicken, skin side up, to the pan, and lower the heat to a simmer. Set a lid ajar on the pan and continue to simmer. Remove the breasts when they are cooked, after about 12 minutes, but let the dark meat continue to cook until it’s tender at the bone, 35 to 40 minutes total.

  Transfer the chicken to a platter, increase the heat, and add the cream or crème fraîche. Let the sauce come to a simmer and thicken. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt, pepper, and a little more vinegar if needed to perk up the sauce. Add remaining tarragon and spoon over the chicken to serve.

  Glazed Five-Spice Chicken

  Serves 4

  * * *

  David Tanis was the chef the first night I helped out in the kitchen at Chez Panisse. When I feared that my knife skills were inadequate, he had me dice cucumbers into minuscule pieces for hours. It showed me that with enough practice, I could learn to do anything in the kitchen. A few years later, David left Chez Panisse and now he writes one of my favorite columns, “City Kitchen” for The New York Times Food section. I love the column because every week he focuses on a single simple dish, to which he lends his elegant style.

  One of my favorite recipes from “City Kitchen” described spicy lacquered chicken wings with Chinese five-spice. The recipe David shares is so simple and tasty that I’ve made it dozens of times over the years, adapting it to different cuts of meat and fish. I’ve found it works especially well with thighs served over Steamed Jasmine Rice (page 282) with Vietnamese Cucumber Salad; the leftovers make for a great rice bowl at lunch.

  4-pound chicken or 8 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs

  Salt

  1/4 cup soy sauce

  1/4 cup dark brown sugar

  1/4 cup mirin (rice wine)

  1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

  1 tablespoon finely grated ginger

  4 garlic cloves, finely grated or pounded with a pinch of salt

  1/2 teaspoon Chinese five-spice powder

  1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

  1/4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro leaves and tender stems

  4 scallions, green and white parts slivered

  Prep the chicken the day before you want to cook. If using a whole chicken, follow the instructions on page 318 to cut the bird into 8 pieces, and save the carcass for your next batch of Chicken Stock. Season the chicken lightly with salt and let it sit for 30 minutes. Keep in mind that the marinade consists mostly of soy sauce, which is salty, so use only about half as much salt as you otherwise would.

  In the meantime, whisk together the soy sauce, brown sugar, mirin, sesame oil, ginger, garlic, five-spice, and cayenne. Place the chicken in a resealable plastic bag and pour in the marinade. Seal the bag and squish the marinade around so all the chicken is evenly coated. Refrigerate overnight.

  A few hours before you want to cook the chicken, pull it out of the fridge to come up to room temperature. Preheat the oven to 400°F.

  To cook, place chicken skin side up in a shallow 8 by 13-inch roasting dish, then pour the marinade over the meat. The marinade should generously cover the bottom of the pan. If it doesn’t, add 2 tablespoons of water to ensure even coverage and prevent burning. Slide into the oven and rotate the pan every 10 to 12 minutes.

  Remove the breasts, if using, after 20 minutes of cooking, to prevent overcooking. Continue cooking dark meat for another 20 to 25 minutes, until it’s tender at the bone, or a total of 45 minutes.

  When the dark meat is cooked, return the breasts to the pan and crank the oven to 450°F to let the sauce reduce and the skin to get dark brown and crisp, about 12 minutes. Brush the chicken with the marinade from the pan every 3 to 4 minutes to glaze them.

  Serve warm, garnished with cilantro and slivered scallions.

  Cover and refrigerate leftovers for up to 3 days.

  Buttermilk-Marinated Roast Chicken

  Serves 4

  * * *

  Once I grew comfortable working the spit at Eccolo, I never tired of roasting chicken over the wood fire each night. Eventually, I came up with the idea to marinate the birds in buttermilk overnight, like southern grandmothers do. Years later, I was cooking a dozen of these chickens for a special event when a friend who was hosting Jacques Pépin that very same day called in a panic to ask if I could prepare a picnic basket for the legendary chef. I wrapped up a bird, a green salad, and some crusty bread and sent it on its way before I could overthink it. Later that night, I received a message from Mr. Pépin saying that everything was classically perfect and entirely delicious. I can’t think of a better endorsement for this recipe.

  The buttermilk and salt work like a brine, tenderizing the meat on multiple levels: the water it contains increase moisture, and the salt and acid it contains disables proteins, preventing them from squeezing liquid from the meat as the bird cooks (see pages 31 and 113). As an added bonus, the sugars in the buttermilk will caramelize, contributing to an exquisitely browned skin. While the beauty of roast chicken is that you can serve it anytime, anywhere, my favorite thing to serve alongside it is Panzanella, which plays the role of starch, salad, and sauce!

  3 1/2- to 4-pound chicken

  Salt

  2 cups buttermilk

  The day before you want to cook the chicken, remove the wingtips by cutting through the first wing joint with poultry shears or a sharp knife. Reserve for stock. Season it generously with salt and let it sit for 30 minutes.

  Stir 2 tablespoons of kosher salt or 4 teaspoons fine sea salt into the buttermilk to dissolve. Place the chicken in a gallon-size resealable plastic bag and pour in the buttermilk. If the chicken won’t fit in a gallon-size bag, double up two plastic produce bags to prevent leakage and tie the bag with a piece of twine.

  Seal it, squish the buttermilk all around the chicken, place on a rimmed plate, and refrigerate. If you’re so inclined, over the next 24 hours you can turn the bag so every part of the chicken gets marinated, but that’s not essential.

  Pull the chicken from the fridge an hour before you plan to cook it. Preheat the oven to 425°F, with a rack set in the center position.

  Remove the chicken from the plastic bag and scrape off as much buttermilk as you can without being obsessive. Tightly tie together the legs of the chicken with a piece of butcher’s twine. Place the chicken in a 10-inch cast iron skillet or shallow roasting pan.

  Slide the pan all the way to the back of the oven on the center rack. Rotate the pan so that the legs are pointing toward the rear left corner and the breast is pointing toward the center of the oven (the back corners tend to be the hottest spots in the oven, so this orientation protects the breast from overcooking before the legs are done). Pretty quickly you should hear the chicken sizzling.

  After about 20 minutes, when the chicken starts to brown, reduce the heat to 400°F and continue roasting for 10 minutes and then move the pan so the legs are facing the back right corner of the oven.

  Continue cooking for another 30 minutes or so, until the chicken is brown all over and the juices run clear when you insert a knife down to the bone between the leg and the thigh.

  When the chic
ken’s done, remove it to a platter and let it rest for 10 minutes before carving and serving.

  Variations

  • If you don’t have buttermilk on hand, substitute plain yogurt or crème fraîche (page 113).

  • For Persian Roast Chicken, omit the buttermilk. Make saffron tea as directed on page 287 and add to 1 1/2 cups plain yogurt along with 1 tablespoon kosher salt or 2 teaspoons fine sea salt and 2 teaspoons finely grated lemon zest. Place the seasoned chicken in a resealable plastic bag and use your hands to coat it with the yogurt mixture, inside and out. Continue as above.

  Sicilian Chicken Salad

  Makes about 8 cups

  * * *

  As we served spit-roasted chicken every night at Eccolo, we had to get creative and figure out all sorts of ways to use up the leftover cooked birds. Chicken pot pie, chicken soup, and chicken ragù all made it onto the menu regularly, but this salad quickly became our favorite way to use up all that chicken. Teeming with pine nuts, currants, fennel, and celery, it’s a lovely Mediterranean play on traditional chicken salad. (And if you’re short on time, pick up a rotisserie chicken from the store and use a good-quality store-bought mayonnaise spiked with a clove or two of pounded or finely grated garlic to speed things up.)

  1/2 medium red onion, diced

  1/4 cup red wine vinegar

  1/2 cup currants

  5 cups shredded roasted or poached chicken meat (from about 1 roast chicken)

  1 cup stiff Aïoli

  1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest

  2 tablespoons lemon juice

  3 tablespoons finely chopped parsley leaves

  1/2 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted

  2 small celery stalks, diced

  1/2 medium fennel bulb, diced (about 1/2 cup)

  2 teaspoons ground fennel seed

  Salt

  Combine the onion and vinegar in a small bowl and let sit for 15 minutes to macerate (see page 118).

  In a separate small bowl, submerge the currants in boiling water. Let them sit for 15 minutes to rehydrate and plump up. Drain and place in a large bowl.

  Add the chicken, aïoli, lemon zest, lemon juice, parsley, pine nuts, celery, fennel bulb, fennel seed, and two generous pinches of salt to the currants and stir to combine. Stir in the macerated onions (but not their vinegar) and taste. Adjust salt and add vinegar as needed.

  Serve on toasted slices of crusty bread, or wrapped in leaves of romaine or Little Gem lettuces.

  Variations

  • For Curried Chicken Salad, omit pine nuts, lemon zest, and fennel bulb and seed. Substitute cilantro for the parsley and season the mixture with 3 tablespoons yellow curry powder, 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne, 1/2 cup lightly toasted sliced almonds, and 1 tart apple, diced.

  • To lend a little smokiness to the salad, use leftover Sage- and Honey-Smoked Chicken, instead of roasted or poached chicken.

  MEAT

  When you’re standing at the butcher’s counter trying to decide which cut to get for dinner, remember: time really is money, at least when it comes to meat. That is to say, more expensive cuts of meat—the ones that are already tender—cook quickly, while more economical, tougher cuts, will need to be tended to carefully over time. More expensive, tender cuts will benefit from intense heat; less expensive, tougher cuts appreciate gentle heat. For more about gentle and intense heat cooking methods, look back to page 156.

  Here’s another proverb for you. Ever heard the term high on the hog? Used to denote wealth, it’s derived directly from butcher’s terminology. From Dario Cecchini, the butcher who took me under his wing in Italy, I learned that until well into the twentieth century, entire Italian families would live off just a handful of hogs for the whole year. A traveling butcher called a norcino would come by each winter to slaughter animals and break them down into prime cuts. Then the legs would be turned to prosciutto, the bellies into pancetta, the scraps into salami. The lard would be rendered, and the loins—the highest cuts off a hog’s back—would be saved for special occasions.

  A few months after I returned to California, I happened upon a copy of The Taste of Country Cooking by the great southern chef Edna Lewis, where, she carefully recalls her family’s annual hog harvest. She and her siblings looked forward to the visit of the itinerant butcher who’d help process the hogs on their family farm each December. The kids watched as the men carefully smoked the hams, bellies, and loins to preserve them for the coming months. They’d help the women render the leaf lard for pie, make liver pudding, and turn the scraps into sausages. As in Italy, so in the American South. I love how this story illustrates the universality of economical cooking.

  Every time I make a decision at the butcher’s counter, a diagram of a flying pig flashes through my mind. As a cut’s distance from an animal’s hoof or horn increases, so does its innate tenderness—and its price. Steaks and loins are cut from the least active parts of the animal, and they are the most tender. On the other hand, meat from legs and shoulders—cuts such as shanks, brisket, short ribs, or chuck—will always be tougher and less expensive. They are also often more flavorful.

  The grand exception to this rule is ground meat. While butchers generally grind tougher stewing cuts, the grinding process gives these cuts a head start on the way to tenderness by breaking down their long, tough fibers. So burgers, meatballs, sausages, and kebabs exist at the intersection of economy and speed, making them ideal for weeknight dinners.

  Speaking of weeknight dinners: use these recipes as basic guides. First, master the techniques, and then start experimenting with the flavor combinations and the cuts of meat. Except where noted, season your meat as early as possible. Remember, overnight is best, but any time sitting with salt is better than none. And for more evenly cooked meat, bring it up to room temperature before cooking.

  Spicy Brined Turkey Breast

  Serves 6, with plentiful leftovers for sandwiches

  * * *

  For months after groundbreaking American rancher Bill Niman started raising turkeys, he’d bring a couple of birds to us each week at Eccolo. He wanted feedback about which of his half dozen heritage breeds produced the most flavorful and tender meat. While it’s got great flavor, heritage turkey meat can be really tough and dry. And after cooking scores of turkeys, I figured out my favorite methods for cooking them: braising the legs for a ragù, and brining and spit-roasting the breasts to slice for succulent sandwiches. After ordering a sandwich, one customer told us she realized she’d never before associated turkey sandwiches with turkey flavor! Even all of these years later, I often brine and roast a turkey breast on the weekend, and my lunch sandwiches are the envy of all the other writers in my office!

  I formulated this brine for turkey meant for sandwiches, but if you’d like to use it for turkey—or any meat—to serve warm as a main dish, reduce the salt to 2/3 cup kosher salt or 7 tablespoons (3 3/4 ounces) fine sea salt.

  3/4 cup kosher salt or 1/2 cup (4 1/4 ounces) fine sea salt

  1/3 cup sugar

  1 garlic head, halved crosswise

  1 teaspoon black peppercorns

  2 tablespoons red pepper flakes

  1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper

  1 lemon

  6 bay leaves

  1 boneless skin-on turkey half-breast, about 3 1/2 pounds

  Extra-virgin olive oil

  Place the salt, sugar, garlic, perppercorns, pepper flakes, and cayenne in a large pot with 4 cups of water. Use a vegetable peeler to remove the lemon zest, then halve the lemon. Squeeze the juice into the pot, then add the lemon halves and zest. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, stirring from time to time. When the salt and sugar have dissolved, remove from the heat and add 8 cups cold water. Allow the brine to cool to room temperature. If the turkey tender—the long strip of white meat on the underside of the breast—is still attached, remove it by pulling it off. Submerge the turkey breast and tender in the brine and refrigerate overnight, or up to 24 hours.

  Two hours before
cooking, remove the breast and tender, if using, from the brine and let sit at room temperature.

  Preheat the oven to 425°F. Set a large cast iron pan or other ovenproof skillet on the stove over high heat. Once it’s hot, add a tablespoon of olive oil, then place the breast in the pan, skin side down. Reduce the flame to medium-high and brown the breast for 4 to 5 minutes, until the skin starts to take on some color. Use tongs to flip the breast so it’s skin side up, place the tender in the pan beside the breast, and slip the pan into the oven, pushing it as far back as it will go. This is the hottest spot in the oven, and that initial blast of heat will ensure the turkey browns beautifully.

  Remove the tender from the pan when it reads 150°F on an instant-read thermometer at its thickest point, about 12 minutes. Check the temperature of the breast in a few different spots at this time, too, just to have a sense of where it is. Continue cooking the breast another 12 to 18 minutes, until it registers 150°F at its thickest point. (The internal temperature will start climbing rapidly once it hits 130°F, so don’t wander too far away from the oven, and check the breast every few minutes.) Remove it from the oven and the pan, and allow to rest at least 10 minutes before slicing.

  To serve, slice against the grain (crosswise) on the bias.

  Variations

  • For a little extra insurance against dryness, bard, or wrap, the brined turkey breast with strips of bacon or pancetta before roasting. If necessary, tie a few pieces of butcher’s twine around the breast to keep barding from falling off.

  • Use the same brine for a four-pound Boneless Pork Loin. Brown it on all sides, then roast for 30 to 35 minutes to 130°F (for rare-medium-rare) or 135°F (for true medium-rare)—it’ll rest out to 142-5°F. Allow to rest for 15 minutes before slicing.