In the fifth grade, I learned to bake the cookies because I wanted them, and I thought they tasted better slightly soft when pulled from the oven. Along about the seventh grade, I prepared the “relish” plate at holiday dinners because I wanted to make sure the best part of the celery was served so that I could eat it; and, yes, there’s no doubt that I’m a control freak, but is there any other aspect of life where control is actually important than in what one eats?
Surely, I’m not alone in thinking this. And the best part of the celery is the heart with those practically translucent yellow-green leaves, correct??
Those early cooking-to-eat experiences are why I am adamant that a cook needs to be satisfying only one person, first and foremost, and that person is her/himself. I think this has always been my guiding philosophy, and because she said it better, I’m quoting from Jenni Ferrari-Adler’s introduction to another book I’d recommend, Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone, (Riverhead Books, 2007) to wit:
“A good meal is like a present, and it can feel goofy, at best, to give yourself a present. On the other hand, there is something life affirming in taking the trouble to feed yourself well, or even decently.”
Someone has to control what is served at your house for Supper, and it might as well be you.
The first component of any satisfying Supper, then, has to be protein, and sometimes it’s hard to get it in there if you don’t want a lot of it left over. Take a pork roast, for example. You spend all that time cooking it, and, indeed, it is comforting and yummy and so satisfying that you wonder why you don’t do this all the time. And then the next day, you remember, because you’re faced with leftover pork in sandwiches for a week, at least, and that’s only IF you remember that it’s in the fridge! That’s why I never learned to roast a chicken or to make Julia Child’s boeuf bourguignon. I’m not fond of dark meat chicken. Leftover meat can’t be easily reheated without tasting leftover, and, furthermore, cold is not a satisfying temperature for food at Supper. You need something hot, cooked for the occasion; after all, you’ve been waiting allllll day!
Back in my aforementioned days of cookie baking and raw vegetable tray fixing, cheese was Velveeta, and, thus, Campbell’s Tomato Soup and a grilled cheese sandwich could be “protein.” Never mind that a simple look at the ingredient list of either product would have announced quite a different makeup. The protein in our Supper was generally from our own cow or pig (we didn’t do chickens on our farm; nasty, pecking things), and there was a lot in the freezer. Mom was a school teacher, and it wasn’t always practical to defrost and then prepare a major roast requiring a long braise in the oven. Still, I grew up knowing that protein was the essential in the meal, so much so that when our family was once caring for my aunt’s wonderful vegetable garden and the sweet corn “came in,” I was so shocked that my mother prepared sweet corn at Aunt Elnora’s house and we ate it without giving one thought to the normal accompaniment of pan-fried hamburgers. As we drove home that evening, I kept expecting to faint from the lack of protein in my body.
It’s funny, then, that I had to wait until I came to Seattle to think of chicken as a solo option which can be multiplied as necessary to feed the masses at the Supper Table. The Barefoot Contessa changed my life with chicken when she roasted skin-on, bone-in chicken breasts, almost as an afterthought to get chicken for her Chinese Chicken Salad: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/chinese-chicken-salad-recipe/index.html
That’s the link to the whole recipe, but the part I’ve used for several years now is just her preparation for the chicken, and cooking it with the bone on makes the most marked difference in the world. The technique produces a moist piece of chicken to eat on the spot—serving it with roasted vegetables done alongside—or you can save half (because chicken breasts on the bone are enormous these days!) to slice for a cold lunch entrée. I’ve dedicated a nonstick, quarter-size jelly roll baking sheet to be my chicken “roasting pan,” so that I don’t have to worry about how the pan looks when I can’t clean off all the dark, burned on chicken and olive oil goodness.
I think you’ll like this, and it’s not much work, and it might be the personal Supper Cook gift you need that keeps on giving. . .but not too long!
Next time: The family green vegetable legend
The recipe:
Roast Chicken Breasts, Barefoot Contessa Style
A 35 minute effort
4 split chicken breasts (bone-in, skin-on), less than 8 ounces each
Olive oil, a half teaspoon for each breast
Kosher salt, a liberal pinch between your thumb and forefinger for each breast
Freshly ground black pepper, three hefty grinds for each breast
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Sprinkle the chicken breasts liberally with salt and pepper, a pinch of kosher salt and three grindings of pepper for each, and place them on a sheet pan. Rub the skin side with olive oil. Roast for 35 to 40 minutes, until the chicken is just cooked. Set the pan aside and let the chicken rest for 10 minutes before slicing it to serve. It can also be cooled further until handling is easier, and then remove the meat from the bones, discard the skin, and shred the chicken into large bite-sized pieces for use in salads or casseroles. Saved in the refrigerator, it lasts about two days without tasting leftover, so use it fast.
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