White Wine Coq au Vin
7 Comments
I've taken to cooking dinner for Bruce on Wednesday nights while he teaches knitting in Millerton, New York. You might not think this is much of a news flash. After all, we've written twenty-one cookbooks (that counts the ghost projects for celebs). But as I've said before, I'm the writer. I don't cook much anymore. So Wednesday nights have given me a great opportunity to get in the kitchen and create dishes on my own.
The other night, it was blustery, going down to freezing; and I wanted something warm and comforting. I wanted coq au vin. And 6:30. Not gonna happen, I thought.
As you know, true coq au vin (something like old hen with wine) is traditionally made with red wine. The tough, old layer is set in wine and aromatics overnight to soften the skin and infuse the outer surfaces of the stringy meat with some sort of flavor. In the classic interpretation, the chicken is then braised for hours and the sauce finally thickened with chicken blood. (No lie.)
As I said, not gonna happen. Not on a Wednesday night. So I set about creating a simpler coq au vin, one made with white wine, lighter by far, and with lots of vegetables. I think the vegetables are the key to a good coq au vin. It's almost as if the chicken flavors them, rather than the other way around. Sure, the meat is tender and juicy, but the vegetables really catch my attention.
So here's what I finally came up with, a dish big enough for a family supper or dinner with weekend friends. . . .
Start by positioning the rack in the bottom third of the oven and preheating the oven to a low 300F (150C).
Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a big Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Don't be afraid of that heat: you need it. Season 4 chicken thighs and 4 chicken legs (skin on, please--and most definitely bone-in) with salt and pepper (more pepper than salt). Arrange them in one layer skin side down in the pot. Brown them on one side, probably 7 minutes.
Seriously. Seven minutes. I can't stress how important browning is. In this picture, some of the chicken is browned properly and some of it is not. I'm sure you can figure out which is which! There's no point in going halfway, especially because we're not marinating the meat. Or thickening the dish with blood!
Turn the pieces and continue browning, probably another 7 minutes. Transfer them to a big bowl.
Drop 6 ounces (170 grams) diced pancetta into the pot. Once again, brown. Figure on 5 minutes at the least, stirring occasionally so the cubes get browned on all sides. I used cubes about 1/2-inch (about 1 1/4 cm). I wanted them big enough that they offered a distinct bite in the finished dish. If I'm gonna have pork, I'm gonna have pork. And by the way, I wouldn't use bacon for this. Too smoky and assertive, especially since we're going for a lighter, white-wine braise.
Transfer the pancetta cubes to the same bowl with the chicken pieces, then drain all but a couple of tablespoons fat from the pot. (Hard, that. Very hard. Almost tragic.)
And now the important part: the veggies. Toss in all of this: 8 medium shallots, any large ones cut in half through the stem; 2 large carrots, cut into 1-inch chunks; 2 large parsnips, cut into 1-inch chunks; and 1 small fennel bulb, fronds trimmed, any fuzzy core removed, and the rest coarsely chopped.
Stir these in the fat over the heat for a nice while. Maybe 8 minutes. Get them a little brown, too. And stir gently. The shallots will start to fall apart. Minimize that as much as you can.
Once the vegetables have cooked and browned a bit, add 2 minced garlic cloves, 2 bay leaves, and a bouquet of several parsley and thyme stems, tied together with butchers' twine (as you can see from the picture above). Maybe 5 or 6 parsley stems and a few more thyme. Why not just chop up the herbs and toss them in? You could, sure. But I was going for pitch-perfect aesthetics. I wanted a clear, light sauce without flecks of herbs in it.
Now here's the one of the keys to this dish: pour in 2 cups (475 ml) sweet wine, like a Riesling or one of those lighter Alsatian whites. No dessert wine, of course. But definitely a sweeter, lighter white. This will give is heft but also a delicacy. Terrific! As the wine comes to a boil, scrape up any browned bits on the pot's bottom.
Once the wine has bubbled for a couple of minutes, pour in 3 cups (700 ml) lower-sodium chicken broth. Then drain any fat from the bowl with the chicken and pancetta (another tragedy) and add the chicken to the pot in one layer. Sprinkle the pancetta all over everything.
Once the whole lot is bubbling again, put the lid on the pot and shove it in the oven for 40 minutes, until the chicken is just beginning to pull away from the bone. No need to stir or otherwise mess with the thing. Go do whatever you do while a pot of chicken lusciousness is braising in the oven.
Remove the pot from the oven (remember: it's hot!), uncover it, and set it over medium heat. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the chicken, pancetta, and all the vegetables to a clean bowl. Discard the bay leaves and the herb bouquet. Raise the heat to high and bring that sauce to a wild boil. Then let it boil for a good 10 minutes, maybe more, until it's down to about 2 cups.
And one more key: now stir in 1/2 teaspoon or so finely grated lemon zest, a perfect finish. Nestle the chicken, vegetables, and pancetta back into the pot. Drop the heat to almost nothing, cover, and simmer slowly for a couple of minutes, to make sure everything's hot again--or keep it warm over the lowest little flame until you can get everyone to the table.
I'm telling you: the lemon zest, the Riesling, the many vegetables. It's crazy-good. Oh, and as you can see from the top picture, I put it over mashed potatoes. Which I made in about ten minutes. No lie. But that secret comes up on Monday on the blog.
Reader Comments (7)
Yum! Can't wait to try this one. But you didn't say what Bruce thought of it! (Inquiring minds want to know...) And do you think it would work with chicken breasts (bone in, skin on and cut in half)? The SO doesn't do dark meat (more for moi!) and I'm looking for anything to sneak veggies in on him. :-)))))))))
Lizabeth: Sure, bone-in, skin-on breasts. They'll be drier, no doubt. I wouldn't cut them in half so that they will retain as much moisture as possible in every cell. Do a mix of breasts and thighs, some for the SO and some for you.
And yes, Bruce sucked it down--and had seconds. It's really the lemon zest/Riesling combo that's so good. Plus, the parsnips (one of my favorites).
M.
So appealing, as I'm sitting here trying to decide on tonight's dinner - coq au vin blanc...
I think I'd use a slightly different mix of veg, but only because my tribe won't eat fennel. Thanks for the recipe, Mark..
Celia: I just don't get the fennel-phobes. I love the stuff. Especially sliced, grilled, drizzled with avocado oil, and sprinkled with crunchy salt. But pretty good in this dish, too.
M.
Mark, this sounds fantastic...can't wait to try it. I wonder what you think of a certain other culinary authority (cough cough) who, in this situation, would brown the chicken pieces skin-on (to render out enough fat for the subsequent sauteing, and create a nice layer of fond), but then discard the skin before the chicken goes back in the pan for braising. The reasoning being that the skin will inevitably turn gummy and rubbery in the process of braising. What say you guys?
Steve: I am a crunch fanatic. I pick the tops off casseroles, leaving the rest behind. But I do not think the extra step of removing the skin is warranted in this dish. Yes, the skin turns a little gummy. But I don't find it depressingly so. In fact, I love the taste of the skin after the braise, almost more than the meat. So for me, it's simply an opportunity it slurp. I cannot imagine wasting all that flavor in the skin. But chacun à son goût, no?
M.
I made it tonight and you are right .... it is crazy good!!! A perfect dinner for a cool fall evening. And an added bonus is that the whole house still smells wonderful.