Chicken with Cream, Mustard and Tarragon

Sometimes I think this blog should be titled, or at the very least subtitled, “Starting Over: A Million and One Ways to Use Up Leftovers”.  And I’m only half joking.  The thing is, though, that is the way we eat most of the time.  There’s just the two of us, I am determinedly in the ‘mass catering’ mindset, and seem incapable of cooking for fewer than eight hefty appetites at a time.  At every given point in time we are usually pushed for either time or money (and very often both) – right now it is time that is at a premium; we currently just have one night per week to spend in each other’s company.  The rest of the week is either just one of us, home alone, or working in the evenings.  As much as I would love to have limitless hours and dollars to dream up a weekly menu, and shop daily, right now even brushing my hair daily is an achievement, so I’m all about cook-once, reap-the-rewards-many-times kind of cooking  that both frees up my evening hours, while still allowing me a creative challenge: how best to keep these leftovers interesting?

This recipe is from ‘Real Cooking’, a book from a wonderful food writer, Nigel Slater who, thankfully, feels very much the same way I do about having a second go at things – or evidence would suggest that he does, anyway.  There is a wonderful phrase part way through this book regarding roast chicken: “Only the very wasteful would fail to make a broth from the bones”.  Exactamundo, Nigel.  I am many, many things, but very wasteful I am not, especially when it comes to my beloved food.  Elsewhere in the same section are suggestions for transforming leftover roast chicken meat into something not just ‘not bad, for leftovers’, but great in its own right.  In this recipe, chicken is mixed, very simply, with roughly-given quantities of cream, mustard, cheese and tarragon (given that this is necessarily a fridge-scavenging exercise, rough quantities are the only kind that can truly count), topped with breadcrumbs, and baked.  The result is luxury.

Chicken with Cream and Mustard

Adapted from Nigel Slater, ‘Real Cooking’

2 handfuls leftover roast chicken, cut into bite-sized chunks

200mls cream

1 tablespoon grainy mustard

0.5 teaspoons dried tarragon (this would be even better with fresh)

1 handful grated cheese; anything will do (I used 50:50 parmesan and Cheshire)

Pinch salt

2 handfuls breadcrumbs (about 2 slices of bread)

Preheat the oven to 200C.  In a bowl, mix the chicken with the cream, mustard, tarragon, cheese and a pinch of salt.

Pour this mixture into an ovenproof dish, scatter the breadcrumbs over the top.

Bake for about 25 minutes, until the breadcrumbs are golden and the sauce is bubbling.

Serve with a green salad or green vegetables; I went with a huge pile of sautéed, salted cabbage.

Is a Korma boring? Would you laugh at me if I had a Korma?

The title is from the wonderful, incomparable Gavin & Stacey which, with its story lines about an English/Welsh couple sometimes struck very, very close to this home.

But yes, a Korma does usually have boring connotations.  Right up there, in my Book Of Curry, with the obligatory omelette and chicken & chips that curry houses would have for the non-curry consumers that for some reason ended up in an Indian restaurant.  The mass-produced Kormas that I have been unfortunate enough to experience have been bland and creamy, and utterly pointless.  For this reason I've never made one.  Why would I, when there is a wonderful world of Jalfrezis, Dopiazas and, my absolute all-time favourite, Lamb & Spinach Karahi, to explore?

Until the day comes when, faced with a load of leftover roast chicken, cream in need of using up, a familiar craving for curry to deal with and a bell ringing in the back of your mind that you have heard wonderful things about the Korma from the Hairy Dieters book.  Ach, why not, what's the worst that could happen?

So, this really took us by surprise.  I ramped up the chilli powder to the max recommended by the Bikers, and possibly even added a bit more for luck.  It tasted - and I mean this in the best possible way - like a cross between a boring Korma and a chip shop curry.  It was really lovely.  Still not mega spicy, so wouldn't work on those nights when you really want to be blasted to kingdom come, but definitely spicy enough to quell the craving.  And as a bonus, it uses much less cream than a regular Korma, and so, if you were the sort of person who is inclined to give cream a wide berth, it would suit; although you would never guess, not in a million years, that it came from a diet book.  Yes, it is yet another recipe to use up leftovers, but sometimes I feel that's where recipes can be the most useful.  

So, please don't laugh at me for having this Korma.  It's definitely not boring.

Non-Boring Chicken Korma

Adapted from Hairy Dieters by The Hairy Bikers

300g cooked chicken

1 tablespoon flavourless oil

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves of garlic, sliced

2cm piece root ginger, peeled and grated

6 cardamom pods, seeds crushed

0.5 tablespoon ground cumin

0.5 tablespoon ground coriander

0.25 teaspoon ground turmeric

1 teaspoon hot chilli powder

1 bay leaf

2 cloves

0.5 tablespoon plain flour

1 teaspoon sugar

salt

150ml cold water

3 tablespoons cream

In a non-stick pan, gently heat the oil then fry the onions, garlic, and ginger.  Cook over a low heat for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Stir in the cardamom, cumin, coriander, turmeric, chilli, bay leaf and cloves.  Cook for 5 minutes, and keep on stirring occasionally.

Stir in the flour, salt and sugar, making sure everything is evenly coated with the flour.  Gradually, and stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, stir in the water, to make a smooth sauce.  Bring to a simmer and cook, gently, for 10 minutes.

Remove the bay leaf and blitz in a food processor, blender, or with an immersion stick blender, until everything is smooth, thick and fragrant.

Return the sauce to the pan over a medium heat, and stir in the cream.  Add the chicken and cook until the chicken is piping hot all the way through - about 10 minutes.

Served with steamed rice.

Serves 2

The English Patient

There is nothing duller than reading about someone else's ailments, so I'll keep the dullness brief: the cold and fever I'd mentioned last week took a bit of a turn for the worse, and for a couple of days there I was really out of it, full on can't-get-out-of-bed feel bad.  I'm still woozy but as the doctor's haven't been open over the weekend and I'm so cheap and British I resent paying for a medical service (Go NHS! Whoooooo!), I'm self diagnosing and putting up with it, with only minimal whingeing.

After a couple of days flolloping around I was ready to eat something, so Andy made me my all time favourite, roast chicken with lots of lovely roast veg and gravy.  Heaven.  After a couple of days more, I was able to stand unaided and made this pie, which is my favourite thing to do with leftover roast chicken.  Originally from Nigella's How To Eat, I studiously ignore the fact that it is in the feeding children section.

This pie was so popular when I made it years ago for my friend EA that he asked for it for a Christmas present, and I am so unimaginative that I made it for him for years, until I moved to the other side of the world to avoid making the pie again.  The secret is in the sauce - adding extra savoury flavour to the white sauce really does make a difference.  And I've since seen Marco Pierre White doing it, so it must be true.  MPW wouldn't lie to us.  You do actually need a stock cube or liquid stock concentrate for this, rather than just stock, so make sure it's the best you can get hold of.

Usually I just make it with chicken and throw some frozen peas or sweetcorn in (or both, if I'm feeling especially rakish) depending on what I've got in; this time I made it using some ham from the freezer up as well.  Standing up and using up freezer items - I am quite the winner.

Chicken Pie

Adapted from Nigella Lawson, How To Eat

Pastry

200g plain flour

100g cold butter, diced

1 egg yolk

Filling

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon flour

1 chicken stock cube or 1 tablespoon liquid chicken stock concentrate

400ml milk (preferably full fat but I don't keep this in so used semi-skimmed)

1 tablespoon grainy mustard

Fresh nutmeg, grated

200g cooked chicken

200g cooked ham (or an extra 200g cooked chicken)

Handful frozen peas or sweetcorn, defrosted (optional)

1 tablespoon milk

Make the pastry: either rub the butter into the flour until it looks like breadcrumbs, stir in the egg yolk and add just enough ice cold water to combine, or in a processor blitz the flour and butter, add the egg yolk, and with the motor running, drizzle in some cold water to just come together.  Put the pastry on a layer of clingfilm, put another layer over it, squish it out into a flat disc, then put in the fridge while you make the filling.

In a heavy-based pan, melt the butter over a medium heat.  Crumble in the stock cube, or stir in the stock concentrate.  Add the flour and cook, stirring, for a few minutes.  Gradually add the milk, starting with a splash at a time, until it turns into a thick sauce, when you can add it a bit quicker.  Keep stirring, bring to a simmer then lower the heat, stirring regularly.  Stir in the mustard and give a good grating of nutmeg.

Stir in the chicken, ham, and vegetables if you are using them.  Taste for seasoning.  Set to one side.

Preheat the oven to 190C.

Split the pastry into two pieces, one twice the size of the other.

Take the larger piece and roll out on a floured surface, until it is large enough to fit your pie dish.  Drape it over your rolling pin and lay it out over the dish, pushing down gently.  There should be some extra pastry hanging over the sides.

Put your filling in the dish.

Roll out the remaining pastry until it is big enough to fit as a lid.  Place it on top, pinching the sides to seal the edges.  Trim off the extra pastry and, if you are so inclined, use these trimmings to decorate the top.

Make a few small slits in the pastry (mine were cunningly disguised just underneath the letters), and brush the top with milk.

Bake for 45 minutes, until the filling is hot and bubbling.

Eat while lying down, thoroughly exhausted (ok, I was lying when I said the boring whingeing would be brief).

Serves 4

Chicken and Sweetcorn Meatballs

I was somewhat late to the Ottolenghi table.  I'm not even sure why; I mean, just look how delicious all these sound.  His flavour combinations are right up my street, and I love the sound of his spices.  I hang my head in shame as to how long it took me to get round to making my first recipe.

But, I never can resist a good meatball, so when I read about these little beauties, I had to give them a go.  Even more pressing, I first made them in the run-up to the Rugby World Cup last year, when we would be hosting two very special visitors from home, Andy's Dad, Selwyn, and his good friend and partner-in-crime, Roy.  When I'm cooking for just the two of us most of the time, and for a good chunk of the week just for me if Andy's working in the evening, I can take more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants approach; when we had visitors staying with us for close to a month, I needed to get somewhat more organised, and so fell happily on anything I could prepare in the calm before the storm, freeze, and serenely present it to our guests, beatific smile on my face, and act as if I was quite the domestic goddess.  Between you, me and the gatepost, no description could be further from the truth - fine, my baking is ok, but my dusting skills fall sadly short of the mark - so anything to make my life easier is A Good Thing.

These were so lovely I made them again recently.  They are light enough to suit the late summer season (or early autumn, as we are in now - I blame St David, as 1st March is the first day of autumn here).  And, true to expectations, it was the spice element that really makes them zing.  The cumin is a beautiful element of the flavour, and the sweet/sour sauce, from the perfect merging of these ingredients, is good enough to drink by itself, from the bowl.  Although obviously I didn't do that.  OBVIOUSLY. 

A few adaptations from the original - turkey mince is surprisingly hard to find here, so I made the obvious sub of chicken mince, and actually made my own from free-range boneless thighs, I used wholemeal bread instead of the original's white bread, and for the sauce, I used one of those handy jars of marinated, roasted red peppers, instead of roasting my own.  I know, I know, but I already had one in and it seemed the easier route, plus I couldn't tell any difference from the previous time when I did DIY the peppers.

Chicken and Sweetcorn Meatballs with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce
Adapted from Yotam Ottolenghi

For the Meatballs:
100g frozen sweetcorn kernels
3 slices of wholemeal bread, crusts removed
500g boneless chicken thighs, minced
1 free-range egg
4 spring onions, finely chopped
2 tbsp finely chopped parsley
2.5 tsp ground cumin
1.5 tsp salt
0.5 tsp black pepper
1 garlic clove, crushed
Olive oil, for frying

For the Roasted Red Pepper Sauce:
4 roasted red peppers, from a jar
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt
25g coriander, leaves and stalks
1 garlic clove, peeled
1 small mild chilli, deseeded
2 tbsp sweet chilli sauce
2 tbsp cider vinegar or white wine vinegar

Preheat your oven to 200C.

Put all the ingredients for the sauce in a blender or a food processor, and blitz until smooth.  Taste for seasoning, adjust if necessary, and set aside.

Heat a non-stick frying pan over a medium to high heat, and toast the sweetcorn kernels, tossing occasionally (I love this as I get the chance to practice my cheffy pan-flicky thing, resulting in sweetcorn all over the hob and the floor) until they are well-toasted, and starting to char in some places.  Leave to cool.

Soak the bread in water, squeeze it well to remove the excess liquid, and crumble into a large mixing bowl.  Add all the other meatball ingredients except the oil, and mix well.  Form into meatballs about the size of golf balls.

Heat the oil in your frying pan over a medium to high heat, and, in batches, fry the meatballs until they are brown on all sides.  Transfer to a baking sheet, and cook in your preheated oven - mine took about 10 minutes, it's best to check with one that it's cooked through because of the variables in this - the size of your meatballs, how much you brown them, etc.  Anyway, they don't take long.

Serve with your red pepper sauce on the side.  I like mine with a simply-dressed green salad.

Serves 4

 

Random Recipe Challenge

Okay, so here we go with my first ever blogging challenge.  I feel like the new girl in school!  As I'm sure I've mentioned somewhere, I am an obsessive consumer of anything whatsoever to do with food, from eating it (ahem), to watching the Food Network at every given opportunity (Andy works a LOT of night shifts), to my overflowing files filled with recipes ripped out from wherever I can find them (truth time: I found an old, circa 1995, copy of Cuisine Magazine at the bus stop the other day and felt no shame whatsoever in taking a recipe from that), to my earthquake-risk tower of cookbooks.  This also includes reading other food blogs.  I love them.  I drool over them.  And, like the new girl in school, I get major food and lifestyle crushes on them.

One such lovely blog is Belleau Kitchen in which Dom talks about his life and his food in beautiful Lincolnshire.  A year ago, he had the wonderful idea to host a Random Recipe Challenge, with, as I talked about in my last post, the fantastic idea of using one of those many, many, cookbooks to cook a random recipe.  I knew instantly I wanted in; to my shame, out of my hundreds of cookbooks, a figure-too-embarassing-to-say have never been used.  On our trip to Dunedin last year, University capital of NZ, we stumbled on a Dickens-esque dusty second hand bookshop days before it was closing down - everything was being sold off for mere cents, and I bought out pretty much its entire range of cookbooks in two fell swoops (couldn't carry everything at once; had to come back the next day).  I tell you this not as the exception for me, but the rule. 

So with my trusty assistant Andy fully prepped and primed as to his duties, I turned my back, closed my eyes, waited for half a minute or so, and yelled stop.  And boy, did I pick a goodie.  Can I take any pride in that random selection?  Please say yes, I'll take it where I can get it these days.  bills sydney food is one of those books that shamefully glowers at me every time I cook an easy old favourite.  Very appropriately, it was bought for me as a Christmas present in 2009 by Andy, after we'd eaten at bills in Sydney when we stayed there with my brother and his wife.  Even more appropriately, Andy and I first met in Sydney, both of us on a solo round-the-world trip, both of us going in opposite directions, but we met, and that was that.  Done deal.  We were the backpacking holiday romance that stuck.  Although, I will just say this one time about the book and the restaurant - the punctuation KILLS me.  But, it is what it is, and what it is is bills.  The flavours look lovely and fresh, the very best of antipodean life, and even on a rainy day elsewhere, I imagine they could transport you to a sunny, cosmopolitan city far, far away where life is good, beer is cold, and people are happy.

The recipe picked at random was absolutely right up my culinary street.  Chicken Noodle Soup with Lemon.  Bill Granger describes it as Vietnamese pho meets Jewish chicken soup.  Right there, right in the title and the description, are all my favourite things in food.  What could be more wonderful, soothing and jolting at the same time, as a chicken soup with Asian flavours?  And yet, and yet.  I was mildly disappointed in this soup, and felt that the depth of flavour that is usually there with a lovingly-made chicken stock, was missing.  The recipe had me make a chicken stock to start, but the only aromatics were 4 slices of ginger, 2 spring onions, and black peppercorns.  The spring onions weren't oomphy enough - in the future I would use regular brown onions, and probably some garlic as well, which would give more flavour without clashing with the other tones in the dish.  Before serving, you put lemon juice (technically 3 teaspoons, but who will measure that out? I used half a lemon), the same of fish sauce, and a sliced red chilli in a bowl, before adding the stock, shredded chicken, and fresh lasagne, cut up in place of noodles.  It was these flavours that dominated and, though they definitely improved the soup and made it fresher, they were all top-notes and no depth.  All mouth and no trousers.

You know when I would make this soup again, actually? When I have a cold.  When your taste buds are dulled and deadened, so those top notes would sing their way through the murk, and we all know the famously healing properties of chicken soup.  Then, it would be perfect, and I predict that I'll be all over this soup in June and July (still strange to me that those months are winter, I'm such a Brit), but in the summer, not so much.  The other change I would make is to replace the fresh lasagne with regular noodles; I didn't feel it added anything to the dish other than expense.

Still, not a bad way at all for me to dip my new girl toes into the water, and I know Andy was very relieved that we didn't get anything involving offal or tomatoes.  I'm looking forward to next month already.

Chicken Noodle Soup with Lemon
From bills sydney food

1 1.5kg chicken
4 slices fresh ginger
2 spring onions, cut into 10cm lengths
1 teaspoon black peppercorns
9 ears baby corn, sliced in half lengthways
1.5 cups bok choi
3 sheets fresh lasagne, torn into 5cm squares
3 teaspoons lemon juice
3 teaspoons fish sauce
1 red chilli, sliced
12 mint leaves
.75 cup of coriander leaves
thin slices of lemon

Make the chicken stock by putting the chicken, ginger, spring onions and peppercorns in a large pan with lots of water to cover - the book suggests 4 litres, my pan couldn't take that much so I used 3 litres instead.  Bring to a boil, skim off the scum that gathers on the top, and reduce to a simmer for 3 hours.

When the stock is ready, remove the chicken and shred it, and strain the stock, discarding the ginger, spring onions, and peppercorns.

Cook the squares of lasagne in salted water until cooked, which with fresh pasta takes, what, 2 minutes? Drain well, and put in a large serving bowl along with the lemon juice, fish sauce, and chillies.  

Put the chicken stock in a pan over a high heat, add the shredded chicken, corn and bok choi, and cook for another minute or so, until the vegetables are only just tender.  Add this to the serving bowl, and serve, with a scattering of mint, coriander, and fresh lemon slices on the top (the eagle-eyed amongst you might notice the lack of coriander; I try to grow it but realised minutes before I made this recipe that it had succumbed to the lurgy so our soup was coriander-less).

 So that's my first ever entry in Random Recipe Challenge - thanks for the smashing idea Dom, I and my trusty tester both enjoyed it and will be back for more next month.  Who knows where it will take us?