All About the Jeffersons

Last night, I satisfied my cooking urge by making white chicken fricassee. I found the recipe in my Southern Living cookbook, though the cookbook cites Thomas Jefferson's Cook Book as the original source. According to the write-up, the recipe uses "practically the same ingredient list as the original recipe." I figured that if it was good enough for Tom, it was good enough for me. Besides, fricassee is so much fun to say.

I started by dusting the bone-in chicken breasts with a mixture of salt, pepper, paprika, and nutmeg. Then, I browned the breasts in hot oil (insert sizzling sound here).

Step 2: Roux. I removed the chicken and added flour to the oil. Careful to whisk constantly, I waited until the mixture turned light brown (not shown in this picture). I've burned roux before, so I am familiar with disappointment, unhappiness, and the lingering bad smell. Luck was with me last night as I avoided this mistake.

Next, add a mixture of wine and water. If I make this again, I might try chicken broth instead of water. Tom might have liked a less rich sauce, but I think it might be interesting to see what happens with more flavor in the sauce. Anyway, added the liquid and whisked until it boiled and thickened.

Once I achieved boilage, I put the chicken back in the pot, covered it, and waited 50 minutes. I suspected that I'd chosen a winning dish as good smells filled the house. It also had all the earmarks of comfort food - perfect for a chilly evening.

Fast forward 50 minutes: I removed the chicken again. I knew it would be good when the meat practically fell off of the bone as I took out each piece. Then, like those cooks of yore, I strained the sauce (except they probably didn't have a plastic strainer. Otherwise, it was very authentic).
I returned the now empty pot to the stove and melted some butter. Using my handy dandy chopper, I made quick work of an onion and added it to the pot. More sizzling and stirring and voila - sauteed tender onion. Poured the sauce back into the pot, added some mushrooms, fresh sage, fresh parsley, and chicken. Oh - and a cup of half-and-half. Normally, I reserve half-and-half for coffee only, but I made an exception in this case. Man, was it worth it!

Thick rich sauce over tender, well-seasoned chicken. No wonder Tom liked this recipe. As instucted, I boiled some rice and served up my masterpiece, with a green salad on the side. I decided to treat myself with one of my favorite green salads - Bibb lettuce, spinach, fresh orange, walnuts, purple onion, and homemade sweet and sour dressing. Yum! (Clearly, this picture does not do justice to the chicken. Trust me, it looked much more appetizing than a bas-relief representation of Greenland.)



Overall, I enjoyed my dinner from the annals of Thomas Jefferson's kitchen. I might even try some of the other recipes, though I think I'll pass on Carthusian. According to the cookbook, the dish consists of "blanched cabbage leaves ... filled with boiled carrots and pigs' tongues." Oink.

Chicken Exchange

There's a story in today's paper about a couple of folks who rented a house in a nearby town. Apparently, although their landlord rented out the house, he maintained a chicken coop in the backyard, complete with $500 rooster. That house must have smelled great and those renters must have wanted to snap that rooster's neck every morning.

Lately, the landlord noticed that some of his chicken flock were missing, most notably the $500 rooster. I think most of us would assume that, in these troubled economic times, the renters were making chicken soup, chicken pot pie, fried chicken, and chicken salad. All of this would make sense - except for the missing $500 rooster. Rooster pot pie? Yuck.

After some investigation, the landlord learned that his renters have harkened back to an earlier age and revived the practice of bartering. Somehow, they convinced a local meth dealer to exchange drugs for chickens. Now, I can understand the renters' logic, figuring a chicken in the coop is worth at least a few grams. What I can't understand is why a meth dealer would accept live chickens. Even if you're high on meth, you'd certainly recognize the difference between a live chicken and cash. Cash doesn't crap in your car. You can't exchange a live chicken for more supplies to make meth - or at least I don't think you can. Of course, I didn't think you could exchange chickens for meth, so clearly I'm totally out of the loop.

I wonder what the going exchange rate is in this chickens-for-meth market. I'm also guessing that the $500 rooster is headlining at some local cockfight.