Erica De Mane

Still Life with Chicken, by bijijoo.

Recipe below: Chicken Liver Crostini with Watercress and Radish Salad

Roman Polanski seems to have a deep interest in watching blonde women eat raw meat. In his film Repulsion, you see Catherine Deneuve gnaw on a bloody steak and also tote a raw, skinned rabbit around in her purse. Then in Rosemary’s Baby, you watch Mia Farrow devour raw calf’s liver in a satanic fit. I first saw both of those films when I was a teenager. You’d think watching that carnage would have disgusted me, but not so fast. As a budding cook, I was fascinated by the idea of someone eating raw liver. It’s smooth, shiny, and springy to the touch, so different from, say, hamburger meat. It must, I thought, be something special.

Maybe not surprisingly, I turned out to be a liver lover, especially chicken liver. I do, however, prefer it cooked, though, yes, I have tried raw chicken livers. Their taste isn’t bad, but their mouth feel is troublesome. The thing with liver is that you don’t want it raw, but you don’t want it hammered either. People who are grossed out by liver, in my opinion, have eaten it overcooked, when it’s tough, depressingly gray, and irony. Cooked right—quickly and left pink within—it’s creamy and has an intriguing mineral undertaste.

Some of my favorite pastas have included chicken livers, either with tomato, in the Mezzogiorno fashion, or with a white sauce, created with the mingling of a soffrito, some booze, and a little chicken broth. Here’s my recipe for the latter. Another favorite preparation, one that’s quick and elegant, is to caramelize chicken livers over high heat, leaving them pink at the center, splash on some cognac, and then toss them into a salad of bitter greens. That gives you a beautiful marriage of flavors, just about the best thing I’ve found to ease myself out of a hangover, especially when taken with a glass of light, dry wine such as a frascati. If you’d like to try it, here’s my recipe.

At the moment my favorite way with chicken livers is in a pâté. The classic Tuscan version usually contains capers, a touch of anchovy, and fresh sage. I’ve been making it that way for years. But lately I’ve wanted to change it up, toward a more French style built on butter, brandy, and gentle seasoning. Unlike most classic pâtés, which can take half a day to prepare, the chicken liver types come together in only about twenty minutes. This one is very smooth, with hints of thyme and sweet spices. In this recipe, I serve the pâté with a salad, but if you prefer, just send it out in a ramekin, along with crackers or toast points (remember those?).

Chicken Liver Crostini with Watercress and Radish Salad

(Serves 4 as a first course)

For the pâté:

¾ stick unsalted butter, softened
About ¾ pound chicken livers, trimmed and cut into approximately 1-inch pieces
1 shallot, minced
1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
¼ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
1 fresh bay leaf
4 large sprigs thyme, the leaves lightly chopped, plus the leaves from a few more sprigs for garnish
Salt
A tablespoon of cognac, calvados, or brandy
Black pepper

Plus:

1 baguette, cut into thin rounds on an angle

For the salad:

2 bunches watercress, stemmed
5 gentle spring radishes, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon Spanish sherry vinegar
Salt

In a medium sauté pan, heat a tablespoon of butter over medium heat. Add the chicken livers, shallot, garlic, allspice, nutmeg, bay leaf, and thyme. Season with salt, and sauté over medium flame until the livers are cooked through but have a bit of pink left in the middle. You’re not going for browning here. You just want them tender. This should take about 4 minutes.

Add the cognac, and let it bubble for a few seconds (be careful, as it can flame up). Take the pan off the heat, and let the livers cool down for a few minutes. You should have a tiny bit of liquid in the pan. If not, add a splash of warm water.

Remove the bay leaf, and add the livers and any cooking liquid to a food processor. Pulse until roughly puréed.

Add the softened butter and a few grindings of black pepper. Purée until everything is blended and smooth. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt if needed.

Spoon the pâté into a ramekin or a shallow ceramic bowl. Refrigerate for several hours before serving. This will help it firm up and develop flavor.

To serve, place the watercress and the sliced radish in a salad bowl. Pour on the olive oil, and sprinkle on the vinegar. Season with a little salt and toss. Toast the bread rounds (three per serving), and spread a thick layer of pâté on each one. Divide the salad onto 4 plates and surround each serving with three crostini. Garnish the crostini with thyme leaves.