Erica De Mane

Recipe below: Chicken in a Pot with Grappa, Parsnips, and Carrots

You know what has started to feel like another lifetime? Hanging out in my childhood kitchen while my parents prepare dinner. I can’t even recall the color of the walls or the attached faux leather banquette we all sat on. Somewhere in that room there were turquoise, pale green, and light brown from the 1960s. My mother, the head cook and party planner, and my father, dishwasher and fruit salad and smoothie maker, are now both gone. Even some of the memories of what they cooked are retreating into the blue-black part of my brain where stuff may still exist but I’m no longer allowed to get at it. For instance, I can’t remember if my mother ever roasted a whole chicken. It seems impossible she wouldn’t have, but I can’t visualize a whole bird being brought to the table.

There were endless variations chicken of cacciatore (made with cut-up chicken), some with mushrooms, some with red peppers, sometimes with basil or rosemary, always with tomatoes and wine, but beyond that I don’t know. Oh wait, there was barbecue chicken on the grill, every summer. That was my father’s department. I think I would have liked it more if it hadn’t often been black on the outside and semi-raw in the middle. Grilling after three martinis.

I cook whole chicken all the time. It seems natural, organic. I’m not sure where I originally got the idea for this all-in-one-pot approach. I thought it might have been from Julia Child, but I almost never use her recipes, and when I looked up chicken in a pot in one of her books, the instructions spanned three pages and entailed browning the thing in the pot, turning it on its sides, back, and breast, and then taking it out, and then adding vegetables, and then putting it back. It didn’t look familiar to me at all. My other thought was that I first read about it in Dorie Greenspan’s big book Around My French Table, which I don’t seem to have anymore, or maybe never owned but just borrowed at some point. In any case, it’s not a dish I learned from Mom. But I love it.

It results in a tender steam-roasted chicken. You’re not going to get the lacquered, super crisp skin of when you hot-blast a chicken uncovered, but to my palate the delicate meat, both white and dark, and the ready-made, boozy gravy make it really special. Maybe you’d like to give it a try. Find yourself a high-quality chicken for it.

Chicken in a Pot with Grappa, Parsnips, and Carrots

(Serves 3)

Extra-virgin olive oil
1 approximately 3-pound chicken, trussed if you like (I didn’t bother)
Salt
2 teaspoons quatre épices
Black pepper, if needed
4 shallots, peeled and pulled apart into sections
4 thick carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch rounds
2 medium parsnips, peeled and cut into chunks
About 10 garlic cloves, unpeeled
5 rosemary sprigs, the leaves chopped, plus the leaves from a few sprigs for garnish
6 or so thyme sprigs, the leaves chopped, plus the leaves from a few sprigs for garnish
2 fresh bay leaves
¼ cup grappa
½ cup dry vermouth
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into little pieces
½ cup homemade chicken broth, or good-quality purchased broth

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Coat the chicken with olive oil, and season it well with salt and quatre épices (some commercial ones are black-pepper-heavy; if your spice mix doesn’t include a lot of black pepper, sprinkle on a little of that too).

Get out a big casserole with a tight-fitting lid. I used a 14-inch oval Le Creuset pot. Drizzle about a tablespoon of olive oil into it, and get it hot over medium heat.

Add the shallots, carrots, parsnips, and garlic, seasoning with some salt. Add the rosemary, thyme, and bay leaf, and sauté for a few minutes.

Shove the vegetables over to the sides, and lower the chicken in, breast side down. Let it sit there until the skin just starts to turn a bit golden, about 3 or 4 minutes. Then turn over the chicken. Pour the grappa and vermouth over the chicken, letting it bubble for a few seconds. Dot the chicken breast with the butter bits, cover the pot, and stick it in the oven to cook, undisturbed, for an hour.

Remove the pot from the oven. Take off the lid. The chicken should be a warm golden brown. Take the bird from the pot, and put it on a carving board. Add the chicken stock to the pot, and bring it to a boil. Scoop all the vegetables out with a slotted spoon and onto the edges of a big serving platter. Continue cooking down the pot liquid until it’s got a rich taste and a slightly thickened texture, adding a little salt or black pepper if you think it needs it. You might need to skim off some fat (I didn’t bother). Pour the gravy it into a bowl (I poured mine through a strainer for a smoother sauce, but it’s really up to you).  

Carve the chicken into serving pieces, and set them in the middle of the platter. You can add any juices the chicken gives off to the gravy bowl. Scatter on the remaining rosemary and thyme sprigs, and bring it all to the table.