Dinner from the Pantry: Orzo with Garlicky White Beans and Chicken Sausage

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At Supper restaurant in the East Village, they treat every table to a bowl of white beans soaked in garlicky olive oil. Piled onto bread, these beans may very well be one of the best dishes the restaurant has to offer. (Though you shouldn't miss the Priest Stranglers or the perfect roast chicken.) I learned to reproduce those beans for a quick appetizer by trial and error when I first moved to the city, and "the bean thing" has since become a staple in our household. Having a can of white beans and a head of garlic around means I'll never be without a snack for surprise vistors, or short on food for a party.

But a girl cannot live on bread and beans alone, so I whipped up an extended remix, full-meal version here. Garlic, beans, and olive oil are still the stars of the show, but this hearty dish has a bit more to offer: salty sausage, fresh herbs, and sweet leeks flavor the pasta. A squeeze of lemon and a shaving of parmesan finish it off.


You may have everything in your pantry and freezer to make this right now. You may even be trying the eat-down-the-pantry challenge that everyone's writing about on Egullet and The Washington Post. Here is my offering to those watching their budgets and to those whose tiny apartment freezers and pantries are just too crowded. Just make sure anyone you might want to kiss has a bite of the garlicky stuff too.


Orzo with Garlicky White Beans and Chicken Sausage
serves 2

4 cloves garlic, smashed and chopped roughly
3 tablespoons olive oil
8 fresh sage leaves, washed and torn
1/2 tsp fresh oregano leaves
2 or 3 leeks, washed carefully and chopped
3 spicy italian chicken sausages, sliced in rounds (the ones I used were fully cooked)
1/2 cup wine or pasta water
1 can white beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 lb orzo
salt
parmesan and lemon wedges for serving

In a large saute pan or 3.5 qt dutch oven, saute garlic, sage, and oregano in olive oil until garlic begins to turn translucent. Add leeks and saute several minutes until softened. Meanwhile, boil water for the orzo. When leeks are softened, push them to the side of the pan. Add sliced sausages to open space and cook, turning occasionally, until brown (if you started with raw sausages, check to make sure sausage looks cooked through.) Salt pasta water generously and cook pasta according to package directions. Deglaze saute pan with wine or pasta water ladled from the cooking pasta. Add beans, cook 10 minutes. When pasta is cooked al dente, add to bean mixture and toss. Salt generously and serve with parmesan and a lemon wedge for squeezing.

Almost like being in New York: Pretzel-crusted chicken

I don't know if it's a New York thing or what, but I'm mildly obsessed with the street pretzel. There's no real explanation for it; street pretzels are uniformly dry, too salty/not salty enough, and unvaryingly stale within seconds. However, slathered in mustard, they're still one of my favorite afternoon treats. They're also, for the aforementioned reasons, sometimes a little too gross for me to deal with. It's on those days that I start to consider how I can bring a slightly less scary version of those flavors into my life; it took a very long and taxing week to finally inspire me to do something about it.

I had a dim recollection of a recipe for pretzel-crusted chicken in the November or December issue of Food and Wine; though I couldn't find the actual clipping in my files, a quick spin through the interwebs turned up this, which seemed as good a place as any to start. Naturally, I didn't follow the recipe to a tee; I omitted the oil, replacing it with a buttermilk and mustard marinade, and I swapped out the chicken breasts in favor of my new favorite poultry product, boneless chicken thighs. I also added in some thyme for zing, and (unsurprisingly) a tiny bit of raw garlic (emphasis on "tiny"). The alterations were minor, but the impact was massive--what I ended up with was a low fat powerhouse of flavor: oven baked, tangy, zingy, crunchy, moist and with far more nutritional merit than your average street pretzel.



Flavor-wise, I am very happy with how this turned out; the texture was also very pleasing...though I'll admit: next time, I'm probably going to go whole hog and pulverize the damn pretzels with a hammer. Food processors are great and all, but sometimes you need to work up an appetite, you know?

Pretzel-crusted honey mustard chicken
Adapted from Food and Wine, November 2008

1/2 lb hard pretzels, coarsely crushed
3/4c buttermilk
1/2 c wholegrain mustard
1/8 c honey
1 very, very small clove garlic (the sort that lurks near the heart of the bulb), finely chopped
2 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped
salt and pepper
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 egg, lightly beaten

1. Prepare your marinade: combine buttermilk, mustard, honey, thyme, salt and pepper. Mis thorougly and then combine with chicken in a ziptop bag. Marinate in the fridge for up to a day.
2. Smash the pretzels in your food processor (or with a hammer, if you've had a bad week). You should have fine crumbs and large chunks. Put in a shallow bowl and set aside.
   
3. When you're ready to cook, preheat your oven to 400F. Remove the chicken from the fridge and from the marinade; set aside. Combine egg with marinade and mix thoroughly; use this mixture to dredge the chicken thighs before coating them in pretzel chunks. Be sure to coat thoroughly!
4. Bake in the upper third of your oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the chicken's juices run clear.
5. Optional: make a little sauce out of buttermilk, mustard and honey. DO NOT USE LEFTOVER MARINADE. Unless you like salmonella.
   

Just Let Go: Walk Away Roast Chicken

Shiv and I have started a recipe index for Pithy and Cleaver—the link is on your right. We've been busy in our tiny New York kitchens and there's quite a list of things we've cooked! Apparently we like dessert a little. We've tried out all kinds of recipes for vegetables. And despite Shiv's protests that she's afraid of poultry, we've cooked up quite a few birds for P&C.


But I've been holding out on you, and I'm going to make it up to you now. This recipe is my go-to, the chicken recipe that all others must be measured by. It's easy. No trussing, no fussing, no basting, no worrying. And it's delicious. Make it for a date, make it for your roommates, banish all fear of cooking when you see how easy this is to master. Then you can buy the Zuni cookbook, if you like, but you just might stick with this method, courtesy of Boston chef Gordon Hamersley.

Here's the main trick. Rub the chicken all over with a paste made from herbs, mustard, and olive oil. Throw it in a pan on a bed of root vegetables (Hamersley calls for potatoes and onions, but I like to add yams and whole heads of garlic.) You don't need to tie it up, you don't need to say a prayer, just throw it in the oven and come back an hour and a quarter later. The bird takes care of itself, and the potatoes benefit from the lovely juices.


Too simple, you say? Well, ok. Two things to keep in mind. First of all, don't skimp on the chicken. Buy a small fresh one, ideally organic and not pumped up with all kinds of hormones. If you're feeding a crowd, do two small chickens! They'll cook more evenly and not dry out, and they're more likely to be flavorful to begin with. I got this lovely white plume Bobo chicken from Jeffrey the butcher (feet on! ack!), though I've also gotten flavorful antibiotic free chickens from the farmer's market, too.

Second, if you happen to have the chicken a day early and you want to improve the flavor even more, dry the chicken thoroughly with paper towels and toss some kosher salt on the outside. It's really not hard to do, and does make a difference. Apparently the salt draws moisture from the meat which is then reabsorbed, effectively brining the chicken without waterlogging it. If you don't have time, skip it. Hamersley's original recipe doesn't call for it anyway. If you don't do this, add a little salt and pepper to the mustard paste. When you're all done, take the lemons out and cook the carcass for stock!


Walk Away Roast Chicken, salted Zuni Style
Adapted from Gordon Hamersley and Judy Rodgers
serves three, depending on the size of your chicken

3/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
freshly ground pepper
1 whole roasting chicken (about 3-1/2 lb.)
2 Tbs. olive oil
2 Tbs. Dijon-style mustard
1 tsp. dried thyme (or 1 Tbs. fresh, chopped)
1 tsp. dried rosemary (or 1 Tbs. fresh, chopped)
1 lemon, halved
1 small onion, cut into thick chunks
2 small new potatoes, halved but not peeled
2 yams, peeled and cut into chunks
2 heads garlic, optional
1/2 cup water, stock or wine if you want to make gravy

A day ahead, remove any fat or innards inside the chicken. Pat chicken dry with paper towels—if it's moist, it will steam. Place on a platter or dish. Sprinkle the kosher salt over the chicken and add ground pepper. Season the thick sections a little more heavily than the skinny ankles and wings. Cover loosely and refrigerate. Check the chicken the day you want to cook it, you may want to dry it with some paper towels.

When you're ready to cook, heat the oven to 375°F. In a small bowl, combine 1 Tbs. of the olive oil, the mustard, thyme, and rosemary. Squeeze the juice from one lemon half into the herb mixture; squeeze the juice from the other half into a small bowl and reserve. Reserve the squeezed lemon halves. Spoon the herb mixture over the chicken, rubbing to coat the bird thoroughly. Put the reserved lemon halves inside the chicken's cavity.

Put the vegetables in a roasting pan. If you're using garlic heads, cut the top quarter-inch off the head, exposing the cloves. Season the vegetables with salt and pepper (and a little additional rosemary, if you like, and toss them with the remaining 1 Tbs. olive oil. Scatter the ingredients around the pan to make room in the center for the chicken.

Put the chicken in the pan, breast side up. Cook until the meat is tender and the juices run clear at the thigh, 1–1/4 to 1-1/2 hours. By this time, the potatoes and onions should be tender. Check the temperature of the chicken with a meat thermometer—it should measure 165 degrees at the thigh.

You can serve straight from the pan after five minutes of letting the bird rest, or fancy it up as follows: transfer the vegetables to a serving platter. Pour the juices from inside the chicken's cavity into the roasting pan and transfer the chicken to a cutting board and let it rest. Spoon off and discard as much fat as possible from the juices in the roasting pan or separate with a gravy strainer. Set the pan with the juices over medium-low heat and pour in the reserved lemon juice along with 1/2 cup water, stock, or wine. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Cut the chicken into pieces. Pour the pan juices over the chicken and serve.

Overcoming a fear of poultry, Part 2: Herbed tzatsiki chicken.

When it comes to certain things, I'm a bit of a slow study. On this list: playing the trumpet. Speaking German. Baking bread (as you've probably already realized). Experimenting with herbs.

I know, I know. Herbs are great! Herbs are your friend! Well let me tell you: when I learned how to cook, I went from burning pots of water to cooking acceptable meals in about two months (I was in college, I was a kept woman; it's not like I had anything else to do); my haste to learn--and not kill us all in the process--was so great that I seriously glossed over some of the basics. Like, you know. How to flavor my food. For years, the only herb I had any clue how to use was basil. I could make eighteen types of stir fry, but I couldn't identify tarragon in a lineup. It took ages before I could even handle sage; longer still before I invited rosemary to the party. Now, many moons later, I also count among my friends thyme and oregano (and I'll fully admit that i still have no idea what to do with tarragon). Thank goodness; making random things out of what I find in the fridge has become much easier since I've started to foxtrot with herbs.

Example: Last week, I found myself with three lemons, a shedload of garlic, some greek yogurt and my newly requisite freezerful of herbs. Having discovered not too long ago that plain yogurt is a kick ass marinade for chicken, it seemed like a no-brainer: grab some poultry, some skewers, and whip up a greek tzatsiki-style marinade! I'd be hard pressed to think of a quicker, easier way to inject a small dose of summer sunshine into a dreary December evening.



Because I'm lazy, I put this garlicky delight together using my food processor, which reduced prep time to approximately three minutes--including the chopping of the herbs--so it's definitely a great meal for a weeknight (though you can marinate the chicken for up to three days, and it gets better with every passing second). Easy, healthy, and tasty, I'm chalking this one up in the "Epic Win" column on my Adventures in Poultry spreadsheet.

Herbed tzatsiki chicken

Approx 1lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into approximately 2-inch cubes. Thighs would also work; I just went with what was on special.

Marinade:
5 cloves garlic
1c greek-style yogurt (I used lowfat)
2-3 tbsp fresh thyme, removed from the stem
2-3 tbsp fresh rosemary, chopped
zest from 2 lemons
1tbsp olive oil
pinch salt

1. Make the marinade: whizz everything except the chicken together in your food processor until it's a lovely, green-flecked and aromatic paste. If it's too thick, loosen it up with a little water.
2. Combine chicken and marinade in a large zip-top bag; set it in your refrigerator to marinate for at least one hour and up to three days.
3. Thread on to bamboo skewers that have been soaked in water.
4. Fire up your grill (or your grill pan) to a medium to medium-high heat and cook those suckers for about 8 minutes. Turn the skewer every two minutes or so to ensure even coloring all around.

Beware: I like this SUPER garlicky; you might want to reduce the amount of garlic, as it will stick with you for a day or two. But, if you prefer to keep vampires at least ten feet away (as I do), go crazy!

Overcoming a fear of poultry: Chicken marsala with mushrooms

You probably won't believe this, but Maggie and i don't typically compare notes on what we plan to cook until well after the fact, which is why it's tremendously amusing to me when we find ourselves riffing on similar themes (fig week being a perfect example). This week, it seems, we're all about sage. Admittedly, I'm pretty frequently all about sage. It's a star player in my pumpkin risotto, and for some reason always reminds me of home. It also figures pretty prominently on my take on Chicken Marsala; as Maggie pointed out in her pumpkin orzo post, sage is kind of bitter, which makes it an excellent foil for the sweetness of the fortified wine.

This is a recipe I've been kicking around for a while without actually getting the hang of it; mainly because I have spent most of my adult life harboring a fear of cooking poultry (dude, salmonella!) which has resulted in a long and varied history of dry and flavorless chicken dishes. This one was no exception--until now.

I'm not entirely sure what happened; probably something to do with my decision to make it more of a stew than it typically is, as well as the replacement of the boneless, skinless breasts of previous attempts with rich and savory chicken thighs. The decision to cook it all slow and low (a lesson my adventures with pulled pork clearly taught me well) may have helped, too. I won't point to any one factor, but I will say this: whatever it was, it worked, and I found myself with the luscious marsala I'd been chasing all these years.

I think that next time, I might take it a little further and make it into a casserole--a nice, herby biscuit top might be a nice juxtaposition--or perhaps an actual chicken pie, with a nice buttery crust (of course, I have to figure out how to make THAT, too, but what's life without a challenge?)

(and suggestions welcome, of course)



Chicken marsala, fear-of-poultry style

4 boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch cubes
8 oz shiitake mushrooms (stemmed and sliced)
8 oz baby bella mushrooms (stemmed and sliced)
1 medium-sized onion (halved and sliced)
1 c marsala wine (Note: use real, unsalted marsala. An acceptable cooking vintage is about $5, and vastly superior to the stuff you can get in the grocery store)
1 c chicken broth
2-3 tsp fresh sage, minced
1 tbsp butter (optional)
salt and pepper

1. In a deep skillet, heat up some olive oil and saute the chicken very briefly--just enough to color the outside completely. 2 minutes, tops. Remove from the skillet and set it aside.
2. Heat up more oil! Reduce heat to medium and sauted the onions until they're translucent.
3. Add the mushrooms, and continue to saute until they become soft and juicy.
4. Add the marsala, stirring occasionally until it starts to simmer.
5. add the chicken broth; again, wait for it to start simmering.
   
6. Add the sage, simmer for another minute or two
7. Add the chicken, reduce the heat to low and then cover, cooking until the chicken is cooked through and delicious--somewhere between 10 and 18 minutes, depending on the size of your pot.
8. (This part is optional): If you're feeling really enterprising, when everything is cooked, remove it from the pot using a slotted spoon, and make a great sauce by whisking a little flour and butter into the juices that remain. Mix it back in or just pour it over. Or, serve it on its own as something to sop up with a nice piece of bread.

I served this with yesterday's beet salad and a nice whole wheat bread, but i think it would be equally nice with a green salad or some roasted brussels sprouts.

OH HEY ALSO: did we tell you that we started a flickr pool? if you have pictures of recipes that you'd like to add, join us here!