Poultry
“How’s that thumb taste, sweetie?” he inquired. “They say you shouldn’t oughta let ’em suck their thumbs, you know,” he informed me, straightening up. “Gives ’em crooked teeth and they’ll need braces.”
“Is that so?” I said through my own teeth. “How much do I owe you?”
Half an hour later, the chicken lay in its pan, stuffed and basted, surrounded by crushed garlic, sprigs of rosemary, and curls of lemon peel. A quick squeeze of lemon juice over the buttery skin, and I could stick it in the oven and go get myself and Brianna dressed. The kitchen looked like the result of an incompetent burglary, with cupboards hanging open and cooking paraphernalia strewn on every horizontal surface. I banged shut a couple of cupboard doors, and then the kitchen door itself, trusting that that would keep Mrs. Hinchcliffe out, even if good manners wouldn’t.
—Voyager, chapter 3, “Frank and Full Disclosure”
This crispy, juicy, and aromatic roast bird makes a cozy family meal that will transport you from Boston to Lallybroch and back again when served with Fergus’s Roasted Tatties and Auld Ian’s Buttered Leeks.
Serves 4
Ingredients
3½- to 4-pound (1.5 to 1.8 kilograms) whole chicken
1½ teaspoons kosher salt, plus additional
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper, plus additional
¼ lemon
2 fresh rosemary sprigs
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1½ cups Brown Chicken Stock
Method
Take the chicken out of the fridge 1 hour before you cook it. Pat it dry, inside and out, with paper towels. Mix together the salt and pepper and season the chicken inside and out. Stuff the cavity with the lemon, rosemary, and garlic.
Twist and tuck the wing tips under the back of the chicken to keep them in place during cooking. With a sharp knife, poke a small hole in the loose skin between the breast and thigh on either side. Cross the legs and tuck the end of each through the hole in the skin on the opposite side. Arrange the bird on a wire rack in a roasting pan.
Move a rack to the lower-middle rung and heat the oven to 475°F.
Roast for 30 minutes, rotate the pan, and continue to cook until the skin is golden and the internal temperature reaches 175°F, 20 to 30 more minutes, depending on the size of the bird. Set on a plate, tent loosely with foil, and let it rest 10 to 15 minutes before carving.
To make the gravy, while the bird rests, strain the juices from the bottom of the pan and the inside of the chicken into a small saucepan over medium heat. Skim and discard all but about 1 tablespoon of fat from the surface. When the juices start to boil, whisk in the flour until a smooth paste forms, and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Slowly whisk in the chicken stock. Boil gently, stirring almost constantly, until the gravy is thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Keep the leftover chicken and gravy in the refrigerator up to 3 days.
• To measure the internal temperature of the chicken, stick an instant-read thermometer in the meatiest part of the thigh, ensuring that the tip does not touch the bone.
• A larger chicken’s skin will burn before it is cooked through using this method. To serve more than four adults, roast two chickens simultaneously at 500°F.
• Use the carcass to make a batch of Hot Broth at Castle Leoch.
Pheasant and Greens at Ardsmuir
John Grey had dressed carefully this evening, with fresh linen and silk stockings. He wore his own hair, simply plaited, rinsed with a tonic of lemon-verbena. He had hesitated for a moment over Hector’s ring, but at last had put it on, too. The dinner had been good; a pheasant he had shot himself, and a salad of greens, in deference to Fraser’s odd tastes for such things. Now they sat over the chessboard, lighter topics of conversation set aside in the concentration of the midgame.
“Will you have sherry?” He set down his bishop, and leaned back, stretching.
Fraser nodded, absorbed in the new position. “I thank ye.”
Grey rose and crossed the room, leaving Fraser by the fire. He reached into the cupboard for the bottle, and felt a thin trickle of sweat run down his ribs as he did so. Not from the fire, simmering across the room; from sheer nervousness.
—Voyager, chapter 11, “The Torremolinos Gambit”
A crisp-skinned, tender, pan-fried pheasant breast in a sweet, luscious sauce of orange and apricot, and served with a salad of bitter greens that balances the sauce’s sweetness.
Serves 4
Ingredients
4 boneless pheasant breasts, skin on
2 teaspoons kosher salt, plus additional
1 cup dry white wine
½ cup orange juice
10 dried apricots, cut into quarters
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
2 short sprigs fresh rosemary
6 whole peppercorns
¼ cup (4 tablespoons) butter
2 cloves garlic, smashed
6 cups mixed greens (arugula, dandelion, mustard greens, baby kale, beet greens, etc.)
1 recipe Basic Salad Dressing
Remove the pheasant from the fridge half an hour before cooking. Season generously on both sides with salt and set aside.
In a small saucepan, stir together the wine, orange juice, apricots, honey, vinegar, rosemary, and peppercorns. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and simmer briskly, until the mixture is syrupy with big bubbles, 12 to 15 minutes. Strain the sauce and return it to the pan to keep warm over low heat.
Blot dry the skin side of the pheasant with paper towels. In a large frying pan, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter over medium-high heat. When the butter is bubbling, add the pheasant breasts, skin side down, and the garlic to the pan, without overcrowding. Press down on each breast to ensure full contact with the cooking surface and sear for 2 minutes.
Use a spoon to baste the tops of the pheasant breasts occasionally with the garlicky browned butter. Cook, without flipping, until the skin sides are crisp and golden, and the internal temperature at the thickest part of the breasts reaches 150°F (medium rare) to 160°F (medium), 5 to 8 minutes. Reduce the heat, if necessary, to avoid burning the skin. Remove the pheasant from the pan and rest skin side up, loosely tented with foil, for 5 minutes.
While the pheasant rests, increase the heat under the sauce to medium and whisk in the remaining 2 tablespoons butter. Season with salt to taste.
Gently toss the greens in a large bowl with about 3 tablespoons of the dressing. Add more if needed, but don’t drench the leaves—they should just glisten.
To serve, spoon some of the sauce onto each plate, top with a pheasant breast (sliced if you prefer), a little more sauce, and a small stack of dressed greens on the side.
Notes
• The ideal doneness for pheasant breast is medium rare to medium. Anything beyond that and the meat becomes tough.
• Pheasants are lean birds with a delicious mild gamey flavor. If you prefer, substitute boneless, skin-on chicken breasts and flatten them slightly with a meat mallet.
• Finely chop the strained apricots from the sauce to serve as a relish on top of warm Brie, or stir them into a batch of Mrs. Graham’s Oatmeal Scones.
Sweet Tea–Brined Fried Chicken
Food was beginning to be brought out: tureens of powsowdie and hotchpotch—and an enormous tub of soup à la Reine, a clear compliment to the guest of honor—platters of fried fish, fried chicken, fried rabbit; venison collops in red wine, smoked sausages, Forfar bridies, inky-pinky, roast turkeys, pigeon pie; dishes of colcannon, stovies, turnip purry, roasted apples stuffed with dried pumpkin, squash, corn, mushroom pasties; gigantic baskets overflowing with fresh baps, rolls, and other breads . . . all this, I was well aware, merely as prelude to the barbecue whose succulent aroma was drifting through the air: a number of hogs, three or four beeves, two deer, and, the pièce de résistance, a wood bison, acquired God knew how or where.
—A Breath of Snow and Ashes, chapter 54, “Flora MacDonald’s Barbecue”
Fried chicken was likely brought to the southern colonies by Scottish immigrants, who had a long history of frying chicken in fat, unlike their English and European counterparts, who baked or boiled the bird. African slaves brought to cook on plantations came with their own tradition of deep-frying meats, and added their own spin to the dish using seasonings and spices previously unknown in Scottish kitchens.
This less-than-traditional version brines boneless chicken pieces in southern sweet tea and salt. The result is a flavorful, plump, and easy-to-eat fried chicken that will make a popular addition to your next twenty-first-century picnic or potluck table.
Serves 6
Ingredients
4 tea bags of black tea, such as orange pekoe
1 cup sugar
¼ cup kosher salt, plus 1 teaspoon
2 bay leaves
1 fresh rosemary sprig
12 whole peppercorns
1 quart boiling water
1 tray of ice cubes
6 chicken breasts or 12 thighs (or a mix), boneless and skinless
2 cups all-purpose flour
½ cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ teaspoon dried thyme
½ teaspoon paprika
2 cups buttermilk
½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
Vegetable oil
Method
In a large heatproof bowl, combine the tea bags, sugar, salt, bay leaves, rosemary, and peppercorns. Pour in the boiling water and stir to dissolve the sugar and salt. Steep for 10 minutes and discard the tea bags. Add the ice cubes and stir. Refrigerate to cool the brine completely.
Cut the chicken breasts in half crosswise. Add the chicken pieces to the brine, cover, and refrigerate for 2 to 3 hours.
In a bowl, mix together the flour, cornstarch, 1 teaspoon salt, pepper, onion powder, thyme, and paprika. In another bowl, combine the buttermilk, cayenne pepper, and a pinch of salt.
Drain the chicken and pat dry with paper towels. Dredge the pieces in the flour and shake off the excess. One at a time, dip each piece into the buttermilk, then dredge again in the flour to coat completely.
In a Dutch oven or deep, heavy frying pan over medium-high heat, bring 3 inches of oil to 350°F. Fry half of the chicken pieces, turning occasionally, until golden brown and cooked through, 7 to 8 minutes. Drain on paper towels and tent with foil to keep warm while you fry the remaining chicken.
Serve hot or cold with Broccoli Salad and Corn Muffins.
Store leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• Serve with a quick dipping sauce made of equal parts mayonnaise and Dijon mustard, stirred with a squeeze of honey or maple syrup to taste—also a delicious spread for leftover fried chicken sandwiches.
• Tea was a scarce commodity in the colonies by the time River Run hosted Flora MacDonald, but I have a theory that Jocasta kept a stash in Hector’s mausoleum along with the Jacobites’ gold. If you disagree, herbal teas, such as lemon ginger, are an excellent substitute.
“Less EAT, Mummy!” Jemmy piped up helpfully. A long string of molasses-tinged saliva flowed from the corner of his mouth and dripped down the front of his shirt. Seeing this, his mother turned on Mrs. Bug like a tiger.
“Now see what you’ve done, you interfering old busybody! That was his last clean shirt! And how dare you talk about our private lives with everybody in sight, what possible earthly business of yours is it, you beastly old gossiping—”
Seeing the futility of protest, Roger put his arms round her from behind, picked her up bodily off the floor, and carried her out the back door, this departure accented by incoherent protests from Bree and grunts of pain from Roger, as she kicked him repeatedly in the shins, with considerable force and accuracy.
I went to the door and closed it delicately, shutting off the sounds of further altercation in the yard.
“She gets that from you, you know,” I said reproachfully, sitting down opposite Jamie. “Mrs. Bug, that smells wonderful. Do let’s eat!”
Mrs. Bug dished the fricassee in huffy silence, but declined to join us at table, instead putting on her cloak and stamping out the front door, leaving us to deal with the clearing-up. An excellent bargain, if you ask me.
—A Breath of Snow and Ashes, chapter 21, “We Have Ignition”
Murdina Bug would have loved the convenience of a slow cooker, our modern equivalent to her iron kettle over the hearth. After all, she had busy days—what with there being eggs to collect, bread to bake, stockings to knit, beer to brew, men to feed—and one less thing to keep watch over would have been a welcome reprieve.
A classic French chicken and vegetable stew with a comforting cream sauce, a traditional fricassee does not include potatoes, but in the spirit of a true one-pot meal, throw in a few anachronistic spuds with everything else.
Serves 6
3 pounds (1.3 kilograms or 10 to 12 pieces) chicken thighs, bone in and skin on
½ cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
¼ cup (4 tablespoons) butter
¾ pound (340 grams) small button mushrooms, wiped clean
1½ pounds (700 grams) yellow potatoes, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 pound (450 grams) pearl onions, peeled (see Notes), or 1 large onion, julienned (see Knife Skills)
3 medium carrots, each cut in 4 to 6 pieces
1 garlic head, papery skin discarded
2 bay leaves
2 fresh thyme sprigs
1 cup White Chicken Stock
½ cup dry white wine
2 large egg yolks
½ cup whipping cream
Method
Pat the chicken pieces dry with paper towels. Mix together the flour, salt, and pepper on a plate. Dredge the thighs in flour one at a time, and shake off the excess.
In a large frying pan, heat the olive oil and 2 tablespoons of the butter over medium-high flame. When it’s bubbling, add the chicken, skin side down, and fry until golden on the bottom, 3 to 4 minutes. Flip and fry until golden on the second side. To get a good golden crust, do not overcrowd the pan; better instead to fry the chicken in batches, undisturbed.
Arrange the fried chicken pieces in a 4- or 5-quart slow cooker.
Toss the mushrooms and potatoes with the lemon juice. Nestle them, along with the onions, carrots, garlic, the remaining 2 tablespoons butter, bay leaves, and thyme among the chicken pieces. Pour in the stock and wine, and rock the slow cooker gently to settle and mix. Cook over low heat for 6 to 8 hours.
Move a rack to the top rung and heat the oven to 300°F.
When the chicken and vegetables are cooked, turn off the slow cooker. Discard the garlic, bay leaves, and thyme. Use a slotted spoon to move the chicken and vegetables to an ovenproof dish. Keep them warm in the oven while you finish the sauce.
Strain the cooking liquid from the slow cooker into a medium saucepan. Skim off the surface fat, then reduce the liquid over medium-high heat until it measures about 1½ cups. Reduce the heat to medium-low.
In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and cream. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons of the hot cooking liquid to temper the mixture, stir well, then add the cream back into the saucepan and stir constantly until hot and slightly thickened, about 5 minutes. Season to taste and keep warm.
When the sauce is ready, turn the oven to broil and lightly brown and crisp the chicken’s skin, 3 to 5 minutes.
To serve, divide the chicken and vegetables on plates and spoon over the sauce.
Keep leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• You can use boneless chicken and reduce the cooking time, but the marrow from the bones adds depth, not to mention nutrition, to the finished dish that you won’t get if you cook without them.
• To peel pearl onions, pour boiling water over them to cover. When the water has cooled enough to handle the onions, cut off the root end, and pop each out of its skin.
