The Best Ever Chicken Thighs
Time is always short it seems these days. I don't know where it's gone between February and October. I have continued to cook daily and take photographs of anything that's particularly tasty but never find the time to write down what I've done there and then. So my computer is full of images of food which I then can't tell you about!
Still, last night's meal was so simple that even I can remember what I did. It is essentially a French classic: chicken and chips. Upgrading is easy enough.
I'd done cheese and ham toasties for the girls as they wanted to eat early and conveniently while doing whatever they were doing. Job done. After that, I switched on the telly in the kitchen and watched Nigella simpering away over 'fleshy, creamy avocados' and 'jewel-like pomegranates seeds' or some such thing and opened the freezer door: two skinless and boneless chicken thighs left over from a previous meal. Perfect for me and N to sup on. What to do with them? A quick glance in the fridge vegetable drawer suggested 'not a lot'. However, I did have a large bunch of fresh thyme, the inevitable garlic, a new bag of salad, some lemons and potatoes. Voila. Chicken and 'chips' it shall be.
First job, while glancing at Nigella's perfect little copper pans with only a small degree of envy, was to slice and chop the potatoes into smallish squares. If the potatoes are clean, I leave the skins on: better for you and a time-saver. Win-win. I chose about three quite large ones, sliced them first into 1cm thick discs, then quartered (or cut into six, depending on size) each disc. I smeared a spoonful of duck fat onto a roasting tray and then scattered the potatoes into it. I squished three garlic cloves by pressing down with the blade of a large kitchen knife (you could just as well use a pestle and mortar or any flat object - though preferably not your favourite recipe book), leaving the skin on, and added them to the roasting tray. Next I pulled the leaves off some thyme stalks and scattered them over, followed by a generous amount of home-ground black pepper and salt. Those then go into the top of a hot oven (or grill) and leave them to turn golden brown and a bit crispy, turning as necessary.
Meanwhile I defrosted the two chicken thighs and then put them in a bowl in a hasty marinade made up of a bit of white wine (about half a glass), some generous slivers of lemon peel, a squeeze of lemon juice, some crushed garlic and salt and pepper, together with a few more thyme leaves. While this was doing its thing, I took my last two banana shallots and peeled and sliced them into a heavy based frying pan, together with another couple of squidged garlic cloves (if you squidge them rather than crush them in a press they remain sweeter, according to Nigella's rather timely tip as she oozed on in the background). These I gently browned off with some cretan oregano-infused olive oil (happened to have about my person, but any olive oil will do) and some remaining garlic butter from a little pat I had lurking in the fridge. I know this all sounds very garlicky but I promise you it wasn't overwhelming at all - it was a subtle infusion of flavour rather than a strong hit. And if you didn't have garlic butter, plain butter would be fine as well. Once these had started to soften I added the chicken thighs and the marinade and let the chicken sizzle and cook through, pressing it down with a wooden spatula to help brown it off. The marinade liquid keeps it moist - and the brown meat of the thighs are juicier and more flavoursome than the breast meat. The shallots and garlic meanwhile are also browning up and possibly slightly catching (a little char is good, too much is bad, so watch it). I added a little more unsalted butter to the pan once the liquid had reduced and bathed it over the chicken thighs. Check the seasoning and adjust if necessary.
And that's it really. Once everything is cooked, serve the chicken and potatoes onto a warmed plate and add the green salad tossed with a fruity, peppery extra virgin olive oil and balsamic dressing and plenty of ground salt and pepper. Spoon the remains of the buttery chicken juices from the frying pan over the meat, pour yourself a glass of red wine and tuck in.
It's all a marriage made in Heaven. Somewhat like my own. Ahem.
Still, last night's meal was so simple that even I can remember what I did. It is essentially a French classic: chicken and chips. Upgrading is easy enough.
I'd done cheese and ham toasties for the girls as they wanted to eat early and conveniently while doing whatever they were doing. Job done. After that, I switched on the telly in the kitchen and watched Nigella simpering away over 'fleshy, creamy avocados' and 'jewel-like pomegranates seeds' or some such thing and opened the freezer door: two skinless and boneless chicken thighs left over from a previous meal. Perfect for me and N to sup on. What to do with them? A quick glance in the fridge vegetable drawer suggested 'not a lot'. However, I did have a large bunch of fresh thyme, the inevitable garlic, a new bag of salad, some lemons and potatoes. Voila. Chicken and 'chips' it shall be.
First job, while glancing at Nigella's perfect little copper pans with only a small degree of envy, was to slice and chop the potatoes into smallish squares. If the potatoes are clean, I leave the skins on: better for you and a time-saver. Win-win. I chose about three quite large ones, sliced them first into 1cm thick discs, then quartered (or cut into six, depending on size) each disc. I smeared a spoonful of duck fat onto a roasting tray and then scattered the potatoes into it. I squished three garlic cloves by pressing down with the blade of a large kitchen knife (you could just as well use a pestle and mortar or any flat object - though preferably not your favourite recipe book), leaving the skin on, and added them to the roasting tray. Next I pulled the leaves off some thyme stalks and scattered them over, followed by a generous amount of home-ground black pepper and salt. Those then go into the top of a hot oven (or grill) and leave them to turn golden brown and a bit crispy, turning as necessary.
Meanwhile I defrosted the two chicken thighs and then put them in a bowl in a hasty marinade made up of a bit of white wine (about half a glass), some generous slivers of lemon peel, a squeeze of lemon juice, some crushed garlic and salt and pepper, together with a few more thyme leaves. While this was doing its thing, I took my last two banana shallots and peeled and sliced them into a heavy based frying pan, together with another couple of squidged garlic cloves (if you squidge them rather than crush them in a press they remain sweeter, according to Nigella's rather timely tip as she oozed on in the background). These I gently browned off with some cretan oregano-infused olive oil (happened to have about my person, but any olive oil will do) and some remaining garlic butter from a little pat I had lurking in the fridge. I know this all sounds very garlicky but I promise you it wasn't overwhelming at all - it was a subtle infusion of flavour rather than a strong hit. And if you didn't have garlic butter, plain butter would be fine as well. Once these had started to soften I added the chicken thighs and the marinade and let the chicken sizzle and cook through, pressing it down with a wooden spatula to help brown it off. The marinade liquid keeps it moist - and the brown meat of the thighs are juicier and more flavoursome than the breast meat. The shallots and garlic meanwhile are also browning up and possibly slightly catching (a little char is good, too much is bad, so watch it). I added a little more unsalted butter to the pan once the liquid had reduced and bathed it over the chicken thighs. Check the seasoning and adjust if necessary.
And that's it really. Once everything is cooked, serve the chicken and potatoes onto a warmed plate and add the green salad tossed with a fruity, peppery extra virgin olive oil and balsamic dressing and plenty of ground salt and pepper. Spoon the remains of the buttery chicken juices from the frying pan over the meat, pour yourself a glass of red wine and tuck in.
It's all a marriage made in Heaven. Somewhat like my own. Ahem.
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