Sear on both sides, turning once with tongs, until a deep golden brown crust forms, 7 to 10 minutes total. When the butter has melted, ease in the dredged pieces of chicken, skin side down, without crowding. Add 1 tablespoon butter to the rendered bacon fat in the pot and place over medium-high heat. Spread the flour in a wide shallow dish (a pie plate works well), and dredge half the chicken pieces one at a time, pacing each one in the flour, turning to coat both sides, and then lifting and patting lightly to shake off any excess.Ĥ. Season on all sides with salt and pepper. Rinse the chicken pieces with cool water and pat dry with paper towels. Set the pot with the rendered bacon fat aside off the heat.ģ. Transfer the bacon to a plate lined with paper towels. Place the diced bacon in a cold, large Dutch oven or other heavy lidded braising pot, set over medium heat, and cook the bacon, stirring often with a slotted spoon, until well browned and crisp on the outside but with some softness inside, 12 to 15 minutes. pearl onions (about 24 frozen pearl onions, not thawed, may be substituted) ġ. One 750-ml bottle dry, fruity red wine (I used a Pinot Noir)ġ0 oz. One 4 1/2 to 5 lb chicken, cut into 8 pieces, wing tips, back, neck and giblets (except the liver) reserved Ĭoarse salt and freshly ground black pepperĪll purpose flour for dredging (about 1/2 a cup)ġ large yellow onion (about 8 oz.), chopped into 1/2-inch piecesĢ tablespoons Cognac or other good brandy It’d be great on a cold winter’s night or, in our case, a chilly, chilly Spring.įrom Molly Stevens’s “All About Braising”ġ/4 pound slab bacon (I used D’Artagnan pancetta), rind removed, cut into 1/2-inch dice Do what I did and boil up some egg noodles, toss them in butter, and serve the leftover Coq au Vin on top. The best part, though, is that if you’re just cooking for two there will be leftovers (a little goes a long way) and it tastes better the next day. The resulting dish is so very rich and tender and deeply, profoundly flavorful. There’s bacon, which you render, cooking the chicken in its fat there’s the chicken, of course, which you should cut up yourself (it saves money and all the pieces are similarly sized), the aromatics–onion, carrot, tomato paste, garlic, parsley, thyme–and the alcohol, Cognac (which you shouldn’t skip: you can buy an airplane sized bottle at your liquor store), and, of course, the red wine. The elements of Coq au Vin are fairly simple. And her Coq au Vin? It’s like a trip to France right there in your little kitchen. Her recipes, I imagine, are tested and tested and tested and that’s why they’re so flawless. Of course, I’m a sucker for anything braised, especially when the recipe comes from the book whose praise I sing almost weekly here on the blog: Molly Stevens’s “All About Braising.” Cookbooks don’t get much better than this–I’ve never trusted a cookbook author more than I trust Molly Stevens. And what a loss that would’ve been because this dish, this French classic of chicken braised in red wine, may be one of the best dishes I’ve ever cooked. And it’s almost June! I understand you have your peculiarities, that you’re grappling with a diminishing ozone and toxic emissions, but I bought some cute new short sleeve shirts from UniQlo in SoHo (what a deal!) and I want to wear them, ok?īut in the meantime, I forgive you because if it weren’t for your unseasonable chill, would I have tried my hand at Coq au Vin, a traditional cold weather dish? The answer, I think, is no. Dear New York Weather: it’s almost June, and yesterday I was wearing a sweatshirt and I had the heat on.
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