Farewell Part 1

Food has always been a big part of my life (and for those who have seen the photos, the use of ‘big’ is pretty literal) In the beginning there was the Food War I, where I hated anything remotely nutritious. Then I suddenly realised that fruits and veggies were yummy, and food became a more interesting and less angst-ridden aspect to the day. So the food part of my life became bigger, and so did I- cue the Food War II. Since then I have found (well attempting to find) that balance of big appetite and reasonable waistline, and like any normal person, most big events in my life are paired with something edible. My months spent in London were probably my most exciting gastronomically; I learnt so much in the few shifts I had in a pub kitchen, and in summer the new tastes and flavours and combinations and ideas were constantly inspiring me. So it seemed only fitting that my farewell dinner for the London housemates was a significant one.

French cooking has always been this sort of ridiculously daunting task; it made me feel the way you do when you’re going somewhere far posh-er than you’re accustomed to, and you’re not sure how to behave or what to wear. Every time I opened a French cookbook I could hear some French chef screaming at me, “Don’t baztardize zee muzzer of zee culinary artz!” I could feel the gorgeous Provençal pots and pans hitting my head because I ruined the beurre blanc, I could smell my pompous toque chef’s hat being set on fire.

But there’s something deliciously nerdy about French cooking; the history, the precision, the science, the art- to me, making the perfect French dish is like graduating cum laude. There’s a reason French techniques are still around, and as much as fashionable foodies criticise French cooking, you can’t deny that these techniques and recipes form a big part of any chef’s basic repertoire. Now, I’d like to attend Silwood or Tante Marie one day (mainly when I can actually afford it), but I figure there’s no point in waiting (a good nerd always reads the texts before class) and why not start practising now (the best nerd aims to be a pro at the subject when everyone else is still learning the basics)- and this is what I endeavour to do.

So I confronted my inner-demons-who-take-the-form-of-royale-moustache-sporting-French-chefs, and deemed myself officially ready to attempt a traditional French recipe- chicken fricassèe. One hour of grocery shopping, one hour of prep, two hours of cooking and serving, and 80 photos later- the first hurdle was jumped rather gracefully. It was delicious, it looked like the picture, and everyone licked their bowls clean! But mainly, it was a whole new kind of style of food; the layering of flavours and the texture of the sauce were unlike anything I've had before. The richness and luxury of it didn’t come in the textural packages that I'm used to, and the whole dish was just so refreshingly new. For many people, this style of cooking may seem pretty normal, but for those who haven’t tried French cooking and want to try something different and learn techniques they can use to recreate old dishes, this recipe is a winner:

Chicken Fricassèe

This basically translates to chicken cut into pieces and stewed in gravy; it sounds simple and actually looks quite simple, but the gravy is an explosion of flavour, and the chicken comes out so tender and succulent. It's rich and delicious and luxurious! It serves about 6 depending on how many chicken pieces you want per portion.

Ingredients

1.2kg chicken pieces (with the skin on)

4 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

3 tablespoons flour

1 cup dry white wine

3 cups chicken stock

bouquet garni

300g mushrooms

1 teaspoon lemon juice

2 tablespoons butter

20 small/cocktail-sized onions, peeled

1/2 cup water

1 teaspoon sugar

6-8 carrots

2 tablespoons butter
6 tablespoons cream

fresh parsley to garnish

Prep

Make sure the following is all ready when you start cooking:

Peel and slice your carrots on the diagonal.

Peel your onions.

Slice your mushrooms.

Prepare your bouquet garni by tying together a variety of herbs and aromatics; I used celery, carrots, tarrgon (the tarragon is essential for this dish), thyme and parsely. Don't pull a Bridget Jones and make sure you use plain, old-fashioned string!

Prepare your chicken stock; as always, nothing beats proper stock, but for this recipe I found that a prepare stock concentrate worked well too.

Method

Heat the oil and butter in a large pot, or a deep roasting dish that can be used on a stovetop. Brown each piece of chicken until golden, ensuring that the chicken fits comfortably- do it in batches if you can only fit a few pieces at once.