We're going Continental French on everyone today. Hearty, balanced, flavorful, and affordable is the theme for both the wine used and the dish altogether.
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Coq au vin. You’ve (possibly) seen the recipe way down in my recipe archive. You know it, you possibly love it. It’s one of a few dishes you might envision when you think of classic French cooking, next to bœuf bourguignon, dauphinoise, and cassoulet. You might have even seen this recipe in the New York Times cooking column (thanks Nigella Lawson). You know the story though, braised chicken in a hearty stew of red wine, root vegetables, and aromatics. Only this time adapted to use a less…colorful wine as its base; Riesling may not exactly jump out as a wine that you’d either a) want to cook with or b) associate with a rich, deeply umami coq au vin. However, the Alsace region of France has this very regional variant of the classic dish that uses Riesling specifically. So, it’s not a stretch to associate one of the premier regions of white wine production with this dish, as about 20% (the plurality by volume) of the grapes and wines produced in Alsace are of Riesling varietal (thanks Wikipedia).
Call me a late 2010s recipe developer, because we’re basically making a one-pot meal. Yet, unlike the mystery pots of yore, we’re infusing a ridiculous level of flavor into this dish. Chanterelles add a specific fruitiness to complement the Riesling, leeks offer that ever-so-slight differentiation from traditional onions, and the turnip and rutabaga add a nice earthiness where you’d normally see a standard waxy potato. The science of stews and braising is really on display here by using chicken thighs, which cook much faster than a longer braise of beef with more collagen/gelatin, making this a feasible dinner for an indulgent weeknight. Since you’re also cooking starchy vegetables in the stew, you also get some natural thickening and emulsion by mounting the stew with a nonzero amount of “butter”. No roux or external starch slurry to be seen. Shopping List:
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Hardware:
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Prep:
Grab a large bowl and fill with ice cold water.
Take the leek, note where the white starts to turn into green, and discard the inedible green bits. You should be left with at least 4 inches of serviceable leek. If you don’t, feel free to supplement this with a small amount of onion (you all keep onions regularly on hand, right?) Leaving the root end attached, slice the leek lengthwise into quarters (it’ll look like a fan at this point), and thoroughly wash out the leek under cold tap water. Leeks are notoriously dirty. Finely chop these into ¼”-1/2” chunks. Do likewise with the carrot. Set aside.
Using your kitchen shears (you can also go at this with a flexible boning knife if you’re feeling zesty), debone your chicken thighs. Yeah, yeah I know I said to get bone-in thighs, and it seems weird to then…remove the bone, but it’s hard to get boneless, but still skin-on thighs, and we don’t want to waste the valuable flavor and fat in the chicken skin. Alton Brown has a few video tutorials on this process, but you’re basically snipping the ‘knuckle’ ends off slowly, and then working your way lengthwise down the bone, peeling back the bone after every cut. Imagine this like butterflying open a large roast or big chop. Realistically, you can also just leave the bone in, but I find it’s more cumbersome to eat with the bone left in. You may also have to let it braise 10-15 minutes longer.
Thoroughly dry the chicken thighs. Using paper towels is your best option here, albeit not necessarily environmentally friendly. Liberally salt and pepper these on both sides and set aside.
Boil approximately 3 c. water (I like to use an electric kettle, in which you should definitely own one). Take 1 cup of this water and steep the dehydrated mushrooms for at least 10 minutes in a heat safe bowl. Reserve the liquid as this is precious umami that you shouldn’t waste.
Take the other two cups of boiling water and pour over the pearl onions to quickly “blanch” to aid in peeling. I hesitate to say blanch as you haven’t added any salt, but can you even steep onions? Lemme know in the comments below. After 2-3 minutes, these should be soft, so drain them and immediately transfer to the ice water bath to shock the onion skins. To quickly peel these, trim the root end (you know, the end with all the gangly root-like tendrils) and squeeze the onion out of its skin.
The Business:
In your Dutch oven, heat the lard over medium to medium-high heat until shimmering. Carefully place the thighs into the oil, skin side down and brown until they can easily release from the bottom of the pot. This should take 3-4 minutes or so. Don’t bother or toss them after you place into the pan. I know what you’re thinking, why bother with crisping the skin, if you’re just going to braise it, thus creating soggy skin again. Well, I’m glad you asked: First, the Maillard reaction for flavor. I don’t even need to explain further. Second, this will render some of the fat in the skin, which is more flavor. Third, imagine if you just tossed raw chicken into a stew to get even more soggy.
2 - 1 > 0 - 1 after all, if you follow me.
Turn the chicken thighs over and cook on the exposed side for another minute to develop a little more flavor from the Maillard reaction. I should really do a blog post about that. Evacuate to a plate.
Inspect how much fat you have remaining in the pot. I like to remove all but about 2 Tbsp of the now mixed fat, as to not completely overpower the entire dish, but you can certainly leave it all in. Turn the heat down to just below medium. Toss the leek, carrot, and a pinch of salt in. Keep this moving as you’re not looking to sauté these. Cook until the carrot has slightly softened, 3-4 minutes, and then add the garlic. Cook this for 30 seconds, ensuring that it does not burn (it SHOULDN’T but keep an eye on it). Deglaze the entire situation with the wine, scraping the bottom of the Dutch oven to release all the fond bits.
Add the chopped rutabaga, turnip, bay leaves, and thyme. Add enough of the reserved mushroom steeping liquid to fully submerge the root vegetables. Keep this ready for later if you need to add more liquid, because why add plain ol’ water if this stuff exists? Crank the heat temporarily to bring this to a boil, and then back it down to a healthy simmer. Turnips and rutabaga generally take a bit longer to fully cook through than a regular potato, so a full simmer may not cut it.
Throw the chanterelle mushrooms and pearl onions into the mix. It’s basically impossible to overcook mushrooms (thanks Dan Souza), and pearl onions are best when they melt in your mouth.
Lay the chicken thighs into the stew as well as any juices that seeped out onto the plate. Ideally there should be JUST enough water to mostly cover the thighs. If not, you know the drill, add some more wine and/or mushroom liquid. We’re cooking this with the lid on for some amount of time, so you shouldn’t expect much evaporation, but we do eventually reduce the entire stew by a bit at the end.
Place the lid on, and over low heat, braise for 45 minutes to an hour, trying to not remove the lid much. After 30 minutes, check the doneness of the root vegetables (they will likely still have a strong bite, but make sure you aren’t boiling everything away). Adjust your cooking time as necessary to get your turnip and rutabaga about 85-90% cooked, you should only feel a small amount of resistance as you poke a knife into a piece.
Remove the chicken and turn the heat back up to a medium-high-ish heat. Reduce the liquid out of the stew to finish cooking the root vegetables. Alternatively, if you forgot about the stew for a bit and the root vegetables are already cooked, evacuate all of the solids and reduce the liquid alone, by about 1/3. You’re not looking for a massively thick reduction, but enough of the starch will have gelatinized to give you a nice stew consistency.
Remove from the heat, and add the butter, stirring to slightly emulsify or mount the sauce. Squeeze in the lemon juice, catching any seeds that try to hitch a ride. Again, you’re not really going for a super nappe pan sauce consistency, but something thick enough to gently coat the back of a spoon.
Add the chicken back to the top of the stew, garnish with some fresh thyme, and serve! You can go with a ton of different serving options. My favorite is alone with the root veg, and a crusty baguette. You can also totally make some mashed potatoes (which help further thicken the stew in your bowl). I’ve seen suggestions to serve with fresh pasta, but I feel that may be overkill with the addition of turnip and rutabaga. Look I just like these particular root veg, ok? Let me have my moment.
Grab a large bowl and fill with ice cold water.
Take the leek, note where the white starts to turn into green, and discard the inedible green bits. You should be left with at least 4 inches of serviceable leek. If you don’t, feel free to supplement this with a small amount of onion (you all keep onions regularly on hand, right?) Leaving the root end attached, slice the leek lengthwise into quarters (it’ll look like a fan at this point), and thoroughly wash out the leek under cold tap water. Leeks are notoriously dirty. Finely chop these into ¼”-1/2” chunks. Do likewise with the carrot. Set aside.
Using your kitchen shears (you can also go at this with a flexible boning knife if you’re feeling zesty), debone your chicken thighs. Yeah, yeah I know I said to get bone-in thighs, and it seems weird to then…remove the bone, but it’s hard to get boneless, but still skin-on thighs, and we don’t want to waste the valuable flavor and fat in the chicken skin. Alton Brown has a few video tutorials on this process, but you’re basically snipping the ‘knuckle’ ends off slowly, and then working your way lengthwise down the bone, peeling back the bone after every cut. Imagine this like butterflying open a large roast or big chop. Realistically, you can also just leave the bone in, but I find it’s more cumbersome to eat with the bone left in. You may also have to let it braise 10-15 minutes longer.
Thoroughly dry the chicken thighs. Using paper towels is your best option here, albeit not necessarily environmentally friendly. Liberally salt and pepper these on both sides and set aside.
Boil approximately 3 c. water (I like to use an electric kettle, in which you should definitely own one). Take 1 cup of this water and steep the dehydrated mushrooms for at least 10 minutes in a heat safe bowl. Reserve the liquid as this is precious umami that you shouldn’t waste.
Take the other two cups of boiling water and pour over the pearl onions to quickly “blanch” to aid in peeling. I hesitate to say blanch as you haven’t added any salt, but can you even steep onions? Lemme know in the comments below. After 2-3 minutes, these should be soft, so drain them and immediately transfer to the ice water bath to shock the onion skins. To quickly peel these, trim the root end (you know, the end with all the gangly root-like tendrils) and squeeze the onion out of its skin.
The Business:
In your Dutch oven, heat the lard over medium to medium-high heat until shimmering. Carefully place the thighs into the oil, skin side down and brown until they can easily release from the bottom of the pot. This should take 3-4 minutes or so. Don’t bother or toss them after you place into the pan. I know what you’re thinking, why bother with crisping the skin, if you’re just going to braise it, thus creating soggy skin again. Well, I’m glad you asked: First, the Maillard reaction for flavor. I don’t even need to explain further. Second, this will render some of the fat in the skin, which is more flavor. Third, imagine if you just tossed raw chicken into a stew to get even more soggy.
2 - 1 > 0 - 1 after all, if you follow me.
Turn the chicken thighs over and cook on the exposed side for another minute to develop a little more flavor from the Maillard reaction. I should really do a blog post about that. Evacuate to a plate.
Inspect how much fat you have remaining in the pot. I like to remove all but about 2 Tbsp of the now mixed fat, as to not completely overpower the entire dish, but you can certainly leave it all in. Turn the heat down to just below medium. Toss the leek, carrot, and a pinch of salt in. Keep this moving as you’re not looking to sauté these. Cook until the carrot has slightly softened, 3-4 minutes, and then add the garlic. Cook this for 30 seconds, ensuring that it does not burn (it SHOULDN’T but keep an eye on it). Deglaze the entire situation with the wine, scraping the bottom of the Dutch oven to release all the fond bits.
Add the chopped rutabaga, turnip, bay leaves, and thyme. Add enough of the reserved mushroom steeping liquid to fully submerge the root vegetables. Keep this ready for later if you need to add more liquid, because why add plain ol’ water if this stuff exists? Crank the heat temporarily to bring this to a boil, and then back it down to a healthy simmer. Turnips and rutabaga generally take a bit longer to fully cook through than a regular potato, so a full simmer may not cut it.
Throw the chanterelle mushrooms and pearl onions into the mix. It’s basically impossible to overcook mushrooms (thanks Dan Souza), and pearl onions are best when they melt in your mouth.
Lay the chicken thighs into the stew as well as any juices that seeped out onto the plate. Ideally there should be JUST enough water to mostly cover the thighs. If not, you know the drill, add some more wine and/or mushroom liquid. We’re cooking this with the lid on for some amount of time, so you shouldn’t expect much evaporation, but we do eventually reduce the entire stew by a bit at the end.
Place the lid on, and over low heat, braise for 45 minutes to an hour, trying to not remove the lid much. After 30 minutes, check the doneness of the root vegetables (they will likely still have a strong bite, but make sure you aren’t boiling everything away). Adjust your cooking time as necessary to get your turnip and rutabaga about 85-90% cooked, you should only feel a small amount of resistance as you poke a knife into a piece.
Remove the chicken and turn the heat back up to a medium-high-ish heat. Reduce the liquid out of the stew to finish cooking the root vegetables. Alternatively, if you forgot about the stew for a bit and the root vegetables are already cooked, evacuate all of the solids and reduce the liquid alone, by about 1/3. You’re not looking for a massively thick reduction, but enough of the starch will have gelatinized to give you a nice stew consistency.
Remove from the heat, and add the butter, stirring to slightly emulsify or mount the sauce. Squeeze in the lemon juice, catching any seeds that try to hitch a ride. Again, you’re not really going for a super nappe pan sauce consistency, but something thick enough to gently coat the back of a spoon.
Add the chicken back to the top of the stew, garnish with some fresh thyme, and serve! You can go with a ton of different serving options. My favorite is alone with the root veg, and a crusty baguette. You can also totally make some mashed potatoes (which help further thicken the stew in your bowl). I’ve seen suggestions to serve with fresh pasta, but I feel that may be overkill with the addition of turnip and rutabaga. Look I just like these particular root veg, ok? Let me have my moment.