fall vegetable chicken pot pie

This might be my favorite dinner to bring to people who need it.
Birthed a child lately? Dealing with illness? The world just conspiring in a way that could be fixed by a warm dinner whisked into your kitchen?

I'm bringing you chicken pot pie.

I have a lovely friend who's husband is dealing with a serious illness. She's parenting her girls and keeping it all together. Everyone wants to help, and so a friend created a dinner schedule to feed them into next year.
Food trees saved us after both the girls were born. Whenever someone asks me what to get for a friend about to have a baby, I say get on the phone and make a dinner schedule. Four weeks of dinners every other night might be thing that saves a family from post baby overwhelm. These are amazing for new parents, but sometimes even more helpful for families who are dealing with illness or stressful transitions. Sometimes just taking the question of what's for dinner out of the equation makes all the difference.
Yesterday, it was my time to cook. I structured the day around this chicken pot pie. The girls were home for the holiday and I was determined to get that dinner out the door by 5:30.
Then we went canoeing.
We have, recently, come into temporary inheritance of a perfect family canoe. It was one of those days yesterday--blue sky, orange leaves, sweater. Joey looked at me with big eyes, like a man who was raised in the high desert of Colorado. "Family canoe ride!" That was all it took.
Cider in the thermos, crackers and cheese. We paddled our way around that lake, directed all the while by the girls in the middle, grabbing lily pads and pointing us toward the tiny and uninhibited islands in the center of the lake. When we finally got home it was almost 4, and near tears, I handed Joey a knife and a nubby globe of celeriac.

I ran out the door at 6:15, ashamed of my inability to do anything on time. I swore to myself that I would get more organized, that I would stop rushing yet still do everything peacefully and exactly when I should. I swore that I would be more perfect.

It takes about 15 minutes to get to Tonya's house. The light was just petering out, and the gold and red of the trees gave the image of the loveliest flame lining the road. The chill had come in, and as I got into the car I could smell someone's wood stove. I turned on the tail end of All things Considered on NPR, and I drove at a rational speed. I hoped that the bubbling chicken pot pie wouldn't melt my rubber floor mat, and the scent of that pie filled every inch of the car.

It was an amazing drive.

When I got there, Tonya and her girls were already dancing around in their pjs. This woman is amazing--I had called to say I would be late, and still profusely apologizing as I walked in, I got laughs and hugs and nearly dropped the pan on the floor. Tonya shoved some of yesterday's leftovers in my arms--her refrigerator is overflowing with friends' generosity, and I was back off into the coming blue night, heading towards my own little plate of pot pie.

Someday, I will be better. I'll get dinner out on time, and that will be good for us all. I'll be a calm center of speed without a moment of rush or panic--I'll think back on this time when I was always late, always attempting too much in too little time.

Someday.

Until then, I'm still bringing you chicken pot pie. Just have a snack first...I'll be there soon.


Fall Vegetable Chicken Pot Pie
(with thanks to Joey for vegetable cutting and for peaceful and loving response to panicked requests of "will you photograph this? And well? It will be dark when I get back!")

1 whole chicken, 4-5 pounds
2 bay leaves
1 onion, diced
3 carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
1 leek, trimmed and cut into 1-inch slices
1 small celeriac root, peeled and cut into chunks (cut into discs first, then cut off peel)
2 cups cubed winter squash (anything will do!)
1 pound potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
salt and pepper to taste

For the biscuits:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick butter, cubed
1 egg
2/3 cup buttermilk

Put the chicken and the bay leaves in a stock pot. Just cover with water, cover, and bring to a boil. Skim off any foam on the surface. Reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes. Then, add the all of the vegetables except for the winter squash. Cook for 20 minutes more, then add the squash. Cook the mixture until the chicken is cooked through and beginning to fall apart a bit. Remove the chicken and let it cool on a plate.
Uncover the broth a vegetables and cook for 30 minutes, or until reduced by about a quarter. Meanwhile, when the chicken is cool enough to touch, pick off all of the meat and shred into bite-sized pieces. Set aside for a moment.
Melt the butter in a large saucepan. Skim off 1/4 cup of chicken fat from the top of your broth and whisk into the butter. Add the flour and continue to whisk until it starts to go slightly golden. Dip a measuring cup into your broth and scoop 3 1/2 cups of broth into the pot. Keep whisking until the sauce begins to thicken and it is not lumpy. Add the chicken and stir in the sauce to coat. Strain the vegetables out of the broth with a slotted spoon and add those as well. Stir in the parsley and thyme and a bit of salt and pepper. Taste and adjust seasonings to your preference. Turn off the heat.
Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a mixing bowl. Rub the butter into the flour mixture with a pastry blender or your fingers. Beat the buttermilk and egg together in a liquid measure or small bowl. Stir wet into dry with a few strokes. The mixture will be wet and sticky.
Pour the chicken vegetable mixture into a 9x13 casserole dish. Scoop the biscuit mixture onto the chicken in eight rounds (imagine biscuit on each piece). Bake for 18-20 minutes, or until the biscuits are golden.

Serves 8

And yes! It's fall fest day! This week we're cooking up pumpkin and winter squash, and it looks like it will be a warm and toasty table. Squashes lining up on your counter? Here are a few things to do with 'em...

• Gilded Fork: Butternut Squash Bisque with Nutmeg Crème Fraîche



• Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Roasted Pumpkin and Winter Squash with Labneh and Skhug



• Alison at Food2: Pumpkin Donuts



• Toby at Healthy Eats: Pumpkin 5 Ways (Including Seed-Studded Pumpkin Bread)



• Kirsten at Food Network: Best Pumpkin Recipes



• Michelle at Cooking Channel: Pumpkin and Squash Recipes



• Food Network UK: Praise the Gourd



• Cate at Sweetnicks: Baked Acorn Squash with Brown Sugar and Butter



• Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Clay Pot Winter Squash



• Paige at The Sister Project: Pumpkin, Roasted, Stuffed and All Grown Up
  

lemon balsamic chicken

I don't know what you did, but thank you!
Just minutes after writing my last post, I got to work on dinner. And from the moment everyone got home from school to the 7:00 bedtime click of the girls' door, there were... (are you ready for this?) NO TEARS.
And hopefully I can say this without cursing myself...last night and tonight were also tear free. Whine free. Scream free. In all honesty, as I was making dinner tonight, I heard Sadie say to Rosie as they were working on their tag sale score of the day (American Girl Paper Dolls!), "Rosie! I just want to sh-argh. rah. AHHHHHHH! STOP!" But I put on the earmuffs, turned up the music (New Pornographers new album! Get it!) and the situation seemed to resolve itself with minimal bloodshed.
So what is it? Did someone out there work some wild dinner time magic? Or maybe it was just the power of writing it down? (amazing what that can do, really) Whatever it is, I won't question it. Although when I really delve deeper, I guess it is possible that just a teeny weeny bit of the dry eyes at dinner time might have something to do with what we ate that night. It might be the chicken.

I'm not a big chicken parts kind of girl. I like a nice buttery roast chicken, and I like chicken soup. But chicken parts with stuff grilled/broiled/baked in? I'll eat it without complaint, but I don't leap for the recipe. Honestly, chicken is a little too cooked for me. I like a good steak, maybe some duck or lamb. I like a piece of meat with some life in it, and by life I mean blood. If chicken bleeds is likely to make you sick, and I hold that against it.

But something in this recipe made me pause. All that lemon zest was enticing, and mostly I made it because Tammi told me to.

Tammi has a blog that you should be reading. I've never met her, but every time I'm in her kitchen by way of her writing, I laugh. I really laugh. I snort, and I spit out my coffee. She's funny, but she's so real and full of heart, which makes it even easier to laugh. She's also really on it when it comes to food. So when she told me that this was the best chicken ever, I said okay then- the best chicken ever is good enough for me. Bring on the chicken parts.

The whole family was coming over- that's us plus my mom and stepfather and sister, and I got a lot of chicken parts. I stuffed handfuls of green beans into a bag at the store, threw a little sack of orzo in the cart, and dinner was only a few zests of the lemon away.

And the chicken? Yes, I think it was perhaps the best chicken ever. It was one of those dinners that we couldn't stop talking about as we ate- "wow. good chicken. yeah. this is good chicken." Although I have to say that cold the next day, it might even have been better. This would be a damn fine picnic chicken, if your the sort who brings cold chicken on picnics (which I am not, but that might change after this one).

Because I really mean it about Tammi, I'm not even going to give you the recipe for this one. I'm going to send you over there, so you can take a peek around. Just make sure if you are drinking coffee that you aim away from your laptop if you are prone to snorting when you laugh. With a mouthful of coffee, a real laugh can be the death of your keyboard, so aim at the wall.

Mole au Poulet

I have a funny history when it comes to cutting up chickens. It was never something that I learned how to do, but then when I got all preachy and dogmatic about only buying local chickens, it was something that I had to learn. I have this really great friend Ron, and although he's a raw foodist, he is more talented at preparing and cooking meat than anyone I know. A few years ago, he took pity on me and we stood in his beautiful farmhouse kitchen, cutting up multiple chickens. Then we made Patricia Wells' Vinegar Chicken, which is a phenomenal thing. I felt very good about myself for acquiring this useful and hardcore skill, and for the next few months I cut up chickens serenely and full of self love.
Then something changed. I took a break, and when I came back to cut up a chicken, the logic wasn't there for me anymore. I hacked at the thing, there were ribs everywhere, and I cut myself on the butchered skeleton of the poor thing. Cutting yourself on a raw chicken is really gross, and also a bit traumatic, and for the next few years, we had only roast, whole chicken.
This week, I felt it was time to try my hand at the knife again. I claim to be all into cooking and everything, and what kind of cook won't cut up a chicken? As further motivation, I've been reading David Lebovitz's new book, and he entranced me with an easy quick mole that he swears tastes like the real thing.
Of course, in my usual style, I decide to accomplish this task at the very wrong time. I've been at work all day, and come home at six to pass like a ship in the night past Joey, who is off to a staff meeting for his upcoming art camp. The kids are finishing their omelettes, and they are totally crazy. I mean, whirly, loopy crazy. They're jumping up and down, making fart jokes, walking down the hallway on their hands- some other force has possessed them.
"Girls! Put on your pajamas!"
"No! Mom, Pom, loo lee la! Ha!" (Maniacal laughter from both)
"Okay, then keep a lid on it until I tell you I've cut this chicken!"
"Huh?" (This has peaked their interest)
"Don't ask questions! Out of my kitchen!"

I face my adversary, knife in hand.
"Ew! I see blood!"
"Out of my kitchen!" Perhaps the knife raised above my head finally gets my point across.
I start to go for it, and it starts out pretty well. Cut the skin by the thigh, break the joint, remove the leg. Same on the other side. Pretty similar with the wings, but whoops, I cup into the breast by mistake. I start to feel a little worried. And then around the back, I just get lost. Before I know it, I'm in that old nightmare only it's really happening, and there are chicken ribs everywhere. And what am I supposed to do with the neck? And all of the organs attached to the back? It's a mess. And Rosie has snuck back into the kitchen and has perched herself on top of a stool so that she can give Sadie a play by play.
"Bones! Ew! and bloody! and raw! and ew!"
"This is an animal that we are thankful for and we will respect," I say. "And it's delicious."
"Ew!"
I'm agreeing with her at this point, although I won't admit it. The chicken has won, and I'm not feeling too excited about eating it. And I'm also afraid that I might cut my mouth on the hack job that I did of its ribcage.
Good thing that I am slathering it in chocolate chili sauce. We just might come through okay.

Mole au Poulet
from David Lebovitz's The Sweet Life in Paris

1 chicken, cut into 8 pieces, or 4 legs and 4 thighs
1 T coarse salt
2 bay leaves
1/2 batch, about 2 cups Chocolate Mole (see below)
a few toasted sesame seeds

Put the chicken in a large pot and cover with water. Add salt and bay leaves. Cover and bring to a boil; then reduce the heat and simmer for twenty minutes. Turn off the heat and let it rest for twenty minutes.
Transfer the chicken to a platter. Reserve the cooking liquid. When cool enough to handle, remove and discard the skin.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Arrange the chicken pieces in a baking dish just big enough to hold them all.
Add a bit of the cooking liquid to the mole. The sauce should be the consistency of runny chocolate pudding. Discard the rest of the liquid or use it in place of water to make rice.
Spoon the mole over the chicken and bake for 30 to 40 minutes.
Sprinkle the top with sesame seeds and serve.



Mole au Chocolate
(from David Lebovitz again)

If you can, make this at least a day before you plan to use it. I found that the flavor was infinitely better the second day. This also freezes well.

10 dried ancho or poblano chiles
3/4 cup raisins
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
1 1/4 cups water or chicken stock
1 T canola oil
1 large onion, peeled and chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
3 T sesame seeds
3/4 cup sliced almonds, toasted
3 tomatoes, peeled seeded and chopped, or 1 1/2 cups canned tomatoes and their juice
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp ground anise seeds
1 1/2 tsp coarse salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp chile powder

Remove the stems from the chiles. Slice them in half lengthwise and scrape out most of the seeds. Put the chiles in a nonreactive pot, cover with water, set a small plate on top to keep the chiles submerged, and simmer for 10 minutes until tender. Remove from heat and let stand until cool.
Put the raisins and chocolate in a blender. Heat the water or stock, and then pour it in the blender and let stand for a few minutes to soften the chocolate.
In a skillet, heat the oil, then saute the onion until limp and transluscent, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for a few more minutes, stirring frequently.
Drain the chiles and add them to the blender along with the onion and garlic, sesame seeds, almonds, tomatoes, and all the spices. Taste, and add more chile powder and salt if it needs it.

Soup of the Week: Chicken Soup with Dumplings

So there are these nights when I have usually had the day to myself and things are going pretty well. I've gotten dinner out before everyone has turned into hungry monsters and usually there are candles. And my husband gets water for everyone and beams at me across the table. And these are the nights where the kids put the napkins out when I ask them to, and when they say (get ready for this) Thank you mom for this beautiful dinner. Yes, it's rare, but these nights come around every so often. And usually they coincide with the presence of chicken soup and dumplings. Because if there is one thing that you can be sure of, it is that kids+dumplings=happy.



So I know that we've all got our chicken soup recipes, but I find that chicken soup is all too often missing dumplings, so here's my very own chicken soup:

1 chicken of any size, washed
quite a bit of water
1 large onion, diced
8 cloves of garlic, diced
3 ribs of celery, cut in 1/2 inch slices
3 large carrots, peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
2 inches of fresh ginger, peeled and diced tiny
the juice of two lemons
lots of salt
a little bit of fresh pepper

And for the dumplings, from The Joy of Cooking

1/4 c soft butter
1 egg
1 c all purpose flour
6 T milk
1/2 t salt

Put the chicken in a large pot and just cover with water. Bring to a boil, skim off the scuzz, turn down the heat, and cover. Cook for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, or whenever the chicken is close to looking like it is going to fall apart. Carefully remove the chicken with a couple of large utensils and let it cool a bit in a mixing bowl.
Add all of the chopped vegetables to the broth. Let them cook at a bubbling simmer for at lease twenty minutes.
In a mixing bowl, cream the butter and egg until fairly smooth. Stir in the flour and the salt. Slowly add the milk, and stir to combine. The mixture will be wet and lumpy.
Bring the soup up to a low boil. Using a teaspoon, drop scoops of the batter into the boiling soup.
Remove all of the meat from the chicken in bite sized pieces. When all of the dumplings are floating at the top of the soup, lower the heat. Add the chicken. Add the lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste. Light candles.