Poaching chicken with aromatic vegetables is a standard practice for producing stock, or soup/broth. It is the 'twice-cooked' way of approach which sets it apart, and creates enough intrigue for the chef to make the attempt.
Starting with cold water and bringing to a boil is in itself interesting and manifests in a massive exhaustion of grease from the bird which must be skimmed and even then coats everything. I initally intended to complete the eat the dish in a single night; I was short for time but realized that even if I had not been this was too intense a procedure for a single evening's dinner.
I covered my bird with its veg and then withheld the urge for self-abuse when I realized my dutch oven was far too small for this large piece of poultry. The small fryers were on sale but were quite tiny, I opted for this big one (also on sale, $13) and should have known better.
Upon transfer I let the bird come to a simmer, all the while carefully monitoring. When it reached a dull bubble I removed it from the heat and let it sit, lid on, for about an hour before moving it to the fridge. It stayed there nearly 18 hours until the next day when I was famished and ready to complete the process.
I have made tanker trucks and swimming pools worth of stock but have never seen such a gasoline sheen on the liquid like this one. I am convinced that the process was not fully to credit but perhaps also this bird was especially in need of liposuction while still mortal. Either way, having left this in the fridge and well chilled made removal quite easy.
It is not clear how long Fergus intended the reader to leave the bird before its second cook but this makes sense for many reasons. Besides fat removal ease, I imagined the bird cooling in its flavorful liquid and reaborbing flavor. Besides that of the vegetable stock surrounding it, its own lost chicken essense might be reaborbed by osmosis. More on that note later.
I removed the deadened vegetables and strained the liquid. Having nearly a gallon yield I reserved a full quart for my leeks and relegated myself to dilution (about a quart) for my chicken. Seemed casual as the stock produced appeared to be of a very intense rank. Quite gelatinous and tasty as well, I knew it would not suffer from some addition of H2O.
"...Immerse your chicken for 30 minutes to heat through thoroughly; you will now have a moist bird without its falling apart or being toughened from hard boiling."
This logic appeals to me and I can attest that the product was of such quality.
As it cooked, I prepared my leeks. They were of an especially filthy breed even for their own ilk. I closed the sink drain and submerged them, and scrubbed wildly.
There is something primal in the appeal of chopping leeks. They are substantial enough that a chef's knife held properly on a sturdy cutting board (all of which I have attained, along with the correct skills) that drives me manic. I transformed them into small half curls, I have before fried these in my cast iron skillet with some grease, today would be a different preperation.
Jumping forward to the tasting stage I would say that leeks when steamed or cooked in a flavorful liquid such as this truly retain their taste, that is the taste of earth. It is the breeze of memories from snacking in gardens as a child, of the real organic carbon based earth, the dirt, in which all plants grow.
The leeks piled in my pot to a level exceeding the liquid but I was satisfied with this and convinced this is what Fergus intended. With lid on and such even, excellent heat retention they were nearly overcooked in short order. On first sampling I was convinced I overcooked them but after eating them twice more as leftovers I have reneged on that arrangement and decisively countered that I was correct as their essence is intact.
Having reached its end in heating, I removed my chicken from its bath (reserving the double-dipped liquid, of course). I promptly ate one wing (my standard practice when roasting a bird) then carved off a breast and a hindquarter.
I have eaten chicken from farms only a couple times and while a non-factory, unbrined bird can be tough, the elemental flavors are second to none. Nothing tastes so much like chicken then a bird of this sort. I believe it was this process that reserved and even emphasized this aspect and indeed no cut of the bird was anywhere near dry - promise kept by Fergus.
I do not know if this serves as any kind of alternative to the browned, crispy skinned bird produced by a hot oven but after a few days of thought and continued consumption I have begun to view it as seperate but equal. I also produced an aioli as instructed but as this is a separate reciept I have outlined it in its own post after this.
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