Recipe #13: 'Cock-a-Leekie Soup' (page 14-15)

Not explained within the text, this soup is Scottish and quite simple in preparation. It is for the most part, a barren chicken soup accompanied by only leeks. This is a laughable variant, grand in scale which not only adds another meat but a brined one at that. The adjunct takes the center stage.

I brined my meat for 10 of the maximum 12 days recommended by the recipe; this is outlined in my previous post. I eagerly decanted it from its brine and inspected, it had turned an expected shade of grey without the help of additions to control that variable.

I cooked it for over two hours with the aromatic veg recommended and scoffed at the absence of celery - which is included in the next stock making exercise below - but followed it none the less.

When completed I moved the hot pot to my fridge to cool (beef still in its bath) on a trivet of wooden spoons so as not to melt or damage my fridge's shelf. My chicken stock was already on going with a procedure followed just a couple of posts earlier.

As this was Sunday after all, I took a deserved nap. When I awoke, everything had cooled and removed the meats from their liquids and did away with bones and skin (of the chicken) and portioned both.

I strained all the garbage out of the stocks and laid their used veg to rest in the bin. I set aside a good portion of beef stock and bottled up the rest for my freezer as I knew I would not require it here.

Already having used a leek each in the two stocks, I added another pair to the pan with some oil. When I felt they had concentrated their flavors and sweat off enough water, I added the whole of my chicken stock and carefully blended in the beef stock while tasting. This was followed with the volume of meat and cooked just to heat and complete the cooking of the leeks.

I decided to forgo the prunes entirely as while they may be traditional I was disgusted with the application. I have had qualms about a few ingredients used in applications like this, through out the book thus far and never balked completely.

Fergus closes the recipe with 'Serve in big bowls with much bread at hand.' Indeed, what use is soup without bread? I baked a loaf of whole wheat. Shown here ready to be baked and freshly bench-proofed, it deflated a bit as I removed it from its proofer box to be photographed. It hardly suffered.

I wonder in the end how well my ratio of stock-to-meat added up but I was pleased with the final result and have a large helping left for myself. I also had plenty of extra chicken and brisket and have been eating them on sandwiches for lunch this week and that should continue for the remainder.

I gave away three large portions as well as some un-souped brisket and bread to friends and family. It was an ordeal creating this in my small kitchen but I relish the mania of it all. An excellent catalyst into a long running interest in brining meat, another brisket shall be underfoot soon.

Recipe #10: 'Boiled Chicken, Leeks, and Aioli' (page 113)

A recipe simple in ingredients and largely in technique but one which produces questions before anything has been undertaken.

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.

In my lightly clarified stock + water I submerged my fowl and began the cooking process again.  Fergus thoughts are:

"...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.