asparagus

Pan-Roasted Chicken Parts with Micro-Steamed Asparagus

Posted on by Craig Stewart

There’s just something special about meat on the bone. It’s primal. When I eat it I feel like the top of the food chain. I feel like a hunter, when most of the time it’s Colonel Sanders doing the real work. I’ve only been hunting once. I fell out of a tree stand. I don’t think the sport is for me. I’ll stick to food for getting the caveman juices flowing.

Making Pan-Roasted Chicken Parts (Page 365) with Micro-Steamed Asparagus (Page 242) was about more than just pan-roasting a chicken. That would be too easy. This is America. You’ve got to work for your food and make all those Republican Presidential Nominees proud. Since the only hunting I know how to do is for my keys in the morning, I had to get up close and personal with my bird in a different way.

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I’m talking butchery. I’m about to get all Michael Myers on this poor little five-pound bird and chop it into little tiny pieces. Eight of them to be exact.

I started by popping the leg and thigh out of their socket. I was expecting to be slicing and dicing, not performing fowl physical therapy. Luckily the next step was more my speed, lopping off the dark meat bits with my handy dandy assault weapon.

If this was a slasher film it would be a boring one. Not Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan boring, but close. I’m not really chopping the legs off as much as I am grinding the chicken into submission. Maybe if I pull at the legs they will just pop off like Mr. Potato Head.

After the most disappointing dismemberment scene since the latest Eli Roth movie, the meat chunks kind of look like legs and thighs, so it’s on to breasts. I needed to separate the breasts from the back, then separate the breasts from each other, then slice the breasts in half. If anyone Google searches “breasts”, I’m really hoping this post shows up and they are wildly disappointed.

The back separates surprisingly easily. What the hell do I with a chicken back? The Food Lab says to make stock. I say that’s more work than I’m willing to put into this right now. I give up and throw it in the freezer, where it will be forgotten.

Did you know they throw in extra parts for free when you buy a whole chicken? I think I found a liver, kidney and a heart. I never found any lungs. This chicken must have had a really shit mile time in high school.

I am all that is man. I have butchered my bird. It took the better part of half an hour, but I did it. With my bloodbath complete I was left with 13 vaguely chicken-shaped pieces. I somehow made five extra and I don’t know how. I decide that this is a good thing, because more chicken is always better.

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Now it’s time for the chicken to go for a seaside holiday, in a process called brining. Brining sounds fancy, but apparently all it takes is soaking the chicken in salt water. This I can do. Waiting 45 minutes? This I cannot.

I filled the time by watching Frasier. I still haven’t watched Making a Murder, Better Caul Saul, or The Walking Dead, but I’ve watched six seasons of a 20-year old network single-camera sitcom. Maybe I’ll catch up on Night Court next. No spoilers please.

It’s finally time to cook. I throw the first piece in skin side down and quickly realize, this pan is too small. Other than this small issue and an equally small grease fire everything goes surprisingly well. I flip the chunks when brown and throw them in the oven with a thermometer. Now comes my favorite part, more Frasier.

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Why am I doing this? It’s 2016. Watch House of Cards or something.

After 22 minutes of watching Niles and Daphne making eyes at each other, the chicken comes out of the oven. I grab the thermometer that’s been inside the bird for half an hour, burn my fingers off and drop the thermometer on the floor. I immediately pick it up with my other hand and burn those fingers off too. Finally, I wise up and grab it with my sleeves like I’m wiping off finger prints at a crime scene.

The second chicken batch is ready for the oven. Instinctively, I grab the thermometer and burn my hands off for the third time. I have no brain cells left to lose so I bang my head angrily on the countertop.

Luckily making Micro-Steamed Asparagus takes no cognitive thinking. It barely requires hands. You place the asparagus on a microwave safe plate, cover it with damp paper towels and microwave it. That’s it. I don’t know why or how this book dedicated four pages to this process, but they did. This recipe doesn’t belong in The Food Lab. It belongs here.

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After preparing my microwave vegetables I took this picture.

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I don’t know what that growth is, but I’m starving and don’t care. I immediately added two more chicken chunks on the plate, because it’s almost bedtime and dammit daddy’s hungry.

It’s great. The chicken is crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside. All the recipe took was chicken, the basic bitch of food, salt and pepper. That was it. The asparagus tastes like microwaved asparagus, and it’s shockingly good. There’s only one thing left to answer. What show will I watch while I enjoy this masterpiece?

Smart money is on Frasier.

Recipe: 23/23

Did I do the dishes? Yes.

Ultra-Crisp-Skinned Pan-Roasted Salmon Filets with Cherry Tomato-Shallot Relish and Braised Asparagus.

Posted on by Craig Stewart

I came to two conclusions this week. First, if I ever want to finish this thing I’m going to have to double up on recipes. Second, I do not look good in straight-on photos right now. Those two realizations drove me to select this week’s dish, a healthy triple header, Ultra-Crisp-Skinned Pan-Roasted Salmon Filets (Page 380) with Cherry Tomato-Shallot Relish (Page 382) and Braised Asparagus (Page 445).

Sounds healthy on paper. The amount of grease on my hands and keyboard disagree.

My first hiccup occurred at the grocery store. Confession time, I have no idea what a shallot is. I thought it was a type of fish. I first looked for them next to the salmon. I found scallops, but not shallots.

Shallots are not a meat, so they must be a vegetable. I next went to the lettuce section. I found parsley, something else I needed. I only needed two tablespoons of the useless stuff, but you have to buy an entire head. I am not pleased. Olive Garden doesn’t use this much parsley during Never-Ending Pasta Month.

Shallots are not a leafy vegetable, so I went to the mushroom section. I did not find shallots.

Shallots are not a fungus, so I went to the potato section. I did not find shallots.

In the far back reaches of the produce section sits a world nearly untouched by the hands of man, the onion section. There you will find the shallot, next to a wise old guru who makes fun of you for not knowing what a shallot is. Apparently it’s just a tiny, oddly-shaped onion. Super exciting.

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Back to the kitchen. I consulted the ten pages of The Food Lab dedicated to Ultra-Crisp-Skinned Pan-Roasted Salmon and decided that the author has too much time on his hands and uses too many adjectives.

I prepared all of my ingredients before I started cooking, which is a very new step for me. My kitchen preparations generally consist of opening the freezer, then opening the microwave.

Prep takes too long. If I was on Chopped I would have wasted my entire 20 minutes on the near-impossible task of chopping parsley. I tried banging my knife on the cutting board, rocking it back and forth, pulling it apart with my hands, yelling at it and cursing loudly. Nothing worked at achieving perfect little parsley pieces. Eventually I ended up with three separate parsley piles. The first was salvageable but still probably still too big. The second was a pile of parsley leaves large enough to fan the Pharaoh. The third was stems, all of which still had parsley on them despite my noble efforts. I think they make you buy so much of this worthless garnish because they want it to haunt your home even after you’re done cooking.

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As I chopped my shallot I began to cry. I don’t think it’s an emotional attachment to the shallot I spent so long looking for, but I did go through a lot for this little member of the onion family. I’ve now cried twice in three days, over shallots and the St. Louis Rams moving to Los Angeles. This cooking thing is making me soft.

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I started off by browning the asparagus in oil. Once it was browned I braised it by adding three tablespoons of butter and covering. So far I’m counting three tablespoons of butter and two tablespoons of oil.

I’m supposed to cook the salmon with the skin on in hot oil and flip for the final few seconds when the “skin releases” whatever the hell that means. That’s three tablespoons of butter and four tablespoons of oil for those playing along at home.

I combined the tomatoes, shallots, parsley, balsamic vinegar and oil together to create the relish. That’s three tablespoons of butter and six tablespoons of oil. I know why we’re going to run out of oil one day, it’s all on my plate.

My hopes of this actually being a healthy meal have gone away, but at this point it smells pretty damn good, so I don’t really care. Healthy crap can start tomorrow.

Disaster strikes. The first piece of fish flipped easily. The second flipped on the counter like it was trying to get back for mating season. I captured it with my bare hands before he found his way to the floor. For that brief moment, I was the Crocodile Hunter.

By now the asparagus, butter, oil, and chicken broth bonanza is supposed to have cooked down to a glaze. Mine looks more like a soup. I’m hungry and I’m not picky. I decide the poor asparagus has served his time in the pan-itentiary and it gets out early for good behavior.

Looking at my pieces I find myself overwhelmed with pride, and decide to attempt to plate my dish with a little bit of presentation like they do on the TV.

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Eat your heart out Scott Conant. I can hear the applause from here.

The salmon turned out incredible. It was tender with crispy skin. It had all of the good of salmon and none of the bad. Biggest deal for me? It didn’t take very long. I’m pretty proud of myself. This one’s going in the back pocket for quick evening meals that are possibly but probably not healthy.

I loved the relish, but hated the preparation time. Chopping parsley, tomatoes and shallots takes way too much time. Plus, you can buy relish from a hot dog cart anyway.

The asparagus I enjoyed. I should probably have cooked it down longer because it was still a little firm. I’ve always loved asparagus though so I don’t mind. The most fun part about eating asparagus hasn’t happened yet as of this writing, and you probably don’t want to read about that anyway.

Now, my house smells like fish. The 1000 page cookbook doesn’t cover how to eliminate it. Sorry coworkers, but I made two pieces and only ate one. You’ll get to experience the sensation in person tomorrow.

Recipe Rating: 14/15

Did I do the dishes? Yes