IMBB #24: Amanda Hesser's Lemon Chicken

I might have teased a few readers and friends some posts ago, promising to write the next day about the most amazing chicken recipe I'd made - but then the Tweety Scramble got in the way, and before I knew it it was Friday and people were accusing me of not delivering on the goods. And who am I to stand in the way of hungry, righteous cooks and their recipes?

Without further ado, I present to you the dish that made Ben look up from his plate a few days ago and proclaim firmly that this was the best thing I'd ever cooked for him. Ever. And I tell you, Ben's not the kind of guy to go throwing about proclamations like that as if they were peanuts. I have to admit that he does have a point. This chicken is good. And it's easy. Do I sound like a broken record sometimes with the "easy" and the "simple"? It's just that I feel those things so much contribute to the pleasure of a tasty meal. And in any case, this time it really is sort of the point.

The recipe comes a piece in the New York Times that Amanda Hesser wrote a few years ago about creme fraiche. Creme fraiche is Amanda's best friend: she has single-handedly done more publicity for the joys of creme fraiche than any other contemporary food writer I know. After buying a pot of creme fraiche for the Lemon Pizza last week, I spent the week using up the rest of it. There are certainly worse things in life: a dollop in my scrambled eggs, a fillip swirled into my soup, and several spoons cooked down into the silkiest, most fragrant sauce for chicken I have ever tasted.

All you do is fry some bone-in and well-seasoned chicken (I used two whole legs and two breasts) in a very hot pan until the skin is beautifully browned and crisp. Then you slide the pan into the oven to continue cooking until done. When the juices run clear from the chicken, remove it to a plate while you pour off most of the fat, add in the lemon juice and then the creme fraiche. Pour this golden gravy over your chicken, sprinkle it with a fluffy pile of lemon zest and you're done. The dish tastes bright and creamy at once - if you seasoned the chicken well, you've got a whole sparkling array of flavors to contend with.

To make this a contender for Too Many Chef's "Make It In 30 Minutes" Is My Blog Burning event, put a pot of rice on to boil in chicken stock as you're frying the chicken. While the chicken cooks in the oven, wash and dress a bowl of butter lettuce. By the time you've spooned the sauce over your chicken, the people you're cooking for will be practically begging you to feed them.

Lemon Chicken
Serves 4

1 1/2 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
4 whole chicken legs (thighs attached)
Coarse sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1/2 cup creme fraiche

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Heat a large ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat. After 3 minutes, add the butter and oil. Season the chicken generously with salt and very generously with pepper. Place the chicken, skin side down, in the skillet and brown well on both sides, turning once.

2. Transfer the skillet to the oven. Bake for 15 minutes, or until the juices run clear when the chicken is pierced with a knife.

3. Return the skillet to the stovetop. Transfer the chicken to a platter and keep warm. Remove all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the skillet. Place over medium heat, add the lemon juice, and stir to scrape up any pan drippings. Simmer for 1 minute, then add the creme fraiche and stir until melted and bubbling. If the sauce is too thick, add a few tablespoons of water. Pour the sauce over the chicken and sprinkle with lemon zest and additional pepper. Serve hot.

Comments

[foodmomiac]

sheesh luisa,
if you don't stop posting the greatest recipes ever, i will need to sell all of my cookbooks. :-)

One of my favorite uses for creme fraiche is swirled into butternut squash soup. yum...

[Gemma]

Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou :)

[Lindy]

Mmmm. I'm a fool for any lemon chicken combination. This sounds delicious.

I wonder if my creme fraiche substitute would work, as creme fraiche is not actually available around here. Usually when c.f. is called for in baking , or for garnishing, I make a bit of yogurt, using heavy cream, instead of milk. I read somewhere long ago that this would work.

The substitute generally tastes pretty good, but here creme fraiche is such a central part of the dish. I'm not really sure how much this sub tastes like the real thing-because I've only ever had c.f. once or twice, and am not sure I remember the taste.

[Luisa]

Foodmomiac - I know, it's a bit out of control lately. ;)

Gemma - you're welcome, my dear...

Lindy - darn, I meant to mention in the post about the homemade version of creme fraiche: I've made it before with great results. Take an empty, clean jar, fill it with 1 cup of whipping cream and add two tablespoons of buttermilk. Close the jar tightly and shake it, then let it sit on your kitchen counter (not the fridge!) for up to 24 hours, or until thickened. This keeps, refrigerated, for 10 days. It tastes fantastic - the real thing. So try this and forget about buying creme fraiche. And then make the chicken ;)

[Cathy]

This may just be the recipe to help me overcome my bird flu fears. Thanks Luisa.

[shauna]

Oh my god, I had a full meal, and now you made me hungry again. Sheesh!

Great job again, my dear. That Ben's a lucky man.

[Bonnie]

I just made this recipe tonight and my BF loved it! This is definitely making it into my recipe book because of how easy it is to put together. My only mistake was trying to pick up the skillet after taking it out of the oven - Ouch!! At least I know I will NEVER make that mistake again ;)

[Luisa]

Cathy - yikes! I hope this helps.

Shauna - Thank you. And it's gluten-free, right?

Bonnie - oh, I'm thrilled that you liked it. And listen, I've made the hot handle mistake more times than I can count. Each time I tell myself "that's the LAST time I do that" and yet it never is... sigh. Consider the burns battle scars - badges of honor ;)

[Grant]

This method is my favorite way to cook chicken and I LOVE the idea of the lemon and creme fraiche. I have a really nice recipe for chicken with lemon, garlic and rosemary on my blog that I think you'd like. You should check it out.

Ok so between this, the eggs, and the cauliflower I am going to be busy making all these fantastic recipes you keep posting. I'm going to have to take a day off from work.

[Julie]

Yum. And I actually have some creme fraiche in the refrigerator left over from something else.

[Luisa]

Grant - I will check out your chicken recipe, it sounds lovely. I'm always trying to find new ways of making chicken: Ben loves it and I tire easily of it, so... Glad I'm keeping you in the kitchen! :)

Julie - serendipity, I think!

[Molly]

Alright, I may be late to the party, but I want some lemon chicken too! Every time I hop over to see what you've had for dinner, my "must make" recipe stack gets a little thicker...

[Rebecca Pollak]

Does the creme fraiche substitute work with ulta-pastuerized heavy cream?

[Pru]

Finally got around to trying this. YUM! I will be making this again and again. I used bone-in breast halves this time. I have a gigantic and deep cast iron skillet (from a yard sale forty years ago) that works perfectly for this, as well as for a million other things.

[Julie]

I made this for dinner last night and it was WONDERFUL!

What a great recipe. It couldn't be simpler, it uses a minimum of ingredients, and it's ready in about 30 minutes.
Plus, it tastes really, really good.

[Megan]

I just made this tonight and it was delicious! Thanks for this recipe. You can't beat how easy it is, plus it tastes great. Thanks again!

[Emily]

I made this last night and it was amazing. Thanks for always inspiring me to cook! Rob was grateful too!

[Joy]

Luisa, Lemon chicken sounds so simple and good I will run out and get the ingredients today, and yes I also make my creme fraiche with cream and buttermilk. I really don't know where I got that recipe, but here in New Mexico we can't find anything like it in the stores. It's a wasteland for any kind of culinary ingredients of tools, unless of course you want fresh chile of any kind. We grow over 200 varieties of green chile in our valley. If you buy it in the can it's probably grown here...

[linda]

how do I find the recipe for creme fraiche? I want to make the lemon chicke that calls for it, but do not have a recipe. Thanks!

[Luisa]

Linda - check the last paragraph of this post for instructions on making homemade creme fraiche:

http://wednesdaychef.typepad.com/the_wednesday_chef/2008/01/russ-parsonss-m.html

[Lydia]

After collecting dust in my recipe file, I finally made the famous lemon chicken, and it was great. My only mistake was not making a pot of rice. It would have gone so well with the smooth, creamy sauce. (Oh, and I burned my hand on the handle, too.)

[Ellie Hughes]

This is exceptional! And so easy. I had creme fraiche but had also made some over the weekend for the first time (1 cup heavy whipping cream and 2 TBS. of buttermilk in a jar for 24 hours on the counter)and it was perfect.

I'm going to adapt this using boneless chicken breasts or thighs - maybe cooking it only on the stove top.

Thank you. This is definitely a keeper.

Now I'm going to try your shrimp and broccoli recipe.

Ellie

[dan]

You have a beatiful blog.

www.ChickenRecipeDepot.blogspot.com

[susie]

i just have to say that i made this tonight, and got RAVE reviews from my hubby AND 2 preschool boys! served with roasted cauliflower and jerusalem artichokes. with a little chopped flat-leaf parsley, would have been perfect for company!

will try with boneless thighs next time. can't wait to try more of your recipes!

[Catherine Burke Keegan]

Working the Dough
By The Food Warrior

You pull into the supermarket parking lot. Your gas tank is on ¼ full. It’s snowing again lightly, the sky a fierce pewter. You park and pull your mittens on. There is a hard, fiery lump just under your throat.
Funny, you’ve always loved food shopping: the solitude, leaning on the handle of your cart, following your list up and down the aisles. The cans and boxes, ideas for meals or baking. Or the blankness of being invisible, just shopping. Or even running into somebody you hardly ever see, standing there in produce, talking about the kids, the weather, the sale at the Bon Ton. And feeling like a smart shopper – the meat “reduced for quick sale”, the buy on get one, the clearance bin, saving five dollars at check-out.
But now it’s winter and everything’s changed. You gather up your collar around your neck. How could it happen, you’re about to lose your job. Every waking minute you hear news of hundreds of thousands of jobs lost, factories, stores and restaurants closing. You’ve always paid your mortgage on time. Now houses in your town are being foreclosed and a new shelter for homeless women is opening at the Red Cross.
Fear flows in the streets, becomes airborne and you breathe in the venom. How will your family survive?
You recall a segment on NPR on feeding a family of four on $3.29. How did that go? A small piece of sausage and a loaf of stale bread? Enter the store, put your mittens in your pockets. Now you’re trembling. Glancing around, everyone else looks frightened and distracted, too. What was once a relaxing chore is now an exercise in what ever will become of me.

I am a woman whose restaurant failed and closed in the blink of an eye. People, afraid and worried, stopped eating out. I watched my dream, and all of my money, explode in an awful fiery crash. That the world was exploding at the same time was only faint comfort.
When my restaurant was booming, what I enjoyed most was talking food with my chef. Zach could take the most obscure foods, things he had never seen like a hairy celery root or pale beige beets, and make something divine out of them. What was his magic touch that kept my customers raving? Zach claimed it was love. Cooking with love, for the food and for the people who ate it, made all of the difference. At least that’s what Zach said.
I think now that it was love and fearlessness. He pureed and sautéed with his sleeves rolled up and a smile on his face. He wasn’t afraid of the ingredients, or the time of day, or the size (read smallness) of his paycheck. He cooked with love and he didn’t care who knew it. (Zach now cooks for an upscale restaurant in this area and still, I am sure, puts love into every dish.)

Everyone knows what “love” tastes like. It’s the something that you can’t quite identify that makes your mother’s chicken soup simply the best; it’s the added zest that makes one restaurant’s corn chowder win gold medals; it’s the sweet and savory goodness of your child’s first batch of homemade cookies.
What concerns me is more difficult to quantify, even, than the taste of love. It’s the bitter taste of fear that we feel these days all around us. It is the acerbic mouth feel that is getting dumped into our grocery carts and ladled into the meatloaf. If love adds flavor and zing, fear adds bitter poison. If you can make love arise when you buy and prepare food, I maintain that you can, and must, banish fear from all things food. It’s the only way to survive.

Start by baking bread. Not bread machine bread, not defrost and bake bread, but real, slow, yeasty, get-your-hands-in-it bread. (No, I have not lost my mind.) Proofing yeast in warmwater and a little sugar lets you see the bread come to life. It is essentially life affirming. The yeast bubbles up and the elemental smell of the yeast reminds you that food made from scratch cannot not help but contain love.
I use my Kitchen Aid and a dough hook to form the dough. But you can certainly mix in the flour and salt (and whatever else strikes your fancy) with a wooden spoon. But even if you begin with a machine, your hands will be in it soon enough.
When the dough has come together, roll it out of the bowl and onto a floured surface, and start working the dough, adding small amounts of flour as needed.
“Working the dough” is the main reason to make your own bread. Think about all of the women over the centuries who have stood as you’re standing, pushing their weight into the mound of dough, pulling it toward them, pushing it away and sinking all of their fingers into the soft mass. Think of the finished loaves coming out of the over, smelling like heaven on earth. Think of your family and friends standing in the kitchen, exclaiming how warm and happy the smell of bread makes them feel, waiting for that first warm piece, smiling. Work the dough into a smooth, cohesive ball. Pat it and admire it. Run your hands over its inviting surface. Smell it. Let anyone there with you smell and admire it, too.
Now place it in a bowl, cover it with a clean dish cloth, and set it in a warm place to rise. My grandmother would typically do all of this in the evening, setting one or more giant bowls on the breakfront in the dining room to rise overnight. In the morning each bowl was rounded to bursting with the living dough.
Remove the towel and marvel at the transformation. Gently press the mound and feel ir collapse and let out a sigh. Form the loaves, and this, too, is a wonderful experience. You can cut the dough into pieces and pat each into a buttered loaf pan. As you do this, imagine how it will be sliced later and slathered with butter, or made into a ham sandwich. Or cut the dough into small pieces and put them on a cookie sheet to turn into rolls. Ot form them into long, skinny ropes for baguettes. Imagine that you will take a finished warm, brown batard and, hopping on your bicycle, go to a friend’s house and, tearing it into pieces, eat it, crumbs and all, with a strong, hot cup of coffee.
One more rising in its new configurations, then into the oven at last.

Baking bread is not cost-effective. I know and you know it’s much cheaper to buy a squishy loaf of white bread and call it a day. So it costs more. And it takes time to bake bread, and we know what busy lives we all lead. But you must bake bread to help you to eliminate fear from the food you buy and prepare. Bake bread with your heart wide open. Start to push fear out of your life; it is poison. Whatever is happening with jobs and money will happen whether you fear it or not. Make food with love and joy and taste how different life can taste. Tell everyone you know to bake bread.

Recipe:
French Bread

Put 1 cup of water, 1 ½ TBL butter and ½ cup of whole milk in a microwave safe bowl, put it in the microwave and heat them to the boil. Set it aside and let it cool.

While this cools, soften one package of yeast in ¼ cup water sprinkled with 1 TBL sugar. Stir it lightly and let it sit and “proof.” (The bubbling of the yeast “proves” that it is alive and will work to make your bread rise.)

When the milk is room temperature and the yeast bubbly, mix them together.

Measure into a large mixing bowl 3 cups of bread flour and 1 cup whole wheat flour, 2 tsp salt and 2 tsp sugar. Stir them together and add the liquid mixture. Stir thoroughly but do not knead. Cover and let it rise. Give it 2 hours or so.

Deflate the dough, turn it out on a floured board and work the dough (see above.) Divide it into 2 mounds and knead each into an oblong. Then roll each oblong, jellyroll style, into a long rope shape. Put the loaves onto a greased cookie sheet, slash the tops with scissors in a decorative pattern, cover with a cloth and let them rest and rise again.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Put the loaves in the over and spritz them with fresh water. (I use a plant mister.) Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat to 350 degrees, spritz them again, and let them cook 30 minutes longer. Taste the love.

[Anita Neira Tiemann]

I just made this recipe and finished eating. It's fantastic!! As a student, I'm always looking for quick ways into delicious dishes so THANK YOU for this heavenly lemon chicken!