Annalena goes Asian: claypot chicken, in the style of "Slanted Door"

More than one person has written that "travel is better when it's over than when you're doing it." I will agree with that, if one includes in the statement that travel itself can be, and frequently is, quite wonderful. I believe that what happens is that, after we return from whatever trip we have been on, we forget the inconveniences (like not bringing any socks), or the fights, or the delays, and remember the truly wonderful. And in my view, if we tend to romanticize the wonderful, and make them better than they objectively were, well, so what? They are OUR memories, and who makes up objective criteria for this kind of thing anyway?
Annalena has many memories of her trips that she sinks back into sometimes and just smiles about. There are many food memories: the dumplings in Southwest Germany; the chestnut cake in Zurich that I still cannot duplicate, and many, many, many in San Francisco. Long gone, but Spartina's pear/apple granita still resonates with me, as does the plate of wine grape sorbets at Greens. My much missed friend Ginny , twenty years after the fact, remembered a plate of plum sorbets at Chez Panisse, in different colors and textures, and the combination of her smile when she described it, and her words, put me "there."
One of my memories from this last trip, was our last dinner. Now, our last night in San Francisco is always one of those bittersweet experiences. We know we're going home, and we miss our friends, our cats, our place, but we also know that we're leaving behind people and places we love. This year, a tradition could not be carried out because we normally spend that last day with Frank, Crystal and their daughters and that is a full, fun evening. They were in Washington DC this year, so we were on our own, for an early dinner, and we went to Slanted Door.
For reasons I cannot quite fathom, we have avoided that restaurant in the past. Perhaps it had too much of the "hipster" reputation about it. Last fall we went, as our first dinner in San Francisco, and it was wonderful. This year, it was our last one, made even more wonderful by a delightful server, named Darcey, who took a shine to us (the feeling was mutual), and who changed our order to make sure we ate the best things.
She did NOT change our order of clay pot chicken which was a revelatory dish. "Slanted Door" says they are a Vietnamese restaurant. I would say "neo Vietnamese," and I'm sure folks more familiar with the cuisine will challenge both the restaurant, and moi, on that characterization. All that being said, the chicken was wonderful. TRULY wonderful.

Annalena got to her computer and looked for the recipe. You can in fact find the recipe that the restaurant SAYS is the correct one, at epicurious.com. The comments from people who made it say that, while it is good, it is not the restaurant dish.

I believe that. Some of the ingredients are difficult to find (dark soy sauce is available in New York City, but I'm not sure if you can find it elsewhere), but "brown candy sugar" evades me. I looked, and looked, and looked, to no avail.

So I did some more searching, and found another recipe. I like this one. It is CLOSE, but it's not there. It IS good. So, give it a try. I found it on another cooking blog, dedicated to Vietnamese food, and (of course) made a change or two along the way. Do try making it, heed my comments, and make this dish your own. It is truly good.

First, if you can, the night before you cook, put eight chicken thighs on a plate, or plates, salt them, and let them sit in the refrigerator. The day you are gong to cook, get your ingredients together. There's more than a few of them, but it's all good. Mix together 1/2 cup of soy sauce (dark if you have it), one cup of water, 1/4 cup white wine vinegar, a squeeze of lemon juice, and a teaspoon of white sugar.

Now, this makes a lot of liquid, and it will make you a lot of sauce. You may want to cut everything in half, and you'll be fine. Just keep an eye on the braise as you go forward, because you may burn the chicken if it evaporates too fast.

Add 1/4 cup of fish sauce to the mixture, together with a couple of minced garlic cloves, and a healthy tablespoon of chopped ginger. If you like, mince a hot chili or two also and combine that (I did not do that).

Measure a cup of dark brown sugar, and keep it separate. Put the sauce and the sugar aside, and set up your cooking station. You will need a large frying pan, and small heavy pot, like a Le Creuset, that is going to be big enough to hold all your chicken, and all your sauce.

Heat a couple of tablespoons of vegetable oil in the frying pan, and when it's hot, add the chicken thighs, skin side down. Let them cook until they are nice and seared. My recipe said 7 minutes, which is probably a bit too long, if you don't overcrowd the pan. Then, turn the thighs over, and cook them for the same length of time. Do the chicken in batches if you need to, and then let the thighs drain on some paper towel . Switch positions with the pot, and let's make the sauce.

The only time you really have to watch this sauce, is now. You add the cup of brown sugar, and stir it, over low heat, until it melts. It will bubble, and please be careful not to burn yourself. When it's melted and bubbling, add that sauce mixture. Stir.

Something is going to happen that will make you think you did something wrong. The sugar is going to seize up in a large lump. You did not do anything wrong. Just stir, patiently, until it melts again. Then, add your chicken, and cover the pot. Let it cook for about fifteen-twenty minutes. Check on it from time to time, to make sure you have liquid in the pan, and if you don't, add some water.

The chicken will take on a wonderfully luscious, dark brown color and the sweetness will be remarkably subdued. What I think the dish COULD use, at the end, is a big splash of sherry, or mirin, or something like that. I remember that taste at the restaurant. I did not have either of them, so we did without, but we both wanted it.

Anyway, serve your chicken forth. Plain white rice is traditional, we made glass noodles instead, and they were the perfect vehicle for the extra sauce we had.

My recipe seems to think that munchkins are eating this, because they say four chicken thighs constitute 4 portions. That's like the information on the side of an ice cream container saying that a pint serves 4. The Guyman and I each ate three thighs without any trouble, and since this is my favorite part of the chicken, I could very easily have dived back and eaten the two remaining ones.

I showed retraint, however, and they will probably be the Guyman's lunch tomorrow.

Memory of travel is wonderful, moreso if you get a good recipe out of it. If you eat at our place, you have been warned: you will be served this, at some point in time.