Seasonal crossroads: Chicken dijon

Here at the blog, Annalena tries to put forth ideas for living and eating seasonally. We don't prepare asparagus in February, and we don't eat butternut squash in June, period. But there are certain recipes which, as a cook, you should have in your repertoire because they transcend seasons. They don't rely on seasonal ingredients, and to make them "seasonal" you add your own flare or side dishes. Such is what we will be investigating today, a recipe that is in that family of slow simmered French chicken dishes and makes even the die hard Italianophile that Annalena is to say "maybe the French got it right occasionally."
French cooking has tons of recipes of this type: you brown the chicken and hten you cook it slowly in some flavorful liquid, which either becomes, or is the base of, your sauce. You know at least one of these: coq au vin. You can probably think of others, too. Annalena, given her sour disposition, is particularly fond of one that involves vinegar as a braising liquid. This one is a dish she came across doing her monthly cooking magazine round up. Of course, she modified it a bit, which is in accordance with French country cooking. Her findings follow. You should make this. If you're organized, it will take you less than an hour to make and if you're not, about an hour and a quarter. It will serve four people, and you will be very happy with it.

You need one ingredient you may not have handy: coriander seeds. If you have made pickles in accordance with Annalena, you have plenty of these, but if you haven't, go get some. They're a great accent item. Once you taste one (crunch it between your teeth), you will think of ways to use it and, if not, they are also great breath fresheners just in case you need one (just sayin').

Ok, you need a tablespoon of them. The original recipe called for a teaspoon which is laughable. Toss them in a small pan over medium heat and shake them for about three minutes until they toast up. Let them cool. You're going to crush them at some point while you prep the other ingrdients, be it with a rolling pin, your old coffee mill, a mortar and pestle, whatever.

Also prep 4-6 garlic cloves by c hopping them, and also slice a whole onion into thin, half moons (NOT the minuscule quarter cup called for in the recipe. That, too, was laughable).

You will also need creme fraiche and whole seed mustard. If you don't have whole seed, you can use dijon, but don't use honey mustard. It throws the balance of the dish off, with its sweetness. You need 3 tablespoons of creme fraiche and 2 of the mustard. Mix them together in a small bowl. (Side bar: if you want to make your own creme fraiche, mix two tablespoons of full fat yogurt in a cup of heavy cream, shake it, cover it, and leave it on a counter top unrefrigerated for at least a full day. DONE).

Pour out a cup and a half of chicken stock and put it aside, and then get your chicken ready. My origingal recipe called for 8 chicken drumsticks. Hooray for Hollywood. I had four whole legs, and I split them (YOU CAN DO IT!) into the thighs and drumsticks. Or, use eight thighs. I am not a tremendous fan of drumsticks, but if you like them, please feel free. Sprinkle them with salt and pepper, overnight if you can.

Lets get to work. Pour a tablespoon and a half of olive oil into a pan that is wide enough to accommodate all your ingredients. When it's so hot you can see it begin to ripple, put the chicken, skin side down, and cook for about five minutes. DON'T MOVE THE CHICKEN. Then turn it over, and let them brown on the side. After ten minutes, add the onion and the garlic. There won't be much room in the pan, and that's ok, they will cook down from the heat. After three minutes, add the stock and the coriander. This will come to the boil, almost immediately, and then cover the pan, lower the heat, and leave it alone for 15 minutes.

After the fifteen minutes the chicken will be remarkably tender. If you wanted to, you could stop right here. BUT... we wont. Remember that mustard and creme fraiche? Ok, take the chicken out of the pan, put it aside in a place where it will stay warm, and pour in the creme fraiche/mustard. Stir it, and let it cook for about five minutes.

Here, you have to make a choice. The original recipe said "until it thickens." Annalena did not see it thicken. So, she reached for her trusty jar of corn starch, got a tablespoon, stirred it into about three tablespoons of water, and stirred it into the sauce. That did the trick. It's up to you. At the end, if you have some, add about a tablespoon of fresh herbs. The recipe called for tarragon. I was too lazy to go to the roof to get some, so I used the lavender I had bought that day at the farmers market. Worked like a charm.

Put the chicken back in the pan, and turn it a few times to coat it with the sauce and.... you're ready to eat.

Nothing in that recipe will signal to you that this is a dish of spring, summer, winter or fall, although some would say "it's winter," because you're using nothing seasonal. Fair enough. We had it with a dish of pan fried bell peppers and roasted baby turnips, which signals "late summer/early fall." Again, our original recipe calls for crusty bread. We used rice.

Put your own mark on this. And let Annalena know how you did it.