räksallad dröm

boned rolled tied feathered and tarred

This is one of my favorite things to cook.

Start with a chicken you feel good about. I find some of the wording slightly suspicious, the use of the phrase "open air" in particular, I'm not sure what they are getting at. But I appreciate that there are no hormones or antibiotics and, most importantly, no added water, however that's done. The "all natural veggie diet" is not totally clear to me, I bet you it's still cornfed, which is a pity really, besides that I believe that chickens would be happiest if they could eat a couple of worms here and there.

Anyway, this recipe is slightly adapted version of one of the very many things I learned under the wing of Carlo Middione, a thinking-mans chef. when I first learned this recipe it was done with a Capon, which, in case you don't know, is a castrated rooster. I don't really know where to get a capon these days, now that I am no longer a chef, so I found this bird and selected the largest one I could find. Mind you, I tell anyone who listens that smaller birds are the better birds, yet for this particular dish you need a monster, and it feeds something like 12 people rather comfortably. Instead of giving precise measurements I will give you the basic idea of this wonderful dish, the exact recipe is mostly the property of Carlo Middione, though he might not totally approve of some of my additions (ie. cinnamon and clove).

It's a lot easier than it looks and it's surprisingly economical, especially considering how many people it feeds. The chicken was rather special and cost about three dollars a pound and weighed in at five whole pounds. The other ingredients are rather cheap, except for the dried porcini mushrooms, but you really don't need a lot of them.

Obviously the trickiest part is deboning the chicken. Tricky but not really that terrifying so long as you have a sharp tipped knife and a puzzling imagination. The object is to completely debone it leaving the skin intact. Inexperienced cooks often end up with skin tears and such, but if you work carefully it's really easy to achieve. Without being too gruesome, I started with an incision along the spine and started prying my way in from there.

The ingredients at the top are Pepper, fresh thyme, sea salt (ignore that lemon balancing there), Olive oil, (the bottle of Beeren Auslese is there just because it's awesome, but none is used in the recipe); in the small green bowls: toasted, chopped walnuts, golden raisins soaked in brandy, dried porcini mushroom rehydrated in marsalla, squeezed dry and chopped, sauted with minced garlic and salt and pepper, frozen chopped spinach, also squeezed dry and sauteed with diced onions, salt and pepper.


Basically you just evenly distribute everything.


I rolled it up very carefully, my technique is to roll the breast part first so that the outer layer is thigh meat, my belief is that it will stay moist and not dry out. After it is rolled I tie it, you don't have to pull the string too hard it's just there to gently hold the shape. Otherwise you end up with something not unlike the Michelin Man. The roll is then placed onto a large sheet of parchment paper that has been rubbed with whole butter. Drizzled with marsala and brandy (the same leftover juice from the soaking of the raisins and mushrooms) and I am pretty generous with thyme. I also crushed a couple of juniper berries and grated a little bit of cinnamon bark as well as a clove or two. The trick with cinnamon is that if you can detect it then you used far too much, but if you can't tell it's there it quietly haunts everyone who eats it.


This is probably the most difficult step to describe, yet the easiest to do. It's what's called "Drugstore Wrapped" in this case twice, meaning two layers of parchment. It's simply a mater of folds and creases and the way the ends are tucked under ensure that the whole thing is pretty much air tight. I love cooking with parchment, this method allows the skin to actually brown thru the paper and yet keeps everything inside, juices and aroma. It's a weird combination of steaming and roasting.


I actually went over by several degrees because I got sidetracked. It's best to aim for about 165°F (which I think is something like 73°C). I was worried that I'd overcooked it but when I got to the next few steps I discovered that it was perfectly cooked. It might be that my thermometer is miscalibrated, I hardly ever use it anyway.

At this point you call it a night. Let the roast cool, do not be tempted to unwrap it. When it is cool enough, put it into the refrigerator overnight.


The next day, unwrap it. You will find a wonderful rich lustrous deep brownish liquid that is thick with natural gelatin. Thick and wobbly because it is cold. There is the tiniest amount of fat (mostly from the butter) that has risen to the top. Because it is cold it is solid and simply remove it with your fingers, meanwhile scrape all the luscious gelatinous jus into a bowl and set aside. You will notice that I neglected to photograph this bit, sorry about that. Slice the roast into thin even slices.


Next, bundle up the slices onto a new sheet of parchment also rubbed lightly with butter. I used more thyme, and a few more scrapings of cinnamon (I found I used too little). Put the gelatinous jus on top or around it. Then rewrap it, "drugstore wrap" method. By the way, it's called "Drugstore Wrap" because in the old days before plastic and tape/stickers, all meat used to be wrapped this way to carry it home.

After this I carried it up the street to a dinner party I was invited to. When I got there I popped it into their oven at about 350°F for about a half hour, and in the meantime I drank just enough wine to totally forget to photograph the finished product. My apologies. You'll have to use your imagination. It was unctuous and glistening and the jus, when hot, was liquid but with a slight viscosity that made it unbearably good.