Happy Birthday Edna: Butter-Fried Chicken with Milk Gravy

Happy Birthday, our Dear Edna!

Edna Staebler was a local gem who introduced the world to Waterloo County Cooking. Good, hearty fare that's very much rooted in country and Mennonite traditions.

When I was deciding upon which dish to present, my copy of Food That Really Schmecks literally fell open to page 57.

I think that's a sign.

Three recipes were on this page: a variation of Stuffing forRoast Fowl, Brown Gravy for Fowl and Butter-Fried Chicken with Milk Gravy.

Butter-Fried Chicken? I think Edna was definitely telling me something. And then I read the recipe:

"This is the way Mother cooked chicken most often and the way I like it best--even better than roast chicken--though that was supposed to be the most special. The milk gravy with this could be digested by a ninety-fve year old grandmother with a stomach ulcer, I'm sure, or a three-month-old baby"

She continued,

"This gravy--or sauce--poured generously over plain boiled or riced potatoes with the butter-fried chicken and fresh vegetables is my favourite of all meals--as I think of it at this moment."

Well, how could I not make this dish? Especially when she writes about how her mum would cut up a "nice yellow little hen."

That nice yellow little hen is hard to find in modern grocery stores as most of chickens offered are bred for today's lean palates. Not a layer of yellow fat to be seen. That's fine. It simply means less fat to skim from the pot. That said, if you are lucky to find a plump hen, skim the fat and keep it for frying or roasting, or even baking.

This is a very, very simple recipe: joint a chicken, cover it in boiling water, remove the pieces when they are tender and brown the pieces in butter. Reduce the boiling liquid to three cups, add milk and then a thickener.

I've made some changes to the recipe--adding aromatics to the cooking liquid, as if I were making a regular chicken stock. I'll probably revisit this recipe to play with the flavourings a bit--perhaps adding some middle eastern or Indian influences.

Oh...and the leftover gravy (if you have some)? Reheat it and pour it over some crusty bread. Edna says so.

Butter Fried Chicken with Milk Gravy

adapted from Edna Staebler's recipe in Food That Really Schmecks

Serves four

Ingredients

1 1.5-2kg (3-4lb) chicken

2L (8c) water

One onion, quartered

2 celery stalks, chopped into two or three large pieces

2 carrots, chopped into 5cm pieces

2 garlic cloves, smashed

1 bay leaf

1 sprig of thyme

1 sprig of sage

1 spig of rosemary

1dsp (2tsp/10ml) salt

1 rounded tsp black pepper

435ml (1.75c) milk, divided

35g (0.25c/60ml) flour

A handful (0.25c/4Tbsp/60ml) parsley, chopped

1-2Tbsp (15-30ml) butter

Method

Joint the chicken, that is to say, cut it into pieces: two legs, thighs, wings and breasts. If the breasts are large, cut them into two pieces each. Leave the skin on. Save the backbone, wingtips, neck and giblets (if your bird was lucky enough to come with its neck and giblets).

Layer the meat in a large pot, so the pieces don't overlap. Tumble in the vegetables, neck, wingtips and giblets, followed by the herbs and seasonings. Pour in water to cover.

Cover and set on a medium to medium high flame. Let the pot come to a boil and let it blurble for about five minutes, before turning down the heat to simmer the broth. Let simmer until the chicken is tenderly cooked--in total this should take about 30-40 minutes, depending upon the size of your bird and how long it takes to bring your water up to a boil.

Scum the broth. Remove the chicken pieces and pat them dry.

For the milk gravy:

Turn the heat up and let the stock, with the bones, veggies, etc, boil uncovered. When the liquid has reduced by half, remove the bones, giblets and veggies, then strain out any other bits (herbs, spices, any stray chickenny bits).

Return the strained liquid to the pot and let boil down to about 750ml (3c).

Stir in 250ml (1c) milk and let the gravy come up to a bare simmer. Taste and balance flavours according to your palate.

Make a slurry with the remaining 185ml (0.75c) milk and the flour. Whisk into the gravy let thicken. Check the flavours and adjust as you wish.

For the chicken:

Brown the chicken in batches by melting a couple of teaspoons of butter in a hot pan then adding three or four pieces of chicken to the pan. Turn the pieces to ensure any remaining fat is rendered out and that the skin is evenly browned and crisp. Remove the chicken and add more butter (if needed) and continue browning the chicken.

To serve:

Stir the parsley into the gravy just before serving.

Serve with veggies and potatoes (boiled, mashed, riced or roasted) or rice, pouring the gravy over the potatoes or rice...and chicken, if you wish,

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Egg Nog Croissant Pudding

In as much as I love the holidays with all the food and drink that come in tow, at times my fridge, overburdened with leftovers can be a bit of a challenge.

I don't want to waste anything (although, admittedly, some things to end up in the bin), but at the same time I do get tired of reliving meals over and over again.

Every December a carton or two of egg nog finds itself in my shopping trolley. I love good eggnog--rich and cream spiked with sweet woody nutmeg...and maybe some cognac or rye. I usually get a little tired of it...before its all drunk up.

After thinking about it for an extremely short while, I realised that all egg nog is is a custard of sorts. Just add some more egg and maybe a bit more sugar and I've got something pretty close to perfect for a holiday bread pudding.

The nice thing about bread and butter pudding is the relative freedom it allows--plain slices or sandwiches, flavours, textures--a non-recipe recipe. To me, all that really matters is that the bread is creamy soft because it has sopped up as much custard as it can, and that the pudding isn't too eggy-firm.

The "bread" part of the pudding can be anything really--stale bread (of course), challah, brioche, doughnuts, poundcake.

I bought a container of croissants for some lazy breakfasts. Well...the breakfasts were a bit too lazy as the flaky lovelies never did get slathered with butter and marmalade. But they could do well for a pudding.

To give it a bit of interest and contrast, I decided tart cranberries and crunchy pecan would play nicely against the mellow lushness of the softened croissants and the wibbly custard.

The end result is was lovely -- buttery croisstants that were at once burnished gold an flaky and soft and yielding in a nutmeggy custard, punctuated with the occasional sharp cranberry or the slight crackle of of a pecan.

Egg Nog Croissant Pudding
Yield: One 20cm x 20cm (8"x8") pan-- approx six servings

Ingredients
500ml (2c) egg nog
2 eggs, beaten
2Tbsp (30ml) sugar
grated nutmeg (roughly 1/8 - 1/4tsp)
4 stale butter croissants, torn into pieces
a couple of handfuls of dried cranberries, plumped in boiling water, roughly chopped
A handful of roughly chopped pecans

Method

Butter the pan.

In a measuring jug mix the egg nog, eggs, sugar and nutmeg.

Arrange the torn croissants in the pan, Pour the eggnog mixture over top and let soak for at least 20m minutes, so the pastries absorb much of the liquid.

At this point you can preheat the oven to 180C/350F while the croissants soak.

Strew the top of the pudding with the fruit and nuts, tucking some into cracks and crevices where you will.

Bake for about 40-50 minutes. When done, the custard should be just set, with a bit of a wobble.

Remove from the oven and let cool for a few minutes before serving.




cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Feast: Twelfth Night Cake

I know what you're thinking.

Fruitcake.

You managed to avoid your great Auntie Ermintrude's (rest her soul) infamous Christmas fruitcake-cum-doorstop for yet another year (or the first year...ever).

You swerved cellophaned fruitcake in the office free-for-all of the gift basket teardown, and took the last bit of stale candy-coated nutty popcorn, leaving the fruitcake for the guy who was at an offsite meeting during the basket goodie dispersal.

You even donated the thank-you fruitcake you received to the local food bank, justifying it by saying "even the hungry want a traditional Christmas."

Yes, you've had some near misses with the much maligned cake and thought you were doing fairly well.

And here I am offering you...fruitcake.

But it's not just any fruitcake. It's my take on a traditional Twelfth Night Cake.

Twelfth Night?

The Twelfth Day of Christmas. The end of the Christmas season. The day in which you really don't want to see any more Christmas leftovers hanging out in your fridge and start thinking of things like grapefruit, miso soup and watercress.

The name itself elicits English class flashbacks about a romantic comedy that starts with a shipwreck on the Adriatic, and goes on about a girl hiding out as a guy, a love triangle, cross-gartered yellow stockings and the rest. It's a fun work...but then I like the English Renaissance dramatists. I'm special, that way...but you know that...

Traditionally a cake that holds a hidden prize is served The prize--a bean or a pea--crowns the finder as king or queen. They get to wreak magisterial havoc until...people stop putting up with it (midnight, from what I hear). (NB: As someone prone to wearing her tiara "for no reason," I find the idea of having to find a bean to be able to wear a crown rather sweet...but I realise for the world's tiara-less sometimes sparkly needs to be precipitated by a bean.)

Sometimes the cake is a fruitcake; sometimes it's a galette des rois--a puff pastry cake filled with frangipane; sometimes it's a fruited yeast bread. This year, I decided to go with fruitcake.

I looked at various recipes for Twelfth Night cakes and several seemed...very reminiscent of heavy fruitcakes that seem to dominate fears, worries and japes of December. Many seemed to be modified spiced pound cakes. Some reminded me of yuletide hot cross buns...but without the hot crosses and with more fruit. They were round, ring-shaped or baked in special moulds. But really...far too many lived in the realm of "dreaded" fruitcakes.

After more than a month of feasting, I wanted a lighter cake that keeps the original celebratory spirit...without being...dreadful.

Instead of glaceed cherries with loads of sultanas and currants, I opted for a mixture of dried blueberries, cherries and cranberries. If I had remembered I had dried pears and apricots, they would have been used as well. I couldn't leave out the citrus, but didn't want candied citron, so I zested a clementine and brushed the top with Cointreau. Additional flavour came from some leftover eggnog (and an extra few gratings of nutmeg).

The resulting tender cake is lovely and moist, fruity and lightly citrussed. The interior has a warm hue and the crust is burnished. I'm having it for breakfast, but it would accompany a cup of tea quite nicely.

Will this cake prompt the same jeers that greet its December cousin? I hope not. But maybe the promise of the opportunity of wearing a crown* will convince some to try it.

* And no, you won't be getting to wear my tiara.

Twelfth Night Cake
Yield One 21cm x 11cm (8.5"x4.5") Loaf

Ingredients
100g (approx 250ml/1c) mixed dried fruit of your choosing, rehydrated in boiling water, drained
1 egg
185ml (0.75c) egg nog
225g (435ml/1.75c) cake flour
1tsp (5ml) baking powder
0.5tsp (2.5ml) bicarbonate of soda
pinch of salt
grated nutmeg (approx 1/8th tsp)
75g (85ml/0.33c) soft butter
150g (125ml/0.5c) brown sugar
1tsp finely grated orange zest

1 dried bean or baking bean (optional)
1dspn (10ml/2tsp) cointreau or brandy


Method
Preheat oven to 170C/325F. Paper a 21cm x 11cm (8.5" x4.5") loaf tin

Beat together egg and eggnog and set aside.

Sift together flour, baking powder, bicarb, salt and nutmeg. Set aside.

Cream butter until light. Add sugar and zest and continue beating until fluffy. Add in the dry and liquid ingredients in the usual fashion (dry-wet-dry-wet-dry), scraping down the bowl between dry additions. Fold in the rehydrated fruit and the bean (if you're doing that). Pour into prepared loaf pan.

Bake at 170C/325F for 30 minutes. Turn the heat up to 180C/350F for 20 minutes. The cake should be warmly golden in colour and an inserted skewer comes out with a few crumbs clinging to the wood. Remove from oven and brush with the cointreau or brandy.

Ice, if you wish with

• a heavy mixture of icing sugar mixed with water, milk or orange juice
• a blanket of fondant, complete with fussy Shakespearean, Epiphany or Royalty-themed decorations
• a different blanket, this time of marzipan

Or you can do what I do and leave it plain...perhaps slathering your slices with double Devon cream or brandy butter.

Note:

If you don't have eggnog,

• 110g (125ml/0.5c) butter (instead of 75g butter)
• 2 eggs (instead of 1 egg)
• 125ml (0.5c) milk or orange juice
• 1-2Tbsp extra sugar (to taste)

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!