Braised Chicken Thighs with Olives, Capers, and Lemon

This was something I threw together over winter last year, but have made many times since then.
It seems nice in those colder months- maybe fall to early spring. Not too heavy, but lots of flavor and a bit of color (just add parsley if you want a pop of green).
However, it’s completely non-seasonal. All the items (to me, anyway) are pantry items, so this is easily put together... perhaps after a run to the store for the chicken.

But it can be a little something more based on what you use, of course. This last round I had some Herbes de Provence olives I'd found at the olive bar at the store, which were a plus.
Just make sure you get a bit of the brine if you pick up olives and capers at the bar in lieu of using a jar.

It's important to make sure you don't use a pan that's too small so that everything is jammed in together- and the chicken ends up being practically covered in the wine. The point is partially to have some space to allow for evaporation so everything is able to reduce...
And reduction is a very good reason to make sure the wine is "nice enough" as far as beverages go. It doesn't have to be dear, just drinkable ("awful" sadly will not improve with concentration).

Also, having made it enough, I can safely say that you do want to make sure the chicken is seasoned. Don't make the mistake of thinking the olives and capers will be salty enough to take care of everything else.

As a suggestion, I think it's nice with a kale salad with a lemon vinaigrette (garlic in the vinaigrette, a shower of Parmesan on top), and served the chicken with roasted cauliflower and quinoa (great for soaking up the juices).
Extra kale, cauli, quinoa, chicken, capers/olives/shallots, jammy lemon and sauce? Leftovers make a great bowl for lunch the next day. Ta-da.

Braised Chicken Thighs with Olives, Capers, and Lemon
serves 6 (... or 3)

6 chicken thighs (skin on and bone in)
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
3/4 c (180 ml) white wine
1 c (180 g) pitted green olives
1 1/2 T (22 ml) olive brine
3 large shallots, sliced
1 1/2 lemons, cut into sixths
3 T (45 g) capers in brine
1 1/2 T (22 ml) caper brine
3 T (45 ml) olive oil


Preheat oven to 375 F (190 C).
Trim extra fat and skin from the chicken thighs, then salt and pepper both sides of the chicken as you would normally.
Pour the white wine into a 9x13 inch pan along with the olive and caper brines. Add the chicken, skin side up. Sprinkle the olives, capers, and shallots around and between the chicken pieces. Tuck the lemon slices in among chicken, then drizzle everything with the olive oil. 
Cover the pan with aluminum foil.

Place the pan in the oven and braise the chicken 45 minutes.
Remove the foil and increase the oven temp to 425 F (218 C) for 10 minutes.
Broil 5 minutes or so if the top of the chicken needs a bit of rendering and color. 

Remove the pan from the oven and let stand 5-10 minutes before serving with the braising sauce.

Pear and Bleu Cheese Salad

I had to run to the farmer's market this weekend because it's now officially autumn and I knew someone there would have pears... but of course, it was more than just one farm stand.
(Though, honestly, whether it's pears or not I find I have to do this just to see what's going on.)
In addition to pears, I found some striking Emerald Beaut Plums (very pale green with tinges of red- orange), late peaches, and Asian pears (a treat if you find them, they're round and more crisp in texture- like an apple, as opposed to the soft and juicy pears you may be more accustomed to... but they'd work nicely in a salad.)

Maybe what I have here is ubiquitous, especially as an autumn salad.
But it's good.

Some people loathe bleu cheese, I get it. That's ok, it can be a bit robust. But you still need something... chèvre, possibly Camembert, or that non-overpowering bleu of your choice.  It needs to be creamy, but it's up to you whether the note is funk, tang, or earthy.
So,  if you choose to go with a bleu, what are you looking for?
Slight funk with earthiness? Cambozola.
A LOVELY creamy bleu-ness that may just be my favorite bleu? Saint Agur.
Saltier, crumblier, more sharp? Maybe Maytag.
Point being, there are a lot of bleu/ue cheeses out there with different characters. How strong a note that cheese plays in the salad would be up to you.

If you plate individual servings, toss the greens and onion with the vinaigrette (or drizzle over those individual servings), then divide everything else among the salads- perhaps opting to finish with a small wedge of cheese instead of a crumbled shower (or in the case of that decidedly sticky Cambozola, sliced pieces). Of course, the texture of the cheese you choose would ultimately play into the decision.

I'd recommend delicate greens here. If a "spring mix" isn't available, or the idea of spring greens in autumn isn't your thing, you can still go for smaller and more tender greens as opposed to the heartier or more bitter options.

 

This salad could be a large dinner serving for two as a meal, or possibly a much smaller starter for 8.
Scale down as need be.

Figs might be a nice addition- good fresh ones or dried.


Pear and Bleu Cheese Salad
serves 2-8

1 1/2 T (23 ml) balsamic vinegar (aged and syrupy is nicer, though any will do)
1 clove garlic, smashed with the side of a knife
1/2 t (small spoonful) Dijon mustard
6 T (90 ml) olive oil (give or take)
1/4 t freshly ground black pepper (to taste)
1/4 t salt (to taste)

5 oz (142 g) tender mixed greens (or baby spinach)
6 slices bacon, cooked and chopped
1/3 small red onion, sliced  (about 1/2 c or 50 g)
1 pear, ripe but firm (Bartlett/Williams, maybe Comice or Bosc), quartered, cored, and sliced
1/3 c (30 g) toasted and chopped pecans
Bleu cheese of choice (or non-bleu cheese of choice), to taste


Rub the sides and bottom of a small bowl with the smashed garlic. Leave the garlic in the bottom of the bowl and pour the balsamic vinegar over it. Add the Dijon mustard and whisk to incorporate. Slowly stream in the olive oil, all the while whisking, starting with less and later adding more after tasting as necessary. Adjust as required, then season with salt and pepper and set aside until ready to use,  re-whisking and removing the garlic before using.

In a large bowl, toss the greens with vinaigrette to taste (again, start with less and add more as need be). Add the bacon, onions, pecans, and pear and gently toss. Add the cheese to taste and serve. 
Another option is to plate the greens, distribute the bacon, onions, pear, and pecans among the salads, drizzle with vinaigrette and top with crumbled or sliced bleu cheese. 

(...those Emerald Beaut Plums with their contrasting blush...)

Miso Glazed Salmon

I hadn’t intended to serve a meal constructed on the fly, but a while back I couldn’t get internet access where I was when I needed it.
The general idea of what I wanted was there, but I hadn’t looked into what I was doing beforehand. Admittedly not the smartest move of all time when you're cooking for someone else's get-together. 
However, when this kind of a thing happens, I keep notes. If it turns out well, fabulous. If it needs a bit of work, at least I have a jumping off point and can adjust the areas where I think it’s needed.

I've made it a few times since, and it works, so here you go.

A piece of fattier fish, cooked at a lower temperature will be more tender and akin to a poached piece of fish- as opposed to using a higher heat and leaner (drier) fish.
Obviously, this can easily be halved (note that 1/2 T is 1 and 1/2 teaspoons), but the recipe is written for a group.
The marinade is thick, there's not a huge excess, and the pieces of fish are more or less individually coated rather than bathed in a pool.

Serve with rice and asparagus, or perhaps a bed of zucchini noodles.

A lightish meal, plenty of flavor- and leftovers are great cold as part of a lunch salad.


Miso Glazed Salmon 
serves 10-12

10-12, 6-8 oz pieces of Atlantic salmon (paler, thicker, and fattier than, say, Coho)
1/2 c plus 1T (about 165 g) white miso paste
3 T (45 ml) honey
3 T (45 ml) white wine
1/4 c (60 ml) mirin
2 T (30 ml) tamari (or soy sauce)
2 T (30 ml) dark sesame oil
5 garlic cloves, smashed and given a rough mince
1 T (16 g) freshly grated ginger
Freshly ground black pepper
Optional for serving: toasted white or black sesame seeds, sliced green onion


Mix together miso, honey, white wine, mirin, tamari, sesame oil, garlic, and ginger. Coat the salmon with the marinade and place skin side up in a baking tray (or two). Cover and place the tray in the refrigerator 1 1/2 to 2 hours, moving the salmon a few times to re-distribute the marinade. 

Preheat the oven to 375 F (190 C).
Scrape excess marinade from skin side with a spoon or your finger (if you do this it'll help prevent sticking or burning), and place the salmon skin-side down on an oiled, foil-lined sheet pan.

Roast the salmon 12-15 minutes, then broil 2-5 minutes (watch!)- you're looking for some color and maybe some charred bits.

Let rest a couple minutes on the pan and serve as desired. 


Note: Of the miso pastes I've tried for this recipe, I prefer Miso Master brand 
And, depending on the saltiness of the miso you use, the salmon may do better with a sprinkle of salt... but you won't know until after you've tried it the first time. 

Blood Orange - Lavender Shrub

On Saturdays in San Francisco there’s a booth at the Ferry Building farmer’s market that, among other things, sells "shrubs"- which are pretty much fruit vinegars or "drinking vinegars". I always like to stop by and at least peruse. The different liquids in the bottles have bright jewel-like tones, and the little sips they give as samples upon request are fruity and bracing.

The Bojon Gourmet has a lavender kumquat shrub recipe in the archives that looked so nice to me... I always have lavender available to make tea (love, love, love lavender, lavender as tea of course, lavender in caramels/syrup/shortbread/ganache/whatever sweets, lavender kombucha is my go-to for that beverage ...).  All I really needed was more kumquats. I’ve been buying them and snacking on them- slightly sour and bitter little citrus eaten whole. So, I  took my Saturday morning walk to the market, hoping one of the organic farmers might have some, but there were NO kumquats to be found at any of the booths.
At all.

Lots of other citrus was piled high though: many mandarins, navel oranges, tangelos, grapefruit, Eureka lemons, Meyer lemons, sweet limes... So I decided to go with blood oranges instead, with their deep red interiors, blush of red on the orange skin, and fruit punchy-orange flavor.
With a few changes, this would be my adaptation.
I’ve kept the Meyer lemon juice (sweeter, fruity and less acidic than regular lemons), and upped the vinegar and lavender.
(By the way, recently I read an interesting article on some of the Meyer lemon history- more specifically  about Meyer... Dutch transplant and Marco Polo/Indiana Jones of the USDA.)

When it's finished, shrub is great for mixing into a drink (ice cold sparkling water or maybe some vodka... or a bit of both... maybe champagne or sparkling wine...) though sipping a shot of just the fruit infused vinegar is also kind of nice (honestly, at the very least for this particular version, I think sipping it neat is my preference).
And why wouldn’t that citrus, honey, and apple cider vinegar combination also be good for you- especially end of winter or beginning of spring?
Citrus, with its vitamin C, local honey for allergy-fighting purposes (due to the inclusion of small amounts of the regional agricultural allergens, it kind of inoculates you), cider vinegar with many reputed benefits- though right now we’ll go with probiotics via fermentation from the raw and unpasturized organic version.
(And this would be my reason for opting for a marinating method instead of one involving heat- my hopes of keeping any good stuff going.)

 

The taste is tart and sweet, fruity... there's a slight spiciness from the vinegar, with a bit of a perfumed finish that you may not be able to quite identify.

Citrus is best organic or pesticide free here (and always, actually) as you use the whole fruit, but at the very least make sure you wash it before cutting, please.

And as a little side note, Mom used to make blackberry and elderberry shrub many years ago and we thought it wasn’t that great- mostly it was just plain weird. She’d say something like, “Come on guys, THIS is what they drank before soda!”
Not that we were soda drinkers at our house, we didn’t really have it around, but maybe that was supposed to lend some draw and mystique. Needless to say, we weren't all that impressed.
But yes, it was a Colonial form of fruit preservation. "Shrub" even sounds Colonial.
Shrub.
(Though I'd bet sparkling water, if it even existed in Colonial America, if it was "manufactured" or imported somehow, likely wasn't available to everyone.  It was invented/discovered in 1767 by an English chemist named Joseph Priestly- who also invented the eraser. It's better with sparkling water than still- I think we only had it with still water those many years ago.)
Anyway, sorry Mom, I like it now.
And I'll likely be experimenting with more.

Blood Orange-Lavender Shrub
makes about 3 cups (750 ml)

1 slightly generous lb (1/2 kilo) blood oranges (better, likely juicer, if they feel heavy for their size)
1 1/4 c (300 ml) apple cider vinegar
1 cup (240 ml) mild local honey
1/2 c (120 ml) Meyer lemon juice
1/4 c (8 g) dried lavender buds (food grade)

Remove a thin slice from the top and bottom of each orange, to get rid of that extra bit of pith. Cut the blood oranges in half, pole to pole, then slice thinly and add to a clean, large glass jar (at least a quart, though more space would make things easier). Add the vinegar, honey, Meyer lemon juice, and lavender. Muddle everything together well with a very clean wooden spoon to dissolve the honey and extract juice and oils from the pieces of blood orange. Cover tightly and let the mixture sit 2-3 days (perhaps tasting it after the second day), shaking it at least once daily, giving it a good jostle to redistribute everything. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer, moderately pressing on the orange peels to extract as more of the liquid, and pour the mixture into a clean jar and refrigerate. Use as desired.
The finished shrub should last several weeks refrigerated.

*Shrub can also be used as a marinade for meats, as part of a sauce for finishing, or in a vinaigrette.