Coq au Vin

June 5, 2001

I remember the first time I set foot inside a "French" restaurant. In the 1960s a work colleague and I used to share a weekly lottery ticket and one week we struck it lucky and won NZ10 pounds. He was all for ploughing it back into tickets. I figured my lucky streak was probably going to begin and end right there, so I said I was taking my share and going out for dinner.

Now this was in the days when dining out usually meant eating a roast dinner in a hotel dining room or a chicken skin and cabbage concoction at a Chinese hash house. But things were looking up in New Zealand's capital city, Wellington, and it now boasted a French restaurant, Le Normandie, run by the formidable Madame Louise.

I made my booking, put on my Sunday best and took the boyfriend of the time to the burgundy velveted splendour of the restaurant. No glaring light from hotel dining room chandeliers here. No harsh fluorescent lighting bouncing off formica table tops.

It was dark, warm and intimate with candles glowing on the impeccable table linen and crystal glasses gleaming alongside the silver cutlery. I was immediately at home, a food connoisseur, a woman of the world.

We plunged into the wine list and ordered something that sounded impressively sophisticated. The waiter poured a little wine in my friend's glass. My friend stared hopefully at the tiny offering while under the table my foot was desperately trying to make a connection with his ankle. I tried to nod nonchalantly in the direction of his glass. Eventually I had to mutter - "Taste the wine!"

He did a hasty gulp and swill. "I thought that chap was being a bit miserly with the drink," he confided later.

It was the first of many trips to restaurants specialising in French cuisine. I was - and still am - a voracious reader of cookbooks. Having been brought up on typical English fare, I was thrilled to be trying the dishes that I had only read about. I spent what then represented a fortune buying the weighty Larousse Gastronomique and read nightly of such dishes as animelles (you don't want to know), Coquilles Saint-Jacques, boeuf Bourguinonne, supremes de volaille, saute de veau Marengo and my favourite escargots!

At weekends I would slog away in the kitchen while the maternal parent was out playing golf and I whipped up such dishes as locally available ingredients would permit. I would spend hours on sauces - no packs of readymade stock in the supermarket in those days. The condiments shelf which had previously contained only curry powder, cayenne pepper, nutmeg, mixed herbs, cinnamon and cloves and a few other "English" herbs and spices suddenly started growing like Topsy.

It was that heady time before cholesterol became a household name. Butter, cream, eggs, goosefat - and plenty of it. A dinner party was a grand affair with millions of calories.

Then along came the spoil sports and Cuisine Minceur was the flavour of the month. While I persevered with Michel Guerard's recipes, I yearned to cheat. Fortunately today we seem to manage to strike a happy balance. I like to return to the French classics from time to time but also to strip away some of the "naughty" ingredients and streamline the cooking so one doesn't become a slave to the stove.

I dug out an old favourite, Coq au Vin, for The Spouse's birthday dinner the other night. Fortunately this dish is one of the less sinful ones. I used boned, skinless chicken thighs as the meat and didn't feel the least bit guilty. This particular cut also holds its moisture and tenderness - unlike chicken breast which can become a bit dry and chewy if subjected to too much cooking.

Traditionally this dish would be made with burgundy wine but a good smooth red is an acceptable substitute. The old rule of thumb applies - don't cook with a wine you wouldn't drink. And as this dish doesn't use the whole bottle, there's a wee bonus for the chef.

The dish is also traditionally finished with pureed chicken liver, chicken blood and cognac. Well, chicken blood isn't something you can lay your hands on every day and I don't think anyone will miss the chicken liver either. It just makes the sauce gritty.

Coq au Vin 2001

2kg chicken pieces
1/2 cup flour
salt and pepper
24 brown button mushrooms, cleaned
24 shallots or pickling onions, peeled
1 rasher streaky bacon, diced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons brandy
2 cups red wine
4 cloves garlic
one bayleaf, a sprig each of rosemary and thyme and a few sprigs of parsley, all tied together

Put the flour on a plate, season with salt and pepper and roll each chicken piece in the flour.

Heat the olive oil and saute the shallots, mushrooms and bacon for about 10 minutes. Remove and set aside and brown the chicken pieces. Remove these to a casserole dish.

Sprinkle the brandy into the pan and ignite. When the flame dies down, pour in the wine and stir the pan to remove all the cooking residue. Pour over the chicken, add the bouquet garni, garlic and season with salt and pepper, cover and bake for about 60 minutes in a medium oven. Add the mushrooms, bacon and shallots and cook a further 30 minutes or until the chicken is tender.

Place the chicken pieces in a serving dish, pour the cooking liquid into a pan and cook over a high heat for about three minutes until the sauce is reduced. Pour over the chicken, garnish with a little chopped parsley and serve.

This dish goes well with scalloped potatoes and a green vegetable.