Weeknight Dinner: Chicken Ragoût with White Beans and Rosemary

photo: Eric Diesel

Whether your cooking school is a professional kitchen that graduates you with a toque and having earned the right to be addressed as "Chef," or a home kitchen that graduates you with an apron and having earned the right to be addressed as a cook, both schools teach the importance of repertoire. Just as a musician has a repertoire of tunes they can peform, a cook has a repertoire of dishes they can prepare. This is part of what makes learning about, preparing, and -- oh, yes -- eating food fascinating, for while the influences of each cuisine literally appear on the plate (or in the bowl or in the hand or on the spoon or the stick or the leaf), cuisines begin the same way: obtaining and preparing whatever food was available locally, and then refining by practice.

My first cooking class was at my grandmother's apron strings. This Oklahoma farm woman had weathered the Great Depression by managing the main house of one of the collective farms through which many families got by during those hard times. This influenced not just how she cooked but how she kept her home and how she lived. She believed in growing and harvesting your own food as much as possible, even after times improved and it was less of a necessity or even not one at all. She couldn't tolerate waste and in fact saw the act of canning and preserving not just as practical but as sacred -- I still remember her exhilaration as she came into the kitchen with her apron gathered to her waist and full of string beans still warm from the sun. "Quick," she said, "these are just too beautiful not to put into jars."

So the repertoire she had developed and which I absorbed was the one of the western farm. From her I learned how make jam and pickles, pie and candy, church-ready Sunday suppers and Garden Club-ready weekday luncheons. She was Indian, and when we celebrated Thanksgiving, she made sure we all understood that the roasted turkey, the succotash, the cranberry sauce and turnips and pumpkin pie came from that culture. From her I even learned to like mincemeat.

Though she was the quintessential farm woman she had been bred a city girl. She had no fear of exotic cosmopolitan influences. She loved to learn and sought always to expand her own repertoire through exposure to other cultures. To her, a kitchen was a place of learning but so was a dining room. It seems quaint to us modern folk, but a meal as simple as spaghetti and meatballs or chop suey was something you had to travel to get. I still remember her licking her lips over what I think was her first taste of lasagna (though she couldn't quite bring herself to try a forbidden sip of wine). And she was duly impressed by what her counterpart -- a French Swiss lady of not just another culture but another world -- sent out of her own kitchen.

I doubt it surprised my grandmother when I began to express interest in cooking beyond the farmhouse. I had seen a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking in the mall and hinted heavily what a welcome birthday present it would be. Sure enough, on my birthday, there the two-book set was, along with her commitment for us to work through it together. The cruelties of time did not allow us to complete that mission, but even in her death my grandmother had taught me the lesson again: the details of daily living are sacred for they are a way of honoring the gift of time.

Of course, she didn't like everything, but she synthesized what she learned with what she knew, and if that isn't the mark of a scholar, I don't know what is. She liked the way that, in French cuisine, simple, luxurious ingredients attentively prepared created wonderful dining experiences. She liked mise en place and the use of herbs and even got far enough beyond her teetotaler's suspicion of wine to learn to cook with it.

And this brings us back to repertoire, for both the Oklahoma farmhouse and the French école de cuisine taught the importance of living and cooking seasonally. To that end, during the first few hopeful days of Spring, along with the chiffon cake my grandmother prepared a ragoût. A ragoût is a simple braise or stew, and every cook should have at least one in their repertoire. For your repertoire, here is a flavorful ragoût made with pantry ingredients. This recipe uses chicken thighs, which unlike chicken breasts stay juicy during a braise of wine, herbs and spices. The rustic character of this dish agrees with the springtime practice of getting outside to work the fields, but its sophisticated side agrees with springtime breezes while enjoying a leisurely outdoor lunch. Serve your ragoût with a field salad and either an icy Reisling or a flirty rosé. As a bonus, this is even better as leftovers the next day. When everyone in the breakroom asks you where you got your lunch and why it smells so good, just think how proud you'll be when you say, "I made it myself," knowing it to be part of your repertoire.

CHICKEN RAGOÛT WITH WHITE BEANS AND ROSEMARY

Try to use humanely raised and processed chicken; among other things, this designation on the label should indicate an absence of antibiotics or growth hormones. Saffron is a worthwhile indulgence in your spice cabinet. It can be pricy, but Trader Joes has one that is very good and is reasonably priced.

1 pound boneless chicken thighs
1 medium shallot
2 cloves garlic
1 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes
1 15 ounce can white beans, such as Cannellini, Great Northern or Navy
1 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup chicken stock, either homemade or low sodium canned
2 teaspoons dried rosemary
1 dried bay leaf
2 pinches saffron
Salt (Greek sea salt works well)
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil

1. Measure the wine into a measuring cup with a spout. Sprinkle the saffron into the wine and set the measuring cup beside the stovetop. Open the can of tomatoes and place beside the infusing wine.

2. Remove the chicken thighs from their packaging and rinse under cool water. Dry with several layers of paper towels. Place chicken pieces skin-side down on a clean plate; season the underside of the pieces with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Flip the pieces so they are skin-side up; season the pieces with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Loosely cover the seasoned chicken with a piece of aluminum foil and set aside.

3. Remove the root and stem ends of the shallot; remove the papery outer skin. Halve the shallot from root to stem; halve each half. Cut each quarter into crescents and then cut across the crescents to form dice. Scrape the diced shallot into a small bowl.

4. Peel the garlic and remove the root end. Half the clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Slice each half longways into slivers and then each sliver longways into matchsticks. Cut across the matchsticks to mince. Scrape the garlic into the bowl containing the minced shallot. Place the bowl beside the stovetop.

5. Open the can of beans and empty the contents into a colander. You may need to swirl some cold water in the can to get all of the beans. Rinse the beans in the colander under cool water and set aside to drain.

6. Place a sauté pan on the burner. Drizzle with a five-count of extra-virgin olive oil. Turn the burner to medium high.

7. Once the oil develops a sheen, use kitchen tongs to place the chicken thighs skin side down into the hot oil. Try not to crowd the pan. Cook the chicken pieces until they start to give off their fragrance and the skin is nicely golden, approximately 4 minutes. Once the skin is nicely golden, use the tongs to flip the pieces. Cook until the underside of the chicken pieces starts to brown, approximately 2 minutes.

8. Use the tongs to return the pieces to the plate, being careful of the golden tops. Loosely cover the seared chicken pieces with the foil.

9. Reduce the burner heat to medium. Use a silicon spatula to add the shallot-garlic mixture to the skillet. Use the spatula to move the shallot-garlic mixture around the pan, picking up any browned or blackened bits from the bottom of the pan as you go. Cook until the shallot and garlic are cooked through and give off their fragrance, approximately 1 minute.

10. Gently empty the rinsed beans from the colander into the pan. Use the spatula to mix the beans with the mixture in the pan until the beans are nicely coated with the flavored oil.

11. Gently pour the infused wine into the pan, using the spatula to get all of the wine into the pan. Measure the chicken stock into the measuring cup.

12. Use the spatula to mix all of the ingredients in the pan together. Cook until tiny bubbles start to form at the edge of the mixture where it meets the side of the pan, approximately 1 minute.

13. Once the bubbles start to appear, add the chicken stock and the tomatoes to the mixture in the pan. Use the spatula to mix all of the ingredients in the pan together. Add the bay leaf to the mixture in the pan.

14. Remove the foil from the chicken pieces and use the tongs to gently place the chicken pieces, skin-side up, into the mixture in the pan. Try not to crowd the chicken pieces into the pan. It is okay if some of the pan mixture starts to cover the chicken pieces.

15. Sprinkle the dried rosemary over the mixture in the pan. Cover the pan. Cook, covered, until chicken is done, approximately 25 minutes.

16. Once cooked, dish ragoût into bowls. Serve hot.