Weeknight Dinner: Chicken Rice Casserole

Election Day dawned bright and warm in West Hollywood. I'm no fan of the seasonal time change, but in Southern California during the first days after we turn the clocks back the sun rises earlier, the golden daylight is a bit more intense. The earth has not moved, we've just turned back the hands on our clock faces. For every "spring forward" there is a "fall back." 

                        

In New York, I got used to the rhythm of Election Day as one of long waits on asphalt streets, of being bundled into coats against autumn's sudden sharp turn towards winter, of the curious sensation of being in the gym of our local middle school and realizing that this is what it's like to go to school in the city. As friends married and had kids, they must have gotten used to it, but it still ranks as one of the strangest, saddest feelings I've ever experienced. But I'm one who can find solace, even beauty, in sadness, and I grew to look forward to Election Day as some do towards Christmas: filled with expectation verging on excitement, seeking the comforts of tradition while embracing the possibilities of change.

However odd it felt to me to be standing in the stairwell of a high school gym where an elevated subway rumbled just on the other side of the wall, it was also reaffirming to my sense of community. Busy professionals carrying briefcases waited in the same stairwell as seniors being helped along by family, as parents shepherding their children to teach them about civics, as the waitress and the deli guy, the housewife and the single person, the taxi driver and the passenger.

This year was my first Federal election as a citizen of California. As do many Californians, John and I mail our ballots, so I had never seen a polling place in Los Angeles. After I packed John's lunch and saw him off to his day of work, I settled in with the last of the morning coffee and the breakfast show. I knew that reporters would be fanned across the great expanse of Los Angeles, covering Election Day across our profoundly diverse city. The polling place in Brentwood was predictably posh with a yoga space and a sitar player; in El Monte, it was cups of hot coffee and pastries from the local donut shop. The Registrar of County Elections reminded everyone of the protocol in our remarkably civil culture in Southern California, where voting is simple, understandable, accessible, and reliable.

I took a walk to our local polling site. We are lucky to live near Plummer Park and go there often, for everything from tennis games to May Day celebrations. I could sit on my favorite bench in Plummer all day, soaking in sunshine, watching children play and seniors perambulate, listening to palm trees rustle their secret language of calm. Plummer contains two public buildings from the WPA era, great historic buildings of terra cotta tiles and plazas, of murals of the Settlement of California, of pink and green metal folding chairs that look like they came from Jeanne Crain's garden party.

On Election Day, citizens from all walks of life were making their way to Vista Hall. Russian Americans, one of the pillars of West Hollywood culture, wore the ribbons of their national pride as they queued up with gay men gesticulating at each other, fitness buffs carrying yoga mats or running in place, hippies down from the canyon, hipsters up from Melrose. How moving it was to stand beyond the plaza, which was marked with posters mandating the required distance for electioneering, as the diversity of which West Hollywood is justly so proud manifested itself with such ease, with such accord, with the senses of duty and pride.

As I write this, it's a couple of days after an historic election whose outcome shook American society. Like many in my communities, I have been by turns angry and sad, upset and worried, frightened and just plain flabbergasted. Like many, I had to detach from social media, which let me assure you is a dangerous act for a writer in this day and age. But it is just too upsetting. There is vitriol to the point of hate crimes and gloating to the point of cruelty, but to me, the worst is betrayal. I can't really accuse that of people I know passingly; but I don't recall a time in my adult life that I have been so deeply wounded by people I called friends who were friends I called family. Or so I believed.

I've only just been able to eat beyond hot tea and peanut butter and crackers. I haven't had a cup of coffee, a stiff drink, or a square meal in over twenty four hours. As so many of us do when we are down, I've turned to comfort food not just to maybe feel a little bit better but to be able to eat anything at all. It turns out that, when I'm upset, comfort food is as comforting to prepare as it is to eat. I wasn't sure I could drag myself as far as the supermarket, but I did. The bright lights and moderate midday bustle were reaffirming in the way of being in public after any period of hibernation. It felt so good not to feel bad that I treated myself to a flat white. I picked up some groceries, kibbitzed with the checkout lady, and most importantly, witnessed life going on, evidencing a veneer of politeness it wouldn't have just a couple of days earlier.

For many of us, comfort food means Grandma's kitchen, and maybe here's a lesson grandmothers have taught us, literally through history. We gather at the table, but getting ourselves together starts in the kitchen. Whether baking a batch of cookies or cooking a pot of beef stew, preparing good food nourishes not only the spirits and bodies of those we feed, it nourishes the cooks. It gives us something to do with our hands, with our skill, with our hearts, with our generosity. Here is my recipe for a high office indeed in the country of American comfort food: a warm, soft, flavorful chicken casserole. It is made from pantry ingredients and is traditional right down to the cream sauce and the crumb topping. It is soothing to cook, wonderful to eat, and made for sharing. It is a hug in a dish, at a time when many of us could use one.

Chicken Rice Casserole 
This recipe may yield more cooked chicken than you need for the dish; use the leftover to make chicken salad or a quick chicken and rice lunch.

2 meaty chicken breasts, bone-in

2 meaty chicken thighs/drumsticks, bone-in

3/4 cup white long grain rice

1 small yellow onion

1 carrot

1 rib celery

1/2 pound small white button mushrooms

1/4 cup frozen peas

1-1/2 cups milk

Unsalted butter

1/2 cup plain bread crumbs

2 tablespoons flour

2 tablespoons sherry

1 bay leaf

Dried parsley

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Prepare the chicken

Up to one day ahead

1. Place the chicken pieces into a medium-large saucepan with tight-fitting lid.
2. Sprinkle the chicken pieces with 1 teaspoon salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper. Nestle the bay leaf between the chicken pieces.
3. Slowly add water to the pan to cover the chicken by 1 inch.
4. Place the lid on the pan. Cook over medium-low heat until cooked through and very fragrant, approximately 1 hour.
5. Turn off the heat and set the pan aside for the chicken to cool, approximately one hour.
6. Once the chicken is cool enough to handle, use two forks to shred the chicken into a bowl. The meat should fall off of the bones. Be careful not to capture any small bones, cartilage, skin, etc.; you only want shredded white- and dark-meat chicken.
7. Pour the liquid remaining in the pan through a sieve into a spouted measuring cup large enough to contain it; there should be 1 - 1-1/2 cups of this light stock, with the debris in the pot, including the bay leaf, caught in the strainer.
8. Refrigerate the chicken and the light stock in separate vessels until ready to prepare the dish.

Prepare the rice and vegetables
2 - 1-1/2 hours before serving

1. Place a small pat of butter into a medium saucepan with tight-fitting lid. Turn the burner to low and swirl the butter in the pan to melt the butter.
2. Measure the rice into the pan. Swirl the pan to coat the rice with the butter.
3. Sprinkle the buttered rice with a pinch of salt.
4. Slowly measure 1-1/2 cups of the reserved light stock from step 7 above into the pan containing the rice. If there is not enough stock, make up the difference with water.
5. Gently swirl the pan so that the rice doesn't stick together. Cover the pan with the lid and cook on low until the rice is light, fluffy, and cooked through, approximately 40 minutes. Check the rice after 20 minutes (set a timer if necessary) and every 10 minutes thereafter to ensure that you don't burn the rice, adding more stock / water in small amounts as warranted. Once the rice is cooked, turn off the heat, fluff the rice with a fork (it is okay if the mixture is moist), and let the rice sit, covered, until ready to assemble the casserole.
6. Safely peel the carrot and safely cut away and discard the blossom and root ends. Safely cut the carrot into thirds crossways. Cut each third lengthways into half (the pieces will not be exact) and cut each half into quarters. Cut across the quarters to form bite-sized pieces.
7. Safely cut away and discard the root end from the celery rib. Safely cut the celery rib into thirds crossways. Cut each third lengthways into half (the pieces will not be exact) and cut each half into quarters. Cut across the quarters to form bite-sized pieces.
8. Safely cut away and discard the stem and root ends of the onion. Peel the onion, working under a stream of cool water if the onion gives off fumes. Cut the onion in half crossways and cut one of the halves crossways to form rings. Cut across the rings to form half-moons. Cut across the half-moons to form dice. Measure 1/2 cup diced onion into a measuring cup.
9. Pick through the mushrooms to discard any that display discoloration, softness, or off-odor. Safely cut away and discard the calloused bottom of each mushroom. Transfer the mushrooms to a colander and rinse them quickly under a stream of cool water to remove any debris. Give the colander a shake to express excess water. Transfer the mushrooms to a mini kitchen prep. Click the lock into place and safely pulse the mushrooms no more than two or three times, just enough to break them into small pieces.

Cook the vegetables and make the sauce
1-1/2 hours before baking

1. Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.
2. Butter the interior of a 3-1/2 or 4 quart baking dish. Place the dish on a large rimmed baking sheet.
3. Place a pat of butter in a medium to large sauté pan. Turn the burner to low and swirl the pan to melt the butter. Carefully add the prepared carrot, celery, and onion to the pan. Sprinkle the mixture with a pinch of salt and use a silicon spatula to stir the ingredients together. Cover the pan with its lid and cook the vegetables until they soften and become fragrant, approximately 10 minutes. Check the pan a couple of times to stir the vegetables and to add more butter to the pan if the mixture is running dry.
4. Measure the frozen peas into a large mixing bowl. Measure 1-1/4 cups cooked rice into the mixing bowl containing the peas. Use a slotted spoon for the transfer if the rice is overly moist or soupy.
5. Once the vegetables from step 3 above are cooked until soft or fragrant, use a silicon spatula to transfer the vegetables and pot liquid if any to the bowl containing the rice. Use the spatula to stir the rice and vegetables together.
6. Measure approximately 1-1/2 cups shredded chicken into the bowl containing the rice and vegetables. Use the spatula to stir the mix together thoroughly.
7. Return the sauté pan to the stovetop. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in the pan. Add the mushrooms to the pan. Sprinkle the mushrooms with a pinch of salt. Use the spatula to stir the mixture together.
8. Add the flour to the pan. Use the spatula to stir the mushroom-flour mixture until the flour is cooked and lightly toasty; approximately 1 minute.
9. Slowly add the milk into the pan containing the mushroom roux. Stir gently as you pour to mix the sauce while avoiding splashing it.
10. Once the sauce is just thickened, turn off the heat. Stir the sherry into the sauce.

Assemble and bake the casserole
1 hour before serving

1. Use a large spoon to transfer the chicken-rice mixture to the buttered baking dish.
2. Gently pour the sauce into the baking dish containing the chicken rice mixture. Use the spatula to stir the casserole together as you pour, so that all of the ingredients are mixed thoroughly. It is okay if the mixture is moist; it will soak up liquid as it cooks.
3. Sprinkle the top of the casserole with bread crumbs and sprinkle the bread crumbs with dried parsley. Dot the bread crumb topping with butter.
4. Cover the baking dish with its lid or with a length of aluminum foil sprayed with non-stick vegetable spray.
5. Carefully transfer the baking sheet holding the casserole dish to the oven. Bake at 400 degrees for 1/2 hour.
6. After 1/2 hour, use oven mitts to safely remove the lid / aluminum foil. Bake 5 - 10 minutes longer, until the crumb topping is nicely toasted.
7. Remove the casserole from the oven. Allow to cool before serving.

Resources

Mini kitchen prep

Composting vegetable scraps