1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (136 page)

The secret of this beloved recipe’s success may well lie in its ability to coax an air of refinement and even complexity out of the simplest ingredients and techniques. That, along with the intriguing appeal of contrasting but complementary flavors, goes a long way to explaining the enduring popularity of chicken Marbella with home cooks who love entertaining in an effortlessly flashy way.

The homey and economical slow-roasted chicken is marinated overnight, taking on the sweet and pungent overtones of olives, prunes, and capers before being baked with white wine and brown sugar. Simple from a technical point of view, chicken Marbella is even more convenient for its ability to be assembled up to three days prior to baking, although it can alternatively be prepared entirely the night before it’s to be served. It is also one of those softly stewed dishes that ripens and mellows to taste even better the next day. Versatile enough to be served over couscous, steamed rice, mashed potatoes, egg noodles, or by itself with crusty bread and a green salad, and to be eaten hot or at room temperature, it also travels well to potluck parties.

The epitome of 1980s cooking and entertaining, the dish was devised by Sheila Lukins and Julee Rosso, partners in the New York catering shop The Silver Palate. Opened on the Upper West Side in 1977, the store sold a then quirky combination of multiethnic, vaguely sophisticated dishes that lent themselves to dinners for busy family weeknights but were also good enough for company. That philosophy and doability is fully realized in chicken Marbella—a succulent, juicy, and deeply flavorful dinner that is easy enough to be made by even a novice cook, assuming the following recipe adapted from
The Silver Palate Cookbook
is carefully followed.

Serves 6

½ cup olive oil

½ cup red wine vinegar

1 cup pitted prunes

½ cup pitted Spanish green olives

½ cup capers, with a bit of juice

6 bay leaves

1 head of garlic, peeled and pureed

½ cup fresh oregano, chopped, or ¼ cup dried oregano

Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 chickens, 3½ to 4 pounds each, quartered

1 cup dry white wine

1 cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

1.
In a large bowl, combine the olive oil, vinegar, prunes, olives, capers and juice, bay leaves, garlic, and oregano, and season with salt and
pepper. Add the chicken pieces and turn to coat. Cover and refrigerate overnight or up to 3 days.

2.
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Arrange the chicken in a single layer in a shallow roasting pan; spoon the marinade over it evenly. Pour in the wine and sprinkle the chicken with the brown sugar.

3.
Bake until the thigh pieces yield clear yellow juice when pricked with a fork, 50 to 60 minutes, basting two or three times with the pan juices once the chicken begins to brown. (When basting, do not brush off the sugar. If the chicken browns too quickly, cover the pan lightly with foil.)

4.
Transfer the chicken pieces to a warm serving platter and top them with the prunes, olives, and capers; keep the platter warm. Place the roasting pan over medium heat and bring the pan juices to a boil. Reduce the juices to about ½ cup. Strain the juices into a heatproof bowl, add the parsley, and pour over the chicken. Chicken Marbella will keep, covered and refrigerated, for about 5 days.

Further information and recipe:
The Silver Palate Cookbook
by Sheila Lukins and Julee Rosso (2007).
Tip:
When prepared with small drumsticks and wings, chicken Marbella makes a delicious appetizer.

There comes a time when what every man or woman hungers for most is a simple chicken sandwich. To make that chicken sandwich a perfect one, the first thing you need is two slices of either
pain de mie
—that yeasty, dense, square French sandwich loaf—sour rye, or a seed-crunched whole grain bread; the choice depends upon personal taste. Spread with softened sweet butter, or a combination of lemony mayonnaise and a bit of Dijon mustard, the bread should be layered with moist, freshly roasted or poached chicken breast, sliced tissue thin and sprinkled with a few crystals of coarse sea salt and grindings of black pepper. Any greens should be nonintrusive and kept to a minimum, if included at all, the best being tender Bibb or Boston lettuce or, for a sprightlier effect, watercress leaves (minus the tough stems). Tomato need not apply, lest it drown out other flavors. Equally unwelcome are the impostor turkey and low-quality commercial white bread that tears apart as it is bitten into.

Within these parameters, there is room for innovation. One that has become a classic is the triple-decker chicken, bacon, and tomato club sandwich. Another was the so-called chicken sandwich made famous in 1959 by one Albert Stockli, master chef at the then-new Four Seasons restaurant in Manhattan. His “sandwich” for four was a huge white china platter lined with crackling, parchment-thin slices of homemade rye melba toast; lightly brushed with butter, they were topped with boned chunks of hot roasted chicken complete with golden skin.

Where:
In New York
, Elephant & Castle, tel 212-243-1400,
elephantandcastle.com
;
in Savannah, GA
, Zunzi’s, tel 912-443-9555,
zunzis.com
;
in Oakland, CA
, Bakesale Betty, tel 510-985-1213,
bakesalebetty.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Gene Hovis’s Uptown Down Home Cookbook
by Gene Hovis with Sylvia Rosenthal (1993);
The Joy of Cooking
by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker (2006);
The Fannie Farmer Cookbook
, 13th edition, by Marion Cunningham (1996);
saveur.com
(search chicken and egg club sandwich);
epicurious.com
(search chicken sandwiches with chive butter; broiled chicken and roasted pepper sandwiches).

What’s not to love about a pie filled with cream-topped chocolate pudding?

In this wholly American dessert, the pleasure of a crisp pie crust is a foil for the decadence of a rich, silky chocolate pudding filling. No need to ask for whipped cream on the side, as the sweet and snowy topping is standard.

Because chocolate cream pie belongs to the American tradition of “icebox pies”—pies that aren’t oven baked but are instead chilled to finished, firm perfection in the refrigerator—it is not only a crowd-pleaser but also incredibly easy to prepare. Called a “cream pie,” although it really is a pudding pie, its filling is a custard made with milk, chocolate, sugar, and eggs, bound by cornstarch so its slices hold their shape. The custard ingredients are heated together and poured into a good, thick pre-baked crust that stands up to the filling without becoming soggy (such as a crumb crust made of graham crackers or cookies) and the pie is then chilled to our everlasting pleasure.

You’ll find delicious icebox pies flavored with the likes of butterscotch, coconut cream, banana cream, and Key lime, but none packs quite so luxurious a punch as the chocolate. It’s not quite as pleasant, perhaps, when tossed in your face, but it’s a favorite for that purpose as it creates a mess yet is soft enough not to do much harm.

Further information and recipes:
The Dessert Bible
by Christopher Kimball (2000);
Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts
by Alice Medrich (2012);
The Joy of Cooking
by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker (2006);
The Fannie Farmer Cookbook
, 13th edition, by Marion Cunningham (1996);
epicurious.com
(search chocolate cream pie 2004).
Tip:
For a quick filling, try packaged chocolate pudding mix; Jell-O is the standard brand.

Crunchy, buttery, cinnamon-sugar-glazed toast is comfort food nonpareil, the balm applied by mothers of sniffling children since time immemorial. Most of the credit for its calming effect goes to the musky, earthy sweetness of cinnamon, the dried inner bark of the evergreen
Cinnamomum verum
tree. The tree is native to Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, and was introduced to the Seychelles Islands by the French in the early 1800s. (Both regions lead the world in cinnamon production today.)

Cinnamon has a subtle yet distinctive flavor. Even ground, it’s a deeply concentrated, aromatic spice, embraced by a host of cuisines and used as a flavoring agent in everything from Mexican hot chocolate drinks to Moroccan lamb tagines. But the best way to appreciate the spice is atop some hot, lavishly buttered toast.

Warm and crunchy, slightly softened by rich butter and glazed with sprinklings of cinnamon and sugar, the kitchen-cupboard creation is a childhood pleasure whose aroma alone is well worth occasionally revisiting. The most ordinary white bread does the job beautifully, and the only trick is to allow the toasted slice to rest under the broiler until the sugar caramelizes, to achieve maximum candy-crunch. (No toasters need apply.)

Mail order:
For sticks or powdered cinnamon, Penzeys Spices, tel 800-741-7787,
penzeys.com
.
Further information and recipes:
The Joy of Cooking
by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker (2006);
The Fannie Farmer Cookbook
, 13th edition, by Marion Cunningham (1996);
epicurious.com
(search cinnamon toast ice cream);
food52.com
(search maple cinnamon toast; homemade cinnamon toast crunch; cinnamon toast breakfast pudding).

The world over, a bowl of fish soup often presents a mystery and a discussion—what seafood swirls in its pungent broth, and how, exactly, should it be prepared? Pose these questions of San Francisco’s thick, tomato-based, vegetable-rich cioppino, and be prepared for a multitude of options. Much like a minestrone laden with plenty of the seafood the city is famous for, it is said to be a descendant of the Genoan fish soup known as
ciuppin
(pronounced chee-o-PEEN). Introduced to San Francisco by Ligurian immigrants in the early nineteenth century, the soup was taken up by fishermen’s wives in the North
Beach section that became the local little Italy. These days, the richest version to be found in that enchanting, hilly town is at the Tadich Grill (see
listing
), a fixture since 1854.

Whatever orthodoxy dictates as to its correct contents—some say yes to shellfish (and then the question is which), others no—the Tadich soup is chock-full of fresh white-fleshed fish, shrimp, scallops, clams, and crabmeat. It doesn’t skimp on the vegetables, either, its tomato-laden stock enhanced by dicings of carrots, green peppers, leeks, fennel, and celery. Splashes of white wine join onion and garlic and spicings of basil, oregano, thyme, bay leaves, cayenne, and black pepper in a deeply flavorful mix. Served steaming hot, and even richer when reheated after a day in the refrigerator, the fragrant cioppino is best enjoyed with a chunk of San Francisco’s famous, crusty sourdough bread.

Where:
In San Francisco
, Tadich Grill, tel 415-391-1849,
tadichgrill.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Tadich Grill
by John Briscoe (2002);
recipelink.com
(search tadich cioppino).

A seaside tradition since 1917.

Briny cherrystone clams, fresh from the sea, garnished with strips or bits of lean bacon and flecks of sweet red and green peppers, topped with a slather of butter and sizzled under the broiler, offer a double dose of saltiness from their surf-and-turf components. A dash of paprika contributes a bright glow to this old-fashioned Italian American appetizer.