Salt-crust tarragon chicken
Tarragon chicken baked in tarragon salt-crust pastry
This is the tale of Fat Chicken. A new kind of super hero. Well, no, not really. Basically this I about a whole chicken baked in salt-crust pastry—with a bit of pimp action here and there. It would be entirely sufficient to wrap the chicken in pastry and cook it but, nay sir, that simply would not do. Spurred by the frippery of my Jambon Chaud Froid, the pastry crust had to be moulded to resemble a chicken. I’d settle for a member of the avian community. Let the titters and profanity commence.
As always, first things first. Bird prep.
I had a lovely 2kg chicken from Turner and George with Linford Christie legs and Dolly Parton breasts. The fire gun saw off any lingering plummage. The scaly skin on the leg knuckles was scorched and pulled away with a cloth. I didn’t trim the wings because I think they add a visual interest when the carcass is trussed. The wing tips were cut off though—they look like little thumbs. Bye bye Parson’s Nose. Neck and wishbone removed and reserved for the jus. I cleaned out any lung material from the cavity and left the kidneys in place to impart some flavour. There was plenty of excess fat—the good stuff—beneath the skin around the cavity openings. This was trimmed out, rendered down, passed and cooled, then beat into some goat’s butter with finely chopped tarragon leaves and a pinch of sea salt and white pepper. Rendering chicken fat almost immediately fills the air with the smell of roasting chicken. I wanted to put that flavour back into the bird. The compound butter was carefully distributed across the breast meat beneath the skin. Tarragon stalks went into the cavity with garlic cloves, lemon zest and the lemon cut in half.
Plump free range chicken weighing in at 2kg
Rendering the excess chicken fat
Aromatics for the cavity and compound butter for the breasts
Chicken stuffed with tarragon stalks, lemon and garlic
The bird was trussed to secure all its bits in the right places and create an overall shape conducive to wrapping in pastry. Maybe the pointy wings weren’t such a good idea?
Stuffed, trussed and compound butter under the breast skin
I knew the cooked chicken was going to emerge from the pastry crust all anaemic looking—not a good look. Pasty chicken skin doesn’t encourage one to tuck in. And I didn’t want to attempt crisping the skin afterwards and risk overcooking the meat, so I opted to put a bit of colour onto the skin before encasing the bird in pastry. Colour is flavour and even more flavour is a good thing. I did this by browning the chicken in a pan. A benefit of doing it this way was I got some sucs in the pan which I could use in the jus. I’d have liked more colour but it was a faff. That 2-kilo cannon ball of a bird seemed hell bent on slipping and sliding around the pan. Trying to get a consistent colour meant handling the blighter, except with the delicate touch of a wood nymph so as not to tear the skin. I reckon the way to go is to get a sizzle on. Put the bird in the oven at 220C for 20 minutes or so then let it cool before encasing in the salt-crust pastry.
Browning the chicken in a pan
Some colour on the chicken
While the chicken cooled down, I made the salt-crust pastry. Equal parts Maldon sea salt and plain flour, plus egg whites, some water, and chopped tarragon. I only had wholemeal flour. Kneading the dough was a good workout. Fridge to rest—the pastry, not me. I got another workout when it came to rolling the stuff. Puff!
The chicken was cocooned in the pastry with the seam located under the bird. The ends were tucked under too. Egg-wash glued everything in place. It was difficult to get it perfectly wrapped. Over-manipulation just caused rips in the pastry. I called a truce in the end, settling for an air pocket or two but no holes. When I do this again I’ll use only the chicken crown. It’ll be a shame to lose the legs and wings but I suspect the smooth round shape of the crown will make the salt-crust pastry fit more snuggly. I can always put the legs into individual salt crusts and cook ‘em alongside or make jambonnettes. Anyway, onto the adornments. I cut out some wings, moulded a tail and the head, complete with beak and the dangly wattles underneath, and the rubber glove thing or comb as it’s properly termed for up top. The lot were stuck on with egg-wash. Cloves were added for eyes. The whole pastry crust was egg-washed, more for final appearance than anything else.
A salt-crust pastry shell shaped like a chicken, of sorts
Is it me or is salt-crust pastry temperamental? It seems like there’s 2 drops of water between a dough that cracks too easily and a dough that sags under its own weight. Just go with the flow, I tell myself. Yeah. But when that flow is the salt-crust pastry ebbing away from whatever it’s meant to be encasing, well, it gets vexing. I’m vexed. Is it just me?
As I snapped a few photos I noticed the neck was getting shorter. Chuckle. The head was sinking into the body. Oh FFS! If it’s sinking at room temperature, where’s the head going to end up when the bird is in the oven? I managed to stem the subsidence with the surgical insertion of cocktail sticks. I wasn’t convinced. Only the oven would tell. I suspect the heavier wholemeal flour wasn’t helping but what can you do when lockdown strikes.
The chicken went into the oven at 170C for 90 minutes or so. In hindsight I should’ve situated a temperature probe into the bird at the right location and built the crust around it. Probing blind through the hardened salt crust proved to be a hit-and-miss affair with the real risk of over-cooking the chicken. Fortunately I caught it at 69C. Carryover cooking would see it safe.
And wouldn’t ya know, the oven did indeed tell. There was some cracking in the heat, which was quickly dealt with by liberally applying a slurry made with leftover salt-crust pastry and a little egg wash. A trick I learned recently when making a sweet pastry case. But Fat Chicken now has Mike Tyson’s no-neck! LOL Despite the cocktail stick scaffolding the pastry neck melted faster than Inspector Clouseau’s fake nose in The Pink Panther Strikes Again. And WTF happened to the dangling wattles? I’ve made a sabre-toothed chicken, with a tan to die for.
Sabre-Toothed Fat Chicken No-Neck ain’t no flyer, she’s a brooder. Her favourite pastime is warming a clutch of eggs.
Next time I’ll try using one piece of pastry as a base, placing the bird on top, then laying over a lid and crimping the join. I imagine the crimping will frame the sculpted salt-crust chicken nicely, which should look just dandy at the table.
Salt-crust sabre-toothed fat chicken with no neck but a killer tan
Breaking into a salt crust is like cracking a safe. It requires significant force that must be carefully directed or else the valuable contents be destroyed. Come to think of it, a Dremel would make short work of it. Ooh the anticipation. It was like opening Tutankhamun’s tomb, just without the Russian doll sarcophagi and the wrinkly and withered leathery skeleton.
Juicy tarragon chicken in salt-crust pastry
Fat Chicken lived up to expectations—juicy, tender meat and tasty tarragon. Phew. My chicken starlet had become a star.
When you’ve got chicken this good I think it’s important to keep the accompaniments simple—potatoes, veg, sauce.
Colourful heritage carrots, lightly steamed and finished in a little butter.
Pommes Purée with a brunoise of preserved lemon zest folded through it, giving a salty citrus bite every now and then.
And of course the sauce. A jus was made with the neck, wishbone and trimmings, and a mirepoix of shallot, carrot and the tiniest bit of celery. Infused for about an hour, passed twice through damp muslin cloth, then reduced by half. In a separate pan, more shallot was sweated down butter. Sliced chestnut mushrooms were added. A splash of brandy—POOF—everyone loves a flambé. A splish of white wine and the reduced jus. This was reduced to coating consistency, then cold butter and fresh tarragon added to make a sauce reminiscent of Poulet Sauté Champeaux. Utterly ambrosial. I’ll tell you—if you haven’t smelled and tasted chicken Champeaux then you’d better do something about it, pronto. IT’S THAT GOOD. Ask anyone who came to our New Year’s Eve party in December 2019. Catch a whiff and you’ll find yourself drifting into the kitchen all drooling and dreamy-like, just like the Bisto waft. Taste it and you’ll go weak at the knees. Best to be seated.
Salt-crust tarragon chicken with preserved lemon Pommes Purée, heritage carrots, and a mushroom and tarragon sauce
Salt-crust chicken breast with tarragon and chicken fat butter under the skin
Salt-crust tarragon chicken in a mushroom and tarragon sauce