Forty...

There seems to be some sort of magic around the number forty.  There were the forty days and forty nights of the Great Flood. And Ali Baba and the forty thieves. American Top Forty. Forty acres and a mule. The Darb el-Arbein: the forty days road across Sudan from Darfur to Lower Egypt.

Forty is the only integer whose name in English has its letters in alphabetical order. It is the number of hours in a western workweek. Forty is the highest number ever counted to on Sesame Street. It is the number of winks that make up a proper nap. It is when life is said to begin.

It is also the number of cloves of garlic in this recipe. Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic. It’s a classic French recipe around which there are stories and legends and even a little controversy. I think every prominent cook, cookbook, cooking website, and blog has a version of this recipe. And so do we. I’ve adapted this recipe from Marian Burros’s adaptation of Jane and Michael Stern’s, and stolen a bit from James Beard, too.

In case you're wondering what forty cloves of garlic looks like....

Here’s what you need:

Eight pieces of chicken (I used thighs but thighs and legs seem to be the standard)

Six parsley sprigs

Four celery ribs, cut in half and then sliced into long ribs

Two medium onions chopped

½ cup olive oil

½ cup of dry vermouth

2  ½  teaspoons salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

forty cloves of garlic, unpeeled

dash of nutmeg

a baguette

Garlic bulbs and parsley sprigs direct from MS. F's garden. 

Heat your oven to 375.

Place the celery, onions, and parsley sprigs in the bottom of a large, heavy casserole. Coat the chicken in olive oil (Burros, Beard, and the Sterns all say to use more oil than this (2/3 cup), and to place it in a bowl then dip the chicken in it. But I think this is plenty.) then place the pieces in the casserole atop the vegetables. Pour the vermouth over all of this, then add the salt and pepper. Now stuff the forty cloves of garlic all around the chicken. You’ll probably have to lift the chicken pieces and drop some of the garlic under some of them. Sprinkle the dash of nutmeg over the chicken pieces. Now put aluminum foil over the casserole, then place the lid on top of that.

Ready to go into the oven

Put this into the over, shut the door, and go away for ninety minutes. You could be making a green vegetable or salad, and you should be slicing bread. A good crusty baguette is an absolute necessity. Don't be nosy, let the food cook in the pot without opening it for ninety minutes. 

After those ninety minutes have passed, you can serve. Be sure to give each of your guests numerous pieces of the garlic. Once it has cooled a bit, they can use their fingers to squeeze the garlic out of its skins and onto the bread—it the bread is slightly toasted, so much the better.

Just out of the oven. 

We served this with some haricots verts prepared with shallots and slivered almonds. It went very well with a Pinot Noir. If you have leftovers, you could also put this over some rice quite easily. You might cook the rice with some celery and onion and a bit of chicken stock replacing some of the water to add flavor

It's Always Summer Somewhere: Making a Proper Pimm's Cup

It’s been a brutally hot summer on the East Coast. In DC we had 57 days (so far) of temps at 90F or above. The long-ish range predictions for next week show that we may have more. So, even though meteorological summer has passed and astrological summer ends in a few days, and the temp at our house in the Catskills today never crested 70F, it doesn’t yet feel autumnal. Which means we can still make Pimm’s Cups! If you’re unfamiliar with this treat, prepare to jolly up your summer. For you old hands, mix up your own batch and settle in.

Pimm’s is technically what is known as a fruit cup, meaning that it is a mix of fruit and herbs with alcohol. Historically, the liquor mix might have been gin (Pimm’s No 1), scotch (No 2), brandy (No 3), rum (No 4), rye (No 5), or vodka (No 6). Today, Pimm’s No 1 is about all you can find, and it’s all you’ll need. The distillation is said (on the Pimm’s website) to be, “lots of lovely gin with herbal botanicals, caramelised orange and delicate spices.” I frankly stink at picking out distinct flavors in drinks or food, so I’ll have to leave it at that. The bottled mix is 25% gin.

So now let's make a Pimm’s Cup. There are a few hundred different recipes for these drinks and everyone swears theirs is the best, me included. The "official" recipe on the Pimm's website calls for mint, orange, and strawberries--plus cucumber as a garnish. Victoria Moore, wine critic at The Telegraph in London says you only need cucumber, orange, and mint for flavors (beyond the lemonade or ginger ale). Some people add apple and lemon and other things. But let's keep it simple at first, so here’s what you need:

Pimm’s

An orange

A cucumber

Some ice

Some mint

Quality ginger ale or in the UK high quality lemonade

A pitcher

  

Mint from Ms. F's garden, mind. 

So, let’s go:

We’ll start with knife work: Slice the orange into thin slices. Slice the cuke using a mandolin if you have one into thin strips or lengthwise with your best knife into eight wedges if you don’t. Tear the mint or at least roll it in your hands to break open the leaves for more flavor.

Now, with the dangerous work behind us: Pour a couple of cups of Pimm’s into the pitcher, add the orange slices and mint. Put this into the fridge for 15 minutes.

Take two cucumber wedges and stand them in each of four glasses (if you’ve done the mandolin slice, fold a couple of slices into each glass with the ice). Add half a glass worth of ice cubes.

Get your Pimm’s mix pitcher out of the fridge and add ginger ale or UK lemonade. Again, there are differences of opinion on the ratio. The official recipe calls for three parts ginger ale to one part Pimm's. That seems parsimonious to me and leads to a somewhat too sweet drink. I use a 50-50 ratio. I heartily recommend you try the different versions repeatedly among close friends until you've found your proper ratio. Anyway decide the proper (for you) ratio, add the ginger ale to the pitcher and stir once or twice.

Pour this mix over the ice in the glasses, distribute the fruit among the glasses, and serve.

Absent proper glassware at the cottage, we're forced to drink from pint glasses. 

If you’re watching the polo, you’re all set. If you’re not, you’re still all set. Get out your croquet or boules, and have a go.