Frickin' Fricassee

I've always had this impression--for some reason, I want to attribute it to a Bugs Bunny cartoon from the Friz Freleng era--that a fricassee was some high-falutin' dish, très haute cuisine.

Imagine my surprise when I came upon a chicken fricassee recipe in my January 2009 issue of Cooking Light that seemed very simple--or at least very similar to a few dishes I've attempted to make in the past.

If you're not familiar with what a fricassee is, Gentle Reader, it's merely a dish of cut-up pieces of meat (such as chicken) or veggies stewed in stock and served in a white sauce. And what's a white sauce, you ask, Gentle Reader? It's a sauce consisting of a roux with milk, cream or stock and seasoning. And before you ask, Gentle Reader, a roux is a cooked mixture of flour and fat used as a thickening agent in a soup or sauce.

Got all that? Good. Because you'll probably notice a few...off things in the fricassee recipe I chose to make.

Dijon Mustard Chicken Fricassee1/4 C Dijon mustard
1/4 C chopped fresh parsley, divided
1 T chopped fresh thyme, divided
3 pounds chicken pieces, skinned
1/4 t salt
1/4 t freshly ground black pepper
1 T olive oil
1 1/2 C chopped onion (about 1 large)
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 C dry white wine
1 C fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth

1. Combine the mustard, 1 tablespoon of parsley, 1 1/2 teaspoons of thyme and the chicken in a large zip-top plastic bag, then toss to coat. Chill the marinating chicken 8 hours or overnight.
   
2. Remove the chicken from the bag and discard the marinade. Sprinkle the chicken with salt and black pepper.
   
3. Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat.
   
4. Add the chicken to the pan, and cook 5 min. on each side or until browned. Remove the chicken from the pan.
   
5. Add the chopped onion to the pan, and sauté 5 min. or until tender, stirring frequently.
   
6. Add the garlic to pan, and sauté 1 min., stirring constantly.
   
7. Stir in the wine and chicken broth, scraping the pan to loosen any browned bits.
8. Stir in 1 tablespoon of parsley and the remaining 1 1/2 teaspoons of thyme.
9. Return the chicken to pan, then cover, reduce heat and simmer 25 min. or until the chicken is done.
   
10. Remove the chicken from the pan with a slotted spoon and keep it warm.
    
11. Cook the sauce, uncovered, over medium heat 4 min. or until it's slightly thick.
12. Pour the sauce over the chicken, and sprinkle atop the remaining 2 tablespoons of parsley.

Yield: 4 servings (one serving size is about 5 ounces of chicken and 1/2 cup of sauce)

Nutritional Info
Calories: 244
Fat: 10.6 g
Sat fat: 2.4 g
Protein: 28.2 g
Carbs: 7.8 g
Fiber: 1.5 g
Cholesterol: 80 mg
Sodium: 527 mg

The Faudie's Futzings
Believe it or not, Gentle Reader, but I didn't do too much futzing with this recipe. I have bad enough luck as it is with recipes that call for any kind of sauce to thicken, so I didn't want to press my luck any further. But, hey, I wouldn't be The Faudie if I didn't futz a teensy bit, now would I?

I didn't have any parsley and while I had every opportunity to acquire some, I didn't feel like buying a big bunch of it--even if it is less than a buck a bunch--I wanted to use up the cilantro we have already, as it was getting near the end of its time. Cilantro is certainly more flavorful than parsley--or at least I think so--but I don't think it affected the flavor of the fricassee at all. The fresh thyme was quite potent, and that's the herb smell that greeted me every time I took a whiff.

I'd planned to make this dish last Monday, but I'd gotten it confused with another recipe and had it in my head that the fricassee didn't require marinating time. So when I went Monday afternoon to get things started, imagine my surprise when I discovered that the chicken should have been marinating before I'd hauled my arse into the kitchen to make it! But what's a faudie to do with thawed chicken she won't have a chance to use until Thursday (because the FSM forbid we deviate from the appointed course of Pizza Tuesday--and a special pizza at that--and Burrito Wednesday)?

She plunges ahead and hopes to hell her chicken doesn't turn on her while it's marinating for nearly three days, that's what she does!

I'm happy to report that thus far, no one at Chez Boeckman-Walker has died of salmonella or any other food poisoning. The chicken was quite fragrant with Dijon mustard and thyme by the time I got it out of the marinating bag and into Chive the Dutchie.

So how did my first fricassee turn out? Well, Gentle Reader, need I tell you that my sauce never thickened? No, probably not. But honestly, I'm not surprised it didn't because if you take a look at the definition of a roux, fat and flour are required. They're the essential thickening agents. This recipe had neither flour nor fat--or at least not the kind of fat Escoffier and his ilk would like to have for a good roux. Really, the recipe sets you up for failure, unless you're willing to resort to tossing in cornstarch or tapioca or some other thickener. And I'm not.

But I counted on my sauce not thickening, which is why I served the fricassee with brown rice and broccoli. Let me tell you, the rice absorbed the soupy sauce quite nicely, as did the broccoli. The chicken, I thought, was a bit chewy--probably because it was in the mustard and in the 'fridge for so damn long. However, I'm calling this one a victory if only for the simple fact that no one's dead yet of food poisoning.