Poultry

It’s a safe bet that every cook will be called upon to roast a turkey at some point in his or her life. Since it’s usually a once-a-year endeavor, there’s not much room for practice. Instead, rely on proven methods and plan carefully. This is one instance where making sure you have the right equipment (a pot large enough to hold the brining turkey, plus a spot in the refrigerator to place it; a heavy roasting pan; cheesecloth for “basting” the bird as it cooks; and an instant-read thermometer) and sufficient time (a day for brining and then at least 5 hours for bringing the bird to room temperature and cooking it) is crucial. Also, take care of as much as possible in advance, such as preparing the stuffing the day before and refrigerating it overnight, while the turkey is brining. Then it will be much easier when the time comes to focus on the task at hand: roasting the perfect turkey. Brining the meat ensures that the turkey will be tender and juicy. The brining solution contains aromatics for more flavor, but you could forgo those and simply use a mixture of salt, sugar, and water. For food safety reasons, it’s essential that you let the brine cool completely before adding the turkey. Before being put in the oven, the brined bird should sit at room temperature for 2 hours; once it’s out of the oven, let it rest for 20 minutes. For a moister bird, cook to 165°F; when taking the temperature, remember that the roast will continue to cook after being removed from the oven. One more safety note: Never stuff a turkey ahead of time. Warm stuffing should not be put into a turkey until just before roasting. If the stuffing contains warm ingredients, such as sautéed onions or celery, get it into the bird and into the oven as soon as possible. Chilling warm stuffing before cooking it in a turkey is not as safe because the stuffing will, through cooling and heating, spend too much time at temperatures at which bacteria thrive (between 40 and 140°F).

Unlike other chicken soups that begin with water, this Mexican version starts with chicken stock; the resulting broth is richer and more complex than for basic chicken soup (page 43), since stock will impart flavor to (and be fortified by) the chicken. To make the soup, a whole chicken is simmered in chicken stock, which is then strained and combined with a fiery puree of dried chiles, charred tomatoes, and sautéed onion and garlic. Before being pureed, the chiles are toasted in a dry skillet to enhance their smokiness, then soaked in water to soften, a process that is widely used in Mexican cooking as a building block for many types of dishes (this is comparable to the way spices are toasted in Indian cooking as a flavor-building component for masalas and curry pastes). What distinguishes tortilla soup is the way it is served, since the garnishes are essential to the overall flavor; plus, they are incorporated at the table—not in the kitchen—so that each guest has a hand in creating and customizing the final dish. The garnishes suggested below are traditional and offer a nice balance of taste and texture, but sliced jalapeños (seeded for less heat) or radishes, diced fresh tomatoes, or other types of cheese (such as queso fresco or queso blanco) are also authentic, as is a dollop of crema (Mexican sour cream) or sour cream.

If soup-making is an indication of a cook’s talents, chicken soup is the truest test, since the soup should ideally offer warmth and nourishment as well as flavor. It is, after all, the ultimate comfort food. Once you’ve committed this basic soup technique to memory, the possibilities for variations—and other meals—are limitless. Making the soup is essentially a form of poaching chicken in an aromatic broth. The chicken should always be just covered with liquid—in this case, water—which should remain at a gentle simmer. Skimming the surface is critical to the soup’s success, since the impurities from the chicken would cause the broth to become cloudy. Straining out the aromatics will also help produce a cleaner broth; the vegetables will have become very soft and lost much of their individual flavors by this time, so it is necessary to replenish them with “garnish” vegetables, added at the end. The variations below provide flavorful alternatives to the basic soup recipe—one with matzo balls and the other with springtime vegetables, including green beans, peas, and watercress.

The first lesson in stock making is also the simplest: everything (bones and aromatics) is covered in a pot with water and gently simmered, yielding a stock with a pure, clean flavor. This technique can be applied to making stock with chicken, meat, fish, or only vegetables. Of these, no stock is more versatile and flexible than white chicken stock, which is flavorful but not overpowering, lending itself to a vast array of uses: white sauces, such as velouté; any number of soups (it is the default choice for many); and many stews and braises, among other dishes where there are layers of flavor (think risotto). White beef stock is equally classic, and a better option in dishes such as Wine-Braised Short Ribs (page 188). For this stock, there are several ways to alter the outcome, depending on how it will be used. The longer the stock simmers, the stronger it will taste. Simmer for 1 1/2 hours for vegetable soups or other delicate dishes (including white sauces), longer for more robust sauces and soups. To give the stock a more pronounced chicken flavor, add 1 1/2 pounds chicken thighs along with the other parts (take them out of the pot as soon as they are done if you plan to reserve the meat for another purpose, returning bones to pot after removing meat).

We serve this as a daily piatto special in the Pizzeria with Lentils Castellucciano and fried sage sprinkled all around. We included it as a variation to the Duck al Mattone because the preparations of the duck, with the exception of cooking times, are identical.

One of the unique and really great things about duck is that if you do everything right, you are able to get the skin deliciously crisp, as it is here. We borrowed the idea for cooking the duck from a similar dish that is served at Mario and Joe’s Lupa Osteria Romana, in New York. We call it “al mattone,” a term that refers to something (generally chicken) cooked under a brick, because it has the same crisp skin as if you had put pressure on the bird when you cooked it. We serve the duck with either a side of sautéed corn or Brussels sprout leaves. Even though we gave you recipes for both, the idea is that you make only the one that is in season. The duck also comes with a ramekin of pear mostarda, a spicy Italian condiment whose sharp spiciness cuts through the richness of the duck and really makes the dish. To confit the ducks, buy rendered duck fat from the same source as you buy your ducks. We serve half a duck to each guest, but it’s a dish that people often order, along with two or three contorni, to share. Served family style with the corn or Brussels sprouts, and two or three additional contorni, four duck halves could feed six or eight people. After cooking the ducks we like to rest them in the fat they were cooked in for at least 24 hours. Plan accordingly.

If I had to name a signature secondo at the Osteria, this agrodolce preparation of quail would be it. The quail are stuffed with a savory mixture of pancetta and herbs, and then drizzled with honey and aged balsamico condimento. When Matt and I travel to fund-raising and other food events around the country, this is the meat dish we most often choose to serve because it can be prepared ahead of time, and I’ve never met anyone—not even quail skeptics—who wasn’t completely enamored of it. It’s also easy to pair with wine. The gamey flavor of the bird and the pork can handle a big, fruity wine, and it doesn’t overpower even the finest wines.

Braised guinea hen served on a big piece of toasted bread and smothered in a rich, gravy-like sauce made of the hens’ livers and pancetta is the house specialty of Ristorante Masolino, my favorite restaurant in Panicale. I felt I would be remiss in not including it on the menu at Mozza, and since we all know how generous and open the Italian people are, I was more than a little surprised when I asked Masolino’s owner, Andrea, for the recipe for this dish, and he refused. Evidently he was not interested in sharing the secrets of his specialty with the world. So I did the only thing I could do. The summer before we opened Mozza I went to the restaurant countless times and each time forced someone in my party to order the guinea hen so I could have a bite and try to figure out how to make it—or how to tell Matt to make it. This recipe requires a lot of preparation, so it’s important to have all of your slicing and dicing done before you start cooking. You can get guinea hen thighs at poultry shops, or order it online from specialty sources such as D’Artagnan. If all you can get are thighs connected to the legs, use the legs to fortify your chicken stock. (Put the chicken stock and guinea legs in a stockpot, bring the stock to a boil over high heat, reduce the heat, and simmer for up to 2 hours, skimming off the foam that rises to the top.) As important as I believe it is for food to look as good as it tastes, I do not delude myself. I know that this dish is not going to win any beauty contests. Rest assured that what it lacks in beauty it makes up for in flavor. I think even Andrea would approve.

Just when I think we have perfected a dish, I come across a version that someone has done better, and that’s what happened here. I always thought we did a great job with the chicken liver pâté we served at the Pizzeria, and it is one of the most raved-about items we serve. The combination of pancetta, lemon, and capers is delicious, and we hand-chop it, which gives it great texture, so I was totally happy with these crostini until I went to the Spotted Pig in New York City and had theirs. April Bloomfield, the chef, served her chicken livers on bread that was doused with—not drizzled and not brushed, but drowned in—olive oil, which made the chicken liver taste that much better. When I came back from that trip, we started doing the same thing, drowning the toast for our chicken liver pâté in the best finishing-quality olive oil we have. After I copied April’s bread, I think our version of chicken liver crostini went back to number one—or at least we’re tied for first place.

We serve this rich, meaty ragù alternately with gnocchi (page 172) and pici (page 168). When the ragù is tossed with gnocchi, the flavor becomes like a rich and delicious meat-and-potatoes dish. It manages to be exotic and familiar at the same time. We use only duck legs and not the whole duck because the meat from the legs is more moist and lends itself better to long cooking. You will probably have to special-order the legs from your poultry purveyor, so when you do, make sure to ask for the livers, too. Alternatively, you can make this ragù with one whole duck, cut into pieces. Not only will this be easier to find but also you’re guaranteed to get the liver with it.

This is a neutral chicken stock that doesn’t contain any seasonings other than peppercorns. We keep it simple because we use it in a variety of dishes, each of which will contain its own seasonings. We go through an astonishing amount of this stock and as you cook from this book, you will, too.

If you plan to use the stock for a specific recipe, begin making it at least 12 hours ahead of time, and refrigerate for 8 hours so the fat has a chance to collect on top and can be removed.

For the best poultry gravy, do not roast the turkey or chicken in a nonstick roasting pan: It keeps the flavorful bits of meat and skin from cooking onto the pan.

For more-generous portions, cook one hen per person. If you do, use two roasting pans, and double the other ingredients.

The USDA recommends cooking duck breasts until they register 170°F. For a moister breast, we cooked ours to 125°F; after it rests, the duck will be cooked to medium-rare. Chicken is also delicious in this recipe: Substitute four 12-ounce boneless skin-on chicken breast halves for the duck. In step 3, don’t score the breasts. To cook, heat 2 teaspoons oil in a large skillet over medium heat; cook until golden brown, about 10 minutes. Flip the chicken, and transfer to the oven. Cook until the chicken reaches 175°F, about 25 minutes. For the sauce, substitute dry white wine for the red wine.

Pomegranate molasses is sold in many ethnic markets and health-food stores.

You can purchase a whole roast duck at your local Chinese restaurant. Some varieties of noodles suggest soaking them in boiling water instead of cooking them; check your package instructions before preparing them.

For indirect cooking on a charcoal grill, rake hot coals onto opposite sides before grilling; place a foil pan in the center to catch drippings. Set the turkey on the grates over the pan; grill, covered but with the vents partially opened.