The Smoking Kitchen

Barefoot Contessa’s Curry Chicken Salad

Earlier this week I turned 27, the same age that such luminaries as Kurt Cobain and Jimi Hendrix met the end of their chaotic existences. I, on the other hand, celebrated this new year by calling in sick to my law firm job and making chicken salad.

As a lovely birthday surprise, my friend Erin from Black Coffee and a Donut sent me a Barefoot Contessa cookbook. I had heard of Barefoot Contessa before, but I didn’t know much about her, including the fact that her name is Ina Garten. Frankly, I didn’t believe that was her actual name since “in a garden” seemed like a porn name, but for a cook. Which I guess is called a pseudonym. But I did some fact-checking, and it’s real.

Anyhow, since the person who was responsible for this mouth-watering Passover meal also considers Barefoot Contessa Family Style one of her favorite cookbooks, I was eager to delve into it. Luckily, also planned for my day off was a trip to the grocery store, which I was going to squeeze in between inventing grunge rock and lighting my guitar on fire on stage.

For a while I’ve been lamenting the boring lunch I bring to work, which is inevitably a turkey or ham sandwich. I just couldn’t think of something new to do. Flipping through the cookbook, I noticed a number of recipes that could be prepared ahead of time and would be good for lunch. At the top of the list was a curry chicken salad.

Step one was to buy a boatload of chicken breasts with the skin still on and on the bone. I love eating chicken skin - that came out sounding gross for some reason - but cutting meat off bones stresses me out. The combination of a lack of knife skills and being completely clueless about chicken anatomy have much to do with this, but I also have some difficulty whenever meat becomes too animal-like, something that often happens when dealing with bones, tendons, and the like. I recently made a lamb shank recipe that involved pushing herb butter as far up between the bone and the flesh as my little fingers could carry it. When you’re palm-deep in a lamb’s shoulder, there’s really no way to pretend you’re doing something that’s not disgusting. So even though I was worried about cutting up the chicken, I pressed forward. The good news is that I had to cut the meat off the bone only after I cooked it.

I bought a lot of chicken - six breasts, to be exact, although I think that’s actually three breasts that have been split. Given my attentive study of breasts throughout the years, I thought I’d at least know how to count them, but apparently it works differently with chickens.

Next, I covered them with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

After throwing the breasts into the oven, I started working on the dressing. I don’t want to violate any copyright this or thats by giving all the details of the recipe, but I will say that it involves a cup and a half of mayonnaise. I bring this up because I consider a cup and a half of mayo to be the culinary equivalent of steroids. Your recipe may be average, but this much mayonnaise will go a long way to making it extremely good. And if you don’t notice that a recipe is significantly better because of the mayo, well, you’re just seeing what you want to see. Also, you will die much earlier than you would have otherwise. By the way, I’m reading a book about Barry Bonds right now.

Besides the shocking amount of mayonnaise, the dressing also has white wine, curry powder, and Major Grey’s chutney, which I’m sure belonged to the 19th century British Army officer in much the same way India belonged to Great Britain at the time. Also, there was salt, with which I may or may not have had an accident while pouring.

Here’s the before picture:

And here’s the after:

I also cut up some celery and green onions, and then threw in some raisins.

You know, I never know when to stop cutting green onions. I know the white part is delicious, and maybe some of the green part tastes good, too, but I don’t know the line of demarcation. I generally just cut the green onions until I feel guilty about throwing in too much of the green part. Since this method relies heavily upon nebulous insecurities, at some point I should figure out a more scientific way of cutting these things.

By now, the chicken breasts were done.

I cooked these breasts exactly right. They were cooked all the way through, but not too much longer. I wrote a poem about how juicy they were, but I haven’t finished the final draft so I haven’t included it here. While the breasts were cooling off, I agonized over whether to proceed with the recipe or not. I really, really wanted to eat these.

I was also reluctant to proceed because the next step was to remove the meat from the bones. I did an alright job, though I never really developed a system. Sadly, none of the four knives in the photograph below were added props.

Then I cut the chicken into large bite-size chunks.

Then I poured the dressing in.

To keep from destroying the chicken bits, I used my hand to mix it up.

It was at this point a memory from the previous night came back to me. Since I was taking the following day off work, I grabbed several drinks with a friend of mine. Until the salt and curry powder seeped into the many small scratches that covered my hand, I had forgotten that when I got home I decided to fight with Gus, my 11-month-old cat. Although this eventually was playful fighting, I also remember waking him up from his peaceful slumber atop the cat tree. This incident probably serves as yet another sign that I should hold off on having children for the moment.

Anyhow, the pain I’m experiencing in this picture was indescribable.

When it came time to throw in the celery, green onions, and raisins, I decided to use my other hand instead.

It was at this point that I realized I had used both hands to fight Gus.

Here’s what the almost-final product looked like, sort of. This photograph is too dark:

And this one is too bright:

To know what it really looked like, step back from the computer monitor and cross your eyes until the two images meet.

The final step was to toast some raw cashews.

The toasting process was just throwing the cashews into a dry pan and tossing them around for five minutes or so.

You’re supposed to only throw the cashews in the chicken salad right before you serve it, but I didn’t do that because I didn’t read that part of the recipe until I had already mixed them in (with a spoon).

Gee, how did good chicken covered in mayonnaise taste?

Now that BALCO has been raided by the Feds, is it really all that surprising that Barry Bonds was able to hit 73 home runs in one season? Yeah, this chicken salad is good.

I’ve had chicken salad doused in mayonnaise before, and what I actually think made the biggest difference was using good quality chicken. It’s been enjoyable eating chicken salad without the fear of biting into something unidentifiable.

Further, I think cooking the chicken with the skin on makes a big difference. I know it’s bad for you, but the fat that cooks down onto the chicken makes it taste great. I also suspect the fact the bones were still in made a difference, too. Meat near the bone tastes better, right?

This recipe is one that’ll be repeated. I’m looking forward to seeing what else Ima Cook the Barefoot Contessa has to offer. Thanks so much, Erin from Black Coffee and a Donut!