Sundays in France are reserved for that rare and exquisite thing: a day to rest. Cities and
villages lie silent, shops close and ambitious endeavors are dismissed with a laissez-faire flick
of the wrist. Resting aside, there is nothing more earnestly attended to than the Sunday meal,
for many the most important meal of the week. Following my final tour in Provence last Fall, I
spent a long weekend with my good friend Laurence Bry, her husband Jacques, his daughter
Juliette, and their well-fed hounds, Ursula and Martini, in their village of Eyguieres. While
Saturday urged us along adventurously -- we drove through the Luberon Valley, a verdant and
picturesque landscape dotted with hilltop villages -- Sunday beckoned us horizontally and I
happily acquiesced, finding the perfect spot under a fig tree heavy with her fruit.
From our poolside post we read, swam and began talks of lunch before Jacques called for a
Poulet-de-Bresse, the prized blue-footed chicken. Happy to oblige, Laurence and I donned our
scarves and headed out for the village butcher. We chose the long way and doing so walked
along pastures and family plots dense with olive and fruit trees, backyard vineyards and the
occasional goat -- marveling at the herbs of Provence, like wild thyme and fennel, growing so
casually along the fence.
After stopping for a cafe au lait, we meandered over to the butcher. Edged by the bittersweet
reality of my return home, I noticed how each buyer carefully made his or her selection with the
butcher, revealing a bit of family news or their culinary intentions before leaving -- the regional
expression of satisfaction present and expressed in a slight upward turn of the mouth. Laurence made her selection, and our quartered Bresse was handed to us wrapped in fresh white paper and tied with string. Glancing at my friend's face as we made our way out, I noticed the same expression as the ones before her. We quickly made our way home, anxious to provide our afternoon chef with his goods -- a pluck of wild anise in hand. Avoiding the lengthy stares of those underfoot, we pantomimed our love for the intoxicating lunch, flambeed with vintage cognac and served with a mash of tangy celery root and a 20-year-old Bordeaux.
Attempting to recapture that decadent meal back home, I realized that the experience of dining is not simply a reproduction of flavors, for the dish tastes the same and also nothing like the lunch from that day. Dining, like our weekly day to rest, is ultimately an opportunity to connect -- the food we eat being of great importance, sure, but more often its the sounds, conversational rhythms and evolution and cultivation of relationships that enhance the experience and mean the most.
Jacques' Sunday Chicken
What you Need:
1 free-range chicken, backbone removed and quartered (you can ask your butcher to do this)
1/3 cup of aged cognac, perhaps ¼ cup more depending on the size of your chicken
4 cups of Chicken Stock
handful of button mushrooms, sliced thinly
½ cup of heavy whipping cream *optional
salt and white pepper to taste
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Directions
Take chicken and pat dry- then season liberally with salt and pepper.
Heat on high, a cast enamel pot large enough to fit the whole chicken easily. Adding a tbsp
or two of olive oil, saute the chicken (in batches if necessary) until browned but not cooked through and remove to a platter.
Once chicken is browned and set aside add the cognac to the pot -- deglazing the bottom with a wooden spoon to free up any drippings and bits from the chicken from the bottom of the pan. Turn heat to low and add back the chicken. Standing back, carefully light the cognac, a long lighter working best. Grasping the handles firmly with flame resistant oven mits, shake the pan gently to evenly distribute the flaming liquid with the chicken. Once the flames subside -- seconds usually -- add in the chicken stock, and cover. If the flames continue or threaten, place a lid on the pot and turn off the heat. Following, allow the chicken to cook for twenty minutes or so until cooked through.
A few minutes before serving add in the sliced mushrooms and the cream, stirring to
incorporate. Serve with a potato, celery root or cauliflower puree, rice or pasta.