Chicken (Fat) Dinner
Another typical weekday night, another chance to cook some food that we might eat for a couple of days. That’s what it felt like and certainly how I’d set it up.
I had purchased a bunch of chicken thighs (bone in, skin on) and was setting up to do “the usual.” I’d coat them in spices, crisp the skin in a hot pan, flip, add liquid, then slow cook until super tender. They’re great out of the oven and make good leftovers. I decided to start the process in my cast iron pan, but I wasn’t really focused as things got going. After a few minutes at a low sizzle, I realized that I hadn’t heated the pan as high as I usually do. This was allowing the fat to render more evenly and more completely before the skin got crispy. So I went with it and kept the temperature low. After ten thighs had rendered in the pan for over 20 minutes (two batches), I had a pretty serious puddle of seasoned chicken fat.
Rendered chicken fat has more of a history than one might think and is particularly prominent in traditional Jewish cooking. Perhaps most appealing is the name… “schmaltz.” Schmaltz is used in Jewish cooking much in the way you’d think it should be. It adds flavor to dishes by getting folded into the mix (biscuits, chopped liver, dressings, etc.) or by frying things in it (latkes, onions, chicken, etc.) Jews have their own kosher form of chicharrones with gribenes, chicken skin cracklings that will elevate both your soul and your blood pressure. Rendering and storing animal fat cuts across all cultures and was an everyday fact of life in most kitchens before we all gained access to various processed oils made form vegetables (corn), legumes (peanut), seeds (sunflower), or fruit (olive). Before these magical items became widely available, the “oil” was a jar full of hardened fat sitting unrefrigerated in a dark cupboard.
As I stared into the beautiful schmaltz pool in my cast iron pan, a tiny spark of inspiration took hold and I questioned whether I could cook our whole meal in this pan, stove top, with just the schmaltz. We were supposed to have roasted potatoes, which usually just go in the oven, and cauliflower, which usually gets chopped up bite size and sauteed at super high heat.
Starting with the potatoes, I honestly wasn’t sure if it was physically possible to cook these whole in a shallow pool of fat with consistent results. I had faith I could get them cooked through but worried the potatoes would be uneven. Once the fat was up to temperature, the potatoes went in and the process began. Over and over, I carefully spooned hot fat out of the bottom of the pan and poured it over the top of the potatoes. I was careful to go around the pan to ensure every potato got its fair share of hot schmaltz. After going around the pan five or six times, I worked to turn over the potatoes, hoping to avoid a situation where just one side of the potato had a chance to sit in the hot fat.
After about ten minutes of this I started to worry, “How long is this really going to take?” But then I noticed the potatoes were starting squeak and hiss when I poured the fat over the top. This could only mean there was action inside, steam had started to build under the skin and I was making progress. I started fork testing and could feel the innards starting to soften. Around and around the pan, pouring fat, spinning little spuds, around and around, again and again. Once the potatoes really started to soften up, I had to taste test a couple before being certain they were all cooked all the way through. In the end, I was truly pleased to see crisp skins and piping hot, fluffy insides. I put them in a bowl, coated lightly with schmaltz one last time, and gave them a good shot of kosher salt. The whole adventure took close to 25 minutes of constant attention.
Next was the cauliflower. After the potato ordeal, I was pretty sure the hardest part was behind me. Instead of the usual bite size cut, I sliced the head of cauliflower into “steaks” that were just over an inch thick and laid them down in the hot schmaltz. These required virtually no attention or care. Cook on one side until soft, flip, and repeat. Pull from the pan and season with salt…done. At this point I had momentum and remembered I had purchased a bag of bite sized Brussel sprouts. You guessed it…into the pan! These little gems crisped up beautifully on the outside before steaming all the way through, arguably the best executed items of the whole meal.
Everything was delicious. But honestly, I wasn’t so blown away by the product that I’m anxious to do it again. It was really much more satisfying as an experiment, a reminder to be spontaneous and follow inspiration when it strikes. One thing that I value in cooking is the repetition, executing techniques I’ve applied literally thousands of times. But the repetition needs to be interrupted with moments of exploration and pursuing ideas that may fail.
As a parting thought…yes, I saved the schmaltz I had left over and set myself up for a week of cooking that would taste just a bit better because of it.