Are you fond of cooking techniques that can economise ingredients, time and washing up?
Fond, otherwise known as the fonds de cuisine (loosely, the foundation of the kitchen) are the extremely delicious, crispy brown bits left in the bottom of the pan after frying. Too often they end up down the sink. But don’t throw them out! Even better, make fond an intentional part of your cooking.
Through the simple art of searing, sweating and deglazing, you can take a spartan shopping list and turn it into something splendid.
Apply heat to the largest possible surface area of your ingredients to dial up the fond, flavour and cooking efficiency. A little added pressure from above will maximise the Maillard reaction. In Georgian kitchens, this flattening method is used for whole spatchcocked birds in a dish called chicken tabaka. Mum’s usual weight of choice is a pizza tray and a granite mortar, wrapped in a reusable plastic bag and tied at the handles so the tray and mortar are easier to lift off when it’s time to flip the bird. You can also use burger or fish weights (I like Josh Niland’s) or you can go full Backyard Blitz with a clean brick wrapped in foil (just make sure you lift it with oven mitts on).
Flat-chat chicken, feta and silverbeet – recipe
For whirlwind Wednesday dinners, instead of a whole bird I’ve suggested chicken thighs, boneless and skinless in the interests of expediency. But if you’re a shmaltz seeker, feel free to use skin-on thighs and sear the skin side longer to get it nice and crispy.
As always, buy the best quality chicken you can afford. Free-range is a given, organic if you can. If buying from the supermarket, the chicken needs to be dried as well as possible before cooking – ideally on a rack, uncovered, in the fridge overnight, but at the very least patted dry with paper towel before frying.
In this recipe, marinated feta is a magnificent multitasker: the cheese’s creamy funk is a garnish, and the infused oil serves as a marinade base. (I prefer to use the kind of feta you’ll find in a glass jar for this reason.)
Silverbeet is abundant in gardens and shops at this time of year and it is best treated as two separate vegetables: use the stalks as you would celery and the leaves as you would spinach. Chuck in the zest and juice of a lemon, and an aromat or two, and you’ve landed on the classic combination of a Greek horta (with the decidedly tamer silvebeet replacing the traditional dandelion greens).
By deglazing and sautéeing the silverbeet in the same still-shmaltzy pan used to fry the chicken, you will catch every final fond of flavour and the last dregs of marinade too. Don’t be deterred by silverbeet’s bulk, once sautéed, it performs the same magic trick as spinach, wilting down to a wonderfully savoury, bright-yet-bitter accompaniment to the chicken.
For a vegetarian option, you could trade chicken and feta for a block of haloumi. Simply pat dry, oil and flatten it against the pan (as described above) to sear, then slice and scatter over the silverbeet to serve.
Serves 2 adults, and 2 small people
100g marinated feta in oil
1 lemon, zested and juiced
500g boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 large bunch silverbeet (approximately 700g), rinsed well
1 small brown onion, peeled and finely sliced
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely sliced
Olive oil, extra lemon wedges and crusty bread, to serve
To make the chicken marinade, pour one-quarter cup of oil from the marinated feta into a shallow dish. Add the lemon zest and juice, and season with salt and pepper. Swish the chicken through the marinade, then cover and set aside. (The marinated chicken can be prepared a day ahead and refrigerated. Remove the chicken from the fridge 20 minutes before cooking to take off the chill.)
Strip the leaves from the silverbeet stalks, then roughly chop the leaves and set aside. Finely slice the stalks, place in a separate bowl of cold water, and set aside.
Heat a large heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium heat for two to three minutes, or until you can hover your hand above and feel the heat radiating. Add the chicken thighs (reserve the marinade) and then flatten them by placing a smaller frying pan or pizza tray over the top, and weighing it down with a heavy object such as a fish weight or a stone mortar.
Fry the chicken for four to five minutes each side, until it is golden brown and the juices run clear. Transfer to a plate, cover with a foil “hat” (rather than covering tightly, loosely rest the foil on top) and set aside to rest.
Remove any lemon pips from the marinade, and loosen with a quarter-cup of water. Return the frying pan to medium heat, then add the marinade mixture to deglaze the chicken-y pan juices (AKA fond!), while scraping the bottom with a firm spatula. Increase the heat to high, add the silverbeet stalks and onion and sauté for four minutes in the shmaltzy juices. Cover with a lid, lower heat to medium and sweat for five minutes until the stems and are soft, the onions are translucent and the liquid has evaporated.
Add the garlic and a half-cup of water. Increase the heat to high, scatter the chopped silverbeet leaves into the pan and add another quarter-cup of water. Cover and sweat for five minutes. Using tongs, turn over the leaves and sauté, uncovered, for another five minutes or so until the leaves are cooked to your liking. (I prefer to take mine off the heat while the leaves are still quite bright green and toothsome, and let the residual heat soften them.) Taste and season if necessary.
Place the chicken on a clean cutting board (reserve the juices) and slice into pieces against the grain. Combine with the rested juices so the chicken takes on a lovely glossy sheen.
To serve, place silverbeet stalks and leaves on a platter (or individual plates if you’re that way inclined) and scatter over the chicken pieces. Finish with a crumble of feta, a drizzle of olive oil and an extra flourish of salt flakes and pepper. Serve with lemon wedges for squeezing at the table, and crusty bread if you crave carbs.
