pollo alla cacciatora

I was just about six weeks too early for homegrown tomatoes, but we’d make do.

Among my favorite things about having friends in many different places is enjoying a real deal home-cooked meal while traveling. I’m sure I don’t need to explain all the reasons I feel these types of occasions are so special, but there is something definitively disarming about the culmination of generosity and — dare I say — the authenticity of being fed by someone at their home when you’re far from what’s familiar.

While visiting Florence last June, I was pleased as punch to be invited to my colleague’s boyfriend’s mother’s dinner table. Despite being in Italy of all places, I had for some reason been subsisting off of yogurt, taralli, and spritzes for weeks, plus I was starting to get a bit homesick. I was so looking forward to this dinner; the menu was discussed for weeks ahead of time. I learned that, remorsefully, I was just about six weeks too early for her homegrown tomatoes, but we’d make do.

Absence of tomatoes notwithstanding, dinner was exquisite. I have no idea how long his mother, Pina, spent cooking, but I can only imagine it was upwards of eight hours. We had taglieri and ‘nduja and crostini toscani, bright panzanella with peppery basil, succulent herb-stuffed turkey, guinea fowl with fat olives, ripe strawberries, and coffee. Their family reminded me quite a bit of my own, how in tune they all were with each other’s sense of humor, how warm the environment. I hope I adequately expressed to them the depths of my happiness to be there, though I’m not sure that would have even been possible.

Last week, I was on the brink of a fridge clean-out warpath when I found a container of Kalamata olives that required immediate using, so in an effort to evoke memories of June in the -13º New York winter, I attempted to recreate Pina’s faraona (guinea fowl) using chicken thighs from my freezer. Hers was fall-apart tender and served au jus that had a richness of flavor achieved only by what I imagine to be a full day of stewing. Mine in comparison is a cheap and fast substitute, but it did bring its desired coziness to my evening and made my apartment smell incredible.

Writing this down, I felt a bit like I was ripping off a Nigel Slater-style recipe. Nevertheless, you can read how I did it below, plus excessive annotations.

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Ingredients

• Chicken thighs, six-ish. I used boneless/skinless, though real cooks will say bone-in/skin-on is better. I’ll bet this recipe would be absolutely killer with rabbit, but I’m far too squeamish to cook rabbit at home.

• Garlic, roughly chopped. I used about three small cloves.

• Rosemary, two sprigs, washed. I originally tore this into smaller segments, but good god I wish I’d left it whole (otherwise it will fall right apart and you’ll be left with dozens of rosemary needles in your sauce. This was my hard-learned lesson to never cut up rosemary again, unless I’m cooking some kind of sturdy meat like lamb chops).

• Sage leaves, torn. Not sure if this is traditional but I’m a fan of sage. Sue me.

• Olives, a boldly flavored variety. Kalamata worked well, I’d say Taggiasca or Nyon olives would also be excellent. Experiment with prepping them to your preferences; I’d go for pitted and either crushed or halved, leaving a few small ones whole. Purists will say to use un-pitted, but I believe in making my life easier.

• Capers with some brine, about a generous tablespoon.

• A glug of dry white cooking wine

• A big splash of white wine vinegar

• A few glugs of chicken broth

• Salt and pepper

**critically, I used neither a soffritto nor tomato in this recipe, making it a sauce “in bianco” which I thiiiiink has origins in Umbria. Doing a soffritto just felt too busy, though I’m sure it would have been tasty. I also read a recipe online that indicated dissolving a couple of anchovies with the aromatics, which would probably be nice if you’re into that (I’m not).

Steps

1. Season your chicken with salt on both sides and pepper only on one side (the non-skin side, if using). Remember that the capers and olives are highly salty, so don’t go overboard at this point. Add to a pan (here I should have also thrown in the rosemary, but I waited until Step 2) and sear on a high heat on the salt-only side, without moving or flipping the chicken, until almost all the pink is gone. I used my enamel Dutch oven for this, but stainless steel would get you really great fond.

2. When the chicken is almost all the way cooked through, remove from the pan. In the hot oil, add your aromatics to bloom them: garlic, sage, olives, capers. When the garlic is softened and fragrant, add your chicken back to the pan, this time with the other side down.

3. Add the wine and vinegar and use a wooden spoon to deglaze any sticky bits at the bottom of the pan. This could amount to about a quarter cup of liquid, but this is one of those steps you should really do by feel. My instinct is to be generous with the wine and more conservative with the vinegar. Let bubble for a minute so the sharpness cooks off.

4. Add enough chicken broth so the thighs are almost covered, and let the liquid come up to a bubble. Here, I really wish I’d lowered the heat to a simmer and let it cook partially covered until the sauce has thickened (10-15 minutes at least), as that would have tenderized the meat so much more effectively, but alas. Note: turn the heat off before you think you have to — the sauce will continue to thicken as it cools, and you don’t want to have boiled it all away.

5. Do a final taste for salt and pepper. Trust me and do this step at the very end, when the concentration of flavors is final. Do it too early and you’re liable to over-salt.

6. Serve with some crunchy lettuces (recommend little gems with lemon and olive oil) and crusty bread for soaking up sauce (baguette if you have it — this reminded me a lot of a Trapizzino). I like to have it with a big glass of any white wine that can be described as “buttery.” Don’t be afraid of having leftovers because the flavors only get better the next day.