Some types of foods or particular dishes can be tremendously evocative, just ask Marcel Proust. I had all but forgotten about this simple but marvelous dish! The first time I tasted it was a wonderful down to earth petit resto in Paris, in the 14th arrondissement, just a few blocks from the Boulevard du Montparnasse on the Rue d’Alésia. Back in those days I was hanging out with a cabaret singer who called herself Marilou and we shared a little place near the resto. Quite often we would walk over and have dinner and plow through at least a couple of bottles of red wine over rolling discussions from music and sex to politics and neighborhood gossip. Mind you, there was nothing pretentious about Chez Janot, nothing all. Washed-out red checked curtains and tablecloths to match, over starched white napkins that stood at attention, a menu that hinged on the chef’s (the propriétaire) culinary whim du jour. For sure, the only real selection left to the customer was the wine: red or white, vin de maison. Janot and Madame (his wife) were both from the Midi and it was clearly reflected in their menu selections as almost every dish included flavors of tarragon, wine, olive oil, garlic, rosemary and thyme, eggplant, lemons and more; in short, all the basic ingredients to manufacture heaven right here on earth. Marilou, being from the South of France would often say how the food made her long for home. It was so spectacular that I simply refused to mention it to my friends. It was “our place” or as Marilou would say, ici on est comme chez nous; that summed it up pretty well I thought.
We were loyal patrons, returning time and again, and over time we became well known to Chef Janot and Madame, the latter who would now spend just a few “extra” minutes at our table discussing the weather, the health condition of her two poodles, her aching back from the dampness, and always missing Provence then she would discuss the menu. I remember one time Madame agreed to join us for un verre seulement, after our meal of course, it was almost closing time by then and she sat down with her glass of Rosé de Provence and Chef Janot joined us with his Pastis, turning milky white from an ice cube. It was a very special moment in time. Years later, on the other side of the pond, I came across this marvelous dish, chicken in a creamed tarragon sauce, and for me it was a little bit like Marcel Proust taking his first bite of the Madeleine. I too was overwhelmed with nostalgia and for a moment I could clearly recall, as if I were right there, the sounds, the music, the laughter, Madame bustling about and most of all, the heavenly aromas wafting from Chez Janot’s kitchen and Marilou’s smile.
Ingredients
Whole chicken (alternatively you could buy a whole chicken cut up)
3- 4 Tablespoons Heavy/whipping cream
Butter (real please)
2 Tsp tarragon
1/2 lemon
Salt and cracked pepper to taste
Directions
To roast the chicken:
Preheat oven to 400F.
Take any size chicken ( this one was 3 lbs), and rinse it off. Pat it dry with a paper towel. Place it in a roasting pan and squeeze a half a lemon over it, then place the lemon inside the cavity of the chicken. Sprinkle salt and pepper over the chicken, and a few tiny pieces of unsalted butter. Work the butter and tarragon together then spread over the chicken and then coating the inside of said chicken.
Place in oven and reduce oven temperature to 350F.
Roast about an hour, or until chicken is browned and the juices run clear when you tip the pan. Jiggle the leg – if it jiggles freely and there is no sound from the chicken, it’s done. If it seems stiff, roast it another 20 minutes and try again.
To make the sauce:
Pour the juices from the chicken into a skillet. Using a spoon, remove as much of the fat as you can. A little is fine, but too much makes for an oily sauce.
Heat the juices until they’re simmering, then add several tablespoons of heavy cream, whisking the juices and the cream together.
Add another teaspoon of dried tarragon, whisk again, and taste carefully. Add salt, pepper, and more tarragon if wished.
Either serve pieces of chicken, or slices of chicken bathed in the sauce.
Obviously, the amount of sauce depends on the amount of juices – so if you have a larger chicken, it will take longer to cook, and require more cream and tarragon.
A classic French sauce creme a l’estragon! Invite some friends over to share this feast and enjoy a glass of wine.
Serve with rice or mashed potatoes and a demi pichet of red vin de maison of course. I would suggest Beaujolais or a nice Côtes du Rhône. One can’t go wrong either way!
Culinary Travels in France 