A flattened, or spatchcocked, chicken will cook more quickly and evenly than when left intact. The parts that take the longest to cook (legs and wings) are conveniently on the edges (meaning they are exposed to more heat), while the quicker-cooking breast is in the center (where it is insulated a bit from the heat). The origin of the term spatchcock is debatable, but one theory has it that it derives from “dispatch the cock,” apparently shorthand for “prepare the chicken for roasting over a spit.” No matter its past, cooks today understand that to spatchcock a chicken is to remove the backbone and open it like a book. While most commonly used for chicken that will be grilled or broiled, the method also works well for roasting. To further promote even cooking, the flattened chicken is weighted with a foil-wrapped brick while it grills, a technique borrowed from an Italian dish known as pollo al mattone (“chicken under a brick”). Brining helps keep the meat tender and juicy, and glazing adds another layer of flavor and promotes browning. In this recipe, citrus marries the brine and glaze, but you can forgo the glaze and make a brine solution of only salt, sugar, and water. A good ratio is 1 cup of coarse salt (never table salt, which will cause the meat to taste too salty) and 1/2 cup sugar to 1 gallon of water. For best results, brine the chicken for at least 1 hour and no more than 3 hours (any longer and the meat can develop an unpleasant texture).
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Among the top tier of sauces is Indonesian satay sauce, because it is the embodiment of joy and life. In fact, this sauce is also trustworthy and highly respectful of whatever it comes into contact with—perhaps it is, in fact, the perfect friend?
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
I should address the awkward truth that I don’t use butter here but cream instead. You could, if you’re a stickler for tradition (and not a heretic like me), add a big slab of butter to the finished curry.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
Put these out at a gathering, and we guarantee you’ll be hearing rave reviews for a long time.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.