Foodie Friday: Poulet Chasseur

The difference between braising and stewing is a bit of a distinction without a difference--technically, stewing involves cutting the main ingredient(s) into even, usually roughly cubic pieces and just covering with liquid, while a braise takes on larger, irregular, or whole pieces of meat or vegetable and the liquid is shoulder high, which is to say, your piece of beef or what have you is three-quarters covered only. They produce a fundamentally similar result when cooked properly, which is to say, slowly. No other method of cooking can so successfully blend, harmonize, and mellow flavors into each other.

Poulet chasseur--hunter's chicken--is generally accounted a fall or winter dish, but I like it in late summer, when the herbs are still fresh and the tomatoes at their sweetest after the August heat. In other departures from the orthodoxy, I use red onion in place of shallot, and for this dish I like the smokey flavor of American bacon instead of the traditional lardons. Pancetta works as well and has a nice pepper sweetness, but the smoke of bacon adds a taste of the earth to a rustic preparation, which seems to me to be exactly the character the dish desires. You will need:

1 whole chicken, quartered, backbone, gizzards and trimmings reserved for a small stock
2 cups flour
1/4 lb bacon, roughly chopped
1 large red onion, roughly chopped
1 carrot, roughly chopped
3/4 lb whole button or crimini mushrooms
2 lbs fresh tomatoes, peeled and hand-crushed (see below)
1 bouquet garni of celery leaf, sage, thyme, rosemary, and basil
clarified butter
sea salt
ground black pepper

Make a simple stock with the leftover chicken bits and perhaps a single small yellow onion. It only needs to simmer for an hour. Strain. Reserve.

Peel and crush your tomatoes. To peel, use a sharp paring knife to cut out the stems and then to score a cross in the bottom. Drop into a deep pot of rapidly boiling water. When the skins have begun to loosen and peel away--just a minute or two should do--remove with a slotted spoon to an icewater bath. When cool enough to touch, peel away the skins. Crush the tomatoes between your fingers into a large bowl. Reserve.

Mix the flour with a generous few tablespoons of salt. In a deep, heavy pot (a good cast iron Dutch oven will do), heat several tablespoons of clarified butter until very hot. One or two at a time, depending on how large your pot is, dredge the chicken quarters in flour and brown, skin side first, until a deep golden color. Remove and reserve.

Deglaze the pan with a splash of broth. Add the onions, carrots, and bacon. Cook until the bacon begins to render fat and the vegetables soften. Add the tomatoes. Salt and pepper to taste. Stir together well. Add the chicken. Add about 2 cups of stock. Add the musrooms. Add the bouquet garni. Bring to just below boil, then reduce to a low simmer, cover, and cook for an hour. Remove from heat and let sit for at least 2 hours. Reheat over a low heat until simmering again before serving.

I serve this over a plain, long-grained white rice, although it is also good over a simple lemon risotto or orzo.

The LOLiban

Oh, lulz, Digs is MAD AS HELL! Noted lesser egret and poll-faker Markos Moulitas has written a book called Liberal Fascism American Taliban. It is a very fair comparison!

Markos has written a polemic called "American Taliban" in which he draws an ironic comparison between the far right in American politics and the Taliban in Afghanistan and Pakistan. He isn't saying they are interchangeable. That's ridiculous. Obviously, one exists within a secular Western democracy with a rule of law and the other well ... doesn't. And just as the American far right doesn't require beards and pray to Mecca or speak Pashtun, neither do they execute women in the middle of sports stadiums for adultery. But that doesn't mean they aren't, in fact, repressive, authoritarian, theocratic, anti-feminist and (on the fringes) quite violent.

Oh, ahahaha. Ahahahahahahahahhahahahahhahahah. Oh, ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Oh god. Oh, oh, oh help me. Oh god. Oh, someone, please. Oh LOLZLOLZ. Wait, oh, god. Let me get my breath. Okay. Lemme just try something out on ya, son:

Goldberg has written a polemic called "Liberal Fascism" in which he draws an ironic comparison between the far left in American politics and the totalitarian regimes in mid-century Europe. He isn't saying they're interchangeable. That's ridiculous. Obviously one exists within a representative Western democracy and a rule of law and the other well . . . doesn't. And just as the American far left doesn't build concentration camps, swear loyalty to a single Leader, or speak German, neither do they execute Jews, Gypsies, and political opponents. But that doesn't mean they aren't, in fact, repressive, authoritarian, collectivist, anti-Chrstian and (on the fringes) quite violent.

Lady, you are a fucking hack!

No, Please, Let Me Go

Because it’s about to become--or has already become, and is about to be released--what the new dust jackets and paperback covers will surely advertise as a Major Motion Picture, I thought take the timely opportunity to reread Kazuo Ishiguro’s 2005 novel, Never Let Me Go. When it first appeared, reviewers struggled mightily to discuss-without-revealing-fully the main conceit of its alternate world, but since I've never given a damn about SPOILERS, and since Ishiguro, for all the affected reticence of his prose on the point, basically gives it all away in the first chapter, I won't operate with any such compunctions. Ishiguro imagines a world where, beginning sometime after the Second World War, science successfully achieves human cloning, and the fruits of this discovery result in a society where clones are created and raised to young adulthood, at which point their organs are harvested until they die. Ishiguro invents a clever bureaucratic language, some of it simply the language of real contemporary medicine. The clones make "donations" until they "complete." The story takes place at one of the better schools-cum-orphanages where cloned children are raised and indoctrinated before a brief, semi-independent adulthood, donations, and death.

Because it's "literary," and because Ishiguro is a serious writer, we're not really supposed to notice just how goofy this imaginary setup is. It doesn't make sense. You'd raise children and send them to school only to kill them as adults? What about the costs? Wouldn't it make more sense for a society so cavalier about life to, I don't know, harvest the organs of prisoners. What happens when someone needs a heart or a lung transplant? What do they do to the rest of the organs? I mean, uh . . . and they let these kids wander around the country? Doesn't anyone ever try to escape? And uh . . . and something about souls? Do they have them? Huh, what? You mean in a society that is literally capable of creating human life from scratch, the moral dilemma is determining whether or not ensoulment occurs. Like, uh, that's the animating force driving the equivalent of an abolitionist movement? Huh?

Now, to be fair, Ishiguro is writing a sort of fable, and yet I think it incredibly unjust that his literary reputation, which is exaggerated to begin with, ought to shield him from the simple scrutiny any half-assed Star Trek novelizer would face upon completion of a time-travel plot. Ishiguro, whatever his ambitions, wrote a speculative tale, and we're obliged to ask if his speculative present is consistent with itself. Because he takes great pains to make this world very much like our own--so much like our own that it has only this one, terrible difference, the incoherence of the idea is more pronounced. He should have set it on Planet Krelmek in the year 2792 or something. I'd've been like, oh, man, raising clones just to kill them and harvest their organs? Sick. Then I would've bitched about how unrealistic was the portrayal of FTL space travel or something.

But, no, you know, seriously, I get it, it's not really a tale about forced organ donation; it's a tale about predestination, love lost, opportunity missed, hopelessness. It's the Remains of a Pale View of the Floating World. It's quiet and oblique. Its moments of reticent joy are forever burdened by the undercurrent of sadness. And yet it is wholly undone in a way that, say, P.D. James' Children of Men (NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE!) is not, because in its headlong rush to domesticate its speculative heart and become a novel about little people and their lives, it cowardly shies away from contemplating its own premise. I mean, James' novel rests on an even more unbelievable foundation, that humanity suddenly and completely loses the ability to reproduce, but we suspend disbelief because it asks all the interesting questions. What would such a world be like? How would people react to the sudden eradication of their posterity? What would happen to families? What would happen to love? What would governments become? Who would be debauched, and who would merely despair? It contemplates mortality in the most radical sense. Stripped of a future, stripped even of the consolation of a generic human progeny, what would become of us?

Ishiguro's characters--in his fashion, we are strictly limited to their limited perceptions--are likewise the victims of a strict and inescapable mortality, and yet he never once looks beyond their thin lives to ask what sort of society could create these children? What kind of a people would husband human beings, even artificial ones, to adulthood in order to kill them like livestock? His characters aren't stupid; if anything, they're hypersensitive and overly bright, yet they experience no qualms about the fact that they're being farmed. They acquiesce to having no future even as they are depicted wishing for one. Why? What prevents their escape? What explains their servility? Regular people recoil from them slightly, and yet they are permitted, in effect, to have several fully funded Wanderjahren, driving about the countryside and visiting cities and towns without supervision before they are, you know, taken to a hospital and killed! In the words of my favorite reviewer: who's fuckin' with my meds?

Be Mindful of My Mansfield and Do Him; So Shall You Consecrate Yourself to Your God

Harvey Mansfield is a confused man. He's incoherent, totally self-contradictory. Justice is a virtue. No, it's some kind of principle of fair access. No, it's making sure that Wall Street bankers don't make too much money. But it's not economically redistributive. Except sometimes. No, it's democratic institutions. But it's not instititutions. Oh, and by the way, let's not forget that men and women are different. But their separate spheres are of equal value. Justice is obeying the natural order. Except when we cannot perceive the natural order unmediated by consciousness, which is always. Justice is perfection, but you can have too much of it.

Nodules

This poor girl is going to destroy her voice before she's twenty:



She's a remarkably, incredibly impressive mimic, I'll give her that, but she can't breathe, she doesn't support, she doesn't know how to open her mouth, and she doesn't actually know how to sing the notes she's pretending to sing. Now, as an antidote, here is Montserrat Caballé, from 1975, when she was still near her vocal peak. (Caballé isn't my favorite interpreter of Puccini, and this isn't a wonderful recording, but she is indisputably one of the great masters of vocal technique.)



Someone should get Jackie Evanchko a proper voice teacher. Most women reach their real vocal peak in their thirties and forties. As it stands, Jackie is unlikely to make it through puberty.

And Melons for Sheer Delight

Via an email correspondent, and speaking of moral dandyism. WILL NO ONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!?

Westerners certainly have no right to lecture others about the perversity of their sexual mores. The absurdity of our super-sexualized cult of youth sitting uneasily next to our vicious shaming of female and adolescent sexuality hovering uncomfortably over our insane denial that childhood sexuality even exists decently ought to prevent us from opening our goddamn mouths. You may disapprove of it and find it abhorrent, but the plain fact of the matter is that the sexual practices identified in this article are incredibly ancient; they may indeed represent the broad, civilized norm of our species since the advent of agriculture. They were certainly perfectly ordinary practices in the plurality of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures in pre-Roman antiquity. Similar practices have been widely observed from Amazonia to the highlands of New Zealand to, of course, the tribal regions of Central Asia. I will tell you one thing that's for sure, the predate the advent of Islam in Pashtun culture, so you can put that cudgel right back into your pocket.

I mean, here you have a guy complaining about the supposed rape of thousands upon thousands of boys and young men and approvingly quoting the need to give it more of our "attention." What are we going to do, bomb it? You want to know what is worse for the boys of Afghanistan than a socio-sexual custom that's three thousand years old? How about invading their country, destroying their society, and continually bombarding their homes? I mean, listen, if I find out that the guy next door is beating his wife, and then I bust down the door and blow both of their heads off, the cops are gonna question my means, uh, my means of addressing an unfortunate situation.

Istanbul Was Constantinople

In other words, when Mormons and evangelicals are at their worst and are indulging their least admirable tendencies to idolize the country at the expense of their religious teachings, there is a chance for them to find common ground. If you think that a serious religious revival in America might have something to do with a spirit of repentance and humility rather than with an extravaganza of validation and national self-congratulation, that is really a very damning indictment of what Beck is doing. As Joe Carter correctly says, “As Moore notes, the problem isn’t really Beck. The problem is believers trading the true faith for the syncretism of Christian-flavored civic religion.”

-Larison

Hm, well, look. America is a cobbled-together Rome-manqué. Oughtn't we have a decently syncretic state religion? Maybe we can appoint Beck Chief Priest. Shit, maybe we can make it an elected office!

I do take Larison's point that the thrust and spirit of the Gospels runs mostly counter to the vague, patriotic Becktoplasm, and it's valid as far as it goes, but I also think he displays a rather naive atavism in wishing for a Christianity that perished for all intents and purposes on the Milvian Bridge.

Suborn

Are the masters of "drone porn" committing war crimes by remote control? It's a bit shocking that more people aren't asking this question. I have a feeling that many of us, particularly liberal Obama supporters (like myself, for instance), haven't wanted to look too closely at what is being done in his name, in our name, when these remote-controlled and often tragically inaccurate weapons of small-group slaughter incinerate innocents from the sky, in what are essentially video-game massacres in which real people die.

-Ron Rosenbaum

I suppose that if your circle of acquaintainces consists principally of "liberal Obama supporters" like you, then you could be excused, sort of, for supposing that "more people" aren't asking the question. Except, let's say that you are a journalist, and you are writing a story about these crimes, and after you begin by musing that "many of us" aren't asking about them, you write the following sentence:

These are the principles that have caused human rights organizations, U.N. officials, and the ACLU here to object to various aspects of the drone program.

Wouldn't this gaggle of well-staffed, highly public, press-covered organizations fill the "more people" quota, indeed, perhaps even tip the scales into many people?

Well, look. I'm glad that an Obamamite is willing to consider that question, and yet I note a very interesting construction in that opening and above-excerpted paragraph: "what is being done in his name." The pronoun refers to the President, and I think we ought to be clear. The issue isn't that these criminal and murderous acts are being carried out in his name, but rather that they are being carried out by his orders. The problem isn't that he hovers symbolically, a great grinning blue suit, uttering promises about freedom, over the wholesale killing of civilians without cause or even decent pretext, but that he is the commissioner of the crimes. The question isn't whether or not the drone killings are crimes, but whether or not the President is a war criminal.

Past Due

It has come to my attention that August 26 was Women's Equality Day, a celebration of the passage of the 19th Amendment, which got the ladies the right to vote. I hope they kept the receipt. I know it's been a while, but I bet they can at least get some store credit.

Good News!

So, um, according to David Brooks, the United States has successfully returned Iraq to a condition more or less on par with the average regional disfunction and has managed to get the power to stay on a hair over half the time. This proves that "nation building works."

Briefly Demoted

Um, what is it with blurghers and this band, The National? I mean, I could be wrong (I'm not wrong) but this shit sounds like it got pooped out by that chick who ran the Freedom School in Billy Jack.

It's All Part of Your Sick Cynthia Thing

Oh, lord. Via 6th or 7th, I see that the sob sisters of Shakesvilles are literally Joe Biden throwing a pity party for Ken Mehlman:

I don't feel angry as much as I feel pity. I can't imagine the self-loathing, the discomfort in one's own skin, the profound disassociation of self that happens with the subjugation of authenticity behind thin façade, that exists within someone who had the professional life he did. I wish him contentment of the sort that means he will never betray himself, or any other members of his LGBTQI family, again.

The . . . the what? The "subjugation of authenticity"? Authenticity! What is he, a faithfully restored historic landmark? A period instrument enesemble? Authenticity? Girl, wut?

Take it away, Ethan:

It's good that McEwan "can't imagine the self-loathing, the discomfort in one's own skin, the profound disassociation of self that happens with the subjugation of authenticity behind thin façade, that exists within someone who had the professional life he did," because I can pretty much guarantee you that none of that did, in fact, exist for Mehlman. Neither he nor most of his fellow members of the ruling classes have a problem with his being gay, and for those who do, these problems are overridden by the more important commonalities they share as a result of being members of that class. If only we at the bottom could realize that they feel that way, we could stop telling fairy (ha!) stories about these people, and stop feeling "pity" for them, and start maybe feeling some of that class solidarity ourselves, down here.

The Learning of the Jews and the Language of the Egyptians

On the other hand, um, it's pretty funny to have a Mormon calling anyone's Christianity "a perversion of the gospel of Jesus Christ as most Christians know it." Fortunately for Beck, most Christians don't seem especially acquainted with the gospel of Jesus Christ, so the point, although ironic, is probably moot.

Gerbils

Frank Rich is a propagandist. Secret paymasters and heady insinuations about shadowy Arabs? Give us a break. I'm sure it will approvingly cited by Digby tomorrow. This shit makes me crazy. Look, people feel legitimate anger toward their government. They sense that the vague democratic ideals they have held since childhood have been traduced and betrayed. And they have. Now, I would argue that the betrayal was inevitable and embedded from the start in the America project, which was dreamed up by a gaggle of wealthy Romaphiles. And of course, I think they are as deluded in thinking that Barack Obama is America's first space-Muslim president as liberals were in thinking that George Bush was our first American Mussolini. And sure, their commitment to "small government" or whatever similar catch phrase is just cultural signalling; it ends at the rocky cliffs of the Department of Defense budget. But you gotta respect that they are pissed off, and even if their radicalism is an inch deep and their revolutionary sentiments mostly window dressing for what are some pretty conventional convictions, at least their response is something more legit than, what, making YouTube raps about some Harvard smarty-pants getting a bureaucratic sinecure.