Cock-a-leekie is traditionally a soup, not a braised dish. Scottish in origin (hence the ridiculous name), it's technically supposed to be a soup in which a whole boiling rooster (the loser in the latest cock-fight, perhaps) is cooked in broth thick with leeks and prunes, and maybe with some barley, as well as bay leaves and thyme. The concept seemed like a sound one, and I'd been meaning to play around with it for a while, not least because leeks over here, unlike most anywhere in the US, are crazy cheap. Finding them down at the Borough Market today for two pounds a kilo, I decided to buy some up to try my hand at concocting my own take on cock-a-leekie.
As my fightin' cock is on a winning streak, I decided instead to use four legs (free-range, of course) which I scored from one of the farm stands for two pounds fifty, or about $5 for the bunch. The fact that the tastiest part of the chicken is also the cheapest is one of the culinary ironies I cherish most. Who are the benighted masses whose demand drives up the price of insipid breast meat, making the legs even cheaper? Whoever you are: keep at it, and thank you. So along with six leeks, I had the centerpiece of a serious meal to feed four, all for about $7.50.
As I said, I've been trying to keep things simple, and here I decided to go for broke. I pared the concept down to it's basic fundamentals, and ended up using nothing more than the leeks, the chicken legs, a little butter, a little oil, salt, pepper, and about a cup and a half of homemade chicken stock that I had hanging around the fridge. Take that, Mark Bittman. The result was nothing short of phenomenal. Quite possibly some of the best chicken I've ever had, let alone made myself. Seriously.
So here's what I did, and what you can too:
1. Start by browning the chicken -- this is important both for presentation's sake, and because the caramelized flavor in the browned skin adds some depth of flavor. Heat a mix of butter and some relatively neutral oil (I like peanut) in a high-walled pan over medium high heat. Maybe a tablespoon of each, or just slightly less. Once it's hot, add the chicken skin-side down, and let it sizzle 7 minutes or so, or longer until it browns. Then flip it over, and brown the other side. Once that's done, remove the chicken to another plate, and set it aside for the time being.
2. Having washed the leeks thoroughly and sliced them (white and light-green parts only) into rings as thinly as you can, throw the lot of them into the pan with the hot oil. Stir them around and let them cook down a bit and become soft, 8-10 minutes or so. Meanwhile, add salt and fresh ground pepper according to taste. Don't be shy with it, especially the pepper.
3. Once the leaks have cooked down almost by half, throw in the cup and a half of stock and maybe half a cup of water or so (or use two cups of stock, if you've got it around), and bring that up to a simmer.
4. When that's hot, nestle the legs (the chicken's legs, not yours) down into the leaks and broth. Cover your pan, and turn the heat down as low as you possibly can -- you want the liquid to barely simmer, if you can hold it that low. Let it sit like that for an hour or so. Alternatively, you can cover and slide the pan into an oven set at about 250 or 275, and leave it there for even longer. Either way, the low, slow, moist heat will make the chicken ridiculously tender, basically melting all of the collagen in the connective tissues out into the now unctuous sauce, leaving the meat to practically fall of the bone when you fork it. Meanwhile many of the leeks -- which you sliced really thin -- will have almost melted into the broth themselves.
5. After the hour or so, let the pan sit still covered off the heat for a little bit to cool down some, maybe ten or fifteen minutes. And there you have it: chicken and leeks, seasoned only with salt and
pepper. No other herbs or spices, and for God's sake no prunes. Serve it up with simple fried potatoes and green salad. There's nothing better.
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