When I headed off to Gruyères, Switzerland, in the early fall of 2006, I knew it would be a bittersweet time. I was going to be spending two weeks working in the kitchen of the Hostellerie Saint-Georges, and on the day set to be my last there, the restaurant and hotel were closing. The investors had decided to pull the plug on it and a number of other operations they owned in the same village. So I was going to help my friend, Chef Frédéric Médigue, cook in the kitchen, and each night after work, do my best to drain the contents of the hotel’s bar. As it turned out, the sous chef left shortly before my arrival so there was plenty of work for me in the kitchen.

One of the last meals we served that fall was a special-order banquet for 24 guests. We were serving it the day before the closing and the banquet was taking place at the same time regular lunch service was going on. The group must have been on a tight budget because the menu they ordered was very far from the most expensive available. The main course was a simple poached chicken served with a cream sauce, boiled vegetables, and white rice. Of course, this sounds much better when written in French: poulet poché, sauce à la crème, légumes de pot au feu, et riz. And although the menu seemed plain, the results were quite elegant.

Part of the elegance comes from how the chicken was prepared. We don’t normally think of poaching as a means for producing an elegant outcome, but this is exactly what happens. Poaching is the only cooking process where, when properly done, it is possible to guarantee that the result will not be overcooked or dried out, no matter how long the cooking is allowed to continue. The process of poaching consists of placing the food to be cooked in a liquid that is kept just a few degrees warmer than the “cooked” temperature of the item—in this case, whole chickens, which are cooked when the meat achieves a temperature throughout of 70 °C (155 °F). When the chicken is placed in liquid where the temperature is just a few degrees, say 5 °C (9 °F), above the desired cooked temperature, the chicken will slowly warm to the proper temperature but never surpass it. In practice, the liquid is usually 10 to 15 °C (18 to 25 °F) warmer so the cooking doesn't drag on too long. And because the chicken is in liquid, not the dry air of an oven, it cannot dry out during the cooking. It’s almost like magic. The process has been used elsewhere on the pages of this web site for the same reasons. With poaching, food can be cooked to just the right point and no further. Because the food cannot be overcooked, time is not a critical issue. As long as the cooking is not too short or extremely long, everything will come out fine.

Of course, poaching will not produce a crispy skin on the chicken, but there are other techniques that can be applied just before serving to accomplish this, such as a quick exposure to a very hot oven. Although, for this recipe, poaching will be sufficient.

Another unique aspect of this menu is the cream sauce. Although called sauce à la crème, there is very little cream in the sauce. The crème refers to the texture of the sauce, not just the ingredients. The creamy texture is achieved by using rice as the thickener for the sauce. The use of rice for thickening is not used much today, but it was common in the early twentieth century. In those days, short-grain rice was added to liquids as they cooked. After 30 minutes or so, the rice was almost totally disintegrated. By forcing it through a sieve, the rice was effectively pureed and the starch in it thickened the liquid with a silky texture. Today, the whole combination can be pureed with a blender, or the rice can be added as flour rather than whole. This is what we did in Gruyères. We used farine de riz complète, or brown rice flour. This flour, which is just finely ground rice, swells and softens quickly in hot liquid.

The Chef was not using rice flour out of any sense of history. He had started using rice as a thickener earlier in the year to reduce his intake of wheat. Because I avoid wheat in my diet, this was a welcome addition to my cooking knowledge. The Chef and I had a running battle for the two weeks I was visiting as to whether the rice flour should be tempered with some of the liquid before adding it to the main portion or whether it could just be dumped in dry. My method was to temper, his was to dump and then fight the lumps. I called his method, “Dump and de-lump.”

The next part of the four dishes making up the main course was the vegetables. I flippantly referred to them earlier as boiled vegetables, which technically they are, but they are really more than just that. In French the menu called them légumes de pot au feu, or vegetables prepared the same as from a pot au feu. They consist of root vegetables that are cooked in the liquid with the chicken, just as the vegetables for pot au feu are cooked with the meat in its liquid. The chief difference between the two is that with a classic pot au feu, the meat cooks a lot longer than the vegetables. In this dish, where the chicken is only poached for about 20 minutes, the vegetables remain in the liquid, which now has a bit of chicken flavoring, and continue to cook until they are done.

The last of the four dishes that make up this course is the rice. At the meal in Switzerland, the rice was white rice of an unknown variety. It was very white and very fluffy. Switzerland doesn’t seem to have the variety of rices available that I am used to in California, and I often brought the chef a five-pound sack of good quality California (Japanese-style) rice when I visited. When I prepared the rice for this article, I used a medium-grain brown rice. You can use whatever variety of rice you prefer, or something else instead of rice.

At the restaurant, the chicken and vegetables were cooked the day before serving. The chickens came from the vendor with a sort of elastic trussing string in place so this was used for the cooking. I removed the clavicles (wishbones) before cooking so the cutting up later would be easier. The chickens were removed from the liquid when they were cooked and placed on a large baking sheet to drain. The whole sheet was placed in the walk-in refrigerator to cool over night.

The morning of the banquet, I cut each chicken into eight serving pieces. I first cut the legs from the carcasses and then separated each into a thigh and drumstick. Using a heavy knife, I chopped off the joint at the end of the leg where the foot was attached, which is a French tradition. You have to be quick and decisive with this cut so the bone doesn’t splinter.

Rather than serve the breast on the bone, I removed these from the carcass by cutting through the ligaments that hold the wings to the carcass and then carefully cut the breast meat off the bone. At this point I had both breast muscles with their overlying skin as a single piece still attached to the whole wing but separate from the carcass. I separated the skin holding the upper wing to the lower part and then cut the lower part away. Once again, rather than leave the joint on the bone, this was removed by cutting decisively with a heavy knife. At this point, each breast was in the shape of a traditional cut called a suprême. In order to have enough pieces of about the same size, each suprême was cut into two pieces by cutting across the breast at an oblique angle.

Each serving consisted of two pieces, one from the breast and one from the leg. The portions were arranged as they would be served but on a large baking sheet and covered with plastic wrap. They were then reheated for service in a low oven.

The vegetables, except the cabbage, were peeled, cut to size, and added to the cold water with the raw chickens. The water was gently heated so it never came to a boil while the chickens were poached. When the chickens were removed, the heat was increased under the pot to a low simmer. As the vegetables became cooked, as tested with the tip of a knife, they were removed and drained. The liquid, which now resembled a light chicken broth, was saved and used the following day for reheating the vegetables. Why wasn’t the cabbage cooked with the other vegetables? It hadn’t shown up from the vendor when the other ingredients were ready to cook. It was cut and cooked just before it was needed the following day. Likewise the sauce and the rice were prepared about an hour before serving.

In the recipe I present below, everything is cooked just before serving. It is easy for me to do it this way because I don’t need to worry about serving other guests at the same time, as would be the case in a restaurant setting. The one chicken in this recipe provides adequate meat for four diners.

poulet poché
légumes de pot au feu
1 (about 2 kilograms [about 41/2 pounds])
chicken
1 large
onion, peeled, trimmed with root intact, cut lengthwise into quarters
2 medium
carrots, peeled and turned into 8 pieces
2 medium
parsnips, peeled and turned into 8 pieces
1 medium
turnip, peeled, trimmed, cut lengthwise into quarters
1 small head
green cabbage, outer leaves removed, quartered lengthwise through core
1 large sprig
fresh thyme
1.
Clean the cavity of the chicken of any remnants of the liver and other organs. Wash well. Remove the clavicle (wishbone) and discard. Truss the chicken tightly with string.
2.
Place the chicken, vegetables, and thyme in a large stock pot and cover with cold water. Place the pot over high heat and bring the water temperature to between 80 and 85 °C (175 and 185 °F). Keep the water temperature between this range. Poach the chicken until the internal temperature in the thickest part of the thigh reaches 70 °C (155 °F) about 20 minutes. Remove the chicken, drain, place in a large bowl, and keep warm in a 75 °C (170 °F) oven, tightly wrapped with plastic wrap so the surface doesn’t dry out.
3.
Continue cooking the vegetables until they are tender. They will not all cook at the same rate so periodically test a sample of each type with the tip of a paring knife. When cooked, remove the vegetables, drain, place in a large bowl, and keep warm in a 75 °C (170 °F) oven, tightly wrapped with plastic wrap so the surface doesn’t dry out.
4.
When everything is cooked and set aside in the oven, strain enough of the broth to use in the sauce. Reserve the remaining broth for other uses.
sauce à la crème
150 milliliters (5/8 cup)
chicken broth reserved from cooking chicken
12 grams (7/16 ounce)
rice flour
50 milliliters (31/3 tablespoons)
heavy cream
1 teaspoon
lemon juice
fine salt and freshly ground white pepper
1/2 tablespoon
minced flat-leaf parsley
1.
Dissolve the rice flour in the broth in a small saucepan. Whisk in the cream and lemon juice. Add the salt and pepper. Bring to a boil over medium heat, reduce heat, and simmer for a while until thickened and the rice flour is cooked.
2.
Just before serving, add the parsley to the sauce and mix.
assemblage et service
1.
While the chicken is cooking, prepare 200 grams (1 cup) of rice according to the instructions on the package.
2.
Heat the serving dishes in a warm oven.
3.
Untie the chicken and cut into 8 pieces for serving. Remove each leg from the carcass and separate it into a drumstick and thigh. Remove each breast from the carcass as a suprême and cut each across the breast to make 2 equal portions.
4.
Place a portion of rice on each serving plate. Arrange two pieces of chicken (1 from the breast and 1 from the leg), 2 pieces of carrot, 2 pieces of parsnip, 1 quarter of onion, 1 quarter of turnip, and 1 quarter of cabbage on each serving plate. Spoon the sauce over the tops of everything and serve.

Even if this preparation doesn’t sound overly exciting to you, I really would encourage you to give it a try, if only to experience how tender and moist a poached chicken can be. I think you’ll find the flavors of the other components of the dish rewarding, too.

©2008, 2014 Peter Hertzmann. All rights reserved.