A bay leaf chicken to prepare you for fall
Herbs flourish under adverse conditions.
I was told this once by an organic farmer, and have seen the proof. No matter how many 95-degree days I forget to water them, no many how many frigid winters I neglect to bring them inside, the herbs on my deck seem to survive, growing green in spite of my brown thumb.
This year, it’s the fresh, fragrant bay leaves that have done especially well — which presents me with an unusual predicament: what do I do with a glut of them?
Most recipes calling for bay leaves require one or two. I have dozens at my disposal.
One answer is to use lots of them in a marinade for boneless, skinless chicken thighs. The dense, dark meat can take the deeply herbal flavour, gaining complexity from the piney fragrance of the leaves.
Bay leaves also have a mild citrus scent, so to bring that out, I grated some orange zest into the marinade. Mustard seeds add pungency and heat, while cumin and coriander provide a gently spicy note.
Finally, I dashed in some Worcestershire sauce, because I love the umami richness it gives dishes, and because — Caesar salad excepted — I don’t use it often enough. (It’s often forgotten in the depths of my cupboard.)
Since the marinade’s ingredients are intense, and boneless chicken thighs are relatively thin, a long stint in the marinade isn’t necessary. An hour will do, though, if you want to plan ahead, you can marinate the chicken up to a day in advance and keep it in the fridge.
Or do what I did: marinate the thighs, then decide at the last minute to go out for sushi. Stick them in the freezer, where they’ll keep for a month. Then, one day, when you think there’s nothing in the house for dinner, discover the icy bag underneath the lemon sorbet. Defrost and proceed.
The only downside to the freezing is that you’ll no longer have the orange you zested for the marinade, which you would have used in the salad that goes with the thighs. No matter. If you’re at all like me, there’s probably another in the produce drawer of your fridge, missing stripes of zest that were used to garnish Negronis.
These I sipped while sitting on the deck, admiring the herbs — and closing the
happy summer circle of gardening, eating and cocktailing.