It's time for a braise.

When the weather cools down, I start craving braises. Coq au vin, boeuf bourgignon - you name a braise, I'll eat it like nobody's business. Chicken is my favorite meat for braising, since it benefits so immensely from slow cooking, and since it takes so well to so many different flavor combinations.

And so, when I spotted a Martha Stewart recipe for braised chicken on Lonny's blog the other day, and was instantly smitten. Shallots, garlic, tomatoes, chicken, wine and mustard? Sign. Me. Up. I didn't have any tarragon on hand, but I thought I could make do very well with the parsley I did have. When the kosher butcher down the block turned out to be running a special on chicken, I knew this was the right thing to make for Sunday night supper. (And, of course, for my lunches this week. Nothing keeps as well for as long as a braise.)

Like so many braises, this one starts out with a browning stage. Since the chicken is skinless, coating it in a light flurry of flour gives it a bit of heft. That flour also helps thicken the sauce later on. After the browning come the shallots and garlic, and then the wine, mustard and stock. (Water works, too, if you don't have stock in the house.) A long simmer and a few tomatoes later, you have a dish fit for a king.

I ate mine with a healthy chunk of baguette and a cold glass of white wine. Heaven.

Mustardy Braised Chicken with Shallots
Adapted from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food Fast

1/4 cup all-purpose flour
4 bone-in, skinless chicken thighs (1 1/2 pounds)
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
5-6 small shallots, peeled and halved lengthwise
4 garlic cloves, halved lengthwise
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 1/2 cups chicken stock (or water)
1/2 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup finely-chopped parsley

Place flour in a shallow bowl. Pat the chicken dry with paper towels. Season on both sides with salt and pepper and dredge in flour, turning to coat and shaking off excess.

In a Dutch oven or heavy 5-quart pot with a tight-fitting lid, heat oil over medium-high. Cook chicken until browned, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate. If necessary, cook the chicken in batches - whatever you do, don't crowd the pan.

Add shallots and garlic to pot; cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly softened and golden brown, about 3-5 minutes. Add the wine and cook until nearly evaporated. Stir in the mustard and stock, and bring the sauce to a boil.

Return chicken, bone side down, to pot, nestling them into the sauce. Reduce heat to a simmer. Cover the pan and cook until chicken is tender and cooked through (juices should run clear when pierced), 25 to 35 minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate, leaving the rest of the stew behind.

Add tomatoes and 3/4 of the parsley to pot; season with salt and pepper. Cook the mixture over high heat until tomatoes soften and sauce thickens, 6 to 8 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low, and return chicken to pot; cook until heated through. Taste and adjust seasonings before serving. Garnish with remaining parsley before serving.

Serves 2-4, depending on appetites.

Channeling the past.

This post is my second-round entry for FoodBuzz's Project Food Blog. To cast a vote for me in this round, clickety on over using this link, or click on the widget to the left! Thank you so much for all of your support, my lovelies!

I've known for weeks now that - if I made it to round two - the second week of Project Foodblog would be a tricky one for me. The assignment this week is to make a classic ethnic dish with which we are not familiar, and to blog about the making of it - and the inspiration for it.

That got me thinking about the fact that even though half my heritage is Jewish (the paternal half), I've never made matzoh balls, kugel - or brisket. I mean, BRISKET! Is that crazy, or what? Mostly, I think, it's because my paternal grandmother, Marcia, passed away when I was a little girl, before she had a chance to show me the tricks of the trade. My mother has told me that the real cook in the family was my great-grandmother, Etta Blocker, who apparently worked magic with tough beef and matzoh meal. (That photo is of me with my grandfather, Irv, Marcia's husband. Sadly, I couldn't find any snaps of Marcia amongst my collection.)

And so, when I was brainstorming ideas for an ethnic dish for this challenge, I passed over my usual favorites (Vietnamese - though you should definitely check out my homemade banh mi over here - Thai, Chinese) and turned instead to the cooking of my ancestors.

A bit of research - including conversations with some fellow descendants of Eastern European Jewish folks - led me to the conclusion that every family has their own special version of brisket. My colleague Liz's family, for example, adds cranberries to their braise. Another friend's mom adds a full bottle of red wine to hers. Since I didn't have a family recipe to work from, I decided to turn to a source I trust implicitly - Gourmet - to find a version that suited me: namely, one with lots and lots of vegetables.

And find one I did. The version I settled on includes not only loads of vegetables - chopped onions, chunked carrots and celery, whole cloves of garlic and a hefty supply of crushed tomatoes - but also a bit of cider vinegar. And I love cider vinegar. I also love the thriftiness of the ingredient list, which seems very true to the dish's heritage. Gussying the stew up with a bottle of red would, no doubt, make for a delicious meal, but using tasty, cheap ingredients pays tribute to the frugality from which braises are born.

In a twist of fate, my mom was here this weekend and came along to the Greenmarket to help me find the ingredients for the brisket. We found the most perfect little onions and carrots in every color of the rainbow, not to mention the celery-iest celery known to humankind. We visited the German butcher down the block for the brisket itself, and grabbed a can of San Marzanos at the grocery store.

Like most braises, this one begins with browning. I browned the brisket on both sides, then moved to to a plate to rest. In went the onions, then the rest of the vegetables, followed by a cider vinegar deglazing that produced an aroma fit for a king. Next came the tomatoes, some chicken stock and the meat itself, which I tucked into its bed of vegetables. The whole thing went into a low oven for three hours and emerged, well...

...as a sweet tangle of fork-tender meat and rich vegetable goodness. It is - in a word - delicious. We'll be eating it tonight atop a mound of buttery mashed potatoes tinged with turnip, and topped with a gravy made from brisket trimmings, scallions and - yes, more - butter.

I think Marcia and Etta would be proud.

Resolution: kept!

About a year ago, I resolved to bring my lunch to work at least three days a week, and with very few exceptions, I've done it! One of the ways I manage it is to make something on Sunday that will see me through a lunch or two. Braised dishes and stews are fantastic for this, since they not only keep well, but actually get better after a couple of days in the fridge.

(A quick aside: I highly recommend bringing your lunch to work. Not only do you save money, you also eat so much more nutritiously and consciously. It's made a huge difference to my working style, too - since I don't have to run out for fifteen or twenty minutes in the middle of every day, I can more easily meet with people over lunch or run out to do errands at 3:00, when the stores are empty. I love it.)

I've made chicken with barley and a (somewhat) traditional coq au vin, but one of my favorite braised chicken dishes is one I've adapted from a recipe I first made during my eGullet days. My friend Susan created this recipe, and I've loved it from the very first bite. She makes hers with fresh plum tomatoes and creme fraiche; I sub in half-and-half, since it's what I keep in the fridge for my coffee, and during the winter I use canned tomatoes - but, in spirit, it's still the same dish.

And I'll be damned if it isn't delicious. It's substantial from the vegetables, creamy from the cooking time and the half-and-half, and tangy from the vinegar. During the summer, I use basil and parsley to season things, but this time of year I keep it wintry with a little woodsy thyme. Most of the time, I eat it by itself, but it's also fantastic with buttered noodles or some mashed potatoes. Really, anything goes. Anything at all.

Susan's Braised Chicken with Tomatoes & Vinegar

1 tbs. canola oil
Dark meat of one chicken (two legs, two thighs, two wings)
1/2 white onion, cut into a 1/4-inch dice
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 small carrot, peeled and cut into a 1/4-inch dice
1 stalk celery, cut into a 1/4-inch dice
1 tbs. fresh thyme leaves
1/8 cup white wine or champagne vinegar
1/2 cup white wine
14 oz. whole canned plum tomatoes in puree, crushed with your hands
1 or 2 tbs. half-and-half, milk, creme fraiche or cream
Salt and freshly ground pepper

In a 3-quart, heavy-bottomed pot (enameled cast iron is ideal), heat the canola oil over high heat. In the meantime, season the skin side of the chicken pieces with salt and pepper. Once the oil is hot enough (a droplet of water should sizzle and skitter across the surface), place half the chicken pieces in the pot, skin side down, and turn the heat to medium high. Cook until the chicken is well-browned on one side, then flip and cook for a few more minutes. Using tongs, remove the cooked chicken to a plate and repeat with the rest of the chicken.

Pour off all but 1 tbs. of the fat from the bottom of the pot and return to the heat. Add the onion and saute for a few minutes until softened and a little browned. Add the garlic and saute for a minute or two more, until the garlic is fragrant and slightly golden. Add the carrots, celery, thyme and a pinch of salt; saute until the vegetables soften, about five minutes.

Deglaze the pan with the vinegar, then add the wine. Simmer for a couple of minutes and then add the tomatoes (with their puree). Stir to combine evenly, then add the chicken back to the pot, nestling the pieces in the vegetable mixture. sprinkle with a bit more salt and some pepper, then turn the heat to low, cover and simmer (Do NOT boil!) for 25 to 30 minutes.

Once the chicken is cooked through and the sauce has turned a bit creamy-looking, remove the chicken to a plate and stir the sauce. Add the half-and-half and stir to combine. If you're planning to store the stew overnight (or longer), add the chicken back to the pot and let things cool down a bit on the stovetop. Once the pot is no longer hot to the touch, place in the fridge. The dish keeps for five or six days, easily.

If you plan to serve immediately, taste and adjust for seasoning, then place a piece or two of chicken on each plate and top with plenty of sauce.

Serves three.