Chicken and Egg - Janice Cole [4]
Tuscan Chicken with Bacon and Italian Beans
Pan-Roasted Stilton Chicken with Apples
A Day in the Life of a Chicken
Holiday Roast Chicken with Cranberry-Fig Stuffing
A More Nutritious Egg
Black-Bottom Raspberry Meringues
Miniature Almond-Filled Cream Puffs
Deep Chocolate Tart with Chocolate Chip Crust
How Long Do Chickens Live?
CHAPTER NINE LATE Winter
Lemon-Sizzled Eggs
Smart Chicks
Sicilian Eggs with Ciabatta and Parmesan
Chicken Udon Noodle Soup
Toasted Chicken Sandwiches with Caramelized Apples and Smoked Gouda
Baked Pasta Carbonara
Chilean Casserole with Caramelized Corn Topping
Flying Feathers
Chicken Potpie in a Blanket of Puff Pastry
Paprika Chicken with Hummus
Chicken Breasts with Sherry Vinaigrette Cream Sauce
Chicken with Charred Cauliflower and Peppers
Pot-Roast Chicken with Mushrooms
Roast Chicken with Crispy Smashed Potatoes
Chocolate Mocha Soufflés
Orange Shortbread Bites
Banana Cupcakes with Brown Butter Cream Cheese Frosting
POSTSCRIPT: IN MEMORIAM
Index
Table of Equivalents
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
Why Chickens?
Turkeys surrounded me when I received the phone call. Naked turkeys. I was at a photo studio miles from the office. The birds were lined up next to each other like beauty contestants as I closely examined their legs, thighs, and breasts. Only one bird could be chosen, and it had to be nearly perfect. The legs had to be slender and long, the breast high and well shaped, and the skin taut and blemish free. As I judged the shape of each bird (some had great breasts, others great legs, but which one had it all?), I couldn’t help but notice the pale purplish tinge of the skin under the fluorescent lights. These turkeys looked like they were being prepped for the medical examiner’s table instead of the dinner table. Reinforcing that image, I pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and got ready to slather the birds with a thick layer of shortening before popping them in the oven. It was the middle of a magazine photo shoot, and I was the food stylist. One of these turkeys was going to be featured on the cover of the fall issue of Cooking Pleasures magazine. On that gorgeous Minnesota day in May, five years ago, I didn’t notice the weather. My eyes were focused on reading recipes and making Thanksgiving dinner. But before the phone rang, my mind was busy pondering the layoff rumors I’d heard through the company grapevine.
I’ve spent a good portion of my life trying to keep my glass filled full, but I readily admit that I subscribe more to a glass-half-empty view of life. So when the word went out that staff cutbacks were a real possibility, I expected the worst. Unfortunately, I was right. Everyone was sorry, it had nothing to do with me personally, it was just business. Right. I carefully kept my glass filled that evening—and for several weeks thereafter—with wine.
My editor in chief was wonderful and said all the right things when we met after the photo shoot. She didn’t know how she was going to get along without me. She wanted to talk to upper management and try to get my job back as food stylist and food editor, but on a consulting basis. Would I be interested? I’d been in the food business a long time and had a number of paths I could follow. But I, along with the rest of our small staff, had been with Cooking Pleasures from the beginning. After eight years, I felt a deep connection to the group and what we were doing. The recipe-oriented magazine had grown to about half a million subscribers across the country, and we were all proud.
In the end, my boss was able to make an official proposal. But I had to think about whether I really wanted to revive the freelance career I had shelved to work at the magazine. Based on my editor’s proposal, I would have at least one large client to begin with. I was tempted. On the other hand, like everyone else who has ever been laid off, I felt like shoving the offer in the company’s face and shouting “Forget you!”
Eventually, I convinced myself that freelance work would be the best of both