The weekend is here, and a roast chicken is part of it. On Wednesday morning I liberally sprinkled salt and pepper on a chicken, stuffed some thyme and garlic under its skin, and put it in the refrigerator, uncovered. It would stay there, brining, for about 40 hours.
Some of you might have, upon reading the above, thought of Judy Rodgers. Yes, I based my prep method on her beloved recipe, which you can find in one of my favorite collections of recipes, “The Zuni Café Cookbook.” I was not to make the bread salad this time, for various reasons, but if you have never enjoyed this dish I urge you to try it — either make it yourself, or get a table at the San Francisco restaurant.
What I had in mind for my chicken was to enjoy it over a few days and meals, the first one being a dinner of roast chicken, baked spaghetti squash, and a beet and chèvre salad. On the next day I would boil potatoes I had sliced, then add some green beans to the water for about three minutes at the end of the process. I also sautéed green bell peppers. I put all of the warm vegetables into a large bowl and covered it loosely while I pulled the leftover chicken into suitably sized pieces.
To the warm vegetables I added salt, black pepper, some red wine vinegar, thinly sliced shallots, and olive oil. Finally, the chicken went in. That mixture was gently tossed, then tasted for seasoning. More salt. Plated it in a bowl, and topped with a few dollops of chèvre. Comforting, wonderful acid from the vinegar, crisp beans, and melting-sensation potatoes.
To the bottle of wine, which I paired with both dishes. It was a chenin blanc, from Rhys Vineyards, the 2023 to be exact, fruit from Mt. Pajaro Vineyard. This is a stellar example of domestic chenin blanc, full of gravelly minerality and ocean influence — Mt. Pajaro, about 8 miles from the Monterey Bay, is Rhys’ sole vineyard in the southern region of the Santa Cruz Mountains, and the soil profile of the 18-acre vineyard has had a profound effect on this wine. Brown and black shale and sandstone, plus shallow topsoil, have produced concentrated fruit and a wine with thrilling tension. The vineyard lies between 717 and 980 feet above sea level.
I am working on a longer, more in-depth piece on Rhys, because these wines are impressing me and they deserve attention.
The wine spent 12 months in oak — 100 percent neutral barrels — and six months in stainless steel; whole cluster was used. The clone here is 982, and Rhys farms .94 acres of chenin blanc in the vineyard, which is mainly planted to pinot noir and chardonnay. On the palate, I appreciated the combination of wet stone and paraffin, along with lemon and pear. You can find this wine for around $60, and I’d love to taste this vintage five years from now.
Here’s a look at a few other things I have cooked lately, including a banana bread into which I swirled a mixture of chocolate and peanut butter; picadillo tacos; two-egg pasta with a long-simmered Bolognese made of beef and pork; and king oyster mushrooms.
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