Clay Pot Chicken

Contemplating Dorie Greenspan’s very French Chicken in a Pot among other chicken dishes for dinner, I had a flashback of my trusty clay kadai, which in turn openened a floodgate of memories.

I still remember, it was her feet that caught my eye. Coated with talc-like dust, they seemed part of the dark earth with solid silver rings curling around her toes and thick, silver hoops dancing around her ankles. Like some ebony tree wreathed in bottle-green foliage, she wore her green saree tribal-style, blouseless with one bare shoulder shining like onyx in the sun. Her beauty was ancient (imprinted in my memory, even after so many years); as if it existed like an old palace, weather-worn and maybe a little faded but timeless. And she was the queen of clay pots. Smooth, rich red-earth-coloured, round-bottomed creations arranged in neat pyramids. I was enchanted by her and her traditional Indian kadais, chattis (cooking utensils) she was selling for a pittance on the side of a dusty highway. Needless to say, I bought a kadai (a deep, circular, cooking vessel with curved handles on its sides) but in my heart, didn’t expect to use it much, let alone roast a whole chicken in it. 
 
I was wrong. In its 9-year life with me, it has cooked up many rustic fish curries and my family’s favourite chicken dishes for dinner, but was consigned to the back of my kitchen cupboard off late, a little forgotten, like its seller. Cooking Dorie’s French, country-style whole chicken dish in a rustic Indian pot – the idea sounded delicious. Even the food gods willed this to happen because my chicken was just the right fit for my kadai. I couldn’t wait to try!

I adapted Dories’s recipe a little bit but not enough to change the character of the dish. She used a Dutch oven, I didn’t. Also, I went for fresh lemons since I did not have any preserved ones and I cut down the heads of garlic from four to two. The beauty of cooking the whole chicken lay in the fact that the pot sealed with dough cooks for an hour in the oven when the magic happens. If you do not fancy cooking an entire bird, make it as you would other chicken thigh recipes using whole thighs with skin on.

Locked in, the juicy, whole chicken, vegetables, herbs and seasonings get to know each other intimately enough to absorb each others flavours and produce a deliciously, mellow but warmly comforting dish. And it helps that it looks spectacular on the table, and when you break the seal and release the scented steam, it’s like eating with your nose. The chicken is tender to the fork, and can be cut up and served along with the vegetables. The juices (the best part) can be poured over the chicken or (if you’re sharing it with your family) the pot can be placed in the centre of the table and everyone can dip in slices of crusty baguette to mop up all that flavour. It has become one of my favourite weekend chicken dishes for dinner.

My family loved the dish and for me it was an ode to a  beautiful memory, perhaps insignificant in the larger scheme of things but nevertheless precious and worth savouring even today.