The Silent Meal

J and I shared a meal together and neither of us spoke.  We were not mad at each other; on the contrary, we had much to say. The reason we exchanged few words was that the meal was the best I've ever made ("can't talk, eating," as a friend once said to me).

This "Best Meal Ever" had humble beginnings at Central Market.  I don't do all of my grocery shopping there, but I do like to pick up small items and hard-to-find foods, or, in this case, use it as a source of inspiration.  Fresh figs are were on sale.  I love dried figs, and have always wanted to use them fresh in a dish.  I had no idea what I was going to do with them, but I was determined to do something. 


A day later on Twitter, CHOW tweeted about a series of recipes on how to use fresh figs. Eureka! I found it!

"Chicken with Goat Cheese and Figs" came across my computer screen, and although the recipe said a skill level of "hard," I was still determined.  It looked too good--goat cheese mixed with shallots and then stuffed into chicken breasts?  Even if it turned out a disaster, the disaster would be delicious.


Later that week, I was at Revival Market, whom I also follow on Twitter.  They feature Blue Heron Farms Goat Cheese, and I was there hunting down their Bourbon Cajeta which was touted earlier in the week.  R.M. was out, but had some lavender chevre that I had a feeling would add an extra level of flavor to the recipe.  I asked the owner (who was also behind the counter, how cool!) and he said he believed it to be a great idea. A recipe is born!

The whole thing came together quite nicely.  The process was not labor-intensive, but it was time intensive.  I started by 5pm and ended by 7pm, when I was getting the darn thing on the platter.  Looking back I think the recipe is either mis-rated "hard" or has that distinction because of the time factor.

For sides, I chose a quick salad (as most of my sides include a little salad, for roughage), and some red quinoa.  I threw it together with some chopped fresh basil, some minced shallots, a little salt and pepper, and about a teaspoon of some smoked lard that I had picked up from RM.  Although I am usually not a fan of cooking with lard, something about the words "smoked" and "local" begged for me to try it.  I figured it wouldn't be bad to have around to help cook with now and again, as it would add a special flavor that normal lard wouldn't.  Also--why not try it for a savory pastry dough?  That would add a flavor that is usually lacking.

Pastry dough, don't get me started.

The quinoa mish-mash and the salad were nice light sides for the flavor-rich chicken.  Well, or so I was told.  I never got to them as I spent the meal eating the stuffed chicken and figs as slowly as I possibly could.

Other than using figs for the first time, this was new for me on several levels.  I've never stuffed anything inside a meat before, but cutting pockets in the meat was a big help to my knife skills.  Similarly, I've never used shallots in a dish, nor had I tried cutting a vegetable paper-thin, which was fun:  I discovered they are like onions and you will tear up when you slice them (oh, the burning). 

The comments at the bottom of the page for this recipe stated that one could pound the chicken breast to make it thinner, and also suggested that one could omit the figs and the dish would still be great.  I tried the former, which made cutting later a challenge, but it did help keep the chicken moist.  The latter, while a true statement, I would not recommend.  The fig/port combination adds a special sweetness and dimension of flavor that was a compliment to the tangy bite of the goat cheese/shallot combination. 

Second day this was even better.  I had J package it in the fridge in such a way that had the meat marinating in the fig/port sauce so that the sweetness would infuse into the chicken.  It was a hunch, and I was not wrong.  We sliced up one of the chicken breasts and reheated over the stove, then threw it between two slices of bread with a little mayo, sliced tomato, and field greens and put the whole thing on the panini press, which inspired another silent meal this afternoon.

Another look at the finished product:

When a meal like this comes along, it lights a fire.  I was so pleased the way fate had brought these ingredients into a dish, and that it came together so well.  I do not mean for this to be a explainabrag, but a way to tell what exactly happened to me after this meal.  I've always been the "baker" in my family, because I've been the worst chef among us.  I did not cook because I was "bad" at it, and didn't pick it up as it was mostly a joyless requirement of daily life (tell me if you tried skateboarding for the first time, and sucked at it, that you'd somehow go back to it everyday).  I began to cook on a serious level a few months ago out of necessity (see "New Hotness"), and I believe, that not until this moment did I understand the bliss of cooking a meal so delicious that it evokes emotion, nay, passion, out of me.  I've been on a baking and cooking frenzy ever since, like an addict chasing the dragon of that first high.

Figs.  The gateway fruit.