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Created by Chef Ally
A whole chicken nestled among forty cloves of garlic, braised until the meat falls from the bone and the garlic becomes a sweet, spreadable treasure you will fight over at the table.
Forty cloves sounds like madness until you understand what heat does to garlic. Raw, it bites. Braised for an hour and a half, it surrenders entirely, turning soft as butter and sweet as roasted chestnuts. This is the alchemy at the heart of French provincial cooking.
The dish comes from Provence, where garlic grows in abundance and cooks learned centuries ago that you cannot have too much of a good thing. The cloves braise in the chicken's own juices, protected by their papery skins, emerging so tender you can spread them on crusty bread like jam. The chicken absorbs that gentle perfume, and the pan juices become something you will want to drink.
Start with a good bird. A pastured chicken from a farmer you trust will taste like chicken in a way that reminds you why this humble ingredient anchors so many cuisines. The garlic should be firm and heavy, with tight skin and no green shoots. If your garlic is sprouting, it has been sitting too long. Find better garlic.
Quantity
1 (3 1/2 to 4 pounds)
cut into 8 pieces
Quantity
40 (about 3-4 heads)
unpeeled
Quantity
3 tablespoons
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| whole chickencut into 8 pieces | 1 (3 1/2 to 4 pounds) |
| garlic clovesunpeeled | 40 (about 3-4 heads) |
| extra-virgin olive oil | 3 tablespoons |
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