
Chef Thomas
A Ploughman's Salad
The old pub ploughman's, shaken loose from its board and laid across butter lettuce with a sharp mustard dressing, for the kind of lunch that feels like you've given yourself the afternoon off.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Cold poached chicken folded through a gently curried sauce with apricot and cream, the kind of thing you'd bring to a summer table and quietly watch disappear.
The smell of curry powder warming in a pan. Not a sharp, aggressive heat, but something gentler: toasted and sweet, like the memory of a spice cupboard in a warm room. That's where this starts.
Coronation chicken was invented for a street party in 1953, which tells you everything about what it's meant to be. It's not restaurant food. It's a big bowl on a trestle table, served with a spoon, eaten off paper plates in someone's back garden while the bunting snaps overhead. The fact that it's survived seventy years of fashion and snobbery says more about its quiet worth than any recipe can. People keep making it because it works.
The trick, and it's barely a trick, is poaching the chicken properly and letting the sauce sit for a while before you eat it. Fresh off the stove, the curry powder is bright and separate. After an hour in the fridge, everything softens and settles: the apricot sweetness, the warmth of the spice, the richness of the cream. It becomes one thing instead of several. I wrote it down in the notebook last June: coronation chicken, garden table, too much bread, stayed out until it got dark. Right food, right evening.
It belongs to summer. To a Saturday when someone is coming over and you want to put something on the table that looks generous without having cost you the afternoon. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, and this one leaves you plenty of room. More apricot if you like it sweeter. A squeeze more lemon if it needs sharpening. Your kitchen, your rules.
Quantity
4
Quantity
1
Quantity
a few
Quantity
1
halved
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
2
finely chopped
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
75ml
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
75ml
Quantity
6-8
finely chopped
Quantity
half
juiced
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
small handful
lightly toasted
Quantity
small handful
Quantity
a bunch
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs | 4 |
| bay leaf | 1 |
| black peppercorns | a few |
| small onionhalved | 1 |
| sunflower or groundnut oil | 1 tablespoon |
| shallotsfinely chopped | 2 |
| mild curry powder | 1 tablespoon |
| tomato purée | 1 teaspoon |
| dry white wine | 75ml |
| good mayonnaise | 100ml |
| double cream or crème fraîche | 75ml |
| soft dried apricotsfinely chopped | 6-8 |
| lemonjuiced | half |
| mango chutney | 1 tablespoon |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| flaked almondslightly toasted | small handful |
| fresh coriander leaves (optional) | small handful |
| watercressto serve | a bunch |
Put the chicken thighs in a saucepan that fits them snugly. Add the bay leaf, peppercorns, and halved onion. Pour over enough cold water to just cover. Bring to a gentle simmer, not a boil, just a quiet murmur of bubbles along the bottom of the pan. Put a lid on and let it poach for twenty to twenty-five minutes. The chicken is done when the meat pulls easily from the bone and the juices run clear. Lift the thighs out onto a plate and let them cool completely. Don't throw the poaching liquid away. Strain it and keep it for soup or risotto. It's good stock by another name.
Warm the oil in a small pan over a low heat. Add the chopped shallots and cook gently until soft and translucent, five minutes or so. They shouldn't colour. Stir in the curry powder and the tomato purée and let them cook together for a minute, until the spice smells warm and rounded, not raw or dusty. Pour in the wine and let it bubble away until the pan is nearly dry. Take it off the heat and let the whole thing cool to room temperature.
In a mixing bowl, stir together the mayonnaise, cream, chopped apricots, mango chutney, and lemon juice. Scrape in the cooled shallot and curry mixture. Stir it all together. The sauce should be pale gold, just thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, fragrant with spice and the quiet sweetness of the apricots. Taste it. Season with salt and pepper. Taste it again. It should be gently warm from the spice, a little sweet, a little sharp. If it needs more lemon, give it more lemon.
Pull the cooled chicken from the bones and shred it into generous pieces, using your hands. Don't cut it with a knife. Torn chicken holds the sauce better. Discard the skin and bones (or add the bones to your stockpot). Fold the chicken through the sauce until every piece is coated. Cover and let it sit in the fridge for at least an hour, longer if you can. The flavours need time to settle into each other.
Take the coronation chicken out of the fridge fifteen minutes before serving. Cold food tastes better when it's not fridge-cold. Pile it onto a plate with a handful of watercress alongside. Scatter the toasted almonds and coriander leaves over the top. Serve with good bread, or rice if you'd rather, or spooned into a baked potato for something more substantial. It wants company, this dish. A green salad. A glass of cold white wine. A garden table, if you've got one.
1 serving (about 160g)
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