Oh dear. That isn’t what I expected. Those Robiola-stuffed tomatoes from The New York Times, I mean. My food didn’t look like theirs, and I really really hope that it didn’t taste like theirs. Following recipes is not my favorite thing to do, nor is it anything I do with particular frequency or flair. But when I do, I expect them to work. This one didn’t for me. Oh dear not at all. And this, by the way, is what it looked like.
Call it The Parade of Horribles, for there were four of them. They were a pain, too. All that beating up of cheeses and of butter. (Admittedly, not so much.) Scooping out those fancy heirloom tomatoes is really kind of irksome. (Not hugely, but quite enough.) Robiola is not cheap, and three and a half ounces is a good third of the lump. Where Mr. Sifton indicates you will need two tablespoons of vodka (?!) to lighten the mixture, I found a soupy, separated mess, no hard alcohol required. Tomatoes are water based, and you’re supposed to mash them in with fat (cheese, butter). I’m no chemist, but isn’t that an emulsion? It never emulsed. I got tasteless bits of expensive dairy floating around in tomato juice, seeds, and pulp. Yuck. It’s possible that I used too many tomato seeds or too much tomato pulp or I didn’t chop it up enough or I chopped it up too much or I beat it too hard or beat not enough. All of these things are possible, but I have no idea which the culprit was. I do know that the results were bland, expensive, and time intensive. It was awful.
(If anyone out there has tried this recipe and had success, please let me know what you did!)
I didn’t get it all wrong, though. Those roasted chicken thighs Mr. Sifton suggests to go with are a great idea. But this time, I didn’t read the recipe. Who wants to make “smoke roasted” chicken anyway? It sounds marvelous to me, so marvelous that I’d rather pay for it to be served to me than prepare it myself. I don’t know how to marshal smoke to cook food in a pleasant or non-fire alarm-inducing way, I don’t own a grill, and I don’t care to alter either of these facts of my cooking skills or tools. But “smoky roasted” sounded like a reasonable alternative, and a picante pimentón de la Vera—spicy, smoked paprika that comes in fabulous tins—would make things spicy, smoky, and generally fabulous, while “roasted” only involves the oven.
As with the last post, the preparation below is more for the benefit of my poor memory than it may prove to be for your recipe box, dear reader. But if you are doing anything like this at this time of year, do forget the potatoes and the rice. Just serve some bread to mop up the chicken jus. If you must have that Robiola, it can follow your meal and precede dessert. And as for that tomato, I suggest you find some other way to stuff it.
Simple, smoky roast chicken thighs
chicken thighs, bone-in, skin on | salt + pepper | hot smoked paprika (pimeton de la Vera, the ‘picante’ variety) | thyme, fresh or dried | lemon | olive oil
Heat the oven to 400 F/200 C.
Sprinkle the chicken thighs with liberal amounts of salt, pepper, paprika, and thyme leaves. Leave for as long as you can stand it, at least until the chicken is at room temperature, about 30 minutes. Then put them in a roasting pan, cut the lemon into large pieces and tuck bits around the chicken. Drizzle everything with a bit of olive oil.
Roast until done, about 45 minutes. Don’t bother basting.
Figure 1 thigh per small person, 2 per big one