Chicken and Bowtie Pasta

I had my neighbours over for dinner the other night, so they could oooh at the gorgeous new paint and I could cook. This is a really good, really nice-looking dish that is mostly prepared before people show up at your door, and that's part of why I like it so much. It also has only one crazy ingredient (sundried tomatoes) and keeps well for leftovers. So go out and get: chicken (I used one breast for this example, which made two servings), a head of broccoli, garlic, bowtie pasta (farfalle, I think), sundried tomatoes (either in oil or, if dried, follow the hydrating instructions on the packet), and then some of the usual suspects: oil, butter, salt, pepper and dried basil. Oh, also parmesan, for serving.

Whatever cooking pot you choose, you need to make sure it has a fitted lid and can easily be used to brown meat and contain liquid -- you'll also need enough real estate on the bottom of the pan to shove all the meat to one side and cook all your broccoli, which can mean a biiiig pan. I have followed my Le Creuest fixation, obviously. Heat the pot on medium heat, then drizzle olive oil.

What is that odd tool? It's a garlic press, and it's another one of my favourite things. I have been known to travel internationally with only carry-on luggage, and pack this. I dislike chomping down on half-cooked, gummy garlic, and this stops it from happening. If you're not a devotee, just mince up two cloves of garlic per chicken breast you're planning to use. But here's the thing: you're going to want to just cook that garlic until it's a nice golden colour, and that doesn't take long at ALL. So BEFORE pulling out the press, make sure you've diced up all of your chicken into pieces about as big as the top joint of your thumb. That way you don't have to dither and chop while frantically trying to prevent the garlic from burning, because burnt garlic is really, really unpleasant.

Once the garlic is golden, throw in all your chickeny bits and stir until cooked. You can also add about a teaspoon of salt, teaspoon of pepper (hold back a bit on the seasoning at this stage, because you might have guests who hate salt -- you can taste it closer to the end). Grab hold of your broccoli and cut off the florets, rinse them in a colander and, when the chicken's no longer pinkish, push all the chicken to one side and put the florets in the pan to crisp up a bit. Watch for the broccoli burning, but generally this is a stir-frequently thing. While this is cooking, multitask: if you're serving to guests almost as soon as they arrive, start boiling water for the pasta stage.

I've also got the next steps on deck in the photo: white wine, dried basil and a packet of chicken boullion-stuff. Offscreen, I'm boiling half a cup of water in my electric tea kettle (for the chicken boullion).


I'm not sure if it's unfamiliar in the US or what, but this certain meal always makes a really good impression if I'm making it for guests. This is a totally typical dinner at my house growing up, by the way, but I've never been able to figure out if we're in the mainstream or some sort of mad outlier. I remember a high school friend coming over to pick me up on a Saturday afternoon, and he walked in to find my tiny nuclear family clustered round a table that had on it a baguette, a couple of cheeses, a bowl of grapes and I think a small salade nicoise -- you know, a normal weekend lunch. He was not just confused, he was sort of frightened. I'd been over to his for dinner and knew they had stuff like tuna casserole (a totally unknown dish in my house), but I think something in his head just refused to assemble our spread into a "meal". He ranted about it all afternoon, wonderingly. Like he'd walked in on cannibals or something.

With that in mind, check to see if they broccoli's done -- it'll be greener and a little bit crispy. If so, then pour in about a quarter cup of white wine. Stir everything about and let it soak in for a minute, then add a teaspoon and a half of basil, the chicken boullion, and about a quarter cup of water. Stir and leave on a medium-low heat to simmer while you eyeball the amount of diced sundried tomatoes you want in. Slice it up into bits, so it looks like confetti, then mix that in. Let this absolutely delicious concoction simmer for 10 minutes.

The really good thing about this is that you can make it, cover it and leave it to stand for a while if you want to have a good hour before eating. Once the pot's cooked down a bit, add a knob of butter (going by the side of the packet, maybe half a tablespoon?), stir, and then set the heat very low and COVER THE DISH. If you don't cover it, the entire thing will boil away, obviously. When you're ready to eat, cook the pasta, drain it and just tip it into the original pot. The butter/stock/wine acts as a sauce, toss everything together, and you're set.

This is where the genius of Le Creuset comes in again -- if you've not been a total mess, you get to put the entire pot down on the table for people to serve themselves. Ahhhh, lazy cookware, how I love you.


The very last thing you need is parmesan cheese. Doesn't matter what kind, and you could grate it or slice it thinly, but it really completes the whole dish. My mom used to add it before serving, but then again we rarely had leftovers. I wait until after serving, because parmesan is really quite gross once it's been in tupperware and nuked. Without the cheese, the chicken/veg/pasta combo works out just fine.
The one thing I'd close with is: use better wine than I did. I've always been of the opinion that cooking wine can be crap wine, and while I'm still convinced that's true, I forgot that you should also make sure you can drink the remaining wine WITH your meal. And the stuff at the upper right is disgusting. If you're looking for something nice, go with Monkey Bay, both affordable and awesome.