Beer Chicken and Potatoes with Salsa Verde

 
I've never liked the taste of beer. I have a high school friend who deemed it was like drinking “carbonated piss”, but ever since last summer, I found myself slowly enjoying the bubblyness and developed a newfound respect for pee beer.

A few weeks ago, we got a taste of summer—in March. It was sunny, blue skies, I even drove to work with the window all the way down, letting the warm air blast through my hair. As the temperature continued to rise, I switched on the air-con at home, which would have been effective if I didn’t cook coconut lentil soup for dinner. Apparently burning hot dishes are better left for a cold winter’s night.

I still don’t know the difference between the various families of beer/ale/lagers/pilsners and always look up each one on Wikipedia when curiosity strikes, but I do know one thing’s for sure, beer makes food, both sweet and savoury, taste freaking awesome. 
 

This beer chicken, adapted loosely from Laura Calder’s French Food at Home, is a fine example of how an ordinary can of an everyday beverage can convert you. It’s a simple recipe, so simple in fact, I bet you can do it blindfolded. All you need is chicken pieces (I used chicken thighs—I’m a dark meat kinda girl), wash and pat them dry, then tuck in some bacon and plenty (and I mean plenty) of garlic cloves between the skin and scatter it over the roasting pan. Pour beer over the pan and stick it in the oven for about forty-five minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. 
 
Trust me, fifteen minutes in, your home will smell like a garlicky bacony microbrewery. You will wonder what took you so long to make this dish. You will find it hard, excruciatingly painful even, to wait for the chicken to cook, because at this point, it will smell so damn good. The good news (I promise there’s always good news) is you can crack open the same beer and lounge on your balcony, enjoying the beautiful sunset while your dinner bubbles away in the oven. 




If you’ve ever had drunk chicken, this is what the meat tastes like with a distinct bitter flavour. The chicken is exactly how it should be, moist, tender, juicy, laced with sharp garlic and smoky bacon. I highly recommend you eat this double-fisted, with your elbows on the table, chewing loudly and with a second (or third, or fourth, why stop there?) glass of cold beer on the side--it's the only way.

The words salsa verde have always allured me, its fancy name slides off the tongue like a slick dance move. I used Molly’s recipe which is a slurry of lime juice, cilantro, olive oil, jalapeno and lots of raw garlic, drizzled over plain baby potatoes to give it a kick. It’s not only pretty, but the acidity brings out the brightness in the beer chicken. In other words: try it. If were like me and think beer tastes like fizzy piss, this might just change your mind.

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Recipe here!

Lime and Poppy Seed Yogurt Cake

There was a time when I didn’t think much of sweets (Waahhhtttt??). When I didn’t go to bed thinking of blueberry pancakes for breakfast, or when I didn’t fantasize for chewy chocolate chip cookies.


There were days when I didn’t take solace in the alluring scent of browned butter, the familiar rattle of shutting the oven door after testing if my peanut butter cupcakes were ready, or when I secretly looked forward to licking the end of a whisk enrobed in batter (Raw eggs? Food safety? What’s that?!).


Those were days before I lived alone. When I was madly obsessed with my first boyfriend, when I was terrified of never being accepted to any university, when I sought comfort in my best friends when I couldn't get it from my parents, and when I didn't care what I ate. I didn't think about each bite, nor did I judge the aesthetics of what lay on my plate. Most importantly, I couldn't cook or bake anything from scratch.

Today, 5 years later, I finished writing my dietetics registration exam. After 6 hours of hunched over 200 questions that were not only tricky but a little conniving, I was finally done. I walked out and took in a breath of frosty air. Despite my frazzled brain, all I wanted to do was to take a nap and bake a cake. Particularly yogurt cake. Sweets always make me feel better.

If this cake was in high school and got voted for a superlative, this cake would win three categories: most popular, best dressed AND best sense of humour. I’ve made it over a dozen times, in the same spring form pan my cousin bought me for my birthday. By itself, it's a plain yet surprisingly moist cake. You can't taste the yogurt at all, instead, the dairy gives it tenderness and fluff. Make it by plain, or dress it up.


It’s versatile; allowing several variations so you can easily adapt it to your friends’ palates. Plus, it calls for simple ingredients that you most probably already have in the pantry. And finally, it’s a cinch. You can do this with your eyes closed (but try not to the first time, it took me some practice).

This time, I used lime zest and poppy seeds. Grating the lime zest was my favourite part. I love how the fruit releases its citrusy juices, a shower of green sprinkled into the bowl. The poppy seeds spruce up the cake with a subtle kick of pop.



I recently made it for a potluck and insisted my friends take a slice home to their boyfriends/husbands (just so they could rave about it later a few days later).

Bake it now. It’s a stress reliever. It’s a pain killer. Cake is a great antidote to exam induced headaches and frustrations.

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Recipe here!