Chicken Canzanese

Chicken Canzanese
Chicken Canzanese
Any food historian will tell you that trying to track down the origin of a recipe is like chasing tadpoles. There are so many, and they all look alike. Even when you find what seems to be the original source, you can't necessarily believe it because adapting recipes is an age—old industry. Nonetheless, I thought I'd give the hunt a try with chicken Canzanese, an unusual recipe that ran in the Times in 1969. A Google search for "chicken Canzanese" yielded many results, a number of them facsimiles, or slight variations of the chicken dish that appeared in the Times. There's one on Cooks.com that's a close adaptation of the Times's recipe, another by Mario Batali on the Food Network's website and one by Anna Teresa Callen, the cookbook author and teacher, on her own website. Batali's and Callen's, which vary only slightly from the Times's recipe, are nearly word for word the same. Only one recipe that I found sourced the Times's recipe, which itself came from Ed Giobbi, a cookbook author, and was written about by Craig Claiborne. You can also find plenty of turkey recipes done in the style of Canzanese (Canzano is in the Abruzzo region in Italy), which refers to braised turkey, served cold with chopped turkey aspic. But chicken Canzanese, which is not mentioned in important Italian cookbooks like Le Ricette Regionali Italiane (Italian Regional Cooking), is completely different. When you make it, you understand why it's still kicking around after all these decades. After flash-brining the chicken, you throw everything into the pan at the same time—chicken, cubed prosciutto, sage, bay leaves, rosemary, garlic, chile, cloves, peppercorns, and wine—and end up with a dish that has the fragrance of Chinese steamed duck and the succulence of a Bolognese sauce. I sensed that it would be impossible to come to a conclusion about where chicken Canzanese originated (Giobbi's recipe was the earliest I could find), and this was confirmed as soon as I started calling people. Callen said she grew up in Abruzzo eating chicken Canzanese. Batali, who regularly credits people from whom he adapts recipes, said that he must have gotten his from Callen, and was apologetic about the borrowing. Giobbi, whose recipe came from a family friend in Abruzzo, suggested that perhaps Callen was influenced by him. When I asked Callen if there was any chance she referred to Giobbi's recipe when writing about her family's dish, she said, "Could be, very well." I didn't intend this to be an investigation—recipes are adapted all the time, it's one of the primary ways cuisines evolve—so I did not chase down the dozens of sites that appear to have copied Callen or Batali. One thing is clear, though: a good recipe has a thousand fathers, but a bad one is an orphan.
  • Preparing Time: -
  • Total Time: -
  • Served Person: Serves 2, or 4 if there are other side dishes
Italian Wine Chicken Herb Dinner Fall Prosciutto Potluck Sugar Conscious Paleo Dairy Free Wheat/Gluten-Free Peanut Free Tree Nut Free Soy Free
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 6 whole cloves
  • 2 sage leaves
  • kosher or coarse sea salt
  • Carbohydrate 6 g(2%)
  • Cholesterol 387 mg(129%)
  • Fat 75 g(115%)
  • Fiber 2 g(8%)
  • Protein 103 g(205%)
  • Saturated Fat 22 g(109%)
  • Sodium 1939 mg(81%)
  • Calories 1172

Preparation 1. Add 3 tablespoons kosher salt or coarse sea salt to a large bowl. Dissolve in about 1/2 cup warm water. Lay the chicken pieces in the bowl and cover with cold water (about 4 cups). Let stand for about 1 hour. Drain and pat dry. 2. Arrange the chicken pieces in one layer in a skillet and add the sage, bay leaves, garlic, cloves, rosemary, peppercorns, and red pepper. Cut the prosciutto into small cubes and sprinkle it over the chicken. Add the wine and water. Do not add salt, since the prosciutto will season the dish. Cover and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through, 30 to 35 minutes. 3. Remove the chicken to a plate and reduce the cooking juices until concentrated and a little syrupy—taste it to see. Serve the chicken in shallow bowls with the juices (and slivered garlic and prosciutto) spooned on top. Mop up juices with country bread. Cooking notes: A great chicken dish deserves (and depends on) a great chicken—buy the highest-quality bird you can find. The best place to look is a farmers' market. The chicken never browns, so if presentation is your thing, avert your eyes—or simply pull the meat from the bones and make a warm salad with escarole, the broth, and prosciutto. Or use the meat and sauce to make a very simple pasta dish. Whatever you do, be careful not to overcook the chicken. And serve it right after cooking, when its aromatics are most intense. The original recipe said it serves 4, but when I made the dish for my mother and me, we polished off the whole thing. Only count on it serving 4 if you're making a bunch of side dishes. It may seem strange to buy expensive prosciutto and cut it into cubes, but don't skimp on the quality of prosciutto. I did once and was punished with a salty sauce. If you can only get indifferent prosciutto, add less of it. Readers: "I remember that I used the recipe the first time because chicken was affordable for a crowd and the ingredients then seemed different but not weird. This recipe as I read and reread it over the years pushed me to learn more about cooking. Why not brown the chicken pieces? (Giobbi does not.) What about putting it all together and sticking it in the oven? What if I chopped the seasonings and put them in the cavity and under the skin of a roasting chicken and then, well, roasted it? The recipe with its time-proven flavors (back to the Renaissance at least?) has never failed. "For me, this is one of those recipes that permutes endlessly as the seasons, the occasion, or the cook's mood changes. Sometimes (often) I do brown the chicken, sometimes use pancetta instead of prosciutto, sometimes add a little chopped tomato, sometimes introduce porcini mushrooms. If the company at dinner have dietary restrictions, oil-cured black olives can stand in for the pork. I have tried it with boneless chicken breasts only—satisfactory—and with guinea hen—excellent." From Jonatha Ceely, e-mail MAY 18, 1969: "CHICKEN BIG," BY CRAIG CLAIBORNE. RECIPE BY ED GIOBBI, WHO ADAPTED IT FROM A FAMILY FRIEND IN ITALY. —1969 Reprinted from THE ESSENTIAL NEW YORK TIMES COOKBOOK by Amanda Hesser. Compilation copyright (c) 2010 by The New York Times Company and Amanda Hesser. Recipes and reprinted text copyright (c) 2010 by The New York Times Company. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.

Preparation 1. Add 3 tablespoons kosher salt or coarse sea salt to a large bowl. Dissolve in about 1/2 cup warm water. Lay the chicken pieces in the bowl and cover with cold water (about 4 cups). Let stand for about 1 hour. Drain and pat dry. 2. Arrange the chicken pieces in one layer in a skillet and add the sage, bay leaves, garlic, cloves, rosemary, peppercorns, and red pepper. Cut the prosciutto into small cubes and sprinkle it over the chicken. Add the wine and water. Do not add salt, since the prosciutto will season the dish. Cover and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through, 30 to 35 minutes. 3. Remove the chicken to a plate and reduce the cooking juices until concentrated and a little syrupy—taste it to see. Serve the chicken in shallow bowls with the juices (and slivered garlic and prosciutto) spooned on top. Mop up juices with country bread. Cooking notes: A great chicken dish deserves (and depends on) a great chicken—buy the highest-quality bird you can find. The best place to look is a farmers' market. The chicken never browns, so if presentation is your thing, avert your eyes—or simply pull the meat from the bones and make a warm salad with escarole, the broth, and prosciutto. Or use the meat and sauce to make a very simple pasta dish. Whatever you do, be careful not to overcook the chicken. And serve it right after cooking, when its aromatics are most intense. The original recipe said it serves 4, but when I made the dish for my mother and me, we polished off the whole thing. Only count on it serving 4 if you're making a bunch of side dishes. It may seem strange to buy expensive prosciutto and cut it into cubes, but don't skimp on the quality of prosciutto. I did once and was punished with a salty sauce. If you can only get indifferent prosciutto, add less of it. Readers: "I remember that I used the recipe the first time because chicken was affordable for a crowd and the ingredients then seemed different but not weird. This recipe as I read and reread it over the years pushed me to learn more about cooking. Why not brown the chicken pieces? (Giobbi does not.) What about putting it all together and sticking it in the oven? What if I chopped the seasonings and put them in the cavity and under the skin of a roasting chicken and then, well, roasted it? The recipe with its time-proven flavors (back to the Renaissance at least?) has never failed. "For me, this is one of those recipes that permutes endlessly as the seasons, the occasion, or the cook's mood changes. Sometimes (often) I do brown the chicken, sometimes use pancetta instead of prosciutto, sometimes add a little chopped tomato, sometimes introduce porcini mushrooms. If the company at dinner have dietary restrictions, oil-cured black olives can stand in for the pork. I have tried it with boneless chicken breasts only—satisfactory—and with guinea hen—excellent." From Jonatha Ceely, e-mail MAY 18, 1969: "CHICKEN BIG," BY CRAIG CLAIBORNE. RECIPE BY ED GIOBBI, WHO ADAPTED IT FROM A FAMILY FRIEND IN ITALY. —1969 Reprinted from THE ESSENTIAL NEW YORK TIMES COOKBOOK by Amanda Hesser. Compilation copyright (c) 2010 by The New York Times Company and Amanda Hesser. Recipes and reprinted text copyright (c) 2010 by The New York Times Company. Used with permission of the publisher, W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.

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