Boozy tarragon chicken pie

A tarragon chicken pie made with puff pasty, essentially a fancy version of dodgy chicken and mushroom pies available in roadside filling stations in many parts of the world. Chicken, shallots, mushrooms, celery and pancetta all infused with booze and tarragon in a creamy sauce baked to perfection. Indulgent and homely.

En croûte brut

I learned this dish from a friend who grew up in Lyon. She told me it was traditional in Chalon-sur-Saône in eastern France where her mother grew up. But, other than that, I know very little about it other than it is utterly delicious.

I think of it as another of those "season optional" dishes: the cognac and white wine give a certain winter warming quality—especially if you do the flambé version— but the fresh tarragon gives it a spring greenness. I often cook it around this time of year because it's a filling spring meal without being too heavy, even though rich. Yet, I equally enjoy it in colder months when I tend to flambé the chicken and pancetta in the cognac in the first stages of cooking (rather than cook it off as in this version) because that adds an extra taste of warming fire.

I was originally taught to cook this pie with bacon lardons. And, indeed, they work well. But over time I have headed towards pancetta because I think it is more subtle and fuses better with the other subtle flavours in the filling. Personal choice and not a competition...

This recipe does not include a recipe for the pastry for two reasons. Firstly, I long gave up making most pastries myself (there are a few exceptions) since I have found that the numerous good brands of readymade pastry that can be found in chill cabinets in supermarkets are inevitably better than my own, probably because they have been chilled for so long, something that improves pastry.

Secondly, I don't actually have the recipe for this particular pastry, a guarded trade secret of the pastry chef in a local Italian bakery who recently started selling her own pastry in chilled rolls. The pie is traditionally made with flaky puff pasty. But, I would describe this particular pastry as somewhere between a puff pastry and a shortcrust pastry. It's reminiscent of the pastry used for Sardinian panadas, but lighter and richer, which I'm certain has to do with using more butter—"lots of butter?" was the one thing that made the tight-lipped pastry chef blink when I was trying to coax the recipe out of her. Ah, I was reared getting recipes out of people. We'll get there yet.

However, it is equally delicious with the more familiar version of flaky puff pastry used in a lot of French recipes. And, the same rules apply as with most pastries: make sure it's chilled when you roll it out and keep it chilled until putting into into a hot, pre-heated oven.

I kid you not. Remembering my grandmother's glass rolling pin that you filled with ice cubes, my wooden number now lies languishing in a drawer. I have turned to using a scrubbed, straight-angled wine bottle that I put in the freezer for three hours before rolling out pastry. Better Steam Punk make-do-'n-mend than a rubbish baking result.

I always use an egg and milk bath before baking the top of the pie, but in a lot of traditional versions, only milk is used.

I've always stuck to what I was originally taught; make three of four fairly large slashes in the lid of the pie before baking. The first time I baked it, I thought I had done something wrong, because these stretched into notable "holes" during the baking process. But, after baking it a few times, I realised this was part of the plan. Rather than rise, forming a large air pocket between the pie and filling, as can happen when you merely prick a pie lid with a fork, the pastry cooks right up against the filling, partly absorbing its flavour and making it less likely to break up entirely when you cut into it. And, as Melanie pointed out, it also makes this tourte au poulet more portable, it being a dish traditionally taken away cold on hunts in Bourgogne-Franche-Comté; a kind of poshy boys' Cornish pasty.

Seasonal sides with season-agnostic pie

I'm opting to serve it here simply with undressed steamed French beans and a simple garniture of chopped wild rocket, cornichons and capers dressed with a smidgen of vinaigrette, just a note of acidic flavours to cut through the richness of the pie. But, there are plenty of other simple, fresh vegetables that work well with it.

In winter I prefer to served it with Puy lentils, baby potatoes sautéed in their skins, braised Savoy cabbage or roasted parsnips. In spring I almost always serve it with steamed green beans, but occasionally steamed broccoli or spring greens.

This pie is delicious hot or cold. The latter was one of the ways it was traditionally eaten; a hearty meal when out on energetic country pursuits or on long coach journeys.

This recipe feeds 4 diners as main course portions. It you are saving portions, remove from the baking tin or pie dish and wrap each portion individually in metallic foil before storing, sealed, in the fridge where it will last well for 3 or 4 days. While it won't prevent the pie from inevitably drying out a little in the fridge, it helps when you reheat it.

When you come to reheat the pie, place the portions, still wrapped in the foil on a baking tray in an oven preheated to 175°C. Place a shallow bowl of water beside it or on a lower shelf. Reheat for 12 to 15mins, still wrapped. This prevents the crust from overcooking. Then open the foil and bake for a further 8 to 10min, or until fully heated all the way through.

3 top tips to get this recipe right:

Fresh tarragon, with its unique liquorice notes, is a curious herb. Fortunately, in this particular recipe, you're protected from its overzealous use by both the cognac and the pancetta. However, avoid going ballistic with it. Overkill doesn't really pull it off. And, be sure to strip the leaves off stalks that have already become stick-like before chopping it roughly. Basically, less is more.

Traditionally, the chicken is cut into cubes about 4 to 5cm squared. I actually prefer to cut it into slightly larger pieces. Perhaps it's just a resentment about chicken and mushroom pies offering disappointingly little chicken on those childhood pitstops during long road trips. Obviously, it's up to you. Similarly, I prefer the mushrooms in thick, tangible slices as opposed to the chopped mushrooms of the traditional version. Again, up to you.

Don't bake it in a dish that is too shallow. You probably won't notice that you've done anything wrong if you bake it in a large shallow pie dish... until you've baked it in a deep (i.e. 4 to 5cm deep) dish. Baking it in a deep dish, as is traditional, keeps all the succulence of the filling locked in. Similarly, it works better if you cut the chicken into fairly large pieces i.e. double the size of "bite-sized" which also retains more moisture and flavours

Shopping list

for the boozy tarragon chicken pie

Approx. 650g skinless chicken breast; cut into fairly large pieces
Approx. 100g pancetta; diced into small cubes (or bacon lardons)
2 large echalion shallots (or other shallots); cut in half vertically, then thinly sliced
2 or 3 sticks of celery, finely sliced
2 tbspns smoked garlic; finely cubed (or fresh garlic equivalent)
200g chestnut closed cup mushrooms; thickly sliced
Approx. 125ml crème fraîche (full-fat)
Approx. 1 large handful of pitted green olives; finely sliced
Approx. 4 tbspns unsalted butter
500ml chicken stock (or vegetable stock)
A large clutch of fresh tarragon; roughly chopped
100ml cognac (or brandy)
300ml dry white wine
1.5 tspns black pepper, coarsely ground
Approx. 3 tbspns plain white flour
Approx. 300g puff pastry; store-bought or homemade
A little milk
An egg (optional)
salt to taste

side dishes

French beans aka runner beans or stringless beans; steamed
A garniture - chopped wild rocket, cornichons and capers dressed with vinaigrette

A garniture - chopped wild rocket, cornichons and capers dressed with vinaigrette

Cooking method

for the boozy tarragon chicken pie

Start by preparing the chicken. Sift half of the flour evenly onto a large plate. Place your chicken pieces on the plate. Season with a little salt, then sift the other half of the flour evenly over all of the chicken and gently pat down. Shake of the excess
In a heavy frying pan, melt approx. 1tbspn butter on a medium heat. When it bubbles, add the pancetta, stirring constantly so that it browns evenly. Once slightly crisp, remove with a sieve spoon leaving all the juices in the pan. Place to one side
Add the floured chicken to the pan and brown for 3 to 4mins, turning halfway through. Season with black pepper. If it becomes dry and begins to stick, add a little more butter
When the chicken has a healthy colour on all sides, add the pancetta back into the pan and stir in. Almost immediately, pour in all of the cognac and slightly increase the heat. Stir almost constantly, until all the cognac has cooked off and the ingredients show signs of caramelisation. Remove from the heat and place to one side
Add 2tbspns of the butter to a clean large pot or pan with a lid and heat on a medium heat. Once the butter shows first signs of bubbling, add the shallots and sauté, stirring regularly. When the shallots begin to soften, add the celery and stir in. Sauté together, stirring almost constantly until the celery softens slightly. Add the garlic and stir in. Ensure the garlic doesn't burn: any signs of sticking, add a little more butter
When the garlic aromas are released, pour about 50ml of the wine into the pot and stir. Sauté off the wine, stirring frequently. If this happens before the shallots are fully softened, add dashes of the stock
Once the shallots are notably softened, add the chicken and pancetta to the pot and stir in thoroughly. Almost immediately, pour in almost all of the remaining wine (hold back about 30ml), deglazing any caramelisation from the base of the pot. Pour in approx. 200ml of the stock and stir in. Add the chopped tarragon and stir in. Cover and simmer vigorously from 10mins
Add the mushrooms, the remaining stock and wine. Season with the remaining black pepper and stir in. Re-cover, reduce the heat and simmer gently for another 20 to 25mins, stirring occasionally
Once the liquid has notably reduced, add the olives and stir in. Simmer for a further 5mins or so, uncovered
Add the crème fraîche, gently folding in. Continue to simmer uncovered, increasing the heat slightly if needed to help the sauce reduce to a thick, creamy sauce. Once reduced to an optimal (almost sticky) consistency, remove from the heat and place to one side. Ensure it has cooled to at least room temperature (better still, slightly chilled in the fridge) before putting into the pie case
Roll out your pastry and lay it into the base of your pie tin greased minimally with a little butter. Prick holes into the bottom of the pastry and bake in a pre-heated oven at 200°C (400°F) for 15mins. Keep your pastry for the lid chilled while you do this. Allow the pre-baked pasty base to fully cool to room temperature before the final baking stage
Add your cooled pie filling to the pre-baked pie case, rolling it out evenly. Gently lay the pastry for the lid, securing to the edges of the dish with a little bath of milk and whisked egg. Press down well at the edges. Sparingly baste the pie lid with the egg and milk bath and make about three slits in the centre of the pie
Bake in the centre of a pre-heated oven at 200°C (400°F) for approx. 30 to 35 mins or until golden brown—the filling visibly bubbling through the hole create by the slits
Remove from the oven and allow to rest for at least 10mins before plating or taking to table to be served with your preferred side dish/es

Alternatives

This dish does present challenges for vegans and vegetarians. It intrinsically relies heavily on dairy products. I have, on various occasions, cooked lacto-vegetarian versions using Quorn pieces in lieu of the chicken and tempeh or other veggie "fake bacon" products. On the whole, the results have been a failure. These plant-based alternatives don't fare well when cooked with this much alcohol. Quorn is reasonably robust, but tempeh becomes a kind of mush or little chunks of carbon if set alight in cognac.

I have never tried a pescatarian version. While tarragon is not traditionally used with seafood, I would be game to try. But I would never cook a seafood dish using this overall technique. However, just to show that this is not me picking on those who don't eat meat, I equally would never try it with red meat. And, indeed, the carnivores do not get any notable breaks: I once tried it with duck, but that immediately confirmed that this is not a dish for fatty birds such as duck or goose (except maybe chunks of skinless Barbary duck breast, though I can't confirm this). Fatty bird make the filling soggy and fatty. However, pheasant, which often tends towards dryness when cooked does work well, confirmed by at least two Scottish sojourns, which makes me think (unconfirmed) the guinea fowl might too. But, what a palaver to get enough skinless "muscle meat"! So I won't repeating that one. Those wonderfully free Scottish pheasants shall be put to less arduous work in future.

Pairings

The logic would be to go for something from terroirs close to this dish's point of origin. And, certainly, for the winter versions with heavier side dishes this La Burgondie

Bourgogne Côte Chalonnaise Pinot Noir is, I think, great "bang for buck".

I do remember that when I first cooked this dish for Melanie, who had taught me to cook it, a personal habit to check in with anyone who teaches me a recipe, I paired it with a Vincent Prunier Meursault 'Les Vireuils'... no, don't ask about vintages or anything; can't remember. I think this Burgundian Côte de Beaune white remains my overall favourite with this dish.

I can be a little sulky about Chardonnay as a general concept—too many gallery dinners with Californians who mistook a grape for a status symbol—but I confess it generally works here. It cuts through. With spring summer outings the crisper, lighter ones with tones of apple and citrus can be just fantastic. But, I have also been pleasantly surprised by more full-bodied iterations that tend towards vanilla. One would have thought it would be "creaminess overkill", yet somehow not. No, I'm not traipsing out a list. If Karel ever deigns to offer an opinion on this dish, you'll all get learned...