A recipe for creamy chicken tarragon with retro vibes
This has been a recipe that’s been on the back burner for awhile now, as it felt very 1950s, very TV-dinner vibes, which is, despite a love for a Pn’B (pigs in a blanket, not peanut butter and jelly, though I like that too), not usually my vibe. But finally, my desire to use up what I had in my kitchen was outweighed by a need to get this done, and creamy chicken tarragon, here I come.
The first issue, outlined in the exchange seen below, was that I (is this starting to make me sound like a broken record) yet again had questions about the recipe. If there’s something this project has taught me along the way, it’s how much harder it is to write a recipe than it looks, if you don’t want your audience to wish they could phone a friend while reading what you’ve put out there. Be specific, but not drowning in specifics; be clear without being brief. These things are more difficult than a layperson might imagine.
Ask for help and you shall receive it! Emboldened by my family’s input about exactly how much chicken I should be buying and what kind it should be, I set off to the grocery store with newfound confidence, securing just two chicken legs for myself and my dining companion Alex. I faltered briefly, as I knew I would, at the “dry onion soup mix,” as I hadn’t cooked with such an item before. Plus, city grocery stores are frequently a “if luck will offer it to you” kind of shopping experience, lacking the endless rows and options that suburbia provides (if offering up so-called speciality items in droves). I ended up buying dried french onion “recipe mix,” as it seemed like it’d be close enough and I was impressed they had anything that fit the bill for what I required, though I suppose people love to make dip and that is central ingredient in many of those. After looking closely at the packet, I learned what probably plenty of other people already know: it’s basically just a bunch of dried onions and herbs mixed together.1 It’s hard for me to imagine that making a good soup but who am I to judge without actually looking into it.
When I began cooking, Alex laughed at the dried french onion mix, but his eyes lit up at the tarragon (which he “loves). Though some might disagree, I’d definitely consider tarragon the black sheep of the fresh green herb family. It’s a pungent flavor that is featured far less frequently in recipes than parsley, dill, cilantro, thyme, and rosemary. I like it, but certainly sparingly, and mostly in hearty winter dishes.
I heated up olive oil and seared the chicken on both sides, but did not drain the fat; it wasn’t so much that I was worried about the sauce not bonding appropriately (more on that to come) and it’s too good a flavor to waste. I then mixed the packet of dried flavoring with the water and tarragon and poured it all in. Turning the heat to low and covering it, I set to making rice—which I briefly forgot about and almost burned—and crisped some almost-turned collards.
After about 30 minutes, I checked in on my chicken. It was very tender, and the start of the sauce had a great, decidedly not overly midcentury smell, if such a thing exists. I quickly loosely mixed the cornstarch—I would have gone with flour personally—into the cream, then began whisking it into the pan sauce. It thickened up almost immediately. I then poured the sauce all over the chicken and rice. The resulting meal was deemed “lovely,” though I should note that it very much looked like something you’d get at a meat and three (not an insult, just a very specific aesthetic).
Because I’d made less actual chicken, I had, as I’d predicted, an abundance of sauce, which became the perfect thing to put over the remaining rice and greens for lunch the next day—so long as you don’t think too much about what you’re eating.
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Oh my God reading this recipe brought me back. I could actually smell and taste it and it made me hungry. And I just had breakfast!
Also Knorr French Onion Recipe Mix is what your dad used to make this — though back in the day it might have been called Knorr French Onion Soup Mix. 21st Century rebranding? - my copyeditor, my mother