
Actually, I prefer the Italian name: Pollo al Vin Cotto.
Mario Batali’s cookbook, Molto Italiano, has been the perfect resource for me while holed away in my little Florentine apartment. I am devouring all the Italian references and seasonal nuances, loving everything from the Italian subtitles to the descriptions of pasta and types of Italian flour (I use “00″ flour when I make focaccia).
I understand his affection for anchovies and capers, and instinctively nod when he refers to subtle—and not so subtle—differences between olive and grape growing regions across Italy. I see the seafood pile high in his recipes and notice how frequently he uses tomato sauce (remember one of my first posts on why I love talking about tomatoes?).
It has been constant Christmas-mornings-with-stockings-full for me, while reading his cookbook. What shall I make next? What do I want to focus on? Shall I go with familiar or unfamiliar? And all of a sudden I feel like his self-appointed apprentice, a student of culinary genre and mentality. Like Van Gogh copying masters works incessantly, trying on the styles of all his peers and predecessors. I am studying Mario. Learning about his technique, preferences, short-cuts, philosophy, habits and style. What makes him tick? What makes him successful? How does he relate to food? What is his story? Yes, I read HEAT. And yes, I live in Seattle and have stood in line at Mario’s fathers’s shop SALUMI on more than one occasion (with my kids in tow, even).
I have gone to culinary school (learning from qualified chefs), and studied the likes of Martha and Ina, read Jamie’s, Marcella’s and Giada’s books and own many more. I don’t agree with them all, or like all of their recipes; though some I adore and cannot get enough of. Regardless, I am learning tips, tricks, methodology and flavor profiles. And this latest study of Mario is a welcome companion.
I selected a number of Mario’s poultry dishes. Largely because I wanted to keep practicing my poultry carving skills, plus whole chickens are budget-savvy and cooked right can be restaurant-menu worthy. So it begins.
I chose this recipe (here it is on the food network) and my family raved. Best chicken we have had… that is what they told me.
Here is what I am telling you:
- gather all of the ingredients, as if they are a group of friends having a conversation on your counter.
- I cut up one 3 LB chicken, but added a few drumsticks and thighs—as needed—for extra mouths (cooking with skin on is key)
- in my opinion, the olives/nuts/capers are helpful but not essential. If you are missing olives or almonds—’non c’ e fretta’—don’t worry about it (skip ‘em).
- plan for time. I have made this more than once, and it is essential to let the entree develop. Allow for enough time for the wine to simmer, then later to let the vinegar/sugar simmer…
- in the end Mario tells you to sprinkle the chicken with black pepper, parsley, red pepper flakes, parsley… sure, you can do that. I threw in the same said seasonings sometime in the last 10 minutes and called it ‘a day.’ Actually, I cheated. The shops here in Tuscany (souvenir, butchers and otherwise) sell a token mix of herbs that includes parsley, red pepper and the like.
- by all means, serve with potatoes or risotto; this dish begs for a starch to soak up all the sauce.
- my family declared this a ‘must’ for our default dinner list!




True, this is as unfashionable as any season would beckon: everything on the plate is all white. The protein is 









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