Dinner Disaster!

Take a look at that chicken paprikash. Looks pretty good, right? Juicy chicken thigh, crispy skin, a rich and silky sauce, nice little egg noodles underneath. The photos came out great. You’d never know by looking at it that I’ve never made chicken paprikash before. Or, if I have then it’s been so long it’s been completely erased from my sieve-like memory.

You’d also never know that I almost completely SHIT THE BED on this dish. I mean, almost ruined it. Done, appropriately like dinner. I barely managed to avert disaster and almost ruined one of my favorite kitchen possessions in the process.

So, what happened? It all started off so well. Found a recipe on Bon Appetit. I had pulled the sour cream out of the fridge so it would come to room temp. That way it wouldn’t curdle or split when I added it to the sauce. Check. I had dried the chicken thighs before searing them, so they wouldn’t steam and I’d get nice browning. Check. I cooked my onions low and slow in the leftover chicken fat, scraping up all the fond from searing the chicken for MAXIMUM FLAVOUR. Check. I added my spices to the softened vegetables and let them bloom nicely, becoming aromatic before halting their cooking with the tomatoes, keeping the spices from burning while extracting maximum flavour and aroma. Check.

As everything came up to the simmer, I returned the chicken thighs to the pot, keeping the skins above the simmering goodness to keep them crispy. I set a timer for 40 minutes, turned down the heat a bit and everything should have been okay. Cockily I left my post to send some emails and bother my fiancée while she did her laundry. I returned in time to catch my timer, removed the chicken from the pot and was about to finish the sauce and cook the egg noodles, when I gave the pot a cursory stir.

Disaster.

I blanched. I could feel as I scraped my wooden spoon across the bottom of the Dutch oven the unmistakable feel of a scorched bottom. Had I ruined dinner? Had I wasted some of our precious quarantine groceries? Beads of sweat appeared on my brow. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s ruining a dish or making a mistake in the kitchen.

There was no time for panic if dinner was to be saved. I quickly grabbed another pot, turned the sauce into it, put it onto a cool burner and inspected the damage. Indeed, the bottom of the first pot was covered in a layer of blackened and scorched stew. I filled the pot with soapy water and left it in the sink while I tasted the remaining sauce. Did it taste burnt? I mean, a little bit. I’d describe it as smoky. Would I serve that in a restaurant? No way, but it wasn’t gross, just a little smoky and piquant, certainly good enough for two housebound and hungry young professionals like Liz and me. My Le Creuset pot would be fine after a soak, a gentle scrape with a wooden spoon and a gentle scrub with a sponge.

I finished the dish, tempering the sour cream with a bit of the warm sauce before combining with the big batch for unbreakable saucy success. With the addition of the sour cream, the smokiness was lessened even further. I’m not trying to pass this one off, mind you. Like I said, I’d never send this out in a restaurant to a paying customer. But it was actually quite tasty. After plating up, I took some photos. Just a pristine-looking dish. You’d never know that it was almost a disaster.

If there’s a takeaway from this for you readers, it’s this: sometimes things go wrong in the kitchen, even for professionals. The important thing is not to panic. A lot of the time, a dish can be saved. Be forgiving of yourself while cooking at home. Pay attention to what’s going on while you’re cooking, especially if you’re doing something for the first time. It’s a piece of advice I always give, but don’t always follow. Cook with confidence. That’s one of the most important secrets in making good food. Be confident in what you’re doing, don’t panic, pay attention and taste often.

And if you’re making chicken paprikash and you don’t want to stir it because you’re trying to keep the skin crispy, cook it in the goddamn oven.