A Little Cooking
The recipe is here.
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It looks like there’s a lot of oil in the casserole, but that’s okay. The onion and garlic has softened and the mushroom will soak up a bit. And then it will mix with flour to make the sauce. It’s time to put in the chicken, left over from a roast.
In fact maybe not enough fat, I put in two thin slices of butter.
How do I know, my friend asks me, and I ask myself how do I know?
If I am making a white sauce (béchemal) properly, it goes like this. I weigh out some butter, let it melt in a pan, worry it’s too much. Stir in a couple of spoons of flour, then a bit more, until it’s almost crumbly. Let it cook a moment or two. Stir in milk a little at a time until it’s too sloppy, then let it thicken.
The thing is, it will burn to the bottom unless I keep very close watch. One instant of not stirring and watching and I guarantee it will stick to the bottom. A second instant and it burns. I can’t do anything else, I can’t let myself be distracted.
So I’m making the sauce here in the casserole. A one pot wonder as my mum might say.
I just know, I say. It needs to be uncomfortably greasy.
I would have made this a stew with the gravy from the roast but someone stole it to make soup.
I stir in the flour. Two spoons. Then a bit more. Enough to coat everything, enough to soak up the fat. Let it cook there, almost dry for just a moment. Enough that the flour cooks and loses it’s grittiness.
Then a little milk, stirred in. A little more. Keep at it.
There’s a moment where it’s a grey brown sludge, horrid, then more milk and it comes together. It starts to look like chicken in white sauce.
And I’ve been able to talk to my friend and put on some potatoes and cabbage. It doesn’t burn, doesn’t stick.
I don’t know why it’s easier this way.
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