Chicken a l’estragon

I don’t normally give French names to dishes I chuck together, but apart from the fact that this is very French-inspired, ‘estragon’ is such a good word. And it always makes me think of Waiting for Godot, a play I’ve never seen but which is quite famous.

Of course ‘tarragon’ is also a lovely word. Quite apart from the sound of it, it lends itself to the pun ‘Catherine of Tarragon’ (try and work that into a conversation). And is very nearly arrogant.

Cut chicken breasts into chunks. Oil and season them, then brown them in a hot pan (make sure they’re just about cooked through). Set the chicken aside and soften some shallots with butter in the same pan. Take most of the shallots out and put them with the chicken. Pour some Noilly Prat and New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc into the pan and reduce down, scraping up the nice brown bits off the bottom. When there’s not much wine left, put in a little chopped tarragon (not too much, it’s quite a strong flavour) and double cream. Bring to the boil. Put the chicken back in the pan and warm through.

Obviously any old white wine would be fine, and you could either use all wine or all vermouth and that would probably work too, but this is what I did.

4 replies on “Chicken a l’estragon”

I make chicken tarragon as an oven dish with roasted carrots, potatoes and/or turnips. The only thing it has in common with your recipe is the chicken and the tarragon, but it’s one of my favorite suppers. (Also, I should mention that my unvarying breakfast consists of two fried eggs with tarragon. I like tarragon.)

Sounds good, apart from the turnips. I’ve never managed to acquire a taste for turnips, somehow.

Sounds tasty, but am with Harry in the turnip-avoidance camp.

I believe I stumbled across you courtesy of Dave’s links, and am so glad I did!

Waiting for Godot is worth a watch. Have also enjoyed (in a dark humored, mordant, every-nerve-pitched-to-language sort of way) these Beckett On Film DVDs:

HHhhhmmm…hungry now, off to rustle something up.

I guess I could just read it, but that’s proably not the same. I actually don’t think I’ve seen or read anything by Beckett at all, which is a bit embarrassing.

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