Ideas with Legs #8: Poulet Yassa
A few years ago I ate at ViDa by Lorentes, Nottingham’s fourth favourite tapas joint1, and was struck by one of the evening’s specials: fideuà. The restaurant’s owner took our orders that night, and was thrilled to hear that I already knew of the dish, a Valencian recipe that essentially recreates a seafood risotto using short strands of pasta in place of rice.
“So you have had it before?” he said. “You will have to tell me how it is.”
And I suppose I had eaten fideuà before, but I still felt I was in no position to judge his take on it. Like so many other unique dishes from around the world, my first (and at that point only) experience of fideuà was one that I had made myself.
There are tens of thousands of recipes in the world, and short of having Taylor Swift’s resources (and willingness to pop in a private jet to meet a dinner reservation), I’m not going to be in a position to try them all in an authentic setting.
And so sometimes I take a dish that particularly interests me and attempt to create it, without any knowledge or understanding, in my own kitchen. I don’t go in blind - I usually draw on a few different resources to try and ensure the recipe I follows gives me at least a glimpse at the real thing.
It doesn’t always work. Last month, for the lunar new year, I tried my hand at cooking Hainanese Chicken - a subtle but flavoursome dish that I have been meaning to try for the best part of a decade. My version - influenced by Sohla El-Waylly, Kwoklyn Wan and the always reliable Woks of Life blog - was frankly underwhelming. I’ll await a chance to try it in a Singaporean restaurant somewhere down the line.
On other occasions, I may miss the mark of authenticity, but find something special all the same. I regularly make oyakodon, a Japanese chicken and egg dish, and my first attempt followed Namiko Hirasawa Chen’s version fairly closely. It was very nice - but in time I came to develop my own version, which includes shiitake mushrooms at the expense of authenticity. I often order oyakodon when eating in Japanese restaurants now but honestly, I always prefer my own.
Poulet yassa, or yassa au poulet, is a Gambian dish that is also tremendously popular in Senegal. It combines marinated chicken with onions, lemon and mustard, and is absolutely delicious.
But I might have taken a lot longer to come to that conclusion if I hadn’t tried it for myself. I’m still stuck out in Norfolk, and the best I can tell, the nearest restaurant serving poulet yassa is in London2. And so it falls to cookbooks (Lerato’s Africana was a big influence here) and the internet (which loves this dish due to its - and I’m literally shuddering as I write this - paleo credentials) to help me get my head around this flavourful dish.
Yassa doesn’t need to be cooked with chicken - fish or lamb are often used instead - and when it is, the recipe generally calls for either a whole bird, or specifically the thighs. You may have noticed the name of this newsletter though. We’re breaking with authenticity out of the gate.
Poulet Yassa
Serves 4
4 chicken legs, skin on
For the marinade:
1 onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled
1 tsp cayenne pepper
handful of fresh parsley
zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 tbsp neutral oil
For the poulet yassa:
1 tbsp neutral oil
2 onions, sliced thinly
1 red bell pepper
Juice of 2 lemons
2 tbsp Dijon mustard
300ml chicken stock
4 sprigs of thyme
1 bay leaf
1 scotch bonnet pepper, pierced and left whole
Let’s get cooking:
Slash the skin of each chicken leg a few times with a sharp knife, and massage with a little salt.
In a large bowl, combine the marinade ingredients. Blend to a paste using a hand blender (or in a food processor, transferring to the bowl afterwards).
Add the chicken to the bowl, massaging the mixture into the skin and under the cuts you’ve already made. Cover and refrigerate for at least two hours, or overnight.
Add 1 tbsp of oil to a large dutch oven, and warm over a medium-high heat. Remove the chicken from the marinade, scraping excess sauce back into the bowl and reserving it for later.
Brown the chicken legs on both sides for 5 minutes, and then set aside.
Add the sliced onions to the pan, alongside the reserved marinade and a pinch of salt. Cover, and lower the heat, cooking the onions for around 10 minutes, or until translucent. Remove the lid and continue to cook, allowing the onions to caramelize - this may take up to half an hour. Add a little water to prevent burning, if needed.
Add the red pepper and cook for five minutes. Add the lemon juice, mustard, chicken stock, thyme, bay and scotch bonnet, season with salt and black pepper and bring to a simmer.
Return the chicken to the pan, skin-side up, surrounded by the sauce. Cover and simmer over a medium-low heat for 20 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through.
Taste the dish, and if it’s too tart, mix two tablespoons of the sauce with a 1/2 teaspoon of honey, combine well, and return to the rest of the pan.
Eat.
I served this up with some rice this time, but I’d be tempted to opt for some mashed potato next time around. The dish is absolutely filled with flavour, so anything that can soak some of that up will be a welcome addition on the plate. If you’re craving a little greenery, you could braise some swiss chard or kale with a little spice.
I’ve mostly been reading and watching things as research for a work project these last few weeks, so I’m feeling a little out of the loop culturally right now. Hopefully this weekend will fix that a little: I’m headed down to London to see Hadestown on the West End. Based off a concept album released by Anaïs Mitchell in 2010, I’ve been a big fan from the start. I first saw the songs performed by Mitchell in a pub basement in Crouch End later that same year, and then again in early 2011 at the Union Chapel. A decade and a half later, and she’s turned it into a musical, won a glut of Tony awards for the Broadway production, and, as of last month, opened in London at the Lyric Theatre. Tomorrow will feel like the conclusion of a long love affair with Hadestown.
While we’re dealing with gods, one of the few things I’ve read recently that wasn’t work related was the Wicked + Divine comic series. I started them years ago, but have finally had a chance to revisit and complete my reading. The series follows the re-emergence of ancient gods in contemporary Britain - imagining them as transcendent popstars keeping inspiration alive for the people of the world. It’s beautifully drawn, and thrillingly written.
One of the biggest positives to come out of my time in Norfolk has been the discovery of local cheese Baron Bigod3. Imagine a rich, earthy Brie. It’s absolutely heavenly, and would go very well on a cheeseboard. Or, if you are as classy as I am, smeared liberally in a bacon sandwich with a little Thai sweet chilli sauce. And I mean liberally - it should be at least a centimetre thick. I have considered just putting a whole wheel in there, but appreciate this might be overkill.
I’m still waiting on the first great album of 2024, so will gladly hear recommendations of potential candidates. Send me beautiful things!
Though sister restaurants Bar Iberico and Iberico World Tapas are the most loved, with Baresca probably sneaking in above it too, ViDa by Lorentes is actually the best tapas place in the city. Tripadvisor even agrees. But then Tripadvisor also reckons Las Iguanas is the second best, which is a bit like finding out that someone shares a favourite movie with you, but that their close second is Madame Web.
Admittedly, in Norfolk this often feels true of any dish that isn’t found on a pub menu.
Well, local-ish. It’s a Suffolk cheese, but Norfolk is very passionate about it, and independent stores always, always carry it. It’s pronounced ‘big-odd’, by the way.