Shkmeruli, a Georgian Garlic Bomb
When our friend applied for a chef gig at the cooking department of a northern California community college, a board of evaluators gave him a pair of chicken breasts, a frugal selection of ingredients and said, “Create something.” He assessed his workspace and smiled. He saw white wine, chicken stock, butter, shallots and plenty of garlic. He dusted the breasts in flour and hocus-pocus, finished off the dish with a five-fingered pinch of chopped parsley and got the job.Garlic chicken works. Its humble transcendence has conquered the world over – and the more garlic, the merrier. In provincial France they roast a chicken with no less than 40 cloves of garlic for poulet aux 40 gousses d’ail, while Oaxacans make pollooaxaqueño con orégano y ajo with 30 cloves. Georgia’s breath-defying garlic chicken dish is called shkmeruli, named after the tiny Rachan village Shkmeri, where it is said to hail from.
Servings: 6 to 8 people (estimate)
Ingredients
- 1 whole chicken
- Rkatsiteli wine (Subst: Pino Grigio/Pino Gris, Sauvignon Blanc, or dry Riesling)
- 1 head garlic chopped
- 1 thumb fresh ginger
- 1 cup milk (more or less)
- 1 cup heavy cream (more or less)
- 2 tbsp cold pressed sunflower oil
- 1 tsp butter
- 1 tbsp ground coriander
- 1 Tbsp red adjika paste (Subst: harissa paste mixed with a pinch of ground coriander and fenugreek)
- 1 tsp chopped fresh parsley
- Salt and pepper to taste
Accompaniment
- Russet potatoes sliced thickly, baked, to sop up the sauce.
Instructions
- We put some Hamlet Gonashvili on the music player for ambience and popped open a bottle of rkatsiteli (great with shkmeruli) before cutting our chicken into eight pieces, plus wings (drumstick, thigh, and breasts in half) and seasoning it with salt, pepper and coriander.
- Our ketsi is in the village, so we heated a cast iron skillet, added the oil and browned the chicken, starting with the legs, as they need more time. We snuggled the breasts into the pan skin side down and added a good swig of wine after we flipped them, then slid the pan in the oven, preheated to 190 degrees C (375 degrees F) for about 45 minutes.
- While the chicken was roasting, we poured more wine to contemplate the pièce de résistance and settled on one head of garlic plus three cloves for luck. We went with Tekuna’s method of adding ginger to the mix and might have used a vulgar garlic press, only because shkmeruli is a lewd dish, but we had just bought a brand new food processor we couldn’t wait to inaugurate.
- Most recipes call for adding the raw garlic and milk towards the end, which is great if you have a flight the next morning and want to assure yourself of both armrests. Tekuna likes to sauté the garlic and ginger for a minute or so until soft, then adds the milk and cream and mixes the adjika in. That’s what we did this time and we brought it all to a simmer for a minute and cut the fire.
- We went with an equal measure of milk and cream – maybe a cup of each – enough to cover the chicken well, but not drown it. Salt and pepper to taste, but the chicken was well seasoned enough that we didn’t need much.
- About five minutes or so before the chicken was ready, we took it out of the oven, poured the sauce over the bird and finished it in the oven. The chopped parsley went on before serving. We baked thick slices of Russet potatoes for a side dish, as they are great for sopping up the sauce from the skillet.
- We slipped the first bites into our mouths, and the garlic released its subdued authority as we chewed on the tender chicken. Nailed it, but this time we would not forget. Draining our bottle into our glasses, we raised them and proposed a toast to Tekuna.
