Tackling Tagine

The Halloween-orange clay pot and cover -- shaped suspiciously like a pointed witches hat -- had been hoisting a guilt trip on me since last summer. Not to mention, collecting a thin layer of dust.

I’d purchased the tagine at Sur La Table in New York, when Veronica and I were browsing between classes at the Harold McGee Lecture Series. Immediately, I thought of John and Ramiza, my brother and sister-in-law who live in Morocco. Ramiza is an excellent cook and is particularly skilled at Middle Eastern, Indian and Moroccan dishes. She’s inspired me to venture outside my culinary box, and creating an authentic Moroccan dish would be a nice way to evoke their presence, even though they now live thousands of miles away.

That was July. Now, here we are approaching the end of the year and my little personal-sized tagine is feeling decidedly unloved.

Enter Lydia of the Perfect Pantry. Recently she wrote about a tagine she had designed with an artist friend, and offered a recipe for Chicken with Prunes and Almonds, a dish traditionally served at Ramadan. The list of ingredients set my mouth a-watering and I knew it was time to take the plunge and tackle tagine.

I choose a Sunday night for the big event, but quickly realize that I’ll need to plan ahead. The sticker on the glazed terra cotta tagine strongly recommends that it be submerged in water for 12 hours before its first use. Ah, well. Saturday night is “bath night,” after all.

On Sunday the tagine is removed from its long soaking and wiped dry with a dish towel. I spend the afternoon at a chamber music concert and return home confident that I’ll have dinner on the table in about an hour, according to the recipe. I halve the recipe, since my tagine is smaller, and quickly combine boneless chicken thighs, cinnamon, nutmeg, honey, almonds and prunes. I top the concoction with the witch’s hat and place it on the electric cook top set on low heat.

That’s when the paranoia sets in. Instead of kicking up my feet and enjoying a cocktail, I keep returning to the kitchen to make sure the clay pot doesn’t explode. I’ve never put a casserole directly on the cook top. However, the old adage, “a watched pot never boils” can be applied to the tagine -- “a watched tagine never explodes.” That’s fortunate.

However, it does start to sweat, and a hint of steam begins to rise.

Dutifully, I stir the mixture from time to time. I am somewhat concerned about regulating the heat on the stove, which I find is a chronic problem with electric ranges. In her directions, Lydia says “be patient” and the watery liquid will eventually become a thick, mahogany sauce. It is beginning to simmer, but I’ve already passed the one hour mark, and the chicken is still somewhat raw (note previous remarks about temperature regulation of electric ranges). It is at this point that I go for the cocktail.

We are now nearing the second hour of the great tagine test. The terra cotta has not exploded, and I hear some sizzling happening inside that supernatural witch’s hat. At this point, it is almost time for “Brothers and Sisters” and I would very likely be borderline cranky, if not for the cocktail, but I am determined to see this experiment through. I open the pot for one more stir and witness a transformation. Before my eyes are succulent tender chunks of chicken covered in a rich glossy sauce. The taste is sweet and savory, infused with honey, warm exotic spices and melt-in-your-mouth almonds.

I nearly squeal with delight. It is that good. The witch’s hat has performed its magic. John and Ramiza would be proud.

©2007 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved