Tag: video

Chicken Apple Sausage Patties – Doesn’t Feel Like Chicken

Imagine a sausage patty made from chicken that’s just as tender, juicy, and flavorful as one made from pork. What? A not-dry, not-rubbery feeling chicken-based sausage? Sounds impossible, and it is, unless you sneak in a little bit of pancetta, and follow a few simple techniques.

Instead of buying ground chicken at the market, which is always too finely ground, we’re going to use thighs, and grind our own. This makes for a significantly more succulent and tender patty, as long as you keep the meat very cold while working with it. I like to pulse it on and off in the food processer, but your can also use your grinder attachment, or go low-tech, and just chop it finely with a big knife or cleaver.

As I mentioned in the video, if you’re not into patties, you can make links, or simply crumble the raw mixture into a hot pan, and break it up as it cooks. Once browned, you can add your butter and flour, and continue with the pan sauce. Besides saving you a little time, this method probably makes for the most flavorful gravy.

By the way, most chicken apple sausage recipes call for some kind of sugar to be added, but I really don’t think it’s necessary, thanks to the natural sugar in the apples. As with all ground meat recipes, you can always fry up a small piece of your mixture, and test for yourself, but for me, the little touch of maple syrup in the sauce is all the extra sweetness this needs. Either way, I really do hope you give these chicken apple sausage patties a try soon. Enjoy!

Ingredients for 8 Chicken Apple Sausage Patties (about 4 ounces each):

For the sausage:

1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs

4 ounces pancetta or bacon

2 teaspoons kosher salt, or to taste

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

1/2 teaspoon crushed fennel seeds (toast in dry pan until fragrant)

1/4 teaspoon ground coriander

1/4 teaspoon cayenne

1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

2 teaspoons finely minced fresh sage

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, grated, and squeezed dry

For the Pan Gravy (enough for 8 Patties)

6 tablespoons butter

8 sage leaves, optional (remove when crisp)

6 tablespoons flour

2 1/2 cups chicken broth, plus more if needed

1 tablespoon maple syrup, or to taste

1/3 cup crème fraiche or heavy cream

salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

– Click here for the Buttermilk Biscuits recipe.

Best Gluten-Free Pumpkin Bars Recipe

Frosted gluten-free pumpkin bars with a secret ingredient.

Tuning in to the particular (and fleeting) pleasures of each changing season as we ride the wheel of the year may be my favorite spiritual practice. A practice that requires one simple thing. Attention. Which turns out to be not so simple, inevitably. Because life is anything but simple, with its whitewater rush of mind numbing distractions that demand less and less of our soul and more and more of our mental focus on exterior minutia. Micro decisions. Cleaning out our email in-box. Catching up with Facebook feeds and Twitter streams and Google+. Texting about grocery lists. Scanning streaming video options- thousands of choices may glitter and ooze their high definition glow but I find I am not feeling the abundance.

I am less and less enamored with more.

I know. It's showing. My age. My childhood brain was wired for mud and bird calls, blackberry thickets and butterscotch pine. Hours spent reading in a grove of birch trees dug their neural groove. The wild luxuries of inner connection, rather than social networking. And TIME. That plastic, misunderstood, precious commodity that shape-shifts experience from an endless afternoon of liquid daylight into a heart clutching warp speed tumble of confusion. Decades become tiny sandwiches of memory you can barely taste anymore.

Weeks blink by with alarming velocity.

And here we are again.

In pumpkin season.

And so. I stop.

And notice the way the late day sun drops low and shimmers golden in the treeline. The crows are gathering earlier. Glossy black and strutting with authority. The smell of burnished leaves scuttling across a wet Portland sidewalk is the same smell I inhaled on a road trip in Vermont fifteen years ago, standing on a wooden bridge above a clear shallow creek while our sons balanced on the slick rocks below us, fishing for smooth round stones.

Do they remember this? Do they remember the same hours I do, in the sand on Skaket Beach? Do they ever have a sudden itch to feed their senses with the scents and sounds of a freshwater riverbed, a sun warmed tide pool? Do they crave a winding path through apple trees? Were their brains hardwired for this connection, too?

I ponder this as I stir a new pumpkin batter.

And breathe in the scents of ginger and cinnamon, listening to the leafy rustle of an almond flour bag as I fold up the cellophane and pinch it closed with a clothespin.