Now that it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, I feel I should openly confess to a longstanding love affair - with my red Staub cocotte.

Every few weeks, I would visit this cocotte, or classic French oven, at our neighbourhood kitchen store. There, on a smooth wooden shelf, was just one small round red cocotte. On one of our nightly after-dinner walks, I pulled my husband into the store, to show it to him. 

“Ah!” he said, bemused. “A red pot.”

“No, it’s not just a pot! It’s a Staub cocotte, just like they use at Le Regalade! Remember that meal we had there, last winter? Remember how the meal made me cry?  It was so beautiful.  It was like the meal was an intense reduction of all the wonderful meals that we’ve ever had in France!”

He smiled.

I made him lift it up, to feel the heaviness of the cast iron. I made him feel the smooth, shimmering red enamel.  I showed him the self-basting spikes on the inside of the lid.  I made him touch the brass knob on top. I had never seen such a sensuous piece. (Since we live in a small loft, with few possessions, each purchase must be made with purpose, joy, and intention.)

It could be at the centre of our family. It could be taken from its long slow simmer, and placed in the centre of the dinner table. It could connect us all.

Then the cocotte disappeared.  I was worried.  It’s not as if I could pick up a Staub cocotte at just any store. I’d have to drive at least three hours, into another country, to find another one. That’s not a slow life.

Another week passed. Le Creuset had replaced the Staub on the shelves in our local store.  Staub was discontinued. Le Creuset? They had matte enamel, and phenolic handles.  Phenolic? “Ah, oui, I have a phenolic handle.”  Honestly!

Then, on my birthday in August, my children placed a square box on the table. Their gift of the red Staub cocotte was so unexpected, so joyful!

I slow-cooked them Lemon Chicken en Cocotte with tomatoes and basil.  The chicken melted on the fork, the vegetables had been suffused with the aroma and flavour of the lemon and tomatoes.  We were all in heaven.  We were connected. 

My daughter and son-in-law now come to visit, and almost secretly, touch the cocotte, just like I did in that store.  They live a slow food life. Their love for each other infuses their food. They do have another brand of French oven (which I shall not name), but they covet my small round red Staub cocotte.  My son and his girlfriend visit, and ask for my recipes like gifts.

One day, because I love them all, I’ll make the long drive, and buy one each for their kitchens.  But it may take a while, for we must do things slowly, at the right time, with intention.

Jacqueline’s Lemon Chicken en Cocotte

This is a relaxed recipe.  With slow food, you make your meals with love and generosity and forgiveness.  If it’s not perfect, it won’t matter.

Cut 6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts into chunks, then dredge in flour, salt & pepper, and quickly brown with a generous amount of olive oil in the cocotte (hopefully, you have a gas burner, on medium). Put the chicken aside in a bowl to rest happily.

Pour some red wine (shiraz, perhaps?) and have a glass, then cut up your vegetables, however you like, and sweat them en cocotte with a generous dollop of butter: 1 large leek, 1 large onion, 3 carrots, 3 cloves garlic, 3 celery stalks.

Add a large grasp of Herbs de Provence (just because I love the place), the rind of one large lemon (use your beloved microplane zester, if you dare), plus the remains of the lemon (roughly chopped), a dash of salt and liberal freshly ground pepper, and a large handful of fresh basil.

Add the chicken to the vegetables in the cocotte. Then sprinkle some more flour on everything and mix it all up with a smooth wooden spoon. It should smell wonderful already.

Add 2-3 cups of homemade chicken stock to the pot.  

Then, add a large tin of your best tomatoes…or you could improvise with 1/2 cup tomato ketchup with 20 cherry tomatoes cut in half. (Splash some wine in in lieu of some of the chicken stock, if you like.)

Put the lid on the cocotte and place in your oven at 350F, then go out for a walk with your family.

After 2 hours, light a fire for the tired and cold walkers, then open the oven, and lift the lid to make sure that everything’s not too dry or too wet.  Adjust the liquid (as my mum says). If you don’t know how to do this, call your mother (She’ll tell you to make a slurry and add to the chicken to thicken.  Good luck!)

You can leave the lid off for the last while if you need things to reduce, and fill the house with the aroma.

Taste and adjust seasonings. Pour out the wine. Set the table.

Enjoy the Lemon Chicken en Cocotte with your warm family, served over large egg noodles (don’t serve the family over the noodles…serve the chicken). Enjoy!