In Praise of Chicken Feet
A Hidden Treasure
The poor chicken foot is neglected by most cooks. It sits in the freezer at the grocery store, watching thighs and drumsticks and breasts and wings get whisked away by a continuous line of patrons. This cannot be good for the chicken foot’s self esteem.
Now and then someone will leave with a whole chicken—a term that surely prompts resentment in the chicken foot. Is it not a part of the whole? Does it not deserve a share of the attention lavished on its neighboring cuts?
In defense of the general public, chicken feet are a tough sell. Most tempting food does not feature visible toenails. But like oxtail, salmon collar, pork neck, pig’s ears, and so many other offcuts passed upon by the average shopper, chicken feet hide extraordinary flavor. If you can muster the courage to introduce them to your home, there is no doubt that they will improve your cooking.
Today it’s easy for me to sing the praises of chicken feet, though I must confess that my first encounter with them was not so enlightened. At the impressionable age of fifteen, I plucked a plate of chicken feet from a dim sum cart at Golden Bridge Restaurant, a now-defunct Cantonese eatery in New York City. They were braised to the verge of disintegration and smothered in black bean sauce—two facts that disguised their true nature. As a teenager I was already a food lover, and I fancied myself an adventurous eater. Alas, the chicken feet proved too much for my young palate. I gnawed at one for a while, trying to figure out what it was. Eventually I identified a rather scaly toe, which, as they say, did it for me. I pushed the plate back and moved on to the next dish.
But age has a way of tempering one’s squeamishness, and after a series of unusual dining experiences—of note was a still-innervated octopus tentacle that, when I swallowed it, stuck to the inside of my throat—chicken feet began to seem tame. In my mid-twenties I ordered them again at a Cantonese restaurant (intentionally, this time around) and they have since become one of my favorite dim sum dishes. They’re more familiar than you might think—if you can get past their prehistoric appearance, they eat a lot like wings.
Chinese cuisine does not have a monopoly on chicken feet. Should you visit Jamaica, you might come across a curried version: a searingly spicy combination of the foot in question, scotch bonnet peppers, curry powder, yams, and fresh herbs. In Indonesia, street vendors peel and debone chicken feet, then fry what remains to create keripik ceker ayam, a crackling snack reminiscent of Mexican chicharrones.
And then there’s chicken foot fricassée, a traditional Jewish dish you can still find in old-school Brooklyn delis. It’s a mix of chicken feet and veal meatballs that have been braised with onions, carrots, paprika, and schmaltz. Fricassée is the epitome of comfort food, and is the perfect excuse for a Sunday morning sojourn in Brooklyn. Just make sure you eat it warm, as it’s unpleasantly gelatinous otherwise.
I’ve never made any of the above dishes, though I have tried them all. I now have a tendency to gravitate toward chicken feet in restaurants. When cooking at home, however, I use them for a singular purpose: the creation of superior chicken stock.
The chicken spends its life pedaling around on two tiny protuberances. Its feet are not large, which means they must be strong. And strong they are: chicken feet are about 55% collagen, packed with dense connective tissue that keeps their owners’ ample bodies upright.
That connective tissue is what makes chicken feet special. When you boil them for a couple hours, all the collagen they contain breaks down, and the resulting stock is unmatched in both richness and flavor. Good stock is gelatinous in texture—more a jelly than a liquid. With chicken foot stock, you blow right by the jelly phase. Once cooled, your stock will be so packed with gelatin that, should you tip it out of its container, it will remain a solid, wobbling block. I know that doesn’t sound appetizing, but I assure you it’s a good thing.
As a final selling point, chicken feet cost next to nothing. You can get them for under two dollars a pound in most places. If only people knew what they were missing.
The next time you see chicken feet in your grocery store’s freezer, I suggest you take pity on them. They’ve been overlooked for so long. Pick up a couple packages and use the recipe below to make stock. It will introduce you to the hidden beauty of the chicken foot.
Chicken Foot Stock
Makes: 2 quarts
Prep time: 5 minutes
Cook time: 3 hours (10 minutes active time)
Total time: 3 hours 5 minutes
Ingredients:
2 lbs. chicken feet
4 carrots
3 celery ribs
2 yellow onions
Olive oil
Steps:
Preheat your oven to 450°F (230°C).
Chop the carrots, celery, and onions up into large pieces (quartering them is fine). You can leave on the onion skin and the end bits of the carrots and celery.
Grab the largest bowl in your kitchen. Add the chicken feet and chopped vegetables and drizzle on some olive oil, then toss until coated. Spread everything out in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet (possibly two). Do not use parchment or foil! Put it away! You want direct contact between the chicken feet and the baking sheet, for reasons I discuss in step 5.
Add the sheet(s) to your oven and bake until the chicken feet and vegetables are golden brown, about 40 minutes to an hour.
Transfer everything to a large pot. You will be left with a collection of browned bits on the bottom of your baking sheet. This is called “fond,” and you must include it in your stock. Pour some hot water onto the baking sheet to loosen the fond, then scrape it off (a wooden spoon or plastic spatula works well for this task) and add it to your pot.
(Note: as I edit this, it occurs to me that scraping fond off a baking sheet is the kind of thing a home cook might skip. It’s an annoying step, and on the surface it seems like it probably doesn’t matter that much. How big a difference could it make, leaving a few browned bits out of the final stock?
It makes a VERY big difference, in this stock and in many other dishes. Fond is one of cooking’s most precious substances. It’s a concentrated source of caramelized deliciousness, and wasting it is a tragedy of the highest order.
Which is why you must scrape down your baking sheet! You must do it!
If you skip this step, I’ll know—I’ll feel it in my bones—and I will exact justice on behalf of the fond. I will find your address and sneak into your home and replace all your smoke detector batteries with depleted versions, and a few days later, as you sip your herbal tea with macadamia milk, or whatever it is fond-wasters drink instead of coffee, all your smoke detectors will begin to make that awful beeping sound—all of them, all at once—and you will have a very unpleasant morning.
And you will deserve it, too, because you failed to preserve the fond.)
Fill the rest of your pot with cold water. Set it over high heat until it begins to simmer, then partially cover it and turn the heat to low. Simmer for at least two hours, until the liquid reduces by about half and becomes a rich golden color.
Strain out the chicken feet and vegetables, reserving the liquid. Don’t strain over the sink and pour your stock down the drain by mistake. I’ve done this.
Leave the stock on the counter to cool, then transfer it into quart containers. It will keep in the fridge for about a week, or in the freezer indefinitely. You can also pour the stock into ice cube trays, freeze, and then transfer the stock ice cubes to a plastic bag, so you have perfect little portions of stock to use at any time.
I love making homemade stock - I'm looking forward to trying this out!