Rachel Roddy's recipe for chicken scaloppine with mushrooms and marsala
The term escalope is borrowed from the old French escalope, meaning 'shell or carapace', which is likely to be borrowed from the old Norse skalpr ('sheath') or Middle Dutch schelpe ('shell'). This explains the shape, and why the word evolved to describe a slice of meat that has been pounded until it's the same slimness all over.
This week's recipe is inspired by the restaurant Bocca Di Lupo in Soho, which a few months ago, after a night at the theatre with my parents, was one of the few places still open and more than welcoming to walk-ins at 10.30pm. Sitting on the high stools at the end of the long, marble bar, Dad chose ravioli filled with ricotta and spinach, while Mum and I had scaloppine di pollo al marsala e funghi (thin chicken escalope with mushrooms in a soft, slightly thickened marsala sauce). The meal and wine would have been superb in any circumstance, but the feeling of relief combined with the particular thick atmosphere that fills some restaurants at that point in the evening – charged with work and pleasure but starting to wind down – made this a particularly enjoyable meal.
It's one I have repeated several times since, following a recipe in a September 1983 edition of the magazine La Cucina Italiana, which comes close to the plate we were served at Bocca Di Lupo. The process of pounding helps to tenderise the meat, but it also means that the cooking is relatively quick and even.
A note about marsala, which is Sicilian fortified wine made from three grapes (grillo, catarratto and inzolia) and characterised by tumultuous fermentation and ageing in oak barrels. Like any fortified wine, marsala varies dramatically, but, broadly speaking, the most helpful categorisations relate to its sweetness: secco (dry), semisecco (semi-dry) or dolce (sweet). And its age: fine (aged for at least one year), superiore (aged for at least two years) and vergine or soleras (aged for at least five years). Marsala's rich praline and raisin flavour is central to today's dish and brings everything together, so look out for secco or semisecco marsala superiore, and enjoy a glass while you cook.
Serve immediately, making sure every piece comes with enough mushrooms and some of the marsala gravy. Mashed or boiled potatoes are good here, as is green salad; bread, too.
Serves 4
4 boneless and skinless chicken breasts (each roughly 160g)100g flour seasoned with salt and pepper
Olive oil
60g butter
2 shallots, peeled and diced300g mixed mushrooms, cleaned and thinly slicedSea salt and black pepper120ml marsala
75ml chicken stock
2 tbsp minced parsley
Slice each chicken breast in half horizontally, then place each piece between two sheets of clingfilm or greaseproof paper and use a rolling pin or meat mallet to bash the thickest part with an outward, stretching movement, so the whole thing widens into an escalope about 6mm thick. Dredge both sides of each piece of chicken in the seasoned flour, and tap off any excess.
Working in batches, and warming a little olive oil and butter each time, fry the chicken for about three minutes, until golden brown on the underside, then turn and fry on the other side for another two minutes. Lift out on to a warmed plate, loosely cover with foil to keep warm, and repeat with the remaining scaloppine.
Once all the browned scaloppine are on the covered plate, warm two tablespoons of olive oil and 20g butter in the same pan, add the shallots and saute until soft. Add the mushrooms, season with salt and pepper, and saute for four to six minutes, until lightly browned. Add the marsala and leave to bubble in a lively way for about three minutes, until slightly syrupy. Add the stock and leave to bubble again until you have a gently thickened sauce.
Take the pan off heat and swirl in the remaining butter. You now have two choices: either put the pan back on the heat and return the chicken escalopes in batches, turning them once or twice so they get coated with the sauce; or simply tip the hot sauce and mushrooms all over the chicken escalopes you have set aside on the warmed plate.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
South Wales Argus
8 hours ago
- South Wales Argus
Inside Newport home designed by Habershon and Faulkner
The Grade II listed Fields House in Newport was designed by Habershon and Faulkner. The house has been recently renovated, balancing its 19th-century origins with modern living. The gothic-inspired exterior has individually carved stone corbels and ample parking behind a gated entrance. The home has ornate decor (Image: Mr & Mrs Clarke) The interior features dreamy sash windows, period details, and oak parquet flooring. The study, overlooking the gardens and pond, contains an Italian marble fireplace and superfast broadband. The dining room has an original fireplace and a working bell system. The drawing room boasts mullioned windows, wooden shutters, and gilded cornice work. The kitchen has an Aga and a range cooker (Image: Mr & Mrs Clarke) The ground floor also contains a sauna, shower room, WC, utility room, a 'Maid's Room' with a mezzanine, and a wine cellar. The kitchen has an Aga, range cooker, Belfast sink, and French-style windows. A galleried landing leads to the master suite, which has views across the river, a dressing room, and an en suite bathroom. The rest of the house includes four more bedrooms, an Art Deco inspired family bathroom, and two attic rooms. Outside, the property has large gardens, a kitchen garden with fruit trees and vegetable areas, and a private patio and BBQ area.
The Sun
2 days ago
- The Sun
I made my own built-in outdoor pool using old palettes and a cheap paddling pool, everyone says it looks like a pro job
A DAD has shared how he built an outdoor pool using cheap buys. Pete Elliot took to social media to show off his DIY skills and people were left seriously impressed. 2 The dad said he made the pool for his son but was also reaping the benefits after slaving away on the build. He said: "Finally done. Not bad for around £315. Pretty much all the money went on the framework with £64 on varnish and a few quid on screws. "So glad I had a pallet load of timber from years ago that cost me £45, as that's the wood you see. "I didn't even scratch the surface with that wood either so the main bit you see cost under a fiver. "It is now my new favorite part of my garden." The pool looked lavish with its wooden frame and steps leading up to the decking and people were stunned by his crafting skills. He first varnished the wood before putting up the paddling pool and building the frame around it. Once it was done, he gave the wood a final varnish to ensure it didn't get spoilt by the water. Pete continued: "Hopefully many summers will be enjoyed sitting on it with my feet dangling in the pool with a beer in my hand." He later revealed that the pool was kept warm with a heated topper that also keeps it clean. Parents are scrambling to The Range to nab new kids' toys - there's inflatables, swimming pools and up to 40% off To keep the pool clean, he used a net to fish out any debris as well as chlorine tables and pool algae cleaner. The chuffed dad also said he would only keep the paddling pool up for summer and put it away when it gets cold again. The post was shared on the Facebook group, Garden Makeover Ideas On A Budget, and people were quick to praise the dad for his DIY skills. One person wrote: "Absolutely awesome, and the fact you built it probably gives you a sense of achievement, congrats." Swimming safety advice Experts have revealed some of their top advice for both adults and kids heading to the water this summer: How to stay safe at the beach Gareth Morrison, Head of Water Safety at the RNLI said: "If you find yourself being swept out to sea in a rip, try to relax and float until you are free from the rip and you can then swim to safety. "If you see someone else in danger, alert a lifeguard or call 999 or 112 and ask for the Coastguard." How to stay safe at the swimming pool Tiny Hearts Education, former paramedic and CEO Nikki Jurcutz said: "Always put your little one in bright or contrasting colours that would be easy to find in an emergency. "It only takes 20 seconds to drown, little tips like this could save a life". An Auqabliss spokesperson added: ' Swimming toys such as noodles, dive rings, floaties and beach balls can be dangerous if left in the pool. ' Children may try to grab these from the pool's edge and fall in." How to stay safe at a waterpark Ali Beckman, Puddle Ducks Technical Director, said: "Never send a child down the slide on their own, not only are they going to be entering the slide pool area independently, they then have to exit the pool and wait for an adult. "And wave pools should be avoided until your child is really confident with water going over their faces and you know they are able to regain their feet independently. ' Waterparks are often very busy places and it's easy to lose sight of a child in a split second." "Brilliant, looks amazing," penned a third. Meanwhile a fourth said: "Stunning." "I love this,' claimed a fifth. Someone else added: 'Looks great I could do with one of those in my garden."
The Guardian
2 days ago
- The Guardian
As a child I showed little interest in my mum's sewing skills. After she died, I realised what I'd missed out on
There is a photograph of a very young me wearing a homemade A-line denim dress with a peace sign boldly embroidered on the front. Mum made me the dress for an anti-nuclear rally sometime in the mid-1970s. I don't remember wearing it that day, or being carried on my dad's shoulders as we marched with thousands of protesters, but I do recall wearing many of the other clothes Mum made me as a child. There was a lemon floor-length cotton number that she pintucked by hand for my role as the narrator in the school play that would swish around my ankles as I walked across the stage. And a white cropped top that she splattered with neon paint, designed to show up under the fluorescent lights of the Blue Light disco when I was in my Wham phase and trying to attract a boy I liked from school. But my favourite was the spotted taffeta bubble skirt of my dreams that I wore to the high school formal, inspired by Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. Mum made most of my clothes until I hit high school and begged relentlessly for a pair of shop-bought skinny jeans, because I was desperate to look more like my peers. She did buy me the jeans, but she also kept sewing, filling my wardrobe with patchwork skirts, home-knitted vests and a dark-green corduroy coat that I would kill for now. I was always impatient when she made me try things on. I'd stand on a kitchen chair, and she'd have a mouthful of pins, and I'd squirm and wriggle and complain, and if one of the pins jabbed my skin then I'd leap down off the chair in protest – even though she was usually sewing something that I'd asked for. She learned to sew and knit out of necessity, out of poverty. If she wanted a new dress for the local dance then she had to make one, and often it involved cutting up something else because buying new fabric was expensive. She even made her off-white raw silk wedding dress, complete with a hidden zip down the back. I've kept it, even though it is far smaller than I will ever be, because I like imagining her hands working the fabric. From the outside the dress looks polished, as if it has been plucked from the rack of a shop, but if you turn it inside out then you can see that none of the edges are properly finished and the hem is roughly handsewn. Perhaps she knew she'd only be wearing it for a day, so she didn't bother spending too much time on all the details. And, somehow, this makes the dress even more special. There were many attempts to teach me to sew when I was a teenager, but sadly I showed no interest. Instead, I took a job at a local deli so I could start saving for branded things, like a pale pink padded Esprit jacket that cost more than a month's wages. I wore it until the elbows frayed and the zip jammed at the bottom and even mum's skills couldn't save it. As a child, I didn't understand mum's commitment to making our clothes; I always believed it was a hangover from her upbringing. It was only later that I began to realise that it wasn't only about saving money: it was also her way of crafting her own style, of creating things that were unique, like the multi-striped knitted jumpers my dad wore for over 40 years that made him look a little like Ernie from Sesame Street. Mum stopped sewing as my brother and I grew. Occasionally I'd visit for a hem to be taken up or a sleeve to be repaired, but never for an outfit. Then, when I became pregnant with my first child, mum pulled out the knitting needles and got to work. She knitted so many jumpers in one winter that arthritis appeared in both her hands, so she'd stop for a while and move on to sewing quilted overalls that would protect my daughter's knees as she learned to crawl. Cleaning out my parent's house recently, I found the bags of clothes that my children had worn when they were small. After mum died, I'd stored them under a bed in their house because I couldn't fit them all in my apartment and I wasn't ready to hand them on. I was surprised to see that almost all of their clothes were made by my mother. There were dozens of woollen jumpers knitted in stripes, fairy dresses in different sizes with layers of pink tulle and velvet sleeves, padded coats with matching bags, and even blankets to wrap my children up when they were cold. All those hours of work. And buried under the piles of clothes she had made them was the patchwork skirt she'd sewn me when I was 10. Liberty print squares she'd picked up somewhere cheap and sewn together in a mishmash of colours and patterns. I held it up to my waist, wondering if there was some way that I could still wear it, and wishing I'd listened when she tried to teach me how to sew.
