Skip to main content

Pineapple-Juice-Can Hen and Baby Potatoes

Roast chicken is one of my I-can’t-have-it-around-or-I’ll-eat-the-whole-thing addictions. After the first meal, the rest of the bird sits front and center in my refrigerator, and when the urge hits, I pull off a piece here and there until the carcass is picked clean. Anyway, that’s one of the reasons I am drawn to smaller birds: guinea hens, squab, poussin. They’re certainly on the high end in terms of fat and calories, but at least when I’m done, I’m done. No more temptations. When I saw 3/4-pound hens at one of my favorite vendors (Eco-Friendly Farms) at the Sunday farmers’ market in Washington’s Dupont Circle, I had a brainstorm: Why not treat them like beer-can chicken (more colloquially known as beer-butt chicken), but with a smaller can of pineapple juice instead? I thought it was the most original thing ever, until I Googled around and saw that others had trod this ground before me, including barbecue maestro Steven Raichlen. I forged ahead, combining the pineapple with one of its natural partners—rosemary—and cooking down extra juice with lime and butter into a sweet-and-sour glaze. With roasted potatoes (babies, of course), I had a meal.

Cooks' Note

If you can’t find the small cans of pineapple juice (they often come in 6-packs), wash out a small can of tomato paste and pour juice into it. If you can only find larger hens, adjust the cooking time to compensate and save some as leftovers for another day.

Read More
This pasta has some really big energy about it. It’s so extra, it’s the type of thing you should be eating in your bikini while drinking a magnum of rosé, not in Hebden Bridge (or wherever you live), but on a beach on Mykonos.
Among the top tier of sauces is Indonesian satay sauce, because it is the embodiment of joy and life. In fact, this sauce is also trustworthy and highly respectful of whatever it comes into contact with—perhaps it is, in fact, the perfect friend?
Turn humble onions into this thrifty yet luxe pasta dinner.
I should address the awkward truth that I don’t use butter here but cream instead. You could, if you’re a stickler for tradition (and not a heretic like me), add a big slab of butter to the finished curry.
Caramelized onions, melty Gruyère, and a deeply savory broth deliver the kind of comfort that doesn’t need improving.
A dash of cocoa powder adds depth and richness to the broth of this easy turkey chili.
Put these out at a gathering, and we guarantee you’ll be hearing rave reviews for a long time.
This is what I call a fridge-eater recipe. The key here is getting a nice sear on the sausage and cooking the tomato down until it coats the sausage and vegetables well.