Skip to main content

City Chicken in the Country

I found something new at the grocery store. It's actually kind of old, but it's new to me. It's called city chicken, and it comes cubed and skewered. If you think it looks odd for chicken, that's because it isn't chicken. It's pork. Sometimes city chicken is made with veal, but this is pork tenderloin.

People have always been creative with their food beginning with the first human who wondered if mushrooms are edible. And the one who first sat down to eat a lobster was a genius. People are more creative in adversity than in bounty, which would explain bread pudding and anything cooked with intestines.

During the Great Depression, chicken was hard to come by outside of farms that raised them. In cities like Pittsburgh, pork was much easier to find and relatively inexpensive. Not wanting to do without, people started cutting up pork, breading it, sticking it on skewers to look like a chicken leg, and calling it "city chicken." The pretend drumsticks were usually served with mashed potatoes and gravy or noodles. The idea didn't spread much farther than Detroit and places inbetween, which would explain why I haven't heard of it until now. Sometimes, after browning the meat, these things are finished in the oven, but I followed a recipe that calls for simmering them on the stove. I used a bit less broth and added some white wine instead to give the gravy a little depth. Here is the finished dish with gravy and mashed red potatoes with sour cream. It isn't pretty, but it isn't bad, either. I wasn't fooled into thinking I was having chicken for dinner, but it's not a bad way to serve pork.


City Chicken

1 1/4 pounds pork loin, cut into 1 inch cubes
flour
Milk
Panko seasoned with salt and pepper to taste
2 cups chicken broth
1 pinch dried thyme

1. Mix salt, pepper and flour in a bowl. Dredge pork cubes in flour mixture, dip in milk, and coat with panko. Slide pork onto skewers
2. In a skillet, brown pork skewers on all sides in a small amount of vegetable oil. Drain off any excess oil.
3. Add chicken broth, thyme and bay leaf to skillet. Scrape up any brown bits. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, 1 hour* or until meat is tender. Whisk in cornstarch to thicken gravy.

*I think this is excessive if you use something tender like pork tenderloin. It just needs enough time to cook through.

Comments

dive said…
Gosh that looks yummy, Robyn.
Save some for me!

Lobsters … Hee hee. Yup; that person must have been SOOO hungry!
As was the first person who looked closely at a snail and thought. "Yup. I'll pop it in my mouth."

Hoorah for those first brave gourmands!
Yummy Robyn - what time should I come by for dinner?
Mrs. G. said…
That looks so good I'm not sure I really care what it is. But I have never heard the term city chicken. Interesting.
I don't often pass at Robyn's food, but this i will. Veal, pork, chicken, which? Ew ew ew, no i don't fancy it at all sorry. Now, the mash.......YUM! I'll have some of that please. I love your cooking usually.....:) x
Gina said…
I've never heard of it, either.

It doesn't look half bad, though.

Popular posts from this blog

Classic Green Bean Bake

In anticipation of Thanksgiving, I feel I must post a recipe with plenty of good old American tradition. The classic Green Bean Bake was invented in 1955 by Dorcas Reilly, a home economist who worked for the Campbell's Soup Company. A study was done determining that 50% of all Americans have eaten the classic Green Bean Bake, and 38% of those believe it is best served during the holidays, mainly Thanksgiving. So, for the other 50% and for those in other countries where this dish may be unfamiliar--my treat: The Classic Green Bean Bake serves 6 to 8 1 can Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup 1/2 cup milk 1 teaspoon soy sauce Dash of fresh pepper 1 20-oz. bag frozen cut green beans, thawed* 1 2.8 oz can French-fried onions -Preheat the oven to 350 F -In a casserole dish, combine the soup, milk, soy sauce and pepper. Stir in the green beans and half of the onions. -Bake until bubbling, about 25 minutes. Top with the remaining onions and bake for 5 more minutes. Serve hot. *Or cook 1 ...

Bring On the Bombs

In today's edition : I generally try to keep on top of cultural trends even if I don’t adopt them, but there is a growing movement that I have only just discovered. Not long ago, I was walking along in Berkeley, California while visiting my daughter, and I saw a signpost that had been covered with yarn, like someone had sewn a knitted scarf to it. It was colorful and randomly striped, and I pointed it out as if it were the most unusual thing in the world. That’s when my daughter explained the nature of what is known as yarn bombing. It’s when knitters attach something they’ve created to a public object, most often doing their deed stealthily and anonymously. They leave a “bomb,” so to speak, for no other purpose than to brighten up the place and to bring a little cheer to those passing by. Their work has been equated with graffiti, except that the woven yarn is not permanently installed and does no damage to the object it covers. And instead of signifying the territory of a street ...

Cindy Loo Who In October

What is it with people and Cindy Loo Who? Of my last one hundred blog hits, forty have been direct visits from regular readers, and fifteen have been as a result of people searching for "Cindy Loo Who," the little pixie from Seuss's How The Grinch Stole Christmas . A couple of years ago, I posted an image of the original Seuss illustration as compared to the TV cartoon image, and for some reason, that post is bringing in the crowds, relatively. Maybe it's the weather. It isn't even November yet, and already we've had frost and have had to dust off our winter coats. When it gets cold like this, I start to think about Christmasy things like listening to Nat King Cole and decorating the tree. It's ironic because I am offended when retailers start pushing holiday stuff early, but I don't mind my own private celebrations. When my sister and I were much younger and still living with our parents, we would pick a day in July, close the curtains to darken the ...