Cacciatore, which means "hunter-style" in Italian, originally referred to a simple method of cooking fresh-killed game. Game hen or rabbit was sautéed along with wild mushrooms, onions, and other foraged vegetables, then braised with wine or stock. Unfortunately, when applied to chicken and translated by American cooks, cacciatore mutated into a generic pasty "red sauce" dish, often featuring sauces that were greasy and overly sweet along with dry, overcooked chicken. We thought it was time for a resurrection. We knew there was a really good version of this dish to be found, and we were determined to discover it.

From the beginning, we knew that we wanted a sauce that was just substantial enough to cling to the chicken; we didn't want the chicken to be swimming in broth, nor did we want a sauce reminiscent of spackle. Another thing we wanted was a streamlined cooking method. This cacciatore would be easy enough to prepare on a weeknight and, we hoped, would necessitate the use of only one pot. We began our work with a blind taste test. We gathered an abundance of recipes (every Italian cookbook seems to include some form of cacciatore), then selected what seemed to be the more authentic versions (no boneless, skinless chicken breasts, no jarred tomato sauces) written by prominent Italian cooks. All four of the recipes we chose started with the same basic preparation, one that we would also use for our working recipe. Chicken (a whole chicken cut up, in all but one of the recipes) was dredged in flour and sautéed in olive oil, then removed from the pan, which was then deglazed—a process in which a liquid is used to lift the browned bits from the pan bottom—with either wine or stock. Vegetables (most often tomatoes, onions, and mushrooms) were added to the braise, and the dish was then left to cook until the meat was fall-apart tender.

As we reviewed the tasters' notes on this trial run, we noticed that two problems were common to all the recipes. For one, tasters found the dishes too greasy (nearly an inch of oil floated at the top of one dish); for another, they disliked the presence of chicken skin in the final product. The skin, which was crisp after the initial sauté, had become soggy and unappealing. All of the recipes except one had other serious problems as well. One was too vegetal, another included black olives that proved too dominant a flavor, and a third had no tomatoes, an omission that tasters thought took the dish too far from what Americans consider a classic cacciatore. The fourth recipe was much more promising. It started off with chicken thighs rather than a whole cut-up chicken and used a mixture made from equal parts flour and softened butter, known as beurre manié, to thicken the sauce. The dark thigh meat remained much more moist and plump than the fibrous, flavorless breast meat we had ended up with in the other recipes. (It was also much easier to simply buy a package of thighs than to cut up a whole chicken.) The thighs also gave the braising liquid a more intense flavor. Unfortunately, the beurre manié overthickened the sauce, giving it a gravy-like consistency.

From the test results, we derived a few conclusions and devised a working recipe. Chicken thighs were in, but the flabby skin was out—and this, we hoped, would reduce the overabundance of grease in the dish. Wine (whether red or white was still to be determined) was the liquid of choice for braising, and the additional vegetables needed to be kept to a minimum. A combination of onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes was all that was needed.

We thought that the flabby skin problem could be solved by using skinless chicken thighs, but that assumption proved untrue. A batch made with skinless thighs, while good, lacked the intense flavor of the batches made with skin-on chicken. The rendered fat and juice from the chicken skin caramelized on the pan bottom; this fond, when deglazed, made a big contribution to the flavor of the sauce. In addition, the skin protected the flesh of the chicken from direct contact with the high heat, thereby preventing the formation of a fibrous crust. We needed to lose the chicken skin after its fat had been rendered. We found that pulling the skin off the thighs after the initial sauté cost the dish none of its flavor while allowing us to serve the dish skinless. Removing the skin before braising also eliminated the problem of excess grease. The fat from the skin is first rendered at a high heat, which helps keep the skin from sticking to the pan bottom. The extra fat is disposed of, but the caramelized bits are left behind for deglazing.

Next came the braising medium. Preliminary testing suggested that red wine would prevail. Most tasters liked its bold presence, although some thought its hearty flavor was a bit too harsh. We tried cutting the wine with small amounts of water, dry vermouth, and chicken stock and found that the latter buffered the strong presence of the wine and rounded out the flavors. (Because some tasters preferred the lighter, brothier taste of the version made with white wine, we decided to offer that as a variation on the master recipe.) At this point, the sauce was rich in flavor but lacking in substance. Truthfully, it was more like a broth; the vegetables and chicken were lost in the liquid. We remembered that the flour used to dredge the chicken thighs had been thrown away with the skin. We would have to reintroduce it somewhere else. A beurre manié was too complicated for this streamlined dish, so we ended up adding a little flour directly to the vegetables as they were finishing their sauté. The sauce was now silky and robust. On a whim, we threw in a piece of a Parmesan cheese rind, an option we had noticed in one of the recipes tested earlier. The sauce, very good before, now surpassed all of our expectations. It was now substantial, lavish, and amply flavored. We were finally down to the details of finishing. Portobello mushrooms, bursting with the essence of red wine, added an earthy flavor and meaty chew. We also found that just about any herb would complement the recipe; we chose sage for its woodsy flavor.

Chicken Cacciatore with Portobellos and Sage
Serves 4

The Parmesan cheese rind is optional, but we highly recommend it for the robust, savory flavor it adds to the dish. An equal amount of minced fresh rosemary can be substituted for the sage.

8 bone-in chicken thighs (about 3 pounds), trimmed of excess skin and fat
Salt and ground black pepper
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
6 ounces (about 3 medium) portobello mushroom caps, wiped clean and cut into 3?4-inch dice
4 medium cloves garlic, minced or pressed through a garlic press
11?2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
11?2 cups dry red wine
1?2 cup homemade chicken stock or canned low-sodium chicken broth
1 (141?2-ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme leaves
1 Parmesan cheese rind, about 4 by 2 inches (optional)
2 teaspoons minced fresh sage leaves

1. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Season the chicken liberally with salt and pepper to taste. Heat the oil in a large ovenproof Dutch oven over medium-high heat until shimmering but not smoking, about 2 minutes. Add 4 chicken thighs, skin side down, and cook, not moving them until the skin is crisp and well-browned, about 5 minutes. Using tongs, flip the chicken and brown on the second side, about 5 minutes longer. Transfer the browned chicken to a large plate. Brown the remaining chicken thighs, transfer them to the plate, and set aside. When the chicken has cooled, remove and discard the skin. With a spoon, remove and discard all but 1 tablespoon fat from the pan.

2. Add the onion, mushrooms, and 1?2 teaspoon salt to the now-empty Dutch oven. Sauté over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the moisture evaporates and the vegetables begin to brown, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for about 1 minute. Add the wine, scraping the pot bottom with a wooden spoon to loosen the brown bits. Stir in the stock, tomatoes, thyme, Parmesan cheese rind (if using), 1?2 teaspoon salt (omit salt if using cheese rind), and pepper to taste. Add the chicken pieces and accumulated juices, submerging the chicken in the liquid. Bring to a simmer, cover, and place the pot in the oven. Cook until the chicken is done, about 30 minutes. Remove the pot from the oven. (The stew can be covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days. Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat.)

3. Discard the cheese rind, stir in the sage, and adjust the seasonings. Serve immediately.

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