What do you do when food is a major part of your life—you cook, you eat, you have been interested in food for as long as you can remember—and a surgeon takes a rather large and unfriendly-looking metal wire and laces your jaws together?

Well, if you are like me and you just had jaw surgery, you starve for a little while.

And a little while longer.

After all, even hunger seems a palatable alternative to whatever the hell is in those sinister-looking Ensure liquid-whatevers that you have sworn to yourself you will never try before your final descent into senility.

But then you can drink milkshakes after a few days and everything seems all right—well, except the part where you can’t talk, your jaw hurts and you are a little woozy from painkillers.

And eventually you discover that an exclusively milk-and-sugar-based diet, the fantasy of most six-year olds, quickly grows old.

When you can no longer tolerate the sight of any cold, sweet dairy product, you are faced with yet another period of starvation—but then you find salvation.

Salvation in this case means the spicy, rich and garlic-scented broth of an old family recipe, albeit one that I took a rather unorthodox approach to.

“Family recipe,” in my family, means something more like “got it out of ‘The Joy of Cooking’ and made it many times” rather than the traditional definition.

That said, it was a pretty good recipe for a chicken stew—with some doubling up on spices and herbs—from a pretty good book.

After all, what other book has recipes for the oh-so-common occurrence of having a dead beaver in your kitchen and a shortage of cooking oil? (Apparently the fat from the tail is enough to cook the meat. Who knew?)

Advanced rodent preparations aside, it was always a pretty good stew, with a hint of tomatoes along with mushrooms, chicken and herbs and a flavorful broth that I might be able to ingest via straw.

But I always felt it was missing something. And so I volunteered to make dinner, even though I could only drink the liquid.

I started with minor adjustments. And then I pretty much threw out the recipe, adding smoked paprika, tomatoes, white wine and anything else I thought would taste good.

The moment I smelled that concoction, I resolved I would eat something real, something I had made, for the first time in weeks.

I spent hours over that pot, carefully doctoring the seasoning. It was the first time I’d cooked in weeks, and it had to be perfect.

It was pretty damn good, if I do say so myself—rich, spicy, scented with tomatoes and paprika.

The complexities of dealing with open flame and hot metal while on Vicodin aside, I spent every evening that week trying something new.

I made dozens of soups and stews—some too thick to be sucked through a straw. But that is what hungry parents are for, right?

During that week I learned that the smell of a good chicken stew is enough to sustain human life...and perhaps the soul too.

Chicken Cacciatore Caves Style

Ingredients:
1 3½ to 4 lb. chicken, cut into 8 pieces
½ cup tomato paste
1 tbsp. Spanish paprika
1 cup crimini mushrooms, sliced
½ yellow onion, coarsely chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed with the back of a knife
2 slices bacon, coarsely chopped
2 cups white wine
1 fresh bay leaf
1 small handful oregano leaves, minced
Chicken stock
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
 
Preparation:

Season the chicken heavily with salt, pepper and half of the paprika, and coat lightly with olive oil.

Cook the chicken pieces in a thick, heavy pot over high heat until well browned.

Remove the chicken pieces from the pan; drain any fat that remains and add the bacon.

Cook the bacon for 2-3 minutes, before adding the mushrooms.

Cook the mushroom mixture down for another 2 minutes; then add the onions, garlic and the rest of the paprika.

Cook for 4-5 minutes until the mixture is thoroughly browned, stirring regularly. Add the tomato paste and return the chicken pieces to the pot.

Cook for 30 seconds or so until the tomato paste is mixed in and dark.

Add the white wine, bay leaf and enough chicken stock to almost cover the chicken.

Bring the liquid to a boil. and lower the temperature until it is simmering gently.

Cover and cook for 1½ to 2 hours until the chicken is tender.

Remove the liquid from the heat, add the oregano, and serve over pasta.