Truffled Pullet

Poularde truffée teaches one true thing: truffle perfume needs fat to carry it through flesh. The peelings are not scraps. Pounded into fresh pork fat, they scent the bird from within, while generous quarters fill the cavity and fine slices mark the breast beneath its skin. Truffle remains the perfume, not the whole conversation; underneath it must still taste unmistakably of well-roasted poultry.

The source assumes a fine whole pullet drawn through a little side opening, its neck skin kept intact, a mortar and sieve, needle sewing, and a spit facing concentrated fire. It needs neither a saucier nor a stockpot, because the gravy is the bird's own roasting juice. This home version uses an already-dressed four-serving pullet, a food processor, skewers, buttered parchment, an oven rack, and a brief broiler finish. It reduces the book's one and one-half pounds of truffles and two pounds of pork fat to one quarter, six ounces and eight ounces, preserving the exact three-to-four proportion while making the filling fit a home-sized bird.

The side-hole evisceration, hand pounding, sewing, and spit are brigade scaffolding, so they can go. The peel worked into fresh pork fat, the quartered truffles inside, the bacon and truffle slices beneath the breast skin, and the paper removed a quarter-hour before serving are the dish itself, so they stay. Cool the cooked truffles and fat almost completely before stuffing. If that mixture goes into the bird warm and liquid, it runs into the pan before it can perfume the flesh. One cook, one stove, one evening.