Cornish Hens Stuffed with Rice

Second week of April. The first morels came Wednesday. I found a small cluster — six of them — under the south oak where I always find the first ones. The pattern of the morel hunt is the same every year and the surprise of the first ones is the same every year too. They never stop being a small thrill. I gathered carefully — left two of the smallest to mature into spore-makers — and brought four home. Hannah and I split them for breakfast. Two each, sautéed in butter on the cast iron, salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon, served on toast. The four mushrooms cost a year of waiting. The breakfast cost ten minutes of cooking. The math is correct.

The rest of the week I checked the patches every morning. By Saturday the count was thirty — about four pounds total over five days. Some I dried. Some I froze. Some we ate fresh. The mushrooms come in waves over a couple of weeks. I've been doing this for eighteen years on this land — it's the eighth year of finding them, the eighteen-year-old I built in my head who walks the same lines every year — and the patches have been generous to me, and I've been generous back. I plant new oaks where they fall. I leave seed mushrooms. I don't over-gather. The reciprocity is the whole game.

The cohort's final week. Eight projects to be presented Friday. The deer sculpture is finished — the sixty-nine-year-old man brought it to class on the trailer of his truck, and we set it up in the bay, and the cohort applauded, and his wife came to see it and laughed and cried at once and hugged him in front of the bay. The knife student presented his finished knife — bone handle, polished blade, sheath he'd made himself. The bicycle student presented his bike. The mailbox-post student presented her mailbox post, which was elegant. The fire poker, fence section, ornamental gate, bookshelf — all done, all good. Spring cohort number twenty-eight is graduated. Two hundred and twenty-something graduates total now, depending on how I count. The number stops mattering. The graduates matter.

Caleb Saturday. He brought what he called a "grown-up casserole" — wild rice and mushrooms and chicken with a wine sauce, baked under a thin cheese crust. He said: I made this from a James Beard cookbook the cooking instructor lent me. I ate two servings. He ate two. Hannah ate two. He said: I'm going to ask the woman out. I said: when. He said: this Friday. I said: I'll be available for the call. He said: I'll call.

Caleb’s casserole — wild rice, mushroom, chicken, wine sauce, that thin cheese crust — had the same unhurried confidence the morels do when they finally show up in April: you don’t rush it, and it rewards you for waiting. He said he pulled the idea from a James Beard cookbook, and I believe it, because it tasted like something that had been thought through by someone serious. I don’t have his exact recipe, but these Cornish hens stuffed with rice come from the same instinct — rice and poultry and patience, baked until the whole thing settles into itself.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 Cornish game hens (about 1 1/4 lbs each), thawed if frozen
1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice, cooked
1/2 cup wild rice, cooked
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
2 stalks celery, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 oz cremini or button mushrooms, finely chopped
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
1/4 cup dry white wine
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried sage
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 375°F. Pat the Cornish hens dry inside and out with paper towels. Season the cavities generously with salt and pepper.
Cook the stuffing base. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt 2 tablespoons of butter. Add the onion and celery and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and mushrooms and cook another 4 minutes, until the mushrooms release their liquid and it mostly evaporates.
Deglaze and finish stuffing. Pour in the white wine and stir to scrape up any fond from the pan. Cook 1–2 minutes until the wine is mostly absorbed. Remove from heat. Fold in the cooked white rice and wild rice. Season with thyme, sage, salt, and pepper. Let cool slightly.
Stuff the hens. Spoon the rice stuffing loosely into each hen cavity — do not pack tightly, as the rice will expand slightly. Tie the legs together with kitchen twine if desired. Place hens breast-side up in a roasting pan or large baking dish.
Season and roast. Brush the outside of each hen with olive oil and dot with the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter, divided. Season the skin with salt and pepper. Pour the chicken broth into the bottom of the roasting pan to keep the drippings from scorching.
Roast to finish. Roast uncovered for 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes, basting once or twice with pan drippings, until the skin is golden and the internal temperature of the thigh reads 165°F on an instant-read thermometer.
Rest and serve. Remove from the oven and let rest 10 minutes before cutting the twine. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve with any remaining stuffing spooned alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cornish Hens Stuffed with Rice — The Casserole That Comes From Someone Who’s Ready