I associate some holidays with certain people, particular places—finely wrought traditions accumulated over the years.  But not the Fourth of July.  I’ve spent that holiday in a number of places and with various casts of characters.  Instead, my associations of the holiday run more sensory: the heat, the splashes of fireworks in the night sky, the oldies that play on the radio, the hiss of sparklers.  Most of all, though, it’s the smell: the scent of fizzled out firecrackers mixed with the aroma of so many smoking Weber grills.  And, of course, the foods that pass over the grill, developing a char, taking on a smoke and feeding a hunger built up after a day spent in the sun.

True to form, we’ll be doing something new this Fourth of July too.  We’re heading to Boulder, for a wedding celebration of sorts for our friends Emily and Jon (who, as you might recall, were actually married months ago, but, hey, who’s counting?).  After that, we’ll come back for a short week before hitting the road (er, air) again—Napa bound (wine country recommendations, anyone?).

While all of this is incredibly exciting—so thrilling, in fact, that I’m having a hard time sitting still, let alone working or completing other such mundane tasks—I’m a little sad to be leaving our grill at the height of the summer and over the Fourth of July, of all times.  It feels a bit like we’re forcing the grill into an unseasonal hibernation.  The wedding and wine tastings are worth it, sure, but still: I’m going to miss that grill.

Anticipating this conundrum, we were sure to put the grill to work last weekend and the star of the get-your-grilling-in-now show was this chicken.  I’ve been wanting to make a brick chicken—the catch-all name for a whole chicken flattened and cooked under the weight of a brick or other heavy object—for a while and now that I’ve done it, I’m kicking myself for waiting so long.

This version of brick chicken has you tuck slim slices of lemon under the bird’s skin and pat it all over with a liberal dusting of smoked paprika, one of the loveliest spices, I think.  Between the hot grate of the grill and the heft of a cast iron skillet, some kind of magic happens with the chicken: the skin becomes crisp—almost papery, not greasy in the least.  And the flesh goes juicy, flavored subtly with the smoke of the paprika and the tartness of the lemons.  If you’ve got an opening on your own Fourth of July barbecue roster—assuming you’ll be home, with your grill, as you should be—maybe you’ll add this recipe.  For me?

Smoked Paprika-Lemon Brick Chicken

1 whole chicken, back bone removed (your butcher can do this for you)
1 small lemon, half sliced thinly and half cut into small wedges
kosher salt
fresh-cracked black pepper
1-2 tablespoons smoked paprika

Heat a grill over medium heat.

Place the chicken on a work surface, skin side up.  Press the chicken between the breasts to flatten.  Loosen the skin covering the chicken breasts and slip the lemon slices beneath the skin. Sprinkle both sides of the chicken generously with salt and pepper.  Rub both sides of the chicken with smoked paprika.

Transfer the chicken, skin side down on the grill and cover with a cast iron skillet or a foil-wrapped brick for 15 minutes.  Flip the chicken and recover with the skillet or brick and grill for 20 minutes., or until the juices run clear  Remove the chicken to a plate and allow to rest for 5 to 10 minutes before serving.  Serve with the lemon wedges.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like to eat dinner before dark, with the waning sunlight falling golden all around you, with the windows open, with a lazy easiness.  I did just this on Saturday night with my mother sitting across the table, two twinkling tea lights and a platter of chicken marsala between us.  And it was lovely, just lovely.  Get this: we even went for a walk around my neighborhood after dinner.  It was that warm!

My mom was in town for the weekend, while Kevin was away with his friends (on mancation, as I like to call it), which means I had her all to myself.  What a treat!  We took full advantage of the one-on-one time by doing all the things we both love to do (but that certain other family members, ahem, aren’t so keen on).  We walked, we watched girlie television shows and movies, we went to a musical, we sipped sauvignon blanc and cava, we swapped  recipes and food magazines, we ate, we cooked.  While I worked on Friday, she even read the book I just finished, so we could talk about it over the weekend.

We fit a lot into the short time she was here and, by Saturday night, we had the fatigue to prove it.  We had dinner reservations, but we ended up cancelling them and staying in.  My mom had a hankering for chicken (her husband is poultry-averse) and I was craving mushrooms (my husband, as is well documented on this blog, is a fungus-phobe).  Chicken marsala was the perfect fit (plus, it was one of my favorite things to eat at an Italian place near my parents’ house growing up and it always reminds me of my mom anyway).

So she wielded the meat mallet to pound the chicken breasts, while I sliced mushrooms and shallots into thin half-moons; I boiled the fettucine while she slathered some thin asparagus stalks with olive oil; she set the table and poured the wine while I pan fried the chicken and let the mushrooms and some tiny frozen peas drink up the rich marsala sauce.

Then we feasted, with that golden light falling around us, with those windows open, with that lazy easiness, with that walk waiting for us after we ate.  All in all, the weekend was a complete indulgence—and over too soon.  I miss her already and I hope she’s having a spectacular birthday today!

Chicken Marsala
Adapted from Cooking Light

Printable Recipe

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
8 ounces mushrooms, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons thinly sliced shallots
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 (6-ounce) skinless, boneless chicken breast halves, pounded to 1/4-inch thickness
kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper1/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
3/4 cup fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup Marsala wine
1/2 cup frozen green peas
2 tablespoons cream
8 ounces whole wheat fettuccine, cooked in boiling, salted water

Heat oil in a large skillet; add mushrooms, shallots, and garlic. Cook 3 minutes or until moisture evaporates; remove mushroom mixture from pan. Set aside.

Meanwhile, sprinkle the pounded chicken breasts with salt and pepper.  Place the flour in a shallow bowl and dredge the chicken breasts through the flour.  Shake to remove excess flour.

In the skillet used to saute the mushrooms, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter over medium-high heat. Add chicken; cook 3 minutes on each side or until lightly browned. Remove chicken from pan and keep warm. Return mushroom mixture to pan; add broth and Marsala, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Bring mixture to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer 5 minutes or until reduced to 1 cup. Stir in peas; cook 1 minute. Add 1 tablespoon butter, cream, and salt and pepper to taste, stirring until butter melts. Return chicken to pan; cook until thoroughly heated. Serve chicken and sauce over pasta.

After a sun-saturated Saturday and a Sunday awash with golden and crimson leaves, the yang to fall’s much more lovely yin has arrived in force. Every morning this week, I’ve needed not only a coat but a scarf too. What was once a pleasant waltz from the train to the gym in the morning has become a hunched speed walk into the wind, my head withdrawn turtle-like into my upturned collar. The previously sweeping view from my office—a little sliver of the lake here, a slice of the Sears Tower there—has been socked in by fog and driving rain. I even found myself leaving work on Monday, caught in a dreary rain storm: without an umbrella. All of this is to say: it’s time, friends, to braise.

If there is an upshot to nasty weather and grim skies and a perpetual chill it is ensconcing oneself in a cozy home and sweeping away the elements with a slow cooked, homey meal that sends clouds of roasty smells into the air, while the hot oven inches the room temperature up a blissful degree or two. It’s an intense craving for just this brand of comfort that keeps me coming back to braises all the livelong fall and winter.

I’ve got a dependable stable of braises all stocked up for winter, but it’s small and I’ve decided to use the less-than-lovely fall (pre-winter?) days to audition new additions to the roster. It’s my kitchen version of baseball’s spring training, you could say: I’m scouting the promising recipes from the farm system. I’ve had my eye on a number of prospects: hearty greens, tiny Brussels sprouts, tough cuts of beef, meaty pieces of fish, even some forays into new-to-me realms like lamb shanks.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

This recipe for braised chicken sat at the very top of the heap. The inclusion of leisurely cooked onions—another one of my very favorite cold weather staples—all but guaranteed this recipe’s success. And the onions were indeed spectacular—cooked into a nearly disintegrating, jammy tangle. And the chicken was tender and succulent, stewed in a savory potion of sage-and-bay-laced apple cider.

It’s safe to say this recipe will feature prominently this braising season. In fact, it’s a clear front runner for rookie of the year. For now, that is. Because braising season is still young.

Cider-Braised Chicken
Adapted from Food & Wine

1 tablespoon pure or extra-virgin olive oil
4 whole chicken legs or bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 large Spanish onions, halved crosswise and thinly sliced
4 sage leaves
2 bay leaves
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
2 1/2 cups apple cider
1/4 cup cider vinegar
3 cups chicken stock or low-sodium broth
1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley

Preheat the oven to 400°. Heat oil in a large skillet. Season the chicken with salt and black pepper. Add the chicken to the skillet, skin side down, and cook over moderately high heat until the skin is crisp and browned, about 8 minutes. Turn and cook for 3 minutes longer. Transfer the chicken to a baking sheet or large platter, skin side up.

Add the onions to the skillet and cook over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until softened slightly, about 5 minutes. Add the sage, bay leaves, and crushed red pepper to the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are golden and starting to stick to the bottom of the skillet, about 5 minutes. Add the apple cider to the skillet and simmer over moderately high heat until the cider is syrupy, about 25 minutes. Add the vinegar to the pan and simmer for 2 minutes. Season lightly with salt and black pepper. Stir stock and parsley into the skillet. Season lightly with salt and black pepper.

Transfer the onion sauce to a large roasting pan. Arrange the chicken in the sauce, skin side up. Set the roasting pan in the oven and reduce the heat to 350°. Roast the chicken until cooked through, about 1 hour and 15 minutes.

Transfer the chicken to a platter. Set the roasting pan over high heat and boil the sauce until the liquid is reduced, about 10 minutes. Season the sauce with salt and pepper and serve with the chicken.

Can you believe that I’ve never made barbecue chicken before? I’m fully aware that it’s a summer BBQ staple, ensuring a grill wafting with delicious smells and a table full of people with sticky hands and sauce-smeared grinning faces. Which of course, makes them the perfect centerpiece for my Summer’s-Last-Stand BBQ Menu (components of which I’ll be posting about each day this week).

But barbecue sauce has never been my thing. I think a certain fast-food chain is mainly to blame for that: those little rectangular vessels of the stuff seemed to accompany all my childhood friends’ Happy Meals, a dunking pool for McNuggets and French fries—and a constant source of nose-wrinkling on my part. Growing up, I also eschewed the barbecue-flavored chips, much to my friends’ dismay. The sauce was just too sweet, too cloying, too overpowering for me.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

I always knew, though, that there was a way to do it right. And I also suspected that the way didn’t involve popping open a squeeze-bottle from the grocery aisle. I wanted to make a homemade sauce and I turned to Ina, she who I trust when it comes to finding a failsafe version of a classic recipe.

As it turned out, the sauce was absolutely delicious. But it also turned out that, instead of popping open just one super market-aisle bottle, I popped open no fewer than a dozen jars (see below), emptying most of them in the process. I’ll warn you now: this is a recipe that is certain to (a) empty out your refrigerator door shelves, (b) clean out your pantry, (c) put a significant dent in your wallet, (d) make way more than necessary (you could definitely cut the recipe in half and still have plenty to sauce enough chicken for six to eight people), (e) require a mid-recipe trip to the market because you will inevitably run out of something along the way (thank you, Kevin), and (f) completely, totally blow any other store-bought barbecue sauce out of the water.

It’s the item listed in (f), of course, that will have me making this sauce for summers to come and that has me thanking my lucky stars that I’ve got a significant amount of it stashed in the freezer. I used the sauce on skin-on, bone-in chicken breasts, thighs and drumsticks (using two-thirds of the sauce to marinate it overnight, reserving the other half for brushing the chicken pieces as they grilled), but the variations are endless: ribs, pork chops, firm tofu, salmon, shrimp. And, since we have a gas grill rather than a charcoal one, I baked the marinated chicken in a 350-degree oven for 20 minutes before finishing them off (and swabbing them with additional sauce) on the hot grill for another 20 minutes, where they smoked and sizzled and crisped up.

Summer’s Last Stand: We’re making the most of one of the last weeks of summer by meandering through the Canadian Rockies. As such, comment moderation and email responses will be slow this week. But, while we’re away, daily posts will highlight components of a Summer’s-Last-Stand BBQ Menu. Up tomorrow: grilled corn on the cob and smoked paprika butter.

Barbecued Chicken
The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook via Food Network

Serves 6-8

2 chickens (2 1/2 to 3 pounds each), quartered, with backs removed*
1 recipe Barbecue Sauce, recipe follows**

Marinate the chickens in 2/3 of the barbecue sauce for a few hours or overnight in the refrigerator.

Heat the coals in a charcoal grill. Spread the bottom of the grill with a single layer of hot coals and then add a few more coals 5 minutes before cooking, which will keep the fire going longer. Place the chicken quarters on the grill, skin side down, and cook for about 45 minutes,*** turning once or twice to cook evenly on both sides. Brush with the marinade as needed. The chicken quarters are done when you insert a knife between a leg and thigh and the juices run clear. Discard any unused marinade.

Serve with extra barbecue sauce on the side.

Barbecue Sauce:
1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onion (1 large onion)
1 tablespoon minced garlic (3 cloves)
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 cup tomato paste (10 ounces)
1 cup cider vinegar
1 cup honey
1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
1 cup Dijon mustard
1/2 cup soy sauce
1 cup hoisin sauce
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/2 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes

In a large saucepan on low heat, saute the onions and garlic with the vegetable oil for 10 to 15 minutes, until the onions are translucent but not browned. Add the tomato paste, vinegar, honey, Worcestershire sauce, mustard, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, chili powder, cumin, and red pepper flakes. Simmer uncovered on low heat for 30 minutes. Use immediately or store in the refrigerator.

* I used skin-on, bone-in chicken breasts, thighs and drumsticks.
** You can easily halve the sauce recipe and have enough to sauce the 5-6 pounds of chicken, brush the chicken while it grills and serve additional sauce on the side. If you make the entire batch, be prepared to freeze some leftovers (which is not a bad thing).
*** We have a gas grill, so I baked the chicken in a 350-degree oven for 20 minutes and finished them off on the grill for about 20 minutes, brushing often with some of the reserved sauce.

I think that every family has its version of a barbecue. Growing up, the elements of my family’s standard barbecue included potato and pasta salads from Byerly’s, golden cobs of buttered corn, and, if we were really lucky, a trip to Dairy Queen at the end of the night. But the clear star of the show was the giant platter of grilled meats, charred from the grill: burgers, chicken breasts (during my sister’s and my red meat strike that regrettably lasted throughout much of our teens), and, sometimes, brats. The most homesick I ever was during college was at the end of my freshman year in late May, when I called home and learned that my family was grilling. Without me. I could practically smell the grill’s smoke and hear my family’s laughter (mingling, most likely, with the sounds of a Twins game playing in the background). And I could just taste the brats.

With Kevin, my version of the barbecue has evolved to include some elements of his family’s barbecues (skirt steaks, for one) and to incorporate some new ones of our own. These usually include attempts at healthing things up: adding more vegetables, swapping turkey for ground beef in our burgers, opting for whole wheat buns. I suppose that’s where these brats come in. You see, they’re chicken brats. I can only hope that an admission of this magnitude will not prompt my family to disown me.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

When it comes to healthing up barbecues, though, I firmly believe that one shouldn’t go too far. Chicken brats are fine and all, but you should really still boil them in a frothy pot of beer and heap a tangle of grilled onions on top. So that’s exactly what we did on Friday night, which was the kind of summer evening that begged for a barbecue. Stay tuned this week to hear about the side dish and dessert that rounded out our very Kristin-and-Kevin-style barbecue. Along with these brats, I think they’ll become staples.

Beer-Boiled Chicken Brats

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 large sweet onion (such as Vidalia), sliced
4 chicken bratwursts
4 to 5 cups beer
4 hot dog rolls
mustard

Heat the butter a large Dutch oven over medium high heat. Add about 1/3 of the sliced onion and cook for several minutes. Meanwhile, pierce the sausages with the tip of a sharp knife (several times per sausage). Add the sausages to the Dutch oven and pour the beer over them. (The beer should cover the sausages.) Bring the beer to a gentle boil and reduce the heat. Simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until the sausages are cooked through. Drain the sausages, discarding the beer and onions.

Prepare a grill. Grill the sausages and the remaining onions until both are browned. Serve with toasted hot dog buns and mustard.

I had altogether too much fun making this meal. Maybe it’s because my brain is fried from too much studying. Or perhaps my threshold for finding comedy is extremely low, after listening to legal lectures for hour after droning hour. Whatever it was, these grilled chickens were a real riot.

First, the whole project was like a Jeff Foxworthy bit, only backwards. As in: You know you’re not a red neck when you insist that your beer can chicken is organic. You know you’re not a red neck when you grill your beer can chicken on your gas Weber, which resides on your condo’s roof top deck, which affords a Chicago skyline vista. And you really, really know you’re a not a red neck when your beer can chicken requires trips to several stores because the first couple you tried don’t even sell beer in cans. So, right, I’m not a red neck, then.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the method.)

Embarrassing yuppie status aside, beer can chicken is hands-down the most amusing cooking technique I’ve ever seen. I mean, Blais’ liquid nitrogen ice cream on the Top Chef finale the other night was cool and all, but it had nothing on this whole-chicken-perched-vertically-on-a-beer-can thing.

Each time I opened the grill, I would burst out in laughter. First, the chickens looked like they were doing a mini-conga line across the grill-when I had them “facing” the same direction. After I turned them to “face” each other (because the wings on the chicken facing out were getting burned), they would alternately look like Sumo wrestlers, two dudes doing the Pee-Wee Herman dance, or a couple of lovebirds (ha!) leaning in for a smooch.

All that hilarity aside, though, I embarked on this beer can chicken with a serious mission. I wanted to see how the Zuni Café method-the most juicy, delicious, succulent chicken roasting method-translated to the grill. So I rinsed, dried and salted my chickens a day before grilling them (Judy Rodgers recommends you do this 1 to 3 days in advance of cooking). As the grill preheated the next night, I took the birds out of the fridge, patted them dry one last time, and tucked several sprigs of thyme between the skin and breasts of both chickens. Next, I cracked upon a couple cold ones, drained them of half their liquid each and slipped a couple thin lemon wedges, a peeled garlic clove and some peppercorns in each can. Finally, the chickens, er, assumed the position and I placed them-in all their upright glory-on the grill, in a disposable roasting pan to catch the juices. We cranked up the front and back burners of the grill and cooked the chickens over the (turned-off) middle burner for about a hour and a half.

The results? Good. But I have to confess that they were nothing spectacular and they certainly weren’t as juicy as a Zuni Café-style chicken roasted in the oven (a result that surprised me, because the first thing you hear about beer can chicken is that it’s mind-blowingly succulent). If we make these again, it would probably be more for the laughs or the novelty. Which could very well be worth it. Am I missing something? Does anyone out there have beer can chicken wisdom to share?

More on the Zuni Cafe Chicken here.

In college and for a couple years afterwards, burritos were a pretty substantial part of my diet. The burritos were as big as my head and they were wrapped in shiny foil: yes, I’m talking about those burritos. In college, my main excuse for my burrito habit was that the purveyor awarded you with a free soda to accompany your burrito when you brandished your student ID. My days of soda drinking are pretty much over (thankfully) and my Wildcard long since expired (sniff) and I haven’t ordered a condiment-laden, 16-inch-tortillaed burrito in at least a year.

But every now and again, the burrito urge strikes. Apparently, old habits die hard. So, I’ve attempted to recreate a healthier, more reasonably-sized burrito at home on several occasions. In contrast to my fairly good luck with making fajitas and tacos at home, my burritos had always fallen pretty flat. And I could never put my finger on the specific downfall.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

Then, I found this recipe for Chipotle Chicken Burritos (which refers to the actual pepper, not the aforementioned fast food chain that was once so liberal with its fountain drinks). The slow poach of boneless, skinless chicken thighs (something I’ve grown quite fond of recently, after years of bypassing them in favor of boneless/skinless breasts) and the toss in a chipotle-spiked, tomato-based sauce caught my eye and made me realize that the downfall of my previous burritos just might have been that I’d neglected to sufficiently dress up the meat.

So last Saturday, when the weather was very fiesta-ish indeed, I declared a burrito night. A no-foil-allowed (and no post-dinner glut) kind of burrito night, that is. I’m happy to report that this recipe came through in a big way. The chicken was extremely tender and flavorful in a saucy, smoky, spicy kind of way. And while many of the other elements—black beans, pico de gallo, guacamole—were standard, the shredded cabbage, whole wheat tortilla and green chile-laced sour cream gave these burritos a new-and-different dimension.

When it was all said and done, we had tons of leftover fixings. So, I of course loaded up some leftover burritos for this week’s brown bag lunches. And, just for fun … just for old time’s sake, I wrapped them in foil. They were about half the size of my burritos of yesteryear, but so, so much tastier.

Chipotle Chicken Burritos
Adapted from Food & Wine

1 pound skinless, boneless chicken thighs
1 medium onion, quartered, plus 1 small onion, cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 bay leaves
2 teaspoons vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon dark brown sugar
1 large chipotle in adobo, stemmed, plus 1 tablespoon adobo sauce
1 cup canned diced tomatoes with their juice
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup low-fat sour cream
3 tablespoons canned chopped green chiles, drained
1 1/2 teaspoons water
Four 12-inch whole wheat tortillas, warmed
3 ounces Monterey jack cheese, shredded (3/4 cup)
One 15-ounce can black beans-drained, rinsed and patted dry
1 cups shredded cabbage
1/2 cup prepared pico de gallo salsa
1/2 cup prepared guacamole

In a large saucepan, combine the chicken thighs, quartered onion, garlic and bay leaves. Add enough water to cover the chicken and bring to a simmer. Cover and cook over moderately low heat until the chicken is fork tender, 1 hour. Remove the chicken and shred it into bite-size pieces. Transfer the chicken to a medium bowl.

Meanwhile, in a skillet, heat the oil. Add the diced onion and brown sugar and cook over moderately high heat until the onion is golden brown, 10 minutes. Add the chipotle, adobo sauce and tomatoes and simmer over moderately low heat until thickened, 10 minutes. Transfer the mixture to a food processor and blend until smooth. Pour over the shredded chicken and season with salt and pepper.

In a blender, combine the sour cream with the green chiles and water and puree until smooth. Season with salt and pepper.

Sprinkle the tortillas with the cheese. Spoon the chicken mixture down the center of the tortillas. Top the chicken with the black beans, cabbage, salsa, guacamole and green-chile sour cream. Bring the sides of the tortillas toward the center of the filling. Fold the bottom of the tortilla up over the filling and continue to roll until the burrito closes. Serve immediately.

Wings are not a part of the culinary territory in which I tread lightly. You see, my roommate/dinner companion/husband is what one might call a wing aficionado. And wings are a subject on which he has got very definite views. And said views stop and start with Buffalo Joe’s, known to anyone in the know as simply Buff Joe’s.

Nary a soul passes through college studentdom at Northwestern or adolescence in Evanston and the surrounding suburbs without at least trying the blazing hots wings doled out by the Captain at Buff Joe’s, which is a stone’s throw from the edge of campus. Since my husband falls in both of these categories (a Wildcat and a product of the greater Evanston’s environs), his status as a Buff Joe’s super fan is not altogether shocking.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

Confession time (hold on to your hats, because this one could cost my Northwestern Wildcard) I’m not a Buff Joe’s convert. Mind you, I have tried. I gave the wings a shot at each of their varying levels of hotness. And I even tried the signature sauce in sandwich form. Much to Kevin’s dismay (honestly, I’m still pleasantly surprised it wasn’t a total deal-breaker), I never bought into the craze. Lucky for Kevin, though, his sisters and his buddies and nearly ever other red-blooded American who’s come into contact with the place shares his absurdly fond feelings for Buff Joe’s.

Given this state of affairs, an endeavor into making homemade wings is, shall we say, touchy. But, when I found Bobby Flay’s chipotle-infused recipe, I was emboldened. And when the idea of slathering the sauce (which is so good that I will never buy the neon orange bottled stuff ever again) on a chicken breast (sliced into strips and skewered; think chicken satay does upstate New York fare) rather than wings hit me, I became downright foolhardy. That’s right, I made them. And I served them up to my husband’s discerning wing palate. I’m happy to report that he approved. Though not without waxing poetic about the Captain’s sauce while he munched away on my skewers. Still, I’ll take it.

Chicken Skewers with Spicy Chipotle Hot Sauce and Blue Cheese-Yogurt Dipping Sauce
Adapted from Bobby Flay
1 full boneless skinless chicken breast
Cooking spray
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Chipotle Hot Sauce, recipe follows
Blue Cheese-Yogurt Dip, recipe follows

Carrot and celery sticks

Heat grill or grill pan to high and spray the rack or pan with cooking spray. Season the chicken breast with salt and pepper. Place the chicken on the grill rack or pan and grill until golden brown on both sides and just cooked through, about 4 to 5 minutes per side.

Chipotle Hot Sauce:
1/2 cups red wine vinegar
1 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons chipotle pepper puree (depending on how spicy you like it)
1 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoons vegetable oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Whisk together the vinegar, Dijon mustard, chipotle puree, honey, and oil in a medium bowl. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

Add the hot sauce mixture to a deep skillet and bring to a boil. Add the chicken breast and cook, stirring, for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove the chicken breast from the sauce and slice into one-inch strips. Slice a bamboo skewer into each strip, lengthwise. Serve with Blue Cheese-Yogurt Dip and celery and carrot sticks.

Blue Cheese-Yogurt Dip:
1 container thick Greek yogurt
1/4 cup crumbled domestic blue cheese
1 tablespoons finely sliced scallions, plus more for garnish
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and season with salt and pepper, to taste. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving.

I’m afraid I’ve been putting the cart before the proverbial horse. I’ve been going on and on about the peripheral elements of our Friday night fiesta: the drinks, the side dish and the dessert. Okay, I’m not sure that the margaritas and key lime bars qualify as peripheral, but still. All this time, the elephant in the room (while we’re using figures of speech) is the enchiladas that anchored our fiesta feast.

You can add these to the growing list of recipes on this site that involve a too-fun-for-words assembly line (see: pot stickers, lasagna, calzones …). The elements of the assembly line in this case of enchiladas are (1) a sauce (here, I used a roasted tomatillo sauce, spiked with peppers, onions, garlic and spices); (2) tortillas (I opted for corn, over flour); (3) a filling (the tomatillo sauce appeared here, too, but a thickened version of it that enveloped shredded chicken and spinach); and (4) cheese (crumbled queso fresco, here, but I’m sure that shredded Monterey Jack or white cheddar would have been delicious as well). Once you’ve got the assembly line, er, assembled, the rest is a breeze.

(Click “more” for the step-by-step pictorial.)

Step One: Slather the bottom of a baking dish with a thin slick of sauce:

Step Two: One by one, stuff the tortillas with the filling:

Step Three: Roll them up and nestle them atop the slick of sauce, seam side down:

Step Four: Spoon the remaining sauce over the rolled tortillas. I like to make a strip of sauce that bisects the tortillas lengthwise, so you can still see the shape of each individually rolled tortilla. Sprinkle the cheese on top of the sauced tortillas:

Step Five: Bake until bubbly, crusty and golden:

For reference, I based my enchiladas (especially the roasted tomatillo sauce) on a Tyler Florence recipe, which you can find here. It was difficult to follow it to the letter, because this is a dish that is open to a million variations. That said, it’s still nice to have a recipe to launch from.

When I originally proclaimed Wednesday night to be “leftovers night!” I feared that Kevin would revolt. We had a lot of Leftovers Nights when I was growing up and they were usually met with reactions that ranged from mild groans of dissatisfaction to downright tantrums of refusal (those were the nights that Ali or I (why couldn’t we ever coordinate, I wonder, because it would have been a lot more fun together) would remain at the table until we ate two/three/four more bites. We’d be there for hours, in some cases. Funny, I have absolutely no recollection of how those stand-offs resolved themselves. Did I really eat the bites? Did my mom cave? I’ll have to ask her.

Anyway, back in 2008, it turned out that Kevin was thrilled with the idea. He was delighted to heap a stack of leftover pizza slices next to a dollop of refrigerated-for-two-days risotto. He was more than happy to nestle in a few forkfuls of Monday’s chicken cacciatore (the clear winner among the leftovers, by the way). And, quite expectedly, he had no problem capping the whole thing off with a remaining wedge of chocolate almond torte.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

Before I knew that leftovers night would be such a hit, though, I figured I better follow it up with something especially special the next night. So, while Kevin was probably still fondly reminiscing about leftovers night, I made a gorgeous, stewy pot of Ina Garten’s coq au vin (a recipe I’d been eying for a while and knew I had to make after seeing it here).

This recipe is very similar to The Barefoot’s beef bourguignon recipe, in terms of method (brown some bacon; sear the meat; saute the vegetables; pour in a half-bottle of wine; simmer away with a bundle of herbs; slide in some frozen pearl onions and sauteed mushrooms at the last minute … as Ina would say, “How bad can that be?”) and ingredients (merely swap beef tenderloin out for chicken pieces). Unsuprisingly, the result is very similar too. The coq au vin was equally earthy, tender and comforting, just not quite as rich as the beef bourguignon. Last night also happened to be Family Dinner, so I sent the leftovers home with Ali. Too bad for Kevin, because now he’ll have to wait a while for the next Leftovers Night(!).

Coq Au Vin
Ina Garten via Food Network

2 tablespoons good olive oil*
4 ounces good bacon or pancetta, diced*
1 (3 to 4-pound) chicken, cut in 8ths**
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 pound carrots, cut diagonally in 1-inch pieces
1 yellow onion, sliced
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
1/4 cup Cognac or good brandy
1/2 bottle (375 ml) good dry red wine such as Burgundy
1 cup good chicken stock, preferably homemade
10 fresh thyme sprigs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature, divided*
1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 pound frozen small whole onions
1/2 pound cremini mushrooms, stems removed and thickly sliced

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees F.

Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven. Add the bacon and cook over medium heat for 8 to 10 minutes, until lightly browned. Remove the bacon to a plate with a slotted spoon.

Meanwhile, lay the chicken out on paper towels and pat dry. Liberally sprinkle the chicken on both sides with salt and pepper. When the bacon is removed, brown the chicken pieces in batches in a single layer for about 5 minutes, turning to brown evenly. Remove the chicken to the plate with the bacon and continue to brown until all the chicken is done. Set aside.

Add the carrots, onions, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper to the pan and cook over medium heat for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions are lightly browned. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Add the Cognac and put the bacon, chicken, and any juices that collected on the plate into the pot. Add the wine, chicken stock, and thyme and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot with a tight fitting lid and place in the oven for 30 to 40 minutes, until the chicken is just not pink. Remove from the oven and place on top of the stove.

Mash 1 tablespoon of butter and the flour together and stir into the stew. Add the frozen onions. In a medium saute pan, add the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter and cook the mushrooms over medium-low heat for 5 to 10 minutes, until browned. Add to the stew. Bring the stew to a simmer and cook for another 10 minutes. Season to taste. Serve hot.

* I got away with using, at most, half the amount of oil, bacon and butter listed in the recipe.
** I used boneless/skinless chicken breasts and thighs, cut in large chunks.