Risky Business, Or how The Mouse gained a recipe and almost lost a finger

Dear Boo,

Call it my Aries nature, but I sometimes have this intense urge that rises up inside me to do highly risky, questionable, and frankly, insane things. Like, say, get a full-scale image of my profile tattooed to the side of my face.* Or to pick up and enter the Race Across America endurance event.** Or to butterfly a chicken without kitchen shears. Most of the time, that other tiny part of my brain that houses practicality kicks in and takes me down a notch. But there are some times when the urge is too strong, when before I can think twice, I find myself in the kitchen armed with a dull chef's knife and gripping a pale, raw chicken in a humiliating position on the counter.

But I didn't mean to write to you about my neuroses. What I meant to do was to thank you for introducing me to the Splendid Table podcast and tell you about a recipe I found there in case you missed it, despite it almost directly leading to me very nearly losing a finger or two.

(apologies for the lame pics--these were taken pre-new camera with built in smell-o-vision)

On your recommendation, I started downloading the podcast a few months ago and was immediately hooked on one Lynne Rossetto Kaspar (even her name conjures up images of canned peaches and gingham, runner beans and noodle casseroles). Listening to Lynne's soothing voice as she interviews an expert about the steel used for an ancient knife-making technique, or cooks lunch with Diana Kennedy in her home kitchen in Mexico became my routine on my sleepy trip to school in the early morning, staving off any anxiety or sleep-deprived crowded-#4 train grumpiness. I look forward to the weekly visit from Jane and Michael Stern, roadfoodies extraordinaire, as they describe in excruciating detail their latest fried/glazed/cheese-smothered local discovery. Doesn't it always sound like Jane is licking her chops when she talks? I worry about their cholesterol, but I always enjoy the vicarious thrill. And then there's the few random tips and tricks Lynne throws in between segments. It was one of these that got stuck in my craw and wouldn't go until I gave in, bought a chicken and set to work, shears or no.

The premise is simple. Lynne says to take a can of chipotle peppers in adobo, throw in some pitted dried prunes, a dash of vinegar, a load of garlic, and some sugar. Whirr it all together in a food processor and you have a hot, sweet, acidic, garlicy sauce for slathering. Then, Lynn says, take your chicken, cut out the backbone and flatten it for optimal roasting. Spread the sauce all over, and roast in the oven at 350 (I think I'd prefer a higher temp, say, 400). Simple, quick, and when the sauce cooks and caramelizes into a sweet, sticky, crispy, gooey, spicy glaze, you'll want to lick your fingers with glee. That is, if you have any fingers left after removing the backbone.

This recipe is awesome. It's easy, yummy, and I think I'm sold on butterflying as the best way to cook a chicken without some parts drying out and some being underdone. But for lord's sake don't let the demons of spontaneity win out over sanity. Be sure you have a pair of shears (or some really stellar knife skills and a one hell of a sharp knife) before you attempt this. The combination of slippery chicken skin, stubborn bones, and delicate fingers, is nothing to take lightly. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say neither the chicken nor I went down without a fight.
The side bar/post script note to this is that shortly after I made this (served with roasted sweet potato wedges and a salad), I slathered the leftover sauce on some boneless chicken thighs, roasted those at 500 for a hot minute, sliced them up and served them as a stellar taco filling. Delicious. I think this rub would work for any meat you plan to throw on the barbie this summer: ribs, pork chops, even maybe some shrimp skewers? I dunno--try it.

Thank you, Boo. Thank you, Lynne. Thank you, instructional videos on youtube. This chipotle-fruit rub is definitely becoming a staple in my kitchen. As are a sturdy pair of shears. I'll save the dare-deviling for the stage.

Love,

The Mouse

*Don't worry, mom, I would never.
**Okay, not this either. I don't enjoy sweating. Or exercise.

Lynne Rossetto Kaspar's Chipotle-fruit Puree (an approximation by the Mouse)
Listen to Lynne's recipe here!
1 small can of chipotle peppers in adobo
1 handful of pitted dried prunes
1-2 Tablespoons white or cider vinegar
5 cloves of garlic
1-2 Tablespoons brown sugar or honey
1 3-4 lb chicken, though boneless chicken thighs, drumsticks, or pork chops would work beautifully (cooking temp and times will vary)

Puree first 4 ingredients in food processor until smooth but chunky. All amounts are estimates--adjust to suit your taste. This will make more than enough for one chicken. It keeps well in fridge until you want to use the rest. With shears, cut out the backbone of the chicken. Flip it over and with the heel of your hand, press down until you hear a crack and the chicken lies flat. Salt and pepper, and spread generously with puree. Roast in pre-heated oven at 350 for 50 minutes, or if you're me, at 400 for 40 minutes, basting every so often. For a built-in side dish, slice wedges of sweet potato, toss with olive oil and salt and lay chicken on top to roast.

Still kicking.

Dear Boo,

Consider me a matzoh ball, momentarily bobbing to the surface to say hello and remind you I'm here. Never fear, I am indeed, alive. Questionably so, but no matter.

Forgive the metaphor. My brain is fried. And frankly, I'm lacking in proper nutrition these days, which I suspect is beginning to affect my sanity.

I am currently making chicken soup as a preemptive strike against whatever cold or flu is lurking in the corner, waiting for my immune system to fall asleep on the job. Also, to remind myself that I can actually cook, though the amount of time I just spent debating how many parsnips to put in and whether they should go in NOW or after the chicken is cooked, was laughable. I'm moving slowly these days. It's like I'm learning to walk again.

Let me give you a peek into a day in the (eating) life of Mouse:

7am: Wake up. Weep silently into the pillow. Shower, dress in whatever is closest, and leave the house. BIG coffee. Cliff bar on subway.

8am: Get to school (as in, the middle school I'm working at as part of my field placement for grad school). Wonder at the energy and sheer volume pre-teens have at 8 in the morning. How do they do it? Can I bottle it? Do they think I'm deaf? Am I going deaf? Am I already done with that cup of coffee?

10am: Snacktime. Our school has transformed school breakfast into snack time so as to get rid of the stigma of partaking in a free meal program and to stave off that teenage brand of midmorning hunger-induced spaciness/temper tantrum. Usually consists of a variety of cereal and milk, a cheese stick, sliced apples, a muffin, or some weird cardboardy bagel-ball stuffed with cream cheese. And juice. I steal the cheese stick and leave the rest for my cohorts.

12pm: When I first started working at this school, I didn't venture further than the local Subway. Everything was unfamiliar and alien--the neighborhood, the building, the job, the people, and Subway provided consistency and predictability, if lacking in taste. But now, slightly more comfortable, I've discovered the corner bodega where I can get a delicious turkey and cheese sandwich (on whole wheat, with lettuce, tomato, mustard and mayonnaise, please) for $2.50. TWO FIFTY. Spanish Harlem, I love you.
Come back to school. Dispense counseling in between bites and killer Connect-4 moves. Give my chips to a kid who refuses to eat the school lunch. How can I blame him.
Caffeine in the form of diet coke.

4pm: Run from school to rehearsal. On the way, if there's any possibility, grab a water and a snack. Soy chips. Lunch leftovers. an apple. Coffee....

7pm: Dinner break. 45 minutes and limited options. Our cast has been bouncing between Chipotle, Chickpea, and NY Burger Company. But we usually come back to Chipotle. Why? Because, I'll be honest, it's delicious. I know, I know, it's owned by McDonalds. But it's not expensive. It's super fast. And their chicken tastes pleasantly like bacon. But mostly we go because they serve beer. And after hours of tech and a hundred thousand costume changes, and constant script revisions, and climbing on furniture in heels, BOY OH BOY do we need a beer. Oh, and more coffee.

12am: Leave theater. Crawl home. Munch on some of the real food I have in my fridge. Thanks to our saintly mother, I have two turkey meatloafs, a brisket, potatoes, and some other fixins. This has been my saving grace. A moment of sanity and nurturing at the end of the day (or, beginning of the next). And while the deli on the corner is great for a cheap lunch, nothing beats a homemade meatloaf sandwich in the middle of a chaotic, exhausting day. Thank you, Mom.

As of this very day, the last of my midterms will be turned in, and as of Thursday, the show will be officially up and running. Which means things will be ever so slightly calmer. I am sprinting to the finish line, visions of a quiet Sunday afternoon, a chicken braising in the kitchen, my feet resting in the Boyfriend's lap, and NPR on the radio, dancing in my head.

I don't mean to complain. Life is very full. In a lot of wonderful ways. I'd just love one good night's sleep, after a dinner. Made in my kitchen. Eaten at my table. At a reasonable hour. With a glass of wine.

Some day. I have faith. In the meantime, soup will do.

Me, at snacktime.

Love,
The Mouse

P.S. Soup turned out bland. Moral of the story? Sometimes it's better to let someone else cook. And while they do that, grab yourself a nap.