F. Fowler - Fifty Shades of Chicken

“Condiments are for your own protection. Some of the other ingredients can be rather strong, and we need to balance the flavors. And it lubricates you.”

“Don’t you ever want to just taste me au naturel ?”

He closes his eyes as if searching for strength.

“Your savor is always present, Chicken. I choose flavors to enhance your taste, not cover it.”

“Couldn’t you leave me undressed, just once?” I feel myself gaining the upper hand for once.

“All right, Miss Hen,” he sighs with resignation. “This morning the condiment is optional. You don’t need it anyway.” He adds, “Even if the other Ingredient could use it.”

Other Ingredient? What’s he up to now?

“You’re pairing me?” I ask suspiciously.

“Yeah, baby.” He quirks his lips into a crooked smile. “Taters.”

chicken hash with sweet potatoes

SERVES 4

1¼ pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and diced into ½-inch cubes

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 small onion, chopped

1 small green bell pepper, seeded and diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 cups cooked, diced chicken meat

Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes

2 scallions, white and green parts sliced, for garnish (optional)

Fried eggs, for serving (optional)

Ketchup, for serving (optional)

1 Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add the sweet potatoes. Par-cook until halfway done, about 5 minutes. Drain, then spread out on a clean dish towel to dry.

2 Melt half the butter in a large skillet and add the sweet potatoes and half the salt and pepper. Let cook without stirring, until the potatoes brown on one side, then turn and brown well on the other side, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a plate.

3 Add the remaining butter to the skillet and sauté the onion, bell pepper, and garlic until tender and golden around the edges, about 7 minutes. Add the chicken and crushed red pepper flakes and sauté until the chicken starts to brown. Return the potatoes to the pan and sauté until everything is well mixed and golden, taking care not to crush the potatoes too much.

4 Serve the hash topped with scallions and a fried egg and ketchup on the side, if you like.

“What is this?” I ask, horrified. The machine is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a big gift bow on it. I stare at it blankly. How can this possibly be for me?

He smiles proudly. “This, Miss Hen, is your new in-chamber vacuum sealer.”

Sealer? “I like the packaging I came in,” I say weakly.

“That plastic sack,” he says with distaste, “is an amoeba playground. It’s not safe. I’ve disposed of it. This machine has an anaerobic gas flush that will protect you and keep you from spoiling.”

“I’m perfectly fresh as I am.” I had enough trouble with the fancy spices, and now this? Why is he such a control freak?

“You are quite fresh. But you’ve been looking thin, Miss Hen. You look like you’ve lost five ounces, possibly more, in the last two days. I told you, I need you juicy, and to be juicy you must preserve your water and fat content.”

He thinks I’m scrawny. And maybe even spoiled. My inner goddess flips him the bird. Let him watch his own damn fat content. I know there will be hell to pay, but I cluck audibly.

“No, I can’t accept this,” I cluck.

His eyes darken. He looks at me with that intense gaze that makes me feel agonizingly self-conscious. Am I too lean?

“Very well,” he says quietly.

“Don’t be angry with me.”

His expression is hooded, halfway between fury and something else. I long for him to put his hands on me, and I can see him staring hungrily at my breast. My vitals ooze with raw desire.

“You are a most disobedient Ingredient, Miss Hen.” He quirks his mouth into a crooked smile.

He grabs a sheet of foil. Oh yes. I know he won’t let me win that easily, and that what’s coming next will be rough and hot. Longing lubricates my nether parts.

I’m too lean for you? Nothing a stick of butter won’t cure.

sautéed chicken breasts with aromatic brown butter and hazelnuts

SERVES 2 TO 4

1 teaspoon coriander seeds

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 8 ounces each), patted dry with paper towels

1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

¾ teaspoon finely grated orange zest (from 1 small orange)

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons chopped, toasted hazelnuts or almonds

1 Using a mortar and pestle, or the flat side of a knife, crush the coriander seeds and put them into a bowl.

2 Using the side of a rolling pin, gently pound the breasts until they submit, flattening them ¼ inch thick. Put the chicken into the bowl with the coriander and add the salt, orange zest, pepper, and nutmeg and toss to coat. Let marinate in the fridge for at least an hour, or better, up to 6 hours.

3 Melt 1½ tablespoons of the butter in a very large skillet over medium-high heat and let it simmer until it turns golden brown and starts to smell nutty. Add the chicken in batches and cook until golden on both sides, about 3 minutes per side. Transfer the chicken to a platter and tent with foil to keep warm.

4 Melt the remaining ½ tablespoon butter in the pan and add the nuts. Let them heat up and crisp until very fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Serve on top of the breasts.

He pulls two small red orbs from his jacket pocket.

Holy shit! What are those for?

“Apples,” he says. “I thought we might play with these tonight.”

“While you cook me?” I’m shocked. They’re awfully big.

My inner goddess looks up from her yoga magazine, google-eyed, and starts kegeling madly.

He nods slowly, his eyes darkening. I’ve learned to be apprehensive when he brings me fruit.

“Will you season me after?”

“No.”

For a second, I register a tiny stab of disappointment. He chuckles.

“You want me to?”

I hesitate. I just don’t know. What used to feel wrong now feels so right.

“Well, tonight you might just have to beg me.”

Oh my.

“Do you want to play this game?” he continues, holding up the apples. “You can always take them out if it’s too much.”

I consider my position. He looks so roguishly tempting—unkempt hair from recent cooking, dark eyes dancing with gastronomic thoughts, his lips raised in an amused smile.

My inner goddess is already on her knees in supplication, still kegeling and ready to beg for forbidden fruit.

“Yes.”

It’s a relief, actually. Finally a pair of red cheeks that aren’t mine.

roasted chicken thighs with apples and cinnamon

SERVES 4

2 small red apples, cored and cut into 1-inch cubes

1 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 2-inch-wide pieces