F. Fowler - Fifty Shades of Chicken

2 Rub the chicken all over, inside and out, with the salt and pepper. Mix the mayonnaise with the spices and hot sauce. Massage all but 2 tablespoons of the mayonnaise mixture all over the chicken, including the cavity.

3 Open the beer and drink (or pour out) half of it. Lower the chicken over the beer can so it penetrates the chicken cavity. The chicken should be straddling the can, balancing it. Place the chicken on the unlit side of the grill and cover the grill. Let the chicken cook for 60 minutes.

4 Check the chicken; if the skin isn’t brown enough, move the chicken to the other (lit) side of the grill or just turn the gas on under the chicken. Cover the grill and let cook until the chicken is cooked through (the thigh juices will run clear and the skin will be golden). The whole thing should take about 1¼ hours but it could vary depending on your grill. If the coals start to burn down, replenish them as needed.

5 When the chicken is done, carefully remove the beer can (hold the chicken with tongs and use an oven mitt to pull out the can). Let the chicken rest for 5 minutes before carving. Serve with lime wedges.

I’m marinating deeply. Turmeric, garam masala, and ginger penetrate into my dreams. I’m not even sure I’m awake when the door of the Sub-Zero opens on to a dark kitchen. Awareness floats just out of reach like a dancing firefly.

I seem to see predatory eyes glowing dimly in the darkness, staring at my yogurt-smeared flesh. Recognition creeps up my spine. Wiley?

He gets out a camera and starts snapping pictures of me in my marinade.

“That perverted prep-cook hasn’t outfoxed me,” he grumbles to himself. “He thinks this is all about him and his little recipes. But I think big. Fast food is where the big bucks are. The foodie’s ideas just need to be scaled up. Tray of sticky fingers, bucket o’ dripping thighs. And I’m just the guy to do it. I’m going to make that bird mine. And if he tries to pick a bone with me about that, I’ve got these compromising pictures!

“Not bad for a kid from the hardscrabble highways of Monument Valley,” he continues. “It’s been the same all my life. People constantly underestimating me. Just a guy who reads books. Hah! A guy who reads books, who happens to be an inventor and a super-genius . I was out there chasing birds before that kid could even make ramen. Sure I never got one, but I never give up. They always laughed at me. But now this little cook-tease is my ticket to Fat City.

“That maniac and his bird will both get what’s coming to them. And I’ll get what’s mine.”

He finishes shooting and places me back in the fridge.

The marinade-induced delirium fades. It was just so vivid. What if it wasn’t a dream? Our Little Booklet! I feel a tingling of danger. But the powerful Indian spices are stronger than danger, and they penetrate deeper than panic.

grilled chicken with tandoori spices

SERVES 4 TO 6

1 (3½- to 4-pound) chicken, cut into 8 pieces and patted dry with paper towels

1½ teaspoons coarse kosher salt

Juice from 1 lime, plus wedges for garnish

1 cup whole-milk yogurt

1 small red onion, peeled and coarsely chopped

1 large jalapeño or small serrano pepper, seeded if desired, sliced

2 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed

1-inch-thick slice of peeled fresh gingerroot, coarsely chopped

1 tablespoon ground garam masala

½ teaspoon ground turmeric

1 tablespoon safflower or canola oil

Cilantro leaves, for garnish

1 Using a small, sharp knife, slash each chicken piece through the flesh until you reach the bone. One slash is plenty for the smaller pieces; slash the larger pieces twice. This allows the marinade to penetrate fully and deeply so the chicken can take it all in.

2 Rub the chicken pieces all over with the salt and lime juice. Refrigerate for 20 minutes so the chicken can recover.

3 Meanwhile, add the yogurt, onion, jalapeño, garlic, ginger, garam masala, and turmeric to a blender and puree until very, very smooth. Pour the yogurt mixture over the chicken pieces, tossing to coat them thoroughly, and refrigerate for at least 8 hours and up to 24 hours.

4 Preheat the grill or broiler. Wipe the marinade off the chicken with paper towels and then lightly brush the oil all over the flesh. Grill or broil, turning once, until the pieces are charred at the edges and the thigh juices run clear, 25 to 35 minutes (the breasts will be done before the legs and wings). Devour with cilantro and lime wedges for garnish.

LEARNING THE ROPES

Broiling these succulent pieces is a messy affair. Either use a broiler pan or line a rimmed baking sheet with oiled foil to keep the juices at bay.

I stare blankly at the laptop screen, stunned. It’s filled with the image of my breast, half-covered in melted mozzarella, up close and in living color.

Holy shit! Was the dream real? I suspected Wiley was sneaking photos but I thought they were cookbook photos. Not this shocking, lurid food porn.

“Um, I seem to be on Google,” I manage to croak. Blades is slicing a tomato on the counter behind me.

“Everyone’s on Google, babe,” he says, distracted. “That’s the point of Google.”

“But… in a fast-food ad?”

He whips around to the laptop and stares, transfixed by the images of my white meat laid out on a bun and spattered with cheese. I recall Wiley’s hungry eyes and his last words— I’ll get what’s mine .

“Seems someone else wants to specialize in chicken,” he mutters as he rushes to the phone. Oh boy, is he angry.

He barks terse instructions into the phone. “I want his ass fired… Blackmail? Yes, he stole the recipes, my recipes… I want the photos removed too. Inform the fast-food chain I took the precaution of secretly copyrighting everything. They’ll grasp the situation at once.” He looks up at me and I see his face change from agitation to something else—a look of carnal craving.

“Keep me posted,” he snaps and puts away the phone, still staring at me. I sit frozen on the platter as he shrugs on his apron, ties it around his hips in that way, and struts over to me.

His eyes are scorching as he unsheathes a considerable length of baguette. Oh my.

“Those photos were obscene,” he breathes. “But on the other hand…”

I melt with a mixture of relief to have escaped the clutches of that blackmailing coyote and anticipation of that long baguette. Maybe food porn isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Beep beep! My inner goddess zooms down an endless highway into the sunset, ecstatic and alive.

chicken submarine sandwich with mozzarella

MAKES 6 SERVINGS

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1½ tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon or thyme leaves

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon grated lemon zest

Coarse kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

12 chicken cutlets (about 2½ pounds)

2 medium-size ripe tomatoes, thinly sliced