TIL: Pollo alla Diavola
Oh. Yes.
Last night, very, very late last night, after a near-death showdown with child-the-younger over whether or not she would fall asleep in her bed, (she did finally, but alas, only stayed put until four), the boy and I managed to enjoy the chicken we'd been trying to cook for a few days.
It's hard for us to cook grown-up meals with any regularity, especially those like the ones we used to prepare back in the pre-parent days of our lives - meals with grand and sometimes expensive ingredients, cooked with special techniques and lots of wine. We manage it every once in a while, but spaghetti is seen at our table much more frequently than Linguine con le Vongole (although we actually did prepare that for Christmas last year and it was amazing).
All that aside, we finally, after returning the first, smelly package, had the chicken, the Pimentón Dulce, the Pimentón Picante, the flaked chili, and the citrus. Both girls were in bed. The grill was hot, the chicken marinated, the Stella, cold, and the football, well, it was not going so well, but what can you do? Anyway, the dinner made up for the ballgame.
Last night, very, very late last night, after a near-death showdown with child-the-younger over whether or not she would fall asleep in her bed, (she did finally, but alas, only stayed put until four), the boy and I managed to enjoy the chicken we'd been trying to cook for a few days.
It's hard for us to cook grown-up meals with any regularity, especially those like the ones we used to prepare back in the pre-parent days of our lives - meals with grand and sometimes expensive ingredients, cooked with special techniques and lots of wine. We manage it every once in a while, but spaghetti is seen at our table much more frequently than Linguine con le Vongole (although we actually did prepare that for Christmas last year and it was amazing).
All that aside, we finally, after returning the first, smelly package, had the chicken, the Pimentón Dulce, the Pimentón Picante, the flaked chili, and the citrus. Both girls were in bed. The grill was hot, the chicken marinated, the Stella, cold, and the football, well, it was not going so well, but what can you do? Anyway, the dinner made up for the ballgame.
The recipe we made was from Mario Batali's Italian Grill cookbook (link here if you're interested), and it was neither extremely expensive nor extremely difficult to prepare. And it was delicious. Beyond that - it was so good that after each eating two pieces of chicken, both the boy and I debated going back for a third. We are having left-overs this evening, and I can hardly wait.
It was our first experience with the Pimenton Picante, and we were not sure what kind of heat to expect. Let me just say that the 5 tablespoons of dried chili that went into this recipe were nothing compared to the relatively small measure of this spice we applied at the finish. This stuff is hot, hot, hot. And yet, it has an incredibly complex smoked flavor (probably because it's smoked ...) that nearly makes you forget the power of its heat. We are excited about using it to flavor many future meals, albeit those that begin after ten p.m.
Labels:
beer,
boys and girls,
things I love
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