One of my faithful readers complained. “Your recipes taste wonderful, but the writing needs something. Can’t you add some porn?”
Yes, my perverted friend, I can do that.
The tall blond sitting next to me at cooking class, leaned over and whispered, “I like the sound of chicken thighs.” It must be the way she said thighs that made a shiver race up my spine, then turn around and race down, before making several other stops on its way out of town.
She gave me a slow wink. She must be six feet tall, lanky. I was thinking nice breasts. Must have said it out loud. Mildred, our Chef Aujourd’hui said flatly, “You can use breasts, but thighs are juicier.” She had a point. The blond winked again. Not sure if the blond meant breasts or thighs. Either way, it would be a tough choice. Maybe I can pick more than one. The chicken wouldn’t mind.
“Peel and slice the onion,” Mildred said, but I was still doing an enney-meany-mine-moe on the parts of the chicken I would most like to fondle… I mean sauté.
The blond said, “I’m a few inches taller than you.” What did she mean? Did she just imply I’m a few inches short of what she needs? She smiled and put a hand on my knee. The knee was very happy and began to celebrate right away and passed the news on to my reptile brain which sent an urgent message to the sausage delivery boy.
“You’ll want to add butter and seasonings to the onions while they cook. Don’t let them brown.” Meanwhile, the sergeant major in charge of my artillery and the first knee to get the news were still celebrating.
“Remove the sautéed onion,” said Mildred, which I did not agree with. I was not in the mood to pull anything out. Cookus interruptus was not in the plan.
“Put the chicken in the pan with a little oil and add a pat of butter,” Mildred said.
“Thighs, “ said the blond, “Chicken thighs.” I put my hand on her knee.
“Tits,” I said, “Chicken tits.” I admit I was a little giddy. The blond squeezed my knee. Mildred scowled. She’s not known for her humorous side, wherever that is. I know I haven’t found it.
“I crush my own tomatoes,” Mildred said. She looked at me and squeezed her fist when she said it.
“I like olives,” said the blond, “the kind with nuts in them.”
“You mean pits,” I said, but quickly changed my answer.
“I do a lot of cooking,” she said.
“What kind of cooking?” I asked, hoping to get an answer that would please the Sergeant Major and the sausage delivery boy, whose chest was now swelling with pride.
“Lots of stuff,” she said.
Lots of stuff would do the trick for me. Lots and lots of stuff. “Ever use Crisco?” I asked.
“I use it on my body to you know firm me up before I go out naked to sunbathe.” Actually that’s not what she said, but she did mention olive oil and I helped out her memory.
“Add the wine to the tomatoes and then you just let it simmer for a couple of hours,” Mildred said.
“Sometimes I simmer,” the blond said, “And sometimes other stuff.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I can imagine. Other stuff is great for long weekends. Crisco is too. I’m also a huge fan of simmering.”
The blond moved her palm up my leg to shake hands with the sausage deliver boy. “Thighs,” she said.
Pollo Piero: Peter's Chicken
8-10 bone in, skinless chicken thighs
1 large red onion sliced thinly
1 Cup pitted, spicy olives
3-4 large fresh tomatoes, roughly chopped, or 1 28 oz can whole tomatoes (I crush the tomatoes by hand)
1 Cup dry white wine
4 Tablespoons olive oil
1 Tablespoon butter (I use unsalted)
A spring of fresh rosemary really helps
Crushed red pepper to taste (I prefer this dish mild)
Salt and Pepper
Use a high sided pan , set the heat to medium, toss in some olive oil and butter, add the sliced onions, along with a pinch of red pepper and cook until translucent, about 7 minutes.
Set the onions aside. Raise the heat. Add the chicken and more olive oil. Turn the chicken as needed to brown on all sides.
Lower the heat, add the cooked onions, tomatoes, and wine. Cook for about ten minutes and add salt and pepper to taste.
Cover and cook for 20 minutes. Uncover and cook 15 minutes more. The dish is done when the chicken is tender to the bone..
Pressed for time? Make it the day before and refrigerate. Warm it up in the oven. Even better!