Fifty Shades of Chicken: A Parody in a Cookbook by F.L. Fowler Read Free Book Online Page A

breasts with garlic, olives, and wine
    SERVES 4 TO 6
    4 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (2 pounds), patted dry with paper towels
    1½ teaspoons coarse kosher salt
    ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
    3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
    2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
    3 garlic cloves, minced
    Large pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
    ¼ cup dry white wine
    ¼ cup low-sodium chicken broth
    1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
    2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
    2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
    2 tablespoons sliced, pitted kalamata olives
    Crusty bread, for serving
    1   Using the side of a rolling pin, gently slap the breasts into submission, until they are ¼ inch thick. Season with salt and pepper, then sprinkle them on both sides with the flour, knocking off any excess.
    2   Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken in batches and cook until golden at the edges, 3 to 4 minutes on each side. Transfer the chicken as it cooks to a plate and tent with foil.
    3   In the same pan, sauté the garlic and red pepper flakes for about 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add the wine, broth, and lemon juice to the pan, and let simmer, scraping up any browned bits, until the sauce thickens down to a glaze. Add the parsley, butter, and olives, stirring constantly. Taste and add more salt if it needs it. Return the chicken to the pan and cook until heated through, about 2 minutes. Serve hot with crusty bread.

Holy Hell Wings
    B lades is standing in front of me dressed in nothing but a white apron and a chef’s toque. He has a sticky glob of honey dripping from his long fingers. I lean out to see it better, but invisible chicken wire prevents me. My eyes cross. He moves a little closer and I can smell the glob. There’s something strange and powerful about it.
    “Now cluck,” he commands, his voice soft. My beak opens to obey, but my wattle quivers uncontrollably.
    “Enough,” he snaps.
    I long to taste the honey, to peck at it. I can smell it’s not just honey, it has a hot, citrus aroma. Sharp and sweet at the same time. I crane a little farther and the chicken wire is gone, I’m free. I open my wings and he covers them with the sticky hot mess. The spice penetrates me and I feel the familiar pull deep in my belly.
    “You’re marinating just for me,” he says darkly, “all for me.”
    Yes, I moan. Let me feed you, only you. Just then I notice that he’s holding something—a radish, I think. The radish starts to pulse like a heart. The image starts to fade, and I start to panic.
    “Wake up, baby,” he says, opening the Sub-Zero with a triumphant flourish as I come back to reality. “Time for the broiler.”
    Holy hell.
    jalapeño chicken wings with avocado
    SERVES 6 TO 8
    3 pounds chicken wings, patted dry with paper towels
    ¼ cup olive oil
    2 tablespoons hot sauce, plus more for serving
    2 tablespoons honey
    2 teaspoons tomato paste
    4 garlic cloves, chopped
    2 jalapeño peppers, roughly chopped (leave in the seeds to make these holy hell hot)
    1 lime, zested and juiced
    1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt, plus more to taste
    2 avocados, peeled, pitted, and sliced
    1   The night before feasting, lay the chicken wings in a bowl. Combine the oil, hot sauce, honey, tomato paste, garlic, jalapeño, zest and lime juice, and salt in a blender and puree until smooth. Pour over the chicken wings and toss to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
    2   The next day, preheat the broiler. Lay the chicken wings on a foil-lined baking sheet. Season with additional salt. Broil until the chicken wings are golden and glistening, 3 to 5 minutes per side. Serve with luscious sliced avocado and more hot sauce.
    LEARNING THE ROPES
    For a more deluxe dish, substitute your favorite guacamole spiked with hot sauce for the sliced avocado, then dunk the wings in the guacamole before devouring. Holy hell, indeed!

Skewered Chicken
    I ’m in