Category: breakfast

Breaking Bread

Simple.
Simple.

Bread is elemental. Flour, water, salt, yeast: that’s it.

And yet.

Some of my best memories are wrapped around these four ingredients. The details are, as always, blurry-edged and cloudy, but the fragrance of baking bread is sharp and distinct in my mind. Something inside me unclenches every time  I gather bread-making ingredients and tools.

Funny thing about memory, though. Bread may have only four ingredients, but the success is in the practice/process. Time. Temperature. Precision (or not). In my memories of bread, as in all my memories, there is very little true understanding, in this case of what exactly it takes to make a perfect loaf of whatever I am making. I remember flat bread that shouldn’t have been and gummy, underbaked insides when the knocking technique just doesn’t quite work.

I come to bake bread when my brain won’t settle. When there is too much of something troubling, or happy-making, or any other too much of something floating around, making all other thinking impossible. When I need to get my hands into something that feels grounding and real and practical and not up-in-the-clouds where I usually reside.

Flour, water, salt, yeast. Hands in dough. Meditation. Kneading. Resting. Baking.

But as I am usually distracted and elsewhere in the brain when I settle into the practice of bread, my bread always seems to not…quite…work. Close. But not quite.

This seems to be the rule when it comes to distraction for me (maybe you, too). A temporary relief from whatever needs to be put away for a time, good or bad, but then whenever that distraction – bread, shopping, TV, whateverthefuck – is done, the thing you avoid comes roaring back.

“[People] can starve from a lack of self-realization as they can from lack of bread.” ~Richard Wright~

So the solution seems to be to focus as much on the bread as The Thing, not just as a distraction from The Other Thing. Not as an escape. #WhereeverYouGoThereYouAre

This morning I woke with Paris and chocolate and cafe au lait and love and baguettes on my mind. I give in, Universe. I give in to allofthethings, and I have made you bread.

Baguettes

NOTE: These are, as ever, gluten-free. Gluten-filled recipes for bread abound on the interwebs, and because it’s bread it is highly unlikely that merely swapping out regular AP or bread flours will work. 

Ingredients

250 grams (about 2 cups) gluten-free all purpose flour (or another one, but note that the recipe may not quite work. Avoid bean flours, as usual)

25 grams (about 1/4 cup) almond meal

3 T. powdered milk

1 T. xanthan gum

1 t. salt

2 room-temperature egg whites

2 T. olive oil

1/2 t. apple cider vinegar

3/4 c. warm (80 – 100 degrees) water

2 1/4 t. rapid-rise yeast (one packet)

egg wash (use the leftover egg yolks with a little water, an egg white with water, or skip this step)

spray bottle with water

Method

Preheat oven to 200 degrees.

In a small bowl, whisk together flour, almond meal, powdered milk, xanthan gum, and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the whip attachment (or in a big bowl), combine egg whites, olive oil, vinegar, and water. Add flour mixture in and mix to combine, then add yeast and mix for two more minutes.

If you are not using a stand mixer, beat the crap out of the dough for as long as you possibly can. It will be stiff and sticky. #ThatsWhatSheSaid

At this point, you can prepare one of two types of pans:

  1. Fancypants baguette pan lined with parchment, which is really how it ought to be done except most people don’t have those and don’t want to get those because they are really only good for one thing (baguettes) and ain’t nobody got time for that.
  2. Plain old cookie sheet lined with lightly greased parchment paper. Errbody got time for that.

“Shaping” this dough is less like shaping and more like piping. There is no kneading because there is no gluten to develop, and the dough will be like very thick cake batter. Pour a splash of olive oil into a large freezer bag, then scoop the dough into the bag. Seal, then cut off one corner of the bag and pipe the baguettes into the pan you have prepared. This makes one big baguette or two thinner, smaller baguettes. Obvi, the size of the hole you cut out will determine the width of your baguettes and the cooking time. #KeepThatInMind

Brush the top of the loaves with egg wash if using, then use a very sharp knife to cut two or three diagonal slashes on the top of the bread. Place the loaves in the preheated-turned off oven for 30 minutes to rise.

Clean up your kitchen, surf the interwebs, navel gaze, meditate, write a letter to someone and mail it, call your mom, take a shower…whatever. There is nothing that really needs to be done while the bread is rising.

Remove bread and preheat oven to 375 degrees (regular oven) or 350 degrees (convection oven). Put bread back in the oven, spraying it with water as you close the door.

Baking times? Meh. They vary. 

I bake mine for ten minutes, spray, bake for ten minutes, spray, bake for ten minutes, spray, then let it go until it is beautifully brown. I have also been known to stick a toothpick in this bread, or use my beautiful new instant-read thermometer to make sure it is cooked in the middle (an issue for all bread but especially for gluten-free varieties).

Remove from the pan and cool on a rack.

Serve warm with tons of butter or Brie. Consider bringing this and a cup of hot chocolate to your darling child who is STILL SLEEPING, or maybe your lover if you are A) lucky enough to have one who will appreciate it, and B) they are within arm’s reach.

“A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.” ~Omar Khayyam~

What is elemental for you? 

Cream Cheese Tarts With Lemon Marmalade

It’s winter. Not the depths of winter, technically, but we are supposed to get a foot of snow in three short days, so here in Baltimore, we are IN IT.

I love winter. It’s annoyingly true. While others grumble about snow days and kids staying home, I like nothing better than to have The Teenager all to myself for the day. Last year at the height of the storm during the Blizzard That Shut Down Baltimore we hiked down to Golden West for the Lisa Marie (a pancake with a strip of bacon fried in it, topped with peanut butter butter – not a typo, a real thing -and served with maple syrup), plus hashbrowns for good measure. We let the dogs run up and down the alley, off leash, until they found a kitty and chased it, then we made snow angels in the middle of the road.

So snow days are my thing.

Especially when you have this just lying around in your cabinet:

Marmalade

This is a jar of epic, three-day organic lemon marmalade that I made last week. It is tart and sweet and faintly bitter from the pith that gives it the pectin to set up all by itself.

I have five of these. That’s a lot for two people to eat, one of whom doesn’t actually like lemon marmalade. Logical choice, for me, is a lemon cream cheese tart. Individual tarts because a whole tart is too much but maybe individual ones will be more manageable.

An easy, gluten-free pie crust, a luscious, creamy, whipped cream and cream cheese filling, and a thin layer of juicy lemon marmalade. Drizzling it with chocolate may be overkill, but I am going there.

Come with me.

Cream Cheese Tarts With Lemon Marmalade

Crust Ingredients

5 tablespoons butter (softened)

1/4 cup sugar

1 room temperature egg

1 cup AP flour (I used gluten-free)

1/2 teaspoon salt

Method

Cream butter and sugar with a hand mixer until smooth. Add egg and incorporate thoroughly. Combine flour and salt in a small bowl and then add into the wet mixture a little at a time until it is just mixed. Shape dough into a ball, then wrap in plastic and flatten. Pop in the ‘fridge and chill for an hour.

When it’s chilled, remove from ‘fridge and flour your work surface. Turn out dough and roll until it is between 1/8″ and 1/4″ thick (I use a wine bottle to roll, but I suppose a regular old rolling pin would work as well). For individual tarts, you could rush out and spend lots of cash on individual tart pans, or you could grab some wide-mouthed Mason jar lids and flip the lid so the metal faces up in the center of the ring (instead the white underside).

MiniTarts

Place your tart dough in the lid, pressing lightly into and up the sides of the ring. Make sure you make your dough circles just a bit wider than the ring so that there is enough dough to go all the way up to the top of the metal ring.

TartCrust

This recipe made eight of the wide-mouthed lids and three of the regular lids. Perfect if you have small children who need an even smaller tart. Chill in the freezer for half an hour (wrap lightly in plastic wrap).

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake mini crusts until lightly browned and dry, about 15 minutes (about 30 minutes for a full-sized tart). Keep an eye on them. If they start to bubble up, you can prick them lightly with a fork, or you can line each crust with aluminum foil and use pie weights to prevent bubbling (or just use rice. I use the same rice over and over. I let the rice cool after each use then store it in a jar for the next time. This lasts indefinitely, or until you move and decide to throw it out.). Your crust should be a lovely golden brown color. If you are using pie weights or rice, remove them in the last few minutes so the whole crust can brown.

Let crusts cool completely while you make the filling.

Filling Ingredients

1 8-ounce bar of cream cheese, softened

1/4 cup of sugar

1 cup of whipping cream, whipped until it forms peaks

optional: 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and one tablespoon of sugar to add to whipping cream

Method

Cream the cream cheese and the sugar together until fully mixed. Whip the whipping cream (and optional sugar and vanilla extract) in a separate bowl until the cream forms stiff peaks. Beat the cream cheese and the whipped cream together. Spoon into cooled crusts and chill for at least an hour.

Tarts in waiting

Top with your topping of choice and chill for another 30 minutes. I am using lemon marmalade, about a tablespoon per tart, but guess what? Jam of any sort would be delicious, or slather the tops with hot fudge sauce. If you do that, be sure and finish with a bit of fleur de sels.

Tarts

To serve, unmold from the Mason jar rings. You should be able to slide the tart off the lid, but if not, serve it with a dollop of whipped cream, a smile, and a strong cup of black coffee.

Spring is just around the corner.

Persimmon Polenta Cake With Rosemary And Lemon

Seriously, the sun-swept fields of Italy on a plate.
Seriously, the sun-swept fields of Italy on a plate.

Today, unexpectedly, a new(ish) friend told me about something traumatic happening in her family.

I was giving her a ride home, and when she strapped herself into the passenger seat of the Cube she began to talk, surprising herself, even, at what she was revealing. She apologized for laying it all out in the open.

I told her it was the Cube that had that effect, that the boxy walls and ripple pattern on the ceiling often caused The Teenager to open up. Some of our best conversations have happened in the Cube.

In fact, some of my best conversations, period, have happened in cars. It’s where it took me 30 minutes to ask for my first bra. Where I fell in love with the man I thought I was supposed to marry, and then again where I realized there was no way we could be together. And then a car brought Dane and I together when he rescued me from the body shop where my new-to-me-car was deemed dangerous to drive. He swooped me up in his tow truck, just another type of vehicle, and laughed, outraged, when I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.

And then a car took him. But I digress.

What struck me about my friend sharing her traumatic event (which is not mine to tell, so suffice it to say it is beyond what most of us will have to deal with in our lives) is twofold.

First, that she trusted me enough to share it. But then again I guess cars do that. You are trapped, even by your seat belt, and it’s like you have no choice.

And second, what a burden secrets are to the keeper.

We all of us walk around with secrets, large and small. Secrets we keep from others. Secrets we keep from ourselves.

So potent and powerful, this secret keeping.

My friend’s timing was, as usual, impeccable. In sharing her secret and seeming visibly relieved and unburdened, she reminded me of two things.

One: You never know what burdens other people are walking around with.

It’s easy to make so many of our daily experiences about ourselves – the unkind word, the slow driver, the glare from a stranger – but often they have nothing to do with us. We are, in truth, the center of our own universe, but the universe does not actually revolve around us.

(Get it? Revolve around us? Solar system humor).

We can cultivate a fine sense of outrage about the many things that happen to us, even when so many of them are actually happening to others on the periphery of our little world with some spilling over on us. Then we get fired up and let that interaction shape our world when, turns out…it was never about us.

Two: The time has come for me to unburden myself of my own secrets. 

Some are quite dark and have been a part of me for my entire life. Others are small, hidden creatures that just need a little light.

Shadow work, they call it. It sounds dark and hard and scary, and it is those things. It means confronting potentially the most painful things about myself, but it also means rolling them around in my hands and then letting them go. Letting them be.

Heady stuff for a Tuesday, and not quite what I expected to come out of a simple ride home.

As we were getting ready to part, my friend said in passing and in reference to my recent (welcome) onslaught of paid work that had seen me badly neglecting my unpaid work – this site, recipe development, food writing, and photography – “Yes, but you make CAKE.”

And that is exactly true.

Cake is a comfort to me, in the making, the sharing, and the eating. I love pretty much everything about cake; it may even have surpassed my love of chocolate candy, which is saying something.

There is nothing new in a polenta cake, but this one has a few special touches. I developed this the way the very best recipes are developed: by listening to the ingredients themselves in the season in which they are intended to be eaten. I bought a few fuyu persimmons at Asia Food (my favorite Asian market off York Road) and started thinking about how I might like to eat them. Raw was of course always an option, but I wanted more. A quick search led me to a recipe for blood orange upside down cake. Some tweaks to highlight the ingredients, fine-tune measurements (and get rid of some sugar), and make it gluten-free, and this is what you have. Mad props to the process in the original recipe; the inspirational recipe was lovely, and I can’t claim this as my own.

#GiveCreditWhereItsDue

I immediately shared it with another friend and made sure The Teenager had a hunk after school, but I won’t lie: I ate most of it.

This cake is for everyone out there doing the shadow work, and for my sweet friend whose world has been flipped on its head. This cake is for you.

Persimmons in cast iron - rustic as hell.
Persimmons in cast iron – rustic as hell.

A few notes before you begin:

  • Read through completely before beginning, and utilize the principles of mise en place. It will make the process much more enjoyable (in life as well as baking, if we’re being honest)
  • Dry goods are measured in grams. Otherwise, you have imprecise measurements like “six tablespoons.” But don’t worry; I have included those as well.
  • Persimmons should be ripe but not mushy. This makes them easier to peel and slice. And mandolins make slicing easier but are not 100% necessary.
  • I used grits, not “polenta.” When we lived in the south, I went searching for polenta in the grocery store one day, and the clerk looked over his glasses, down his nose, and drawled, “Y’all mean grits, raht?” If you want to save some cash, use grits. Polenta is a little finer, and it is, after all, in the title of this, but I like the slight toothiness of grits. A little crunch.

Persimmon Polenta Cake With Rosemary And Lemon

Ingredients

75 grams of sugar, plus 150 grams of sugar (6 tablespoons plus 3/4 cup)

3 tablespoons water

8 tablespoons butter (one stick), softened

3 Fuyu persimmons, ripe but firm, peeled and sliced 1/8″ thick

110 grams gluten-free all-purpose flour (regular AP works fine here, too. 3/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons)

45 grams polenta (or grits, y’all. 1/4 cup)

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped rosemary (about 1 sprig)

zest of one lemon

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large eggs, separated

6 tablespoons milk

Method

Prep all ingredients first. Peel and slice persimmons, zest the lemon, finely chop the rosemary, separate eggs. The sugar is used in two separate steps, so divide it as noted.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a 10″ cast iron or ovenproof skillet, dissolve 75 grams of sugar in water and heat until the mixture becomes slightly amber in color (about five minutes). Don’t stir during this process, but feel free to give the skillet a little shake. Don’t walk away, as the change happens quickly. Once it is amber, remove from heat and stir in two tablespoons of butter until dissolved.

Arrange the peeled, sliced persimmons in a spiral pattern and then set aside while you make the cake.

Combine the dry ingredients in a small bowl: flour, polenta, salt, baking powder, chopped rosemary, and lemon zest.

In a large bowl, cream the butter, remaining sugar, and vanilla until creamy. Mix in one egg yolk at a time. Alternate adding milk and dry ingredients, starting with dry. Mix until just combined, then add milk, then dry, then milk, then dry.

In a medium bowl with absolutely clean and dry beaters, beat the egg whites until they are stiff but not dry. They will be shiny and hold a stiff peak.

In three additions, fold the egg whites gently into the batter. The batter will be thicker than a regular cake batter.

Pour over your persimmons in the skillet, then spread evenly with a spatula.  Bake at 350 for 30-45 minutes. This is a large range because ovens vary so much. Start peeking in at around 30 minutes. The cake is done when a toothpick or cake tester comes out clean, and the top is a lovely brown (just past golden).

Remove from oven and allow to cool for 10 minutes, then loosen around edges with a sharp knife. Place a platter or plate on top of the skillet, then carefully invert. If any persimmons have moved or look wonky, replace them, then cool completely before serving.

For me, this serves four. But that’s because I ate it for breakfast, a snack around three, and then again after dinner. And I let my kid have some.

For most other people, this serves 8-10.

 

On Writing, Friendship, And The Perfect Pumpkin Doughnut

We probably could have used some doughnuts. #RoughNight


“The urge to write has to be stronger and more compelling than the belief that no one wants to hear your stories.”

I woke up this morning after a wretched night of sleep with this thought fully formed in my head. It was such a revelation to me, so astonishing in its truth, simplicity, and application to my current stage of life that I felt compelled to write it down and share it, thus proving the message itself.

Developing recipes, learning everything as I go (including some very basic cooking skills), finding new culinary projects: that has never been hard.

The hard part, as with everything I have written about life and grief and death and yoga and parenting, is the overwhelming doubt that anyone gives a rat’s ass about what I have to say.

I will pause here to assure my three loyal readers that I am not looking for encouragement or a pat on the back. 

The point is that the act of creation – of food, of words, of art – has to be so terrifyingly urgent as to make incomprehensibly unimportant the doubt of reaching an audience who cares. 

Creation doesn’t care about click-throughs, page views, and bounce rate.

(that has the rhythm of a poem to me)

What cares about those things is doubt, fear, and the thought that someone has done it first, better, and simply MORE than I have now or will ever be able to.

Creation doesn’t care because succeeding at the perfect pastry creme (ongoing) or developing a perfect gluten-free pasta (starting this week) is its own reward.

I continue to struggle daily with the feeling that my writing is not good enough and doesn’t matter, and I continue to try and do it anyway. I am learning, and this is always good.

And frustrating and infuriating and slow. 

But still.

Creation is its own reward. That, and a spicy pumpkin doughnut. Made especially for my oldest friend in the world, Kerry.

Yes, I know. Two doughnut recipes in a week. 

But Saturday we went thrift store shopping, and after tasting my apple cider doughnut, Kerry requested a pumpkin doughnut. Today is National Pumpkin Pie Day, a made-up holiday if there ever was one, but certainly better than celebrating the impending doom of 1.5 million indigenous people on this day in 1492 (or thereabouts). Other sources say it’s National Pumpkin Day or National Pumpkin Cheesecake Day, so split the difference and make these.

Kerry has been with me for my most joyful and tragic moments. Also some of my most drunken and ridiculous, which were sometimes connected to the most joyful moments. From in-school suspension together in middle school for a “food fight” consisting of throwing one piece of corn to midnight rides to being one of the first to arrive when my husband died in 2013 and the only friend to drop everything at the death of my father, Kerry has been in it with me from nearly as long as I can remember, not only listening to my stories but also creating a few right along with me. 

Seems like a doughnut is a small thing to ask for, yes?

This doughnut is for Kerry, the person who, no matter how ridiculous they are, not only always wants to hear all my stories but also wants All. The. Details.

Share this with a friend who is like this, then tell me all about them in the comments below.

Spicy Pumpkin Doughnuts

Ingredients

Doughnuts:
2 eggs
1 stick butter, room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup milk
1 tsp. vinegar 
1/2 cup pumpkin puree (NOT pie filling)
3 tsp. vanilla extract (you could also do a maple extract here)
1 3/4 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour blend
1/4 cup oat flour OR almond meal
1/2 tsp. xanthan gum (optional if your blend already has it. I use it anyway) 
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 T ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt 
1 tsp ginger 
1/2 tsp. ground clove 
1/2 tsp. allspice
1 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp. cloves

Topping:
1 stick melted butter
1/2 cup sugar 
1 T cinnamon 1/2 tsp each ground ginger, clove, nutmeg, and allspice


Method:

Preheat oven to 400 and grease two doughnut pans (either full size or mini).

Before you begin, combine the milk and the vinegar to make a buttermilk, of sorts. I chose this method over purchasing buttermilk because most people don’t have buttermilk handy. If you do, feel free to substitute 1/2 cup of buttermilk. If not, add the vinegar to the milk and let sit for 10 minutes.

In a small bowl, combine the following dry ingredients: flours, baking soda and powder, salt, and spices.

In a medium bowl or stand mixer, cream the butter and sugar together until fluffy. Add eggs and beat, then add vanilla, milk mixture, and pumpkin puree. Beat until combined, then add the flour and continuing mixing until it is smooth (just a minute or two).

If you have a pastry bag, use that to pipe the batter into the waiting doughnut tins. If not, scoop the batter into a Ziploc baggie, snip off a corner, and use that to pipe the batter into the tins. Fill about halfway up.

Bake for eight to ten minutes. Doughnuts are ready when they spring back from a light touch.

Turn out onto a wire rack. As soon as they are just cool enough to handle, dip each doughnut into melted butter and then roll in spicy sugar mixture. 

These may keep, but I have no experience with them lasting past noon on the day they are made, so let me know if they do.

Recipe notes:

  • Doughnuts are just as delicious without the sugar topping, and you can also just use it for the top if you want to keep sugar in check.
  • Initially I planned on frosting these with a cream cheese frosting instead of the sugar did not. That’s the next iteration.



Waffles: Easy Like Sunday Morning. And Afternoon

Pillowy goodness, all Sunday long. (image source)

I don’t know what it is about Sunday.

When I wake up on Sunday, I have no plans past coffee. The paper shows up on the doorstep, I ignore my computer, let the dogs out, and drink coffee on the back porch with them as they greet the world.

This is the Sabbath to me. A true day of rest that begins with simple pleasures. The Teenager and I used to turn all screens off on Sundays, but with school in full effect (and football season underway), that’s not always possible. So we aim for a minimum of social media and focus on the real world.

In general, all of the striving and stress and work of the week is done for me, and I look forward to a long day of nothing.

Except waffles.

Pancakes and muffins are for Saturdays, but Sunday means waffles.

Crispy on the outside, soft and steamy on the inside. I eat the first one off the iron with my hands before the lid is even closed on the second one. Drenched in maple syrup, spread with Nutella, or oozing with homemade apple butter. Sometimes, truthfully, delightfully plain. It is brunch-y goodness.

But here’s my recent discovery: play your cards right, and you can eat waffles all day long. One recipe, minor modifications, and you have brunch and football snacks all in one. 

Regular sweet waffles in the morning with whatever toppings make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Then in the afternoon? What about the afternoon?

Chicken and waffles, friend.

Someone has actually looked into the history of chicken and waffles, but all you really need to know is this: it is pretty much the best thing you can put in your face on a Sunday afternoon. I like mine with a fried chicken breast (easier to eat, and ease is the rule. Purists insist on the bone. I do not.), a copious drizzle of honey-sriracha sauce, and pickled banana peppers or onions or maybe an apple slaw with vinegar and jalapeno. 

None of these things take long to make. Five minutes, max, made while the waffles are cooking.

Easy like Sunday morning. And afternoon. As it should be.

Basic waffles

As ever, this recipe is gluten-free, but you can certainly use gluten-packed regular all-purpose flour if you’d like. 

Ingredients

2 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour blend
1/2 tsp. salt
1 T sugar (use 2 T if you are skipping the savory recipe)
3 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 cups milk
2 eggs, beaten
4 T oil (you can use butter, melted and cooled, but oil is easier)
1 tsp vanilla (sweet version only)

In a medium bowl, mix the first four ingredients (the dry). In a small bowl, combine the last four ingredients (including vanilla if you are only having sweet waffles) and mix until totally combined. Add the wet to dry ingredients and stir until they are no longer lumpy.  I use a whisk and beat out any remaining frustrations from the week. #Smile #Breathe

SAVORY VARIATION

At this point, if you are planning on waffles for brunch and chicken and waffles for football snacks, move half of the waffle batter to a separate container and add 2 T chopped chives or scallions (chives give a less intense zing) and a generous grind or three of black pepper. 

Optional: up to one cup of grated cheese of your choosing. Cheese for me is gilding the lily, so I wouldn’t use it for chicken and waffles. Maybe with a burger and a fried egg. 

Cook the waffles according to the directions on your waffle maker (they all vary, so me giving directions for mine is pointless. You know your own tools, so go with your instincts on this one). Cook the sweet waffles first, then the savory. In my waffle maker, this makes six to eight waffles, depending on how diligent I am with getting equal amounts ladled for each waffle.

When it’s time for chicken and waffles, here are a few tips:

  • Set up a breading station. Pat the chicken breasts dry. Dip into cornstarch, then a beaten egg, then a mixture of gluten-free all-purpose flour (or almond meal is delicious here) that is seasoned with salt and pepper. Let sit in the ‘fridge while the oil heats.
  • Keep frying oil at 350 degrees. This ensures a crisp coating AND cooked chicken.
  • A medium-sized chicken breast takes between ten and 15 minutes to cook. I am not above cutting one open to check. I find taking an internal temperature to be a messy and dangerous proposition, so I do a visual check.

Serve these with a sauce that is equal parts honey and sriracha, or try a sauce of yogurt, Dijon mustard, and a touch of honey. Or drizzle the whole thing with maple syrup. #YourChoice

What’s your Sunday go-to for brunch and football?