GIRLFRIEND CHICKEN

Preface: This recipe is being written by a guy who is, at present, eating cold chinese food right out of the box. I'd probably be using my hands if there wasn't a fork already on the counter. If you're anything like me, this is kind of your ground state. Put on a little L&O, take off your shirt, debate getting a beer, decide you're too lazy, etc. But there's a problem with this rock and roll lifestyle - the ladies despise it more than anything else in the world. If you get a lady that is okay with this kind of thing, she is either totally crazy or basically perfect. But that is a "blog" "post" for a different day.

SO, if we ever want a girlfriend ever, we've gotta prove that we're not fat lazy sacks of shit. Now, there are all kinds of ways a dude can go about wooing a lady. I don't know any of them. Mostly I just wait around at parties waiting for someone else to be the first one to lower their standards. But I do know that when a girl thinks you're a fat lazy sack of shit, pulling out a five-star complicated-sounding recipe, and cooking the hell out of it, serves to cross the wires just long enough that you might be able to mumble a few appropriate phrases and seal the deal. (I don't know what that means)

Another good thing about this recipe is that the flavours are strong enough that you can drink almost any wine with it and not have it be terrible. (I lived with a girl who was a wine snob once, and this would probably make her roll over in her grave. If so, friggin' awesome: I'm glad she's dead, and happier still that even in the afterlife she can find no peace)

Now, how do we get such flavours from a humble chicken that a glass of beaujolais on the table wouldn't be more out of place than a hipster riding a harley? Two words, man: Skin and Bones. You wanna get some chicken thighs, with the bone in them and the skin on them. Skinless, boneless breasts are the worst thing you can eat. It's like being invited to a church dinner in Iowa where they serve you hunks of burned styrofoam. There's no excitement, save for wondering why the lady in the back had enough styrofoam to feed 40 people. Skin and bones bring flavour to the party, like if some dude showed up and got the whole church convinced to buy musical instruments, or alternatively, mentioned that he was gay. Both situations would end in excitement of some variety.

Chicken thighs also have the added benefit of being cheap as hell, so you can afford to hide the box and pretend that you drink wine out of bottles all the time. I've heard that this goes a long way. If you're standing at the ATM with less than $20 in checking, just steal a fancy-looking wine bottle from the recycling bin in an upscale subdivision, and fill it from the box. When she comes over and the wine is already open, say you're letting it breathe. This makes it seem like you are the kind of guy who regularly wears underwear, and uses "hair product."

Alright already, what's in this magical chicken marinade? Well, it's stupid simple. All you need is:

2 tbsp. balsamic vinegar

2 tbsp. dijon mustard

1/2 cup olive oil

2 crushed up cloves of garlic,

and a teaspoon each of rosemary, thyme, and oregano.

I also add a dash of salt and pepper.

These are basic ingredients. Even if you are a fat lazy sack of shit, you probably at least love to eat. I'd eat all day if I could. On the off chance that you don't have them in the house, pick them up at the wal-mart supercenter when you go to buy the condoms you'll never use. The whole list is still cheaper than a movie for one and eight boilermakers, and once you have the spices in your cabinet you'll feel their pull every time you sit there wishing subway delivered. You'll probably use them again! Spend the fifteen bucks, you cheap bastard!

So, mix all of the things I said together in a big bowl with a whisk. You gotta whisk the shit outta this stuff, so the olive oil gets all combined with everything else. The best thing is to make the marinade at like 11 a.m., and let the flavours combine for a while before you put your chicken parts in. You don't have a job anyway, so just do it whenever you wake up.

I gotta give credit where credit is due here, and thank my aunt for turning me on to this delicious marinade. I remembered basically what was in it, and it seems to work. Originally, this recipe was intended for lamb chops, but if you're at the lamb chop stage with a girl, just get them at a restaurant and let some poor ecuadorian guy handle the dishes. You'll need all your faculties later, when you two go out for drinks and you try to appear sane and stable for just one more night, sweet jesus, please don't let her find out about my collection of owl figurines, she is so pretty and I am so alone.

Anyway toss the chicken parts in to the bowl of brown stuff and mix them all around with your hands. Make sure the marinade gets in all the nooks and crannies and secret places. Let them sit in the bowl of marinade for a couple hours. Like, two. Or more. Whatever. If you don't have a bowl, you can use a small trashcan, if you wash it out real good.

After a couple hours, start the charcoal. If you have a propane grill, hang yourself. Propane is terrible. Assuming you use a charcoal chimney, you only wanna fill that sucker about 3/4 of the way. Low and slow with the heat is the name of the game here.

You want to have your briquettes covering about half of the bottom of the grill. Assuming you're doing like four to six thighs, you wanna park them little guys right near where the charcoal ends. Cover the grill, and let them cook for a good stretch. If you have a girl over, turn on the TV so she has something to do while you cook. I like to have a beer and an old National Geographic handy. The only way I know how to describe the timing on these little dudes is in terms of number of pictures looked at, so unless you got the April 1984 issue handy you're gonna have to play it by ear. If I had to guess, I'd say that five minutes should be good, for the first side.

You gotta be careful here, because when you grill chicken with skin on it, you're dealing with a bunch of delicious fat. It will start to render and drip off the meat, and can start fires in the bottom of the grill. This will give you gross burned chicken. If you get a bottom of the grill fire, just put the lid on and close the little vent for a while. It'll choke itself out.

After five to seven minutes, most of the loose fat will have probably dripped off. Take the top off the grill, flip over your chicken bits, and position them directly over the coals. Let 'em brown up a little, just don't let 'em burn. Crispy is good, crunchy is bad. Move 'em back off the coals, cover the grill, and get back to your Geographic. Basically you want to kind of dick with them every few minutes. Most of the meat cooking is going on when they're covered, but you ain't gonna get that crispy awesomeness without them spending some time right over the coals. After a couple more flip sessions, leave them over the coals to make sure you got a restaurant-lookin' exterior, check the biggest, thickest one for doneness (if the meat is pink and it bleeds, they aren't done) and serve them bitches up. Make sure you say that it's "A balsamic and mustard marinade, with rosemary, thyme and oregano." You'll sound like the kind of guy who will ask about her day. Make sure you say it in a down-to-earth manner, too, so it's clear you prepare this kind of meal all the time.

Serve it with some vegetables or some shit, and your box-to-bottle wine.

I've always thought that cooking is something you kind of have to figure out for yourself, no matter how many glossy-ass cookbooks you read. This recipe is no different from any other in that respect. Thighs are cheap, so if you fuck it up a couple times, so what? Cut the meat off the bones and feed it to the hounds. The hardest part to figure out is the grilling, because the first time you cook chicken with skin on, you realize it's a whole new ballgame. Never forget that horrifically burned skin is just thirty seconds away.

Oh, shit! I know what you should do! Once the chicken is cooked, move it all the way off the heat and grill up some pineapple slices. They taste good with this, and they make you look just all experienced as hell. It's a side dish that says "I'm such a badass, I grill fruit." I bet girls love that shit.