I look better with a tan. I don’t care how gauche you think I am to say it. My best friend is a dermatologist. I know about the dangers of sun exposure. My healthy fear of melanoma aside, I am also a Vanity Smurf. I realize too much sun is bad and can render you a blotchy, freckly, ginger hag who has been living in the Canary Islands sans SPF for twenty plus years (I have given this alter ego the name of Mrs. Rathbone). No woman wants a face like a moccasin. Nor do I believe does any man. This is why I always slather myself with sunscreen. Still, the fact remains. I look better with a tan. For me, a tawny complexion is tantamount to instantly losing five pounds. It also makes one’s teeth look whiter. Who in Britain wouldn’t want that?
The first time I met the man I had no idea would be my husband, I was so swarthy he thought I was Brazilian. I wasn’t. I’m not. Though I had just spent two weeks in the Caribbean drinking caipirinhas with my family, building sandcastles with my baby sister, and soaking up the sun.
Ah, the sun. The glorious sun.
Under the Sicilian sun, my husband and I had our beginnings. For me, this heat will always be romanticized. When life in London gets too cold and dreary or I‘ve gone as sallow as a Dickensian orphan, this Sicilian ideal is where I go in my mind. One of the things that helps me get there is a dish we’ve dubbed Swarthy Chicken. For us, it’s evocative of that glowing tan I had the first time I noticed how much I loved my future husband’s nose in profile. It reminds us of the day we sat reading next to each other poolside, ignorant to what was written in the stars, under a sea of bougainvillea on the grounds of a 17th century mansion overlooking the Mediterranean. Swarthy Chicken is for magical realists because one serving of this dish can transport you to our sultry jasmine-scented Sicily. But only if you believe.
The recipe is as follows:
Preheat your oven to 225 Celsius. You want it to have all the heat of Mount Etna when she roars.
Next, slice a large yellow onion into thin rounds. Lay these rounds at the bottom of an earthenware casserole. Be sure to use some sort of enameled ceramic dish. Only philistines use glass or tin. My favorites are either a Le Creuset lasagne dish or a pretty Italian Majolica piece. Both are built in fire and can handle fire. Add two thinly sliced red, yellow or orange bell peppers. Make them thin, but do not julienne. Now smash four garlic cloves and scatter them amongst the other vegetable ruins.
Take 8-10 chicken thighs. Thighs are inexpensive, moist, full of flavor and most importantly, they can withstand long cooking at high heat. Rub the chicken pieces with butter. Be generous. Use the butter as if it were the chicken’s sunscreen. Add a light drizzle of olive oil then liberally salt, pepper, and sprinkle with spicy smoked paprika. This will add a fiery oaky flavor to the dish that will hearken back to the Aragonese invasion of Sicily.
Bake for 20-30 minutes. The skin should be crisp and brown. The onions should be caramelized with a few charred bits as if seared to seal in deliciousness by Etna herself. Roll the chicken pieces in the savory drippings to keep moist.
Turn down the oven to 175 Celsius and bake for another 15 minutes.
Roll the chicken thighs in their juices and add a splash of good Marsala wine. Bake for another 15 minutes so the alcohol cooks off but the flavor remains. Terre Arse is the brand we use in our house. My husband swears it tastes of Sicily’s past. Perhaps he fought against the French during the War of Vespers in another life? I have no idea. But I take most of what he says, especially about wine, to heart. The oranges, cinnamon and pistachios that the Arabs brought to Sicily 1,000 years ago are very present in this fortified wine’s flavor notes and you will definitely be able to taste them in your gravy. Let us not forget Marsala is Arabic for Port of Allah. And it is from Allah (or at least his port) that Marsala must come as it really is the most otherworldly emulsifier. It pulls together all the elements of this dish—the smoke and the spice of the paprika, the oak of the casks that aged the wine, the sweetness of the caramelized onions and peppers—to create the richest, most fragrant gravy.
Before serving, throw in a handful of roughly chopped green Sicilian olives. My favorite are the giant meaty ones from Puglia that are so sweet and fruity, one could mistake them for cherries.
Serve atop basmati rice, turn on the Nino Rota and you’re there. Swarthy in Sicily that is.
‘No woman wants a face like a moccasin’. You crack me up, CP!
Well, it’s true! In high school, I had an Australian swim coach who looked a bit like a loafer as the result of obvious skincare neglect. Which was a shame because she was very nice woman. I may have been 15 but that was an object lesson instantly learned.
You are too funny. A loafer! I have the funniest picture in my mind!
Does it look a bit like this but after 35+ years of wear?
Uncannily EXACTLY like that. But talking at the same time! Eeek.
Everyone looks better with a tan……unless they’re like me and turn red and peel. I also loved the face like a moccasin line. 🙂
So you don’t tan. Still, I bet you look quite fetching from under the wide brim of an elegant sun hat.
This sounds really good! So glad to see you used thighs in the recipe. They’ve so much more flavor than breasts and will remain moist, even when faced with “the heat of Mount Etna.” 🙂
John, you’re a man who knows his stuff. Thighs are the ultimate.
Love to hear stories about how food brings back very distinct sensory memories. Your chicken sounds fabulous–and sexy! lol. Always looking for good chicken thigh recipes, so thanks 🙂
Mmm. . . sexy swarthy chicken. I like that.
Loved the recipe but preferred the brilliant preamble. No question that we look better with a tan, we just look silly getting it 🙂
That’s why you need to tan somewhere with a high garden wall or lots of tall ancient trees.
The best title for a food blog post …ever. So glad to have found Chagrinnamon Toast – now have a big grin on my face.
I am so glad! Welcome!
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This. is. Delicious.
I’m so glad you think so. Picked up a great summer salad recipe in Trapani. Will share it soon.