Chicken + Waffles + Booze = Inhalation
If you’ve not been turned on to the allure of the goodness that is chicken and waffles, now is your chance. Sweet and salty get sweaty in a tryst that goes hard through breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’m talking a slow jam of culinary perfection, with lacy spiced chicken batter playing against the buttery maple goodness of pecan waffles. It’s everything good on a plate, and well worth heating up some oil and firing up the waffle iron.
I like to get my waffle on as soon as possible, so I go with chicken tenders for faster cooking, and a syrup remix that is partially homemade and partially drunk. Yep, booze is invited to the party. You can’t be surprised. It’s my kitchen we’re talking about. Continue reading Buttermilk Fried Chicken with Butter Pecan Waffles
Your Aioli is Showing
Call me crazy, but could aioli be one of the sexiest substances of all time? Is it because Teddy Pendegrass is playing in the background that I am feel the love for humble eggs and oil coaxed into lusciousness? Because as far as I am concerned, aioli, when I look at you, it’s time for love (so baby, get ready)! Continue reading Fried Plantains and Cilantro Aioli
The Colonel never did anything for me growing up – to this day, I am wedded to the addictive blend of herbs and spices that form a layer of lipsmacking goodness around the crisp skinned chickens roasted at the Peruvian joints in Northern Virginia (or for us OGs, two up – two down*) And I’m lying when I say joints, for there is only one location that has my heart, and that’s El Pollo Rico. The exterior of the restaurant looks like a nondescript warehouse with bumping fluorescent lighting and a steady clip of customers zipping in and emerging with styrofoam containers and brown paper bags almost translucent from the french fry grease. Like a speakeasy for chicken, my dad would always run in, broker the deal and grab the bounty, returning with parcels that perfumed the car with the scent of cumin, garlic and majesty. When we finally got home and tucked into the feast, it was scandalously good – the chicken was served with fat steak fries, and both items would receive a ceremonial dip in a mustard/mayo sauce and then a dollop of fresh minced jalapenos before making it to my greedy mouth. And if I was lucky (really lucky), they’d still have fried yucca in stock, which we’d bring home in lieu of the fries. Cracklingly golden on the outside and tender in the center, this was the first preparation I’d ever had for yucca and I was sold for life. In fact, I loved it so much that I had to find a way to prepare it at home – I couldn’t wait for trips to the right coast to get my yucca fix. Continue reading Fried Yucca with Mojo Criollo