Chicken Thighs, Caramelize, Carbonize & Army Guys

Much to my culinary surprise, I have discovered (thanks to my pal at work) that I am a fan of chicken thighs. I love me the juicy quarter-portions of skin-on bone-in dark meat!

I am surprised because I always assumed I was a fan of the white meat, like the breasts and the loins. Some assumption, perhaps, acquired in youth and never questioned or challenged. An assumption that often led to disappointment and despair as my mouth closed in around a tough dry slab of pale bird sinew.

Thighs, however, simmering under sizzling skin, wallowing in marrow, slathered ever-so-slightly in spicy southern sauce... Good lord, I'm stuffed and I still want more.

The balance of low but direct heat is important, but the application of sauce is the key. If I'm not using my own sauce, I'm usually reaching for a store-bought bottle with a picture of a fat black man on the front. If your store-bought sauce does not come with a picture of a fat black man on the label, it is not fit for consumption and you should just throw it away.

BBQ sauces, however, are very delicate things. Most have a high sugar content, which when exposed to heat can very easily become a thin chicken exoskeleton of bitter-tasting carbon, and no one wants that.

So, time and attention must be paid to the bird bits and the flame. For me, the thighs go on pink-flesh-down, leaving the rendering skin on top. That allows the melting fat to seep into the meat. I use no sauce at this point, only sesame oil, salt and pepper. After what seems like an eternity, with the meat nearly cooked, the thighs get flipped once, skin-side-down to crispin the skin. The very first dab of sauce is applied to the fleshy parts near the end of this cycle.

The meat is then flipped again, but only for a short time with the heat turned low, as the sauce is now exposed to flame. Time must be given to caramelize the sauce, but great care must be taken to avoid carbonizing it. The skin-up side must also receive its first saucing at this time as well.

I usually follow up with a couple more sauce dabs and 30-second flips until each piece is thick and sticky all over with reddish-brown glory.

And tonight, they turned out perfectly. The clouds parted this afternoon, the breeze was soft, and as the sun set, I sat on the upper deck, bathed in billowing chicken smoke. The beads of skin fat dripped in rhythm, "tizz tizz tizz," onto the hot coals below. The meat was on its first cycle, and there was no sauce to worry about. So, I sat and re-read my 179-page camera manual for the 6th or 7th time.

I do this now and then, skimming over the sections long-since digested. I try to pick out new things each time, like Auto Exposure Lock, White Balance Compensation and User-Defined Style Settings...

The chicken bits sizzled, and my mind wandered away to thoughts of my next photo project. Hearkening back to the 4th grade, and taking inspiration form the dead squirrel photo from last week, I imagine constructing a diorama in box, and staging craftily-lit macro shots of various 12-inch action figures and fashion dolls in unnervingly compromised positions...

But I was reminded by this, of my frustration recently in finding the necessary props. I mean, what the hell, they don't make 12 inch GI Joes anymore??

By then, however, it was getting dark and the meat was mostly done. It was time to crisp the skin. So, I closed my camera manual, grabbed my sauce mop and lifted the lid on the grill.