#Portuguese #Peri-Peri #Chicken
Portuguese Peri-Peri Chicken
#Portuguese #Peri-Peri #Chicken
This time calls for a comfortable dinner, which will warm the kitchen when I open the oven door. Roasted chicken with crispy potatoes will serve me well. I will find comfort in the kitchen, warming up every time I brush the chicken. I'm going to throw the layers of blankets and sweaters that are draped over my body when my fingers and toes meet the hot air. The potatoes start to crackle under the heat of the oven and my senses will be overwhelmed by the aroma of spices, garlic and lemon. And once the timer on my oven obnoxiously signals it's time, I'll be ready.
I'm going to rip the sticky, crunchy skin off the chicken, exposing the tender, juicy meat tucked under it. I love chicken skin and I realized that it could very well be my favorite part of a roast bird. Each piece of chicken will not be left unconsumed, between the ribs and tucked under the wings. I will receive each offering of the carcass. The crispy potatoes, with their crunchy outer layer and their soft center, will give a spicy kick while my tongue tingles and the smell of thyme floats in my nostrils. Their goal, to mop up the marinade that was left in the pan and on my plate, will be achieved.
#Portuguese #Peri-Peri #Chicken
Fall time has arrived - with winter just around the corner - and while I'm trying to weather the cold, it's inevitable. I beg the gods of time to be gentle. I refuse to store my sandals and sunglasses. I could curse the cold morning with every 4 letter word I can think of. But unless you go away on a tropical island, it happens.
This time calls for a comfortable dinner, which will warm the kitchen when I open the oven door. Roasted chicken with crispy potatoes will serve me well. I will find comfort in the kitchen, warming up every time I brush the chicken. I'm going to throw the layers of blankets and sweaters that are draped over my body when my fingers and toes meet the hot air. The potatoes start to crackle under the heat of the oven and my senses will be overwhelmed by the aroma of spices, garlic and lemon. And once the timer on my oven obnoxiously signals it's time, I'll be ready.
I'm going to rip the sticky, crunchy skin off the chicken, exposing the tender, juicy meat tucked under it. I love chicken skin and I realized that it could very well be my favorite part of a roast bird. Each piece of chicken will not be left unconsumed, between the ribs and tucked under the wings. I will receive each offering of the carcass. The crispy potatoes, with their crunchy outer layer and their soft center, will give a spicy kick while my tongue tingles and the smell of thyme floats in my nostrils. Their goal, to mop up the marinade that was left in the pan and on my plate, will be achieved.
