Sunday, June 21, 2015

Hats Off to Dad and Fire Up The Grill

Thai Grilled Chicken
Cook's notes: Sticky, tender and moist packed with so much flavor. Recipe adapted from damndelicios.com
Ingredients:

  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 8 bone-in, chicken thighs or 1-1/2 LBS. chicken breasts
  • 1/3 cup peanuts, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro leaves
Sauce
  • 1/2 cup sweet chili sauce
  • 2 tablespoons reduced sodium soy sauce
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 tablespoon fish sauce
  • 1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger
  • Juice of 1 lime
  • 1 teaspoon Sriracha, or more, to taste
Directions:
  • Whisk sauce ingredients and pour into a zip loc bag. Place chicken pieces inside and seal. Place bag in a bowl, marinate 4-6 hours in refrigerator.  
  • Melt butter. Drain chicken, reserve marinade. Pat chicken dry. Make sure grill grates are oiled. 
  • Place chicken on grill and baste with butter. Sear at a high heat 3 minutes per side. Reduce heat to medium high heat.
  • Baste chicken throughout cooking time with reserved marinade. Turn chicken pieces several times so pieces don't stick to grate.
  • Serve immediately, garnish with peanuts and cilantro, if desired.

Billy Collins remembered his father in this poem"The Death of the Hat." It evoked memories of my growing up years when my father always wore a hat and an overcoat when he left the house. 
Collins writes...On Father's Day, "The Death of the Hat." For all of the fathers out there and for everyone who had (or has) a father. Hats off to you.
THE DEATH OF THE HAT
by Billy Collins
Once every man wore a hat.

In the ashen newsreels,
the avenues of cities
are broad rivers flowing with hats.

The ballparks swelled
with thousands of strawhats,
brims and bands,
rows of men smoking
and cheering in shirtsleeves.

Hats were the law.
They went without saying.
You noticed a man without a hat in a crowd.

You bought them from Adams or Dobbs
who branded your initials in gold
on the inside band.

Trolleys crisscrossed the city.
Steamships sailed in and out of the harbor.
Men with hats gathered on the docks.

There was a person to block your hat
and a hatcheck girl to mind it
while you had a drink
or ate a steak with peas and a baked potato.
In your office stood a hat rack.

The day the war was declared
everyone in the street was wearing a hat
and they were wearing hats
when a ship loaded with men sank in the icy sea.

My father wore one to work every day
and returned home
carrying the evening paper,
the winter chill radiating from his overcoat.

But today we go bareheaded
into the winter streets,
stand hatless on frozen platforms.

Today the mailboxes on the roadside
and the spruce trees behind the house
wear cold white hats of snow.

Mice scurry from the stone walls at night
in their thin fur hats
to eat the birdseed that has spilled.

And now my father, after a life of work,
wears a hat of earth,
and on top of that,

A lighter one of cloud and sky--a hat of wind.

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