Tiki Tuesday: Ginger-Lime Chicken

In my wild and crazy youth, at about the age of eight or nine, I decided I wanted to make cupcakes. My mother was away (working to keep her little family afloat) and grandma was left to tend to the beasties at home. When questioned, I assured my grandmother that my mother did indeed permit me make cupcakes, and yes of course I knew what I was doing.

Lies. I had neither permission nor knowledge of process. I had a vague idea that flour was involved, eggs, perhaps some milk, maybe some vanilla and sugar, and a few other things that must be close up in the spice rack. By my standard magical thinking, I figured the ingredients would probably know what to do and would get together to make something wonderful even without my guidance.

As you have no doubt guessed, the cupcakes did not come out good. They were stout, dense, doughy, salty, speckled grenades, fit for nothing other than composting or weaponry.

My intentions were good. I wanted something yummy, and I had half of a good idea going on. But good intentions and half a brain are not enough when it comes to things like cooking.

For this weekend’s Polynesian fare, my intention was to produce a delicious marinated chicken dish including coconut and macadamia nuts as a broiler finish. I also wanted to serve taro root and sweet potatoes, as these are staples of the islands as well and would make a great side dish. And for a vegetable I would again turn to taro leaves since that turned out pretty good last time.

Marinating has not always worked well for me. The point with marinating is to introduce some flavor into the target meat. I’ve not had a lot of success with this, particularly with chicken. This time, I wanted to be SURE the meat got some flavor. So, after cutting the chicken breasts into quarters I pounded them with the pokey end of a meat tenderizer. Then, I let them sit in a Ziploc bag with a blend of fresh shredded ginger and fresh-squeezed lime juice, for three hours.

Once marinated, I seared the chicken on both sides and let it simmer in coconut milk for two hours. Finally I topped it with a rum-pineapple sauce, coated it with crushed macadamia nuts and shredded coconut, and broiled it until golden brown.

The result was, unfortunately, rather intense. It was like getting shot in the mouth with a lime bazooka. Flavor infused: check.

The other problem was that I had too many flavors competing for attention. Rather than a symphony I had a cacophony: ginger, lime, coconut, macadamia, rum, pineapple and a couple other assorted notes all screamed at once, with lime out-shouting them all. Lesson learned: tone down the marinade. And stick to just a few key flavors, balanced to be harmonious.

Next time I’ll dilute the marinade by about two thirds, not bother with the initial sear or the coconut milk braise, and will coat with macadamia and coconut before baking in the oven until cooked through. Then after a quick broil for color I’ll introduce a light drizzle of the rum-pineapple topping. If I get it right, it will be a tangy and lightly sweet dish with an interesting texture.

As for the taro root and sweet potatoes: The lesson I learned here is that they do NOT bake well on a metal cookie sheet. The taro interacts with the metal and turns this ugly grey color. Rather than cube them and bake them, better to julienne and pan-fry them in canola oil.

My sincerest thank-yous to my wife and mother-in-law, who were very kind and gentle with their comments. My wife always provides truly constructive criticism, gently and helpfully pointing out where a dish took a wrong turn and proposing a better alternative to seasoning and cooking method. My mother-in-law, after graciously working through the entire meal, said: “Well, at least we won’t get scurvy.” This is true, grandma K.

I’ll probably revisit this dish before the summer is up, making the suggested changes of course.