Wendel's World Presents:Hawaiian Luau ChickenFried Just For YouHere on the Prairie Islands
by Wendel Potter
January 9, 2009
Aloha, fried chicken fans!
I regularly prepare a dish that my family has dubbed Hawaiian Luau Chicken. It's become a Friday night custom at our house.
Simple pan fried chicken is old worldly and boring, the stuff of tired cooks or greasy diners. Standard fried chicken just begs to be spruced up with a zing and a crunch. Your family deserves that, too.
But it doesn't have to be difficult. I'll show you how. Step into my kitchen here in the Nebraska Islands.
I began acquiring my cooking skills in my mother's kitchen 50 years ago. Mom was a second generation Irish-American farm girl and what she learned from my grandmother she passed on to me, along with colorful family stories that I cherish so much that I've drawn on them for many of my columns.
Mom never did anything outstanding when it came to preparing her chicken. Salt, pepper, a quick dusting of flour, then into the pan of melted shortening. A high cholesterol nightmare!
It was always tasty and we had no complaints, but as I got older and began to experiment in my own kitchen (with my family as guinea pigs), I felt the old style fried chicken recipe needed to be taken to the next level.
I think of it in these fowl terms: Mom's chicken merely clucked. I wanted mine to crow. Or at least be crowed about.
I worked on it over the years and eventually my Hawaiian Luau Chicken became, by demand, a Friday evening staple at the Potter table. It was a hit! It is now sacred tradition.
First of all, my wife and sons are white meat people. So forget the legs and thighs.
I buy tender boneless, skinless breasts, preferably packaged in four large pieces. My shopping is done at one of the local grocery marts. We live in central Nebraska and there's nothing fancy in these parts when it comes to marketing.
The first step is to soak the chicken breasts in a pan of milk. Seems silly, doesn't it? Milk is calcium enriched and good for building strong bones, so what do I do? I go and throw these boneless hunks of meat into a couple of cups of moo juice.
But take my word for it. A good three-hour milk bath makes for much tenderer, melt-in-your-mouth chicken. Heck, look what it does for a woman's complexion.
My coating consists of flour (about a cup), ground sage (a hearty sprinkling), and several handfuls of crushed corn flakes. Mix these contents well in a shallow dish.
I use a two-inch deep pan on my stovetop. Canola oil is our shortening preference and you should use enough so there's a ˝-inch stand of oil in the pan. Too much is better than not enough.
You've obviously figured out that I don't use measuring cups. My mother, nor her mother before her, ever measured a thing. I don't even know how tall I am.
It's intuition, my friends, and you learn as you go. Besides, everyone's tastes are different and your recipe must be acclimated to those who are tasting at your table.
Practice, practice, practice! It really does make perfect, perfect, perfect.
Also keep in mind that I cook for four and that's what my recipes are based on. You may need to adjust quantities depending on how prolific you are or how hungry your brood happens to be.
My burner is turned to a couple of notches above medium and the oil is allowed to heat for about five minutes. If you're not sure if the oil is ready, just wet your fingers under the kitchen faucet and a flick a couple of drops of water into the pan.
If it sizzles, it's ready for the chicken. If it pops and splatters, you may want to consider wearing a wet suit and have a fire extinguisher close by.
Now, take each piece of chicken and coat it well with the mixture. Make sure there's plenty of crumbled corn flakes on each breast.
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Lay the coated breasts in the pan and allow them to fry for about five minutes. While waiting, sprinkle the chicken with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. I like to add a dash of lemon pepper seasoning as well.
When time is up, gently turn each breast over. Repeat the salt, pepper, and garlic powder process, followed by a drizzle of honey. Take a handful of cornflakes (cornflakes only—not the flour mixture), crush them in your palm, and sprinkle over each chicken breast.
When another five minutes have passed (and you have so much to do that it passes very quickly), turn the chicken breasts over once more.
Reduce heat to between low and medium. Add a small amount of water and cover for three minutes.
Uncover and drizzle more honey on each breast.
Now comes the Hawaiian part. Open a can of pineapple slices. What's more Hawaiian than that?
I prefer my pineapple packed in heavy syrup. Spread the slices over the pieces of chicken, then pour a small amount of the syrup (maybe 1/3 of the can) over the breasts and into the oil (which is now officially grease).
Re-cover for another three minutes, then remove the lid. Let fry for another 20-25 minutes.
Now, open a can of beer and pour it into a tall glass. Make sure there is a frothy head. Drink.
This has nothing to do with the recipe, but if you like beer, it's a good time killer.
Time's up? Beer glass is empty?
Dish up that Hawaiian Luau Chicken. Eat. Enjoy. Bask in your family's praise.
And let someone else do the dishes. You cooked!
I hope this becomes a Friday night tradition at your house.
Aloha.
Copyright 2009 Wendel James Potter
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