The other day, we decided to have some leg and thigh quarters, cooked on the grill. Those were quickly becoming one of our favorite things to cook on the Sawtooth. For one thing, it just about takes an act of God (or stupidity) to dry out leg and thigh quarters. You are almost 100% guaranteed juicy chicken. Quarters are one of the absolute least expensive cuts of any type of meat you can purchase for grilling. I like to have the butcher season my quarters before purchasing. That allows the seasoning plenty of time to get into the meat. This last time, I had him use lemon pepper seasoning, and boy did he ever. I almost had to look twice to make sure there really was chicken under all of that seasoning.
One of my fondest memories of childhood was my Grandpa's barbecued chicken. His chicken was not covered in a sloppy sweet barbecue sauce. Instead, it was really grilled chicken that he would baste with a special sauce that contained lemon, butter, and other ingredients. I say, "other ingredients" because I truly don't know what the other ingredients were. I have learned to make my own baste, using a stick of margarine, a whole lemon (or a quarter cup lemon juice), a quarter cup red wine vinegar, a couple tablespoons of light soy sauce, some Greek seasoning, and a cup of water. I let all of it come to a boil, then remove it from the heat.
So...back to my story. I took the chicken and placed it on the grill, skin side down, and basted it. All was looking good.
About 15-20 minutes later, I checked the chicken again, and rebasted. That's when things fell apart. I went into the kitchen and started having a pleasant conversation with the wife. (They really do seem to pop up a lot in stories of male goof-ups, and they usually end up looking much smarter.) Well, it just so happened to be one of those rare golden moments when the kids were in the living room...actually getting along...and we were getting deeper and deeper into our conversation. Then I sniffed the air. Hmmm. I shouldn't be smelling that type of odor. That does not smell like chicken slowly cooking on a "non-flare-up" wood pellet grill. I looked out the back door. To my wondering eyes appeared a thick envelope of smoke with bright orange flames just to the right. I ran outside, and...well...let's just say I did not have one of my more glorious moments of self control. The bad news is that a whole lotta Hail Mary's are going to be needed to fully recover. The good news is that my creative side came up with a whole slew of new adjectives to properly describe how I was feeling at the moment. Anyway, after this rather embarrassing moment ended with a pitcher of water tossed on the grill, I was left with the following result.
Chicken, anyone?
I guess it "no flare-ups" only applies if you change the foil after cooking greasy, sugary ribs on your grill. Who knew? Anyway, we did actually have chicken that night. With the fire extinguished, I continued to grill and baste the chicken. Remember, earlier I told you it just about takes an act of God to dry out leg and thigh quarters. Fortunately, He took pity on me. After removing the burned skin, there was actually some very tasty chicken underneath. I even managed to pull one more triumph from the jaws of this disaster. A few nights later, I took the three uneaten quarters, and turned them into one of the best tasting chicken gumbos to have ever passed between my lips!
Yes, Virginia! Miracles do happen...even for grown men who make stupid mistakes at the grill.
Update: I really should read my own blog more often. Apparently, I never did write a blog about my ribs...I just ate 'em and left it at that!
