Communication and Attention {El Syd's Pollo en Fuego}

I've been mulling the idea of sharing this story for a few days now. I've been hesitant for reasons that will become apparent later in the text, but ultimately decided that it must be shared. One, because it involves much hilarity and two, because it is a reminder of how important communication is, and three, it shows how even seemingly irreparable cooking misadventures can be salvageable.

So, come with me back to this past Sunday as the family was set to belatedly celebrate El Syd's something-something birthday. Due to our wonderful daughter's dance rehearsal and performance schedule, we were unable to celebrate on his actual birthday (May 31st for anyone who might want to send him a gift next year.) The Texas Girl's Mama and Honey were going to come up on Sunday and we were going to have a Sunday Supper of Grilled Chipotle Beer Can Chicken and Calabacita. All of the plans were in order. El Syd ran out to the market in the morning to get the whole chickens and a few other things on the list. I pulled together most of the vegetables needed (Beee-u-ti-ful squash and corn from Two Happy Children Farm & some spring onions from Johnson's Backyard Garden) for the side dish. All was looking good.

Once the chickens were on location, I prepped them the way I usually do for Chipotle Roasted chicken (which I typically cook in the oven) (see below for preparation). I popped open the cans of beer, guzzled down  elegantly removed about a quarter of the beer from the cans and shoved said cans up a very indelicate area of the chicken carcass. (If you've never tried beer can chicken, I implore you to do so. You won't be disappointed. Don't drink beer? or would prefer not to use it? I hear tell that full strength (not diet) Coke or Dr. Pepper will do the trick as well.) 

El Syd went out to fire up the grill. From the living room window, I saw him jump back from the grill like there was a rattlesnake. I went out to see what's up and he said to me "There was a mouse in the grill." Now, El Syd does not have the greatest track record with wildlife identification. On more than one occasion he has had me running to see the scorpion in the house only to find out that it is, in fact, a gecko. So, when he said "mouse" I thought, "eh, it is probably a lizard." I saw a tail peeking out. We proceed to bang on the grill to no avail until finally, El Syd moves to the back of the grill. What to my wondering eyes should appear running full bore toward the back fence? Not a mouse, nor a lizard even, but a rat*. Yup, a rat.(This might have been an omen that today would be a good day for takeout.) Of course, you'd think that the NYC boy that El Syd is, he'd be well-versed in rat identification. However, this is probably the one area where Texas can't claim that everything is bigger. NYC rats are the size of a small dog (like a yorkie) after all. With the rat long gone to the neighbor's yard and a note to pick up a small arsenal to defend against more unwanted rodent intruders, it was time to get this show on the road.

El Syd fired up the grill and once it was heated to his liking, we took the upright chickens out and stood them up on the grill, closed the lid and returned indoors. First important point: always make sure that your grill-person knows that the flavorings on the to-be-grilled food contains any sort of lipid (fatty) ingredients. In this case, half a stick of compound butter per chicken shoved under the breast skin. I failed to remind El Syd of this point. (This would be foreshadowing.)

So,at this point, we were all in the house and El Syd was back in front of the TV watching a soccer match.Second important point: paying close attention to cooking, especially open flame grilling is a must. The kids had the attention of the grandparents, and I was busily searching for my recipe for Calabacita when I looked up to see quite an enormous cloud of grey smoke in the backyard. I stood to get a better look at the source and realize, "Holy crap - our chicken is on fire!" I shouted out "Fire!" and everyone in the house looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I shouted out again and they all snapped to attention and we ran outside to find, in fact, that the chicken was fully engulfed in flames. Three fires were raging in the grill: the actual grill fire, a grease fire in the grease pan below (damned butter) and the chicken itself. After running around a like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off (pardon the pun),  we all stood around a bit dumbstruck at first, the first thing El Syd said was "we can bring something in. "  He then proceeded to try to blow out the flames as he has done previously when a small fire has popped up from a bit of beef fat or the like. This was no one puff and done fire. I went and got a fire extinguisher (just in case) and then stood for a bit while Honey proclaimed that it would "burn itself out in a while." Texas Girl's Mama was laughing hysterically and went in to grab her camera to chronicle the action. The kids were nervous and not sure what to make of any of it. Finally, after deciding that the fire was not going out and that we should at least attempt to save the meal, it was time to spring into action. I ran into the house and grabbed a couple of cookie sheets. El Syd opened the grill doors and I slid the pan over the grease pan which extinguished those flames. The chickens were still ablaze and we set to waving the pan to put those flames out. This is what we were left with: 

blackened chicken, anyone?

Not too appetizing, but knowing that they'd only been on that grill for a full 15 minutes and in full Red Adair** level flames for less than that, I felt sure that this could all work out. Once the chicken was cooled enough to handle, we took them inside and with a 2 person operation, pried the "charbroiled" chickens from their beer can stands. I inserted a meat thermometer into the chickens to gauge "doneness" and while the exterior was jet black, the inside temp of the meat (130F or so) showed we had a ways to go until they would be done (approx 170F before resting).I lined a pan with foil, put the chickens in and poured the contents of the beer cans into the pan as well. We popped them into a 400F oven, inserted the meat thermometer to keep track of doneness and tented the whole thing with some foil (as we certainly didn't need them browned any more.) Once done to the proper temp, they were allowed to rest on the counter for about 30 minutes. We carved them up and enjoyed them along side some delicious Calabacita.  Although the crispy skin ( the most delightful and sought after part of the standard beer can chicken) was rendered inedible by the flames, the chicken meat was so delicious and juicy. I'm not saying I would ever recreate this method on purpose, but it just goes to show you that even when it seems that things are beyond repair, a little resourcefulness and kitchen cookery knowledge can save the meal. 

only a smidge of ash

* El Syd would like for me to share the disclaimer that the rat is a total anomaly at our home. An interloper who benefited from a since-remedied-attractive-nuisance of a neglected grease pan. This is not a regular occurrence; we do not have a rodent infestation.

** Red Adair was an American oil well firefighter. He became world notable as an innovator in the highly specialized and extremely hazardous profession of extinguishing and capping blazing, erupting oil well blowouts, both land-based and offshore.(from Wiki)

Happy (and Safe) Cooking!
sld

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