Think of this as an easy chicken paella, a way to stretch four thighs into festive dinner for eight, or in my case a nostalgic trip to a six floor walk-up on the lower east side (St. Mark's Place and Avenue A), 1973. It's just chicken and rice, like the name says, but with the lively zing and piquant verve of Puerto Rico, the same verve that seasoned everything else in the old neighborhood, just like the salsa and soul drifting up from the street below.
This of course must be a very old recipe, but for me the dish was born in this most wonderful of my childhood's many buildings, the apartment building of my godmother Lynn. Tenements in the old neighborhoods were so beautiful and opulent- rich in detail, if poor in space (Lynn's boyfriend David's bathtub was in the kitchen!- not so uncommon for buildings of the time- he put a sheet of plywood over it to use as a counter when no one was taking a bath). The stairwell and landings were tiled with tiny white hexagons, just like the stairwell leading up to the former sweatshop on Lispenard St. that I lived in during HS (Stuyvesant- the old one on 15th st.), with banisters of ornate cast iron. The doorways to the very small apartments- five to a landing- were thick with moldings, their details softened from layers of oil paint as they were freshened over the years, this last coat a gleaming oxblood red. Laundry was dried on lines strung between the buildings on either side of a soot-walled courtyard, and if the line snapped you had to go over to the building on 9th street and retrieve your clothes. Even apart from the laundry, it was an intimately connected neighborhood, teeming with decades and generations of loud and very tasty life. The walls talked, and sang, and yelled, and the walls cooked- stuffed cabbage rolls, pierogis (these also from the coffee shop Odessa's on avenue A), black beans and tostones (salty hunks of green plantain fried, smashed between 2 paper bags and then fried again until crisp, unbelievably delicious), rich bustelo cafe con leche, and arroz con pollo. The neighborhood was mainly Ukrainian and Hispanic, and that's how we ate, plus slice pizza and technicolor Italian ices.
New York summers are hot and humid- we had ices almost every day to cool off. (Also there was not so much water pressure on the 6th floor on hot days- that was because someone would turn on the fire hydrants so children could run through them.)
This recipe is a lot of food and a lot of flavor from few and inexpensive things. It is also a lot of color- feels like party food. It is made with very Greek things, just put together in a not very Greek way: capers and olives are bright and lively in the rice, strips of roasted red pepper warm and rich.
We will need:
3-6 chicken thighs- the more the better- or breasts if you prefer them - plus salt, pepper, garlic powder, and flour for seasoning and frying the chicken
oil for frying the chicken
2 1/2 C/ 500 g long grain rice
1 large onion
smoked or regular paprika, spicy or sweet, as you like
sazon goya or saffron, to make the rice yellow- not necessary but very pretty
a little oregano
a small handful of capers
a large handful of green pimiento-stuffed cocktail olives
3 roasted red peppers- ours we torched, like for the salsa and the gazpacho we made recently, but ones from the jar are just fine.
1. Rinse your chicken pieces and pat them dry with a paper towel, and season them- not timidly- with salt, pepper, and if you have it some garlic powder (fresh garlic, even as paste, will burn in frying). Coat them with flour, give them a shake, and fry in medium hot oil, turning every now and then, so that they become crisp and take on an even golden color. They will be spending some time in the oven, so there is no need to worry about the meat at the bone being completely done.
2. Frying makes things so delicious, chicken hardly the least of these. We can make the most of the oil rich flavor- Between frying batches of chicken, strain the oil through a fine mesh strainer into a metal bowl and return the strained oil into the pan- this prevents burning and smoking and also gives us a strainer full of a savory crumble of crisp seasoned golden chicken fat and flour to add to our dish.
3. When you have finished the chicken, strain the oil a final time, add just a little back to the pan, toss in the chopped onion, frying until it starts to take on a bit of color, and add the rice, sazon goya or saffron, a teaspoon of paprika, a teaspoon of salt (no more- we will add something salty later), and the golden crumbly stuff strained from the oil, stirring to coat the rice with the oil and seasonings.
4. Add the capers and olives to the pan.
5. Lightly oil a baking dish, spread the rice in, and add in twice as much water as rice by volume. Starch takes a good amount of salt to not taste flat. If it needs salt and it probably will, splash in some brine from the cocktail olives and even from the capers. This lifts the dish tremendously.
6. Arrange the chicken pieces on top, pretty side up, and the strips of red pepper decoratively among them.
7. Put in a medium oven, 170 C/350 F, for 30-45 minutes, checking from time to time and maybe adding a little more water, until the rice has swelled and is tender.
Serve hot from the oven or warm, with bottled hot sauce and, if you have it, a handful of fresh cilantro.
I have made it for sit down dinner parties- festive and colorful and piquant and delicious and the capers making it seem fancy. But it is also one of the few things that is not less delicious from being eaten off of a paper plate, and no matter how many people show up it just seems to keep feeding them.
A house filled with salsa and joy where people could show up and be fed belonged to Marta- my godmother's next door neighbor at 121 St. Mark's Place and dearest friend of four decades. A recipe like this one can be found in this much used and loved and tattered cookbook, given to me by Marta and her daughter Martita on my wedding day.
