I have been following food blogger Tiegan Gerard's "Half Baked Harvest" on Facebook and Instagram for a year or so. The photos of her food always look so scrumptious that I want to lick the screen, but I have never MADE one of them. I've said for years that I want to have my own cooking show where I make food without reading the entire recipe first nor checking to see if I have all the ingredients needed, because that's how I roll when I'm in the kitchen, and I'm going to call it "The Half-Assed Cook."
I saved one of her recipes a few months ago, and boy, did it come in handy when I needed something for "H"! The full recipe title is "Oven Baked Southern Hot Honey Popcorn Chicken." I vowed to myself that I would follow the entire recipe to a "T," instructions, ingredients, and all, and I almost did it. I also optimistically decided to double the recipe.
After a semi-quick trip to Walmart (where I found out some of their family pack boneless, skinless chicken breasts were $2.18 per pound and some of them were $2.38 per pound, so I had to dig around to find one as close to 4 lbs as possible that also cost $2.18 and also), I got to work.
I trimmed the ooky stuff off the chicken breasts and cut them into one inch-ish cubes, then tossed them in beaten egg. The chicken noogies were then individually rolled in crushed cornflakes that were mixed with flour, salt, pepper, and smoked paprika (had to buy that). The noogies were baked for 20 minutes, turning them over halfway through, and when they were cool enough to eat, you would have sworn they were deep fried. Thanks, cornflake crumbs!
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| Noogies tossed in egg |
My husband walked through the kitchen when I was turning the noogies over and asked if I had drizzled olive oil over the chicken before I put it in the oven. Nope, I answered. Didn't the recipe call for that? Nope, I replied, pissed that he was trying to micromanage my cooking and smug that, for once, I was sticking to the recipe and not going rogue.
Then I looked at the recipe as I started the sauce and saw the words, "Drizzle with olive oil." Oops. So close. So, so close. The noogies were perfectly crispy and delicious without the drizzle of olive oil, thank you for asking.
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| I forgot to take a photo of the noogies on the baking sheet before going into the oven, so I had to risk losing my eyebrows from the heat to take this one instead. |
The sauce was melted butter, garlic, honey, chili powder (Williams Chili Seasoning, the only kind I will ever use), more smoked paprika, regular paprika, cayenne pepper, red pepper flakes, and onion powder. Once the butter was melted and it and the garlic were golden brown, the rest of the sauce ingredients were whisked in and the sauce was done.
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| Stirring the sauce in skillet #2 |
Of note is that my husband offered to make rice for me while I made the chicken, and I was grateful for that, because I had cornflake crumbs and paprika on most of the kitchen surfaces and had to wash the turntable from the microwave because instead of softening the butter, I melted it and everything was a greasy mess. Instead of making it in a saucepan, however, he went to elaborate lengths to make it in a glass 9x13 baking dish covered tightly with foil and wanted it in the oven, where I had FOUR POUNDS OF CHICKEN NOOGIES BAKING. I didn't stab him, but I considered it briefly.
But when I served the meal to my husband and dad, my husband took a bite and immediately said, "Where has this been all my life?!" He pronounced it delicious and amazing and ate three helpings. I tentatively took my first bite (worried that he was being nice and I had actually burned the butter and garlic rather than just cooking them until golden) and he was right! It WAS delicious and amazing and totally worth cutting ooky parts off of four pounds of chicken and destroying the kitchen and having to wash three large bowls, two skillets (I started the sauce in a medium skillet, per the recipe, without thinking that I was doubling the recipe), cutting board, knives, three baking sheets, tongs, whisk, measuring spoons and cups, spatulas, a food processor, baking dish from the rice, the dinner dishes, and a partridge in a pear tree.
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| I failed to center my food on my plate |
Or as my husband said, "It's butter and honey and fried chicken. How could it be bad?"
Make this. Make this make this make this.
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| Small portion of the messy kitchen |
