Sunshine and Olly

by Jonathan Blaustein

Like smells and songs, food can jog memories loose.

It helps us connect to our past. 

Ever the black sheep, growing up in a Jewish-American home in New Jersey, it was strange that I didn’t like the smoked fish dishes and deli meats the rest of my family adored. 

For whatever reason, the Italian-American food that surrounded us, (it’s freaking everywhere in Jersey,) became my soul food instead. 

It still what I cook best today. 

Good cooking, though, is a creative act. It requires doing new things from time to time, to break out of your patterns. 

Sure enough, on Friday evening, it was Jessie’s turn to cook dinner, but I could see that she was spent. 

I had more gas in the tank, and noticed a packet of 3 large chicken breasts in the fridge that needed to be cooked. 

In a household with three athletes, two weight-lifters, and two growing humans, boneless, skinless chicken breast is about as clean and healthy of an animal protein as you’ll get.

What it lacks, though, is flavor, and if cooked incorrectly, it can be rubbery as hell. 

In order to take dinner off of Jessie’s plate, I had an idea to do a spice rub on the chicken, then pan sear it an hour or so later. 

I coated each side with salt, then cracked black pepper, followed by oregano, a healthy coating of hot New Mexico red chile, and then a round of cumin. 

Then the idea hit me to give it a dash of extra virgin olive oil, and a splash of orange juice, just to make the lightest vinaigrette marinade on top of the spice rub. 

(We ate a bit later than planned, so in the end the chicken got to sit in the marinade for two hours.) 

I seared the crap out of each breast by placing all three in a hot skillet, with a bit of olive oil in the bottom, and then doming with a wok lid, to create heat from all sides. 

The key, as with all good searing, is to leave the meat alone until it’s time to turn it. Wait until a good crust develops, and then flip each piece, and leave them alone again.

This time, maybe only cover the pan for about 30 seconds. 

Turn off the heat, remove the breasts when the bottom side has a bit of color too, and then let them rest. 

Cut the chicken into cubes, and expect that middle pieces will be somewhat to very underdone. (Depending on their thickness.)

Then back into the pan on low heat to cook it all through, and get a tiny bit of texture on all sides of the chicken. 

When they’re done, take them out of the skillet and serve.





I buried the lede today.

(It happens sometimes.) 

The point of today’s blog is the chicken tasted exactly like the blackened recipes that swept the nation during the 80’s. Paul Prudhomme and New Orleans cooking became a trend, so restaurants back home in New Jersey would blacken chicken and fish.

(We ate out a lot when I was young.) 

And while I hated Jewish food, (most of it, anyway,) I freaking loved blackened chicken.

As soon as I tasted my recipe, I went back in time.

So I made it again on Monday, to photograph so I could share with you. (I served it with sautéed veggies and some of my white rice.)

It’s amazing, and also super-healthy. 

Enjoy!