Stirring It Up with Molly Ivins (25 page)

She's looking at a monster with knobs and windows reminiscent of a 747 control panel. It requires not one but two propane tanks and comes in just under four figures. I veto it. The woman who allows birds to nest in her grill doesn't need two propane tanks and an $800 grill. The salesman says the store's staff will put it together for $25 and load it into the truck; says it'll take maybe twenty to thirty minutes. No worries. Guests are coming at 7. It's almost 5. What's thirty minutes? Except Molly starts that “we can put it together” so-called feminist nonsense. In my mind's ear I hear Tonto saying, “What's this ‘we' shit, Kemosabe?” Molly thinks maybe we should look elsewhere. This idea also makes me nervous.

Go somewhere else? Did she really say “go somewhere else”? Eight, ten, maybe fifteen people—who knows anymore?—coming in less than two hours and we're going to go somewhere else? On the Saturday before Labor Day? Haggle over $25 for assembling a three-tiered barbecue grill that would take us until Thanksgiving to put together?

She relents, thank God.

It's now 5:30.

Bye-bye, shower.

We arrive back in Travis Heights, park Truck Bob, unload the
assembled
grill, hook up the propane tank, fire it up, and glory hallelujah, there's fire.

For about thirty seconds.

Then nothing.

The propane tank is empty. Molly shakes her head and mutters, “I'll just be goddamned.” As I pop the top on a new bottle of Red Stripe, and she refreshes a glass of Chard, she turns to me and says, “Whose fool idea was it to grill this fuckin' chicken anyway?”

“Yours.”

“Liar,” she replies, launching one of her singular from-the-belly-up laughs.

Molly starts making calls to places in the neighborhood where she knows propane tanks are sold. Of course the first two or three calls she makes confirm
what we already anticipated: propane tanks are in high demand on Labor Day weekend. Each place is either closed or out of tanks. Finally she finds a service station relatively close by. There is one left. We head out to effect an exchange at the border. As it turns out, the guy is holding it for someone who is late picking it up. The prospective buyer hasn't appeared and he hasn't called. It's just after 6. The shop closes at 6:30. Molly offers the guy cash plus $20.

Full tank secured.

By the time we get back to the house, fire up the grill—
really
fire it up—it's almost 7.

Change clothes? Oh, probably not. Let's just do with another glass of wine and another Red Stripe, which is, if you recall, also good for basting.

The first arrivals appear a little after 7:15, bearing cheese, crackers, olives, and nuts. Iowa-born and farm-raised, Doug Zabel arrives with a casserole of baked beans based on a recipe straight from his mom's kitchen. Successive diners bring appetizers, booze, and dessert—the omnipresent guacamole, blue corn tortilla chips, more cheese, fresh fruit, brownies and lemon squares. More white wine, more six-packs. Before long a dozen or so of us are nattering away. I'm on the patio tending chicken thighs slowly progressing from amber to golden to an almost mahogany brown.

By 8:30 the chicken is done. A little before 9 we settle down to eat, talk, laugh. We catch up on the latest from the Lege, who voted for/against what in Congress, who's shtupping whom, whatever. This continues for another hour or two. Then it's time for dessert. Elliott Naishtat and Doug Zabel offer a toast to the cooks.

Someone suggests we must have been in the kitchen all day. Nah, Molly and I say almost simultaneously. Nah, just something we threw together. No big deal.

ELLEN'S REALLY GOOD GRILLED CHICKEN

 

This recipe is gonna scare the beejebers out of the hypochondriacs among us, because nobody believes you should leave chicken out for more than six seconds lest you contract some dread disease. I'll just tell you what we did, and you do what you're comfortable with. Of course it's legitimate to ask why anyone should trust cooks who scoop food off the floor and feed it to their dinner guests, bleed on onions, or serve roasts tooth-marks down at a holiday dinner. Just remember: meat taken straight from the refrigerator to the grill cooks unevenly because it cooks from the outside in, which means the part nearest the bone is the coldest. By the time the outside is all golden brown and beautiful, the inside is still pink. Chicken that is the same temperature throughout cooks more evenly. (By the way, boneless is not only comparatively tasteless, it is harder to eat with one's hands and hardly worth the additional expense.) Potato salad, slaw, and beans make great accompaniments in the summer; in winter, pair with ratatouille and rice.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup Dijon mustard

6 garlic cloves, pureed

1 tablespoon paprika

1 tablespoon black pepper

Juice from 6 lemons

1¼ cup soy sauce, divided use

¼ cup rice wine (or white) vinegar, divided use

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons water

16 to 18 chicken thighs, excess skin and fat trimmed (use kitchen shears, but remember to wash them afterward with hot soapy water and rinse them well—the scissors, not the chicken)

2 12-ounce bottles or cans of beer

1 tablespoon garlic powder

DIRECTIONS

In a small bowl, combine mustard, garlic, paprika, and black pepper. Whisk in lemon juice, ¼ cup soy sauce, 1 tablespoon vinegar, olive oil, and water. In a shallow casserole large enough to hold the thighs in layers, pour the mixture over the chicken thighs, distributing it equally. Using both hands, rub the mixture into each thigh and refrigerate covered for at least 4 hours (preferably overnight), skin side up. Remove from refrigerator 45 minutes before grilling.

In a bowl (or a large plastic spray bottle) combine the remaining soy sauce, vinegar, beer, and garlic powder to make the basting sauce. Refrigerate overnight so the beer will go flat. Remove 1 hour before you put the chicken on the grill.

Heat grill to medium low. Place thighs skin side up and grill for 20 to 25 minutes, checking periodically. When chicken starts to brown, turn and baste (or spray) the pieces with beer marinade. Have a sip yourself from a standby bottle. Take care that the fat from the skin doesn't flare up. If it does, drizzle on more beer. Have a sip. Keep doing this every 15 minutes until the chicken is a rich golden brown, using additional beer if necessary. Let chicken rest for 20 minutes before serving. Serves 8.

BETTY ABLON'S GARLIC COLESLAW

 

You can either buy a small head of purple cabbage and a small head of green cabbage and shred them along with a carrot for this salad or make life easy and buy vegetables already shredded. Remember, you're cooking for friends, not campaigning for a Michelin star. Molly might not agree, but when we've been pressed for time, even she has acquiesced. Finally, if you don't love garlic (or if garlic doesn't love you), don't even think about using the amount of garlic called for here. This is not for people who are ambivalent about this first cousin to the mighty onion.

INGREDIENTS

¼ cup granulated sugar

cup white vinegar

½ cup mayonnaise

6 garlic cloves, peeled and forced through a press

1 teaspoon kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 1-pound packages of shredded slaw

DIRECTIONS

Combine sugar and vinegar and whisk until mixed. Add mayonnaise. Stir in garlic, salt, and pepper. Combine thoroughly with slaw mix. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Stir well and correct seasonings before serving. Don't breathe on anybody who doesn't eat it. Serves 4 to 6.

SUSAN SIMON'S INSALATA DI PATATE CON APPERI E ACCIUGHE (POTATO SALAD WITH CAPERS AND ANCHOVIES)

 

My friend Susan Simon divides her time between Italy and New York. She has written several deliciously utilitarian cookbooks based on her Italian experience, one of which,
Insalate: Authentic Italian Salads for All Seasons
, includes this perfect summertime recipe. Molly and I made it several times. It's especially good with grilled fish and chicken.

INGREDIENTS

2½ pounds small white potatoes

½ cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons red wine vinegar

¼ cup coarsely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

2 tablespoons capers

2 anchovy fillets, minced Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS

Cook potatoes in a large pot of boiling water for about 20 minutes, or until a paring knife easily passes through them. Drain, reserving some of the cooking water. Carefully peel the potatoes while they're hot. Cut them into ¼-inch-thick slices and put them in a large bowl.

Combine the olive oil and vinegar and add to the still-warm potatoes. Toss to combine thoroughly. If the mixture seems a bit dry, add a few tablespoons of the hot potato water. Let sit for 10 minutes.

Add parsley, capers, and anchovies to the bowl. Toss to combine. Taste for salt and add with pepper as needed. Serves 6.

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