What Women Want: Parmesan Crusted Grilled Chicken Breasts
“I do not know what it is about women and cheese, but I wager a good block of it will catalyst even the most apathetic of them into action.” -Me
Evening was soon to draw across the Pond-Side Pit, as I henceforth gathered my plunder in the soft, waning light. A glorious light of which is fleeting this time of year, for the supper that which teases the hollow rumble of my belly. I soldier on. I bank some fiery coals to the back of the old kettle grill, setting it up for a quiet spot of indirect cooking. Poker in hand, and shamelessly doting over the orange-glowing rubble, like they were precious gem stones in a cauldron of enameled coated steel. It’s March, on the 45th Parallel, and the breeze is as cool as it is sweet, summoning the best flannel shirts your closet has to offer. Indeed, I had mine on as I tended the fire, enjoying it’s radiant heat on my hands. Admiring the comradeship of the coals, whilst I waited on my lovely bride to shred the cheese.
She openly volunteered to shred up some Parmesan cheese for our supper tonight. I do not know what it is about women and cheese, but I wager a good block of it will catalyst even the most apathetic of them into action. Women love cheese. Leastwise mine does. And so she shredded me a large quantity of it, like a crazed beaver to Cottonwood tree. Swiftly earthing a pile of cheesy goodness into a modest, porcelain bowl. That and an equal part bread crumbs too, these for to play the supporting cast in tonight’s grilling ensemble. Parmesan Crusted Grilled Chicken Breasts, patron to the pit, of course.
What we did is this. We rolled the bone-in chicken breasts in a warm, slippery bath of melted butter, and after saying a quick prayer, liberally packed on a delightful preponderance of that cheese/bread crumb mixture we just talked about. Pack it on thick, people, and don’t be shy. If you want to give your woman what she wants, well this is it! Well, this is it this side of an empty wallet coming out of a jewelry store anyhow.
Kind of looks like coconut chicken, but it isn’t. This is where you must wield your meat with the authority and delicateness of a brain surgeon. Your dear chicken is in it’s most fragile state right now, so be mindful young pit jockeys, not to knock off that which you have so fiercely labored for. Place your lovely proteins with a gentle hand opposite the hot coals. Place the lid on next, and dutifully step aside. We didn’t use any smoke wood this time. The crusty cheese to come will do all the talking here.
It doesn’t take long before you lift the lid and see something like this going on. A beautifully textured crust – the highly edible marriage of Parmesan cheese fused with lightly toasted bread crumbs. This at last to usher these lowly chicken breasts unto their utmost culinary ideal. Glory!
Of course when confronted with nicely crusted proteins, such as these, I cannot help but to tarry pit-side in a bevy of my own thoughts. Here we have two ingredients, that which make up this crust. Two entities. That of Parmesan cheese, and the other of plain old bread crumbs. The Parmesan cheese is like my wife perhaps – white, and silky, and very good. Very forgiving. Gets better with time. And better, by and far, than I deserve. And I am not unlike the lowly bread crumbs here, even whiter still, and if left to my own devices, will likely only make a big mess of things. But here is where the analogy gets interesting, and far better for me. When married together on the charcoal grill of life, the cheese adapts like good cheese does, and works it’s way amid every nook and hollow presented thee by the flaky bread crumbs. In time, the cheese holds the humble bread crumbs together, even, and gives them support and reason and flavor. The bread crumbs thus toast to perfection, coming of age, if you will, and the two together form the most beautiful Parmesan crusted chicken you’d ever want to lay thine eyes upon.
It’s weird what comes to your brain whilst puttering over your pit. It’s all about relationships, my wife keeps telling me. Relationships. Maybe this is what women want. Just to love and be loved – together. Seems reasonable, I guess. And sure seems to be the case with my chicken tonight, I can tell you that. And in the pale light, I plated up said chicken, plunked the old kettle lid back in place, turned heel, and made way from whence I came. To my sweetheart residing warmly inside. Amen.
This looks really delicious!
March 9, 2016 at 9:33 am
Thanks. They tasted as good as the look!
March 9, 2016 at 10:39 am
Yay, cheese! Deerslayer and I just batted around the idea of adding a huge honkin’ wheel of parm to our larder. My heart fluttered, I must say. You speak the truth, sir.
March 9, 2016 at 9:37 am
Golly, and you just affirmed the truth! I do hope you get your wheel soon lest your heart pines ever more.
Blessings Mrs Deerslayer!
March 9, 2016 at 10:41 am
Cheese? Did somebody say cheese?!
I tend to favour chicken thighs over breast myself, but no argument on the parmesan.
March 9, 2016 at 9:38 am
I like thighs better too, but alas, you work with what you’ve got. You know how it is.
Groovy to hear from you, Vanessa. Been a while!
March 9, 2016 at 10:43 am
It was the “What women want” bit in your title that drew my attention as I scrolled through my Reader! Then as I was reading I remembered how much I like how you write, so I think I’ll be back more often again now.
March 9, 2016 at 4:11 pm
Dang. We’ve been doing that in the oven. Time for me to move out to the grill.
March 9, 2016 at 10:10 am
If cool, TJ, I suspect our womens don’t really care where we cook their cheese, just as long as they get some of it. But doing it on the grill is certainly the more manly route to go.
Bless ya, TJ
Have a good one, man!
March 9, 2016 at 10:44 am
What Women Want: Parmesan Crusted Grilled Chicken Breasts = truth
March 9, 2016 at 1:48 pm
That’s what I thought! Thank you!
March 9, 2016 at 1:49 pm
I think I drooled on my phone a little. This is my kinda food!!
March 9, 2016 at 2:50 pm
It is your kinda food! I tell you, womens like this stuff. And you could make it much better than I.
March 9, 2016 at 6:05 pm
I am doubtful it would be any better… 😉
March 9, 2016 at 6:10 pm
Oh yeah! They look delicious. I am with you and Vanessa though on the thighs. May have to try this soon. Thanks for the inspiration!
March 9, 2016 at 4:09 pm
Yup, can’t beat the thighs if you got them. Tony, if you like the taste of Parmesan cheese, with the crunch of fried chicken, then you’ll probably dig this recipe.
March 9, 2016 at 6:17 pm
I think of all of the money I have spent on therapists and counseling over the years on this whole issue of relationships and realize that it was all wasted. You summed it all up in the bread crumb/cheese analogy. Thank you, oh wise one!
I did notice that you carefully worded the part about how women get better with, “time” avoiding the, “age” word. Once again wise, wise counsel!
We grilled up two filet mignon steaks yesterday and ate the leftovers for lunch today. Life is good pit-side!
March 9, 2016 at 5:40 pm
Life is good indeed! That sounds like my one of lunch.
Yes, man will do well never to mention a lady’s age. And note likewise I did not go analogous with a fatty heavy cheese, for that would have been as folly as saying they are old! Oh how we must watch our tongues, as the book of James says, for great damage they can wield.
Howdy to Mary!
March 9, 2016 at 8:08 pm
Oh yes you both are very wise men 🙂 May you and yours have a very blessed day , hugs, Mary
March 10, 2016 at 9:03 am
You hear that, John in Ecuador? We’re wise guys!!
March 10, 2016 at 1:48 pm
Aww, look at you getting all sentimental and sweet. Nicely done. I love a good analogy. And I love good chicken recipes. I shall be trying this one. Sounds dee-lish. Cheers!
March 9, 2016 at 8:53 pm
Golly. Well every once in a while, it is good for a man to practice sensitivity. And if he can’t do that, then to at least take the dishes out of the sink before he pees in it. You know how it goes.
March 11, 2016 at 9:37 am
“It’s weird what comes to your brain whilst puttering over your pit”. That is possibly the best sentence I’ve read in a while. I need to get me a pit to putter over.
Btw I had no idea my apathy could be resolved with cheese. All that chocolate, wasted!
March 10, 2016 at 8:17 pm
Well now chocolate seems to have similar effects. I would wager its value as high as cheese probably,I dunno , but it’s close.
March 10, 2016 at 9:58 pm
We’ll have to do some sort of test. You know, the kind that has a placebo in the mix. I happily volunteer if it means I get both cheese and chocolate all week!
March 11, 2016 at 9:05 am
I must take pause and admire your spunk, lass, I mean doing what you gotta do and all, in the heady name of science. Bless ya!
March 11, 2016 at 9:30 am
There are few things better than freshly grated parmesan cheese of a good quality. I may have to toss this one on the ol’ Weber this weekend.
March 11, 2016 at 6:19 am
A worthy plan Mr Dodd. Freshly grated is key!
This is like old times having you around again. Always a pleasure!
March 11, 2016 at 9:34 am
I need to try this for my wife…thank you.
March 11, 2016 at 11:17 pm
Yes you do! Wives love this stuff. Thanks Marcus! Good of you to stop by the old blog here. Always great to see you.
March 11, 2016 at 11:57 pm
Always a pleasure when I do…have been telling my bbq chums about you, and they like what you do too.
March 12, 2016 at 5:32 am
Many thanks , Marcus!
March 12, 2016 at 1:14 pm