Coconut chicken ala Coconut

10 Jun 2012 8 Comments

by wifemothereventplanner in Brave New World Tags: , , , , , , ,

Cooking posts are hard.  Maybe just hard for me, since millions of cooking blogs do it everyday.  I bow down to them.  Maybe one of my tens of readers will make this and love it.  If you do, and you don’t. Please keep it to yourself. I just spent an entire day making what usually takes me a good 10 minutes.

Coconut Chicken  – the cast

4 skinless, boneless chicken thighs

1 can coconut milk

1 lime

2 tablespoons of olive oil

1 tablespoon of salt

1 large onion, red pepper and green pepper (I had some frozen fire roasted ones that I used)

1 chicken bouillon cube

3 tablespoons of tomato paste

2 bay leaves

1 tablespoon of garlic powder

Handful of cilantro

Generously douse the chicken in the juice of one lime and then sprinkle the chicken with salt and garlic powder

Heat the olive oil on a high heat

 

Add the chicken and sear both sides – don’t worry about cooking all the way through

Once it’s seared, take the chicken out and let it rest.  Add the peppers, bouillon cube, bay leaves and tomato paste

 

Stir it around to pick up all the chicken bits on the bottom of the pan

My onions and peppers were precooked – but you’ll need a good 5 minutes to cook them down. Then add the full can of coconut milk and bring to a boil. Be sure to shake the can first – if you don’t – you’ll get some funky clear liquid  with white goo on the bottom. Been there. Done that.

Add that patient chicken back in the pan with all the juices, put a lid on it, and turn the heat to low

  

While the chicken cooks with the sauce for 5 minutes, chop up way too much cilantro – you’ll only use 1 tablespoon of that heap.  Add it to the chicken and keep the rest, there may be some salsa that needs it during the week.

Serve it up with some homemade white rice.

I keep mine in Golden China to-go containers. What?

A girl named coconut

08 Jun 2012 2 Comments

by wifemothereventplanner in I need to tell you about this right now Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I need to share some important personal truths with you…

  • I am obsessed – OBSESSED with people watching. You could drop me off in any major city on a corner and I’d be fine staring at people for hours.
  • My husband has called me coconut since the first week we met.  There is no cute story. No cute connection to the fruit. It’s very disappointing to people.  I’ll just always be coconut for no good reason.
  • I did not have these foods until I got to NYC:  sour cream, mustard, cream cheese, bagels, Chinese food, Brie, Cheddar, or any other type of cheese that wasn’t fake American cheese slices, mushrooms (ewww, wasn’t missing much), broccoli, any rice that wasn’t Basmati (Uncle who?).
  • I cannot ride a bike. Calm down.
  • I’ve never broken a bone – I was an “inside” kid.
  • I can swim but don’t love the pool (yes, even on hot days). I’d never swim in the ocean (I need to know there’s a bottom somewhere underneath me)
  • I just drank my first mudslide at 40 (not my thing yo)
  • You know all those reality shows you see advertised on TV and you shake your head and say,” who would watch that crap?”. That would be me. I would, could and do watch that crap.
  • I’ve never been on a date. Why? Because I wasn’t allowed to date growing up, and then I met my husband 2 seconds after I got to college and then I married him 5 minutes later. Thus! No dates.  Ok – one date.  I’ve been on one date.  A few years ago, I left my husband and kids at home, and met a dreamy, steamy man in NYC for a hot night out.  He was single at the time, now he’s engaged to the man of his dreams.  Usually when I’m with him he’s pointing at me – laughing.  But not that night.  Unlike the other men in my life (my husband and my then 3-year-old son) – he figured out the formula to make me happy:  Wine+Flat Bread.  And so we went from one joint to another.  He found every restaurant that served flatbread in NYC and we hit it hard.  No tofu veggie places. No vegan haunts. Not for me. Not that night.  It was lovely. After he dropped me off, he went out for his real night out.