“You’re going to make a French onion thing with chicken, ok?” she said as we were heading out the door one morning. “I’ll send you the recipe.”
“Ok. Sounds good.”
“You can zhuzh it if you want.”
By now, she knew that I have a tendency to change things a bit, add some more seasoning than what it calls for, and adapt to what’s available, or try a new technique.
The recipe dinged in my pocket, and I looked at it briefly. It was a riff on French onion soup, with chicken for protein. Super healthy-looking, and looked a lot faster than the traditional.
She’d put the chicken in the sink to thaw before leaving. “We’re doing the asparagus tips with it, too. Ok?”
We connected briefly that afternoon before she had another appointment, and I had instructions to install shelves in the closets, too. And the chicken thing for dinner.
“I’ll be home by 6.”
The recipe called for cooking the chicken breast in a pan, then deglazing by sweating down the onions and letting them caramelize with beef stock and some other stuff. Then serving together.
The shelf project took both longer, and a lot less time than I thought it would. And I wasn’t interested in the hour commitment to the stove that the one-pan plan promised.
I fired up the grill instead.
Marinated the chicken breast, after flattening a bit with heavy pot, with some amino acids, olive oil, herbs de provence, pepper, the basics.
While that soaked, I got my saucier pre-heating and sliced the onion and bonus cabbage I found, thin, and started cooking that down with plenty of butter, oil, salt & pepper. And a bit of water – a pro tip to get onions to cooperate faster – with the lid on. The steam works wonders, and you get to the end results faster.
“Wait a minute…” I said out loud. “Didn’t we have some of those ceramic ladle things?”
We sure did. The plan was coming together. Ramekins?
Chicken on the grill. Leave it alone on medium. Let that Maillard happen on its own, and you don’t need to fight it. 5 minutes per side.
Onion & cabbage slaw wilting and cooking. Feed the dog.
By the way. If you don’t have a saucier yet, you’re really missing out. It’s the pan I wish I had had for the last twenty years in the kitchen. Stainless. Rounded bottom. Awesome. Get one! (3-quart size is what you need.)
Flip the chicken. Stage the stick temp and plate. Back inside, stir the onions that have started to do their thing for real by now. But fair warning – takes a lot longer than you think, so plan accordingly.
Broiler on high. Let’s go! Stage the cheese – mozzarella and Gruyère.
Mostly, just leave the onions alone for 20-30 minutes on low-ish temps. When you’re ready, add a splash of that beef broth, some more amino acids, adjust a bit, and let it cook down. You want concentrated flavor here, not soup. Jam, more like it. I looked for a bit of red wine, but we didn’t have a bottle already opened. Next time. Japanese BBQ sauce instead? Yep…
Chicken check. Good – internal temperature at 155 or so… I let that rest on a plate covered in foil while I continued on the onions. It comes up on its own under foil, don’t worry. Turn the propane valve off, too, while you’re at it, so you don’t forget.
Uncover the onions, stir, cook down, resist adding more butter (couldn’t), and prep for final assembly.
“Ooooh… smells good in here!”
She came through the kitchen door, home from her appointment, excited to be home for the evening. I was too. And a bit nervous about the next steps. Cheese + broiler can get wild real quick. Asparagus tips were ready, too.
Assembly happened in layers.
Asparagus on the bottom of the ramekin. Spoon of jammy onions, followed by sliced grilled chicken breast. More onions. Then both cheeses piled on and pressed in. And under the broiler they went!
“Open this,” she said. I did, and poured a new red into two glasses.
Timer’s up on the broiler. Two plates became the bases, since the ramekin was hot. Looked good?
We let them rest a minute before digging in. Cheesy. Onion-y. Grilled chicken. Really good for a weeknight meal. 5/5. Good luck!