Shaken and Stirring – Stovetop Barbecue Chicken
STOVETOP BARBECUED CHICKEN WITH BUTTERED EGG NOODLES
FOR BARBECUE SAUCE:
3 slices good quality smoked bacon, sliced into strips or diced fine
2 cups ketchup
1/2 cup molasses
1/3 cup yellow mustard
1/3 cup Worcestshire sauce
1/2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp. garlic powder
2 tsp. onion powder
coarse grain salt and pepper to taste
optional: hot pepper sauce to taste
2 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken tenders – rinsed and patted dry
non-stick spray for pan
1 tsp. canola oil
1 lb. package of wide egg noodles
2 tbsp. unsalted butter at room temperature
coarse grain salt to taste
optional: shredded cheese
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a preferably non-stick skillet over medium high heat, spray non-stick spray and drizzle in canola oil.
Boil water for egg noodles in a large pot. When water for noodles begins to boil, add noodles, cook to package instructions.
Add chicken tenders to skillet and sear them for about 4-5 minutes on each side.
When chicken tenders are seared on both sides, remove and set aside.
Check on the noodles.
Add the bacon to the skillet and render the fat.
When the bacon begins to brown, to scent the kitchen, and render fat, add the rest of the ingredients for the barbeque sauce to the skillet.
Cook on medium to medium low for about 10 minutes, until you get a deep, dark color.
DO NOT LET THE SAUCE BURN OR STICK TO THE BOTTOM OF THE PAN.
Check the internal temperature of the chicken – you need it to be 165 degrees internally.
Add chicken tenders back to pan.
Mix chicken in with the sauce.
If the chicken needs more cooking time to get to internal temperature of 165 degrees, put in oven for 5-7 minutes, then re-check.
In the meantime, your noodles should be done. Strain, place in a serving bowl, mix with butter, a dash of coarse grain salt if desired, or shredded cheese.
Serve under the chicken and barbeque sauce.
I wish someone would have told me.Told me that when I was a mother, the joy and love that you feel can be equal to terror and fear.Now that I think about it, I was told.By my parents.”You have years and years of scares ahead of you”, a wise man recently said to me. Great. I’m down on my hands and knees enduring the scare I’m riding out now.Things can go wrong when raising kids. The things you see on the news but also random, inexplicable things that require tests and waiting and, terror in the hearts of moms and dads.Before having children, I arrogantly attempted to control every variable in my life. I still try to do that, it just drives me crazier now. So here I am.
Waiting to have a “procedure” done on one of my own, and I can hear my heart pounding through my chest most of the day, unless Spongebob is on very, very loud. But even then, I am feeling it.I feel more than I ever imagined. Just like my parents told me, when they felt it.I’ve come to find out that just like joy can life you up so high that you can reach the clouds dotting the blue sky, fear can sneak into your system and rob you of your life force. And nothing else is wrong with you other than you didn’t take your parents seriously enough when they said You’ll see what it’s like to love something so much.I text message my husband during the day I’m not hungry. I have no energy to cook. It’s is very true at the time my thumbs pound out the desperation via satellite signal.I hide under a quilt and watch foodie shows.The chefs and home cooks on the shows, the entrepenuers who reached people in their hungry spot, they’re people just like me.
People go through things. For all I know, they could be going through “things” right now, or perhaps, just survived something. Something scary. Or something joyful.And there they are on television, cooking. Surviving. This active imagination of mine, I’ve got to put it to use in good ways. Like imagining the likelihood of good outcomes.And feeding my family dinner – carrying on when I’m slightly shaken at the helm of the stove.Very soon, before I even know what I am doing, I’m rendering fat from bacon for a barbeque sauce, taking out butter so it comes to room temperature, and boiling wide egg noodles in a pot of salted water.
Talking myself down as I cook. Praying as I knead bread. Showing my family that optimism is best served straight up, piping hot, from the heart of the home.It’s not even that cooking is my comfort zone or self-medication. Putting one foot in front of the other is done differently for everyone. My feet usually end up in the kitchen.Because you can’t help but love, you should choose to have hope, you have to live like – you know – and to do these things, you need to eat. So eat well.
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