Chicken Thighs Save Lives

Especially the thicccc ones

Two per person, obvi.

My own thighs have never been the same post-pregnancy, but the chicken thigh has yet to let me down.

In case you came here to settle a debate, the thigh is the superior part of the bird. It’s got everything the wing has—generous ratio of skin to flesh, plenty of fat, simple skeletal structure—plus the dark meat. And! it has the oyster—a little nugget of tender meat that is tucked right into the hip bone. I hope no one ever makes me choose between thighs and wings, because my ideal pick of the platter is one of each.

I’ve lived long enough (see above re: pregnancy) to learn that poultry skin is delectable whether browned or not; khao man gai anyone?? But I’ve been developing recipes long enough to know that North American palates love crispiness; we crave it and we demand it. Chicken thighs fit right into that world view, and I think it’s common culinary knowledge that positioning them skin side down for the majority of their cook time is best practice.

The thigh skin sits nice and flat from edge to edge, and it’s very easy to control the cooking; it surrenders itself to the hot, flat surface of your skillet and stays there until you do something to it. (Unlike a breast, which is oblong and rounded and poses numerous geometrical challenges.)

Your instinct may be to cook that skin hot and fast for maximum brownspiness.¹ Don’t. Over medium or medium-high heat, tuck the thighs into the skillet without a lot of surface area around them. This steamy situation will help usher their renderings into the pan. This is triply important: 1.) the skin gradually crisps with no flabby layer underneath; 2.) the marinade doesn’t burn; and 3.) the renderings won’t scorch.

About 20 minutes later, you’ll have shellacked thighs and a pan full of spicy schmaltz. That’s crouton village right there. Day old bread is a sponge for all that flavor, fat, and browned bits. Now you’ve got crisp chicken and crunchy croutons and you’re most of the way to a fast casual concept.

What happens next is what it’s really all about. I paired the bird and the bread with snappy veggies dressed in an intentionally generous amount of cooling buttermilk dressing. I am very fond of how the dressing soaks into the bread and leads to crispy-gone-soggy, one of the heroic textures. But also, it makes sauce: the dressing, the chicken juices, and the heat from the marinade are going to form a power vinaigrette on your plate. I love dishes where everything tastes best the more the components mix, and this is definitely one of those.

I’ve already gotten one question about chicken breasts—something something my wife prefers white meat how do I convince her to try thighs? How? You make this for her. That’s what you do. Even if she decides in the end to go back to boobs, you’ll have gotten what you really want.

The written recipe (PDF plus plain text) is posted below for my paid subscribers. Thanks for the support, which goes right back into my work developing recipes, shooting videos, and writing about all of it.