Barbecue Chicken

Week two of the pandemic. Arizona issued a stay-at-home order on Monday. Restaurants are closed except for takeout. Schools are closed. Playgrounds are closed. The world has contracted to the size of our house and the fire station, and the space between them — the highway, the streets, the neighborhoods — is eerily quiet. Phoenix is a city built on noise: traffic, construction, the constant hum of air conditioners fighting the desert. Now it is quiet. The quiet is the scariest part.

At the station, the calls are increasing. Not dramatically — not the surge the models predict — but enough. Respiratory calls are up 40% from last month. Every cough, every fever, every difficulty-breathing call comes with the question we cannot answer: is this COVID? We test when we can. We treat what we see. We wear our N95s until the elastic leaves marks on our faces that Jessica traces with her finger when I come home, gently, like she is reading a map of where I have been.

The decontamination routine is now automatic: pull into the garage, strip, bag the uniform, shower. I have not hugged my children in eight days. Sofia has stopped asking why. She stands at the garage door and watches and waits and when I am clean she runs to me and holds on like I might disappear. Diego does not understand the delay. He stands next to Sofia and reaches up and says "Daddy" and the fifteen minutes between my arrival and the hug are the longest fifteen minutes in the history of fatherhood.

I am cooking constantly. Not because we need it — the freezer is full, the pantry is stocked — but because cooking is the only thing I can control. I cannot control the virus. I cannot control the call volume. I cannot control whether my crew will get sick, whether my parents will get sick, whether the N95 will hold. I can control the temperature of the grill, the amount of salt in the rub, the timing of the wrap. I can control the food. So I cook.

This week: chicken enchiladas verdes. Shredded chicken (smoked on the grill, because even in a pandemic, I smoke chicken), rolled in corn tortillas, covered in a tomatillo-green chile sauce, topped with crema and cotija. I made enough for three families and delivered two trays to elderly neighbors who cannot go out. Left them on porches. Rang doorbells. Drove away. The drive-by feeding continues. It is not enough. Nothing is enough. But it is something, and something is all I have.

The enchiladas needed a base, and that base was always the chicken—smoked low and slow on the grill while the house was quiet and the kids were asleep and I had something to do with my hands besides worry. I kept coming back to this barbecue chicken because it scaled, because it shredded, because I could fill three pans and still have enough left over to roll into tortillas or leave on a neighbor’s porch without a second thought. Control is a small thing when the world has gone sideways, but smoke and fire and a reliable rub are a kind of control I know how to trust.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 35 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

4 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces (thighs, drumsticks, and breasts)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
1 1/2 cups your favorite barbecue sauce, divided
Wood chips for smoking (mesquite or hickory), if using a grill

Instructions

Make the dry rub. In a small bowl, combine salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, cumin, and cayenne. Mix well.
Season the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry with paper towels. Brush lightly with olive oil, then coat all sides generously with the dry rub. Let sit at room temperature for 15 minutes while the grill heats.
Set up the grill for indirect heat. Preheat grill to 275—300°F for smoking, banking coals to one side or turning off burners on one side for gas. Add soaked wood chips if using.
Smoke the chicken. Place chicken skin-side up on the indirect-heat side of the grill. Close the lid and cook for 45 minutes without lifting the lid, maintaining a steady temperature.
Glaze and finish. Brush chicken pieces with half the barbecue sauce. Move to direct heat, skin-side down, and cook 5—7 minutes until the skin crisps and the sauce caramelizes. Flip, brush with remaining sauce, and cook another 5 minutes.
Check for doneness. Chicken is done when an instant-read thermometer inserted at the thickest part (away from bone) reads 165°F. Thighs and drumsticks can go to 175°F for best texture.
Rest and serve. Transfer to a cutting board and rest 10 minutes before serving. To use for enchiladas or other dishes, shred the meat off the bone while still warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Barbecue Chicken — Smoked on the Grill Because Some Things Don’t Stop for a Pandemic