Barbecue Jack Chicken

March in Memphis, and the city has turned its attention to fall — the leaves changing along my retired from the Postal Service, walking the neighborhood by choice instead of duty, the air carrying that crispness that makes a man want to light a fire and stand next to it. I am 61, and this week the fire I stood next to was Uncle Clyde\'s smoker, and the standing was its own kind of prayer.

The week\'s main current was october. Denise was close this week. Closer than usual. There are weeks when she recedes, when the grief becomes a low hum instead of a sharp note, and there are weeks when she fills every room I enter, when her absence is so present it has its own weight and temperature. This was one of those weeks. I don\'t fight it. I don\'t try to manage it. I let the grief be what it is — a love story without an ending, playing on repeat, the melody familiar and unfinished.

I smoked chicken this week — a simple cook, not the hours-long commitment of a shoulder but the focused, attentive work of a pitmaster who respects every protein equally. The chicken went on the smoker rubbed with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and paprika, and I smoked it at 275 over hickory for three hours, basting with butter every forty-five minutes to keep the skin from drying. The result was golden-skinned, smoke-ringed, juicy to the bone — the kind of chicken that makes you understand why Uncle Clyde said, \'Respect the bird, nephew. The bird can taste your attitude.\'

Sunday at Mt. Zion, the choir sang and I added my bass to the foundation, and the sound rose through the sanctuary the way smoke rises through the air — upward, always upward, seeking something higher than itself. After church, I drove to Whitehaven or I called Mama or I sat in the backyard and thought about the things I always think about: family, fire, food, and the faith that holds them all together. The week was done. The next one was coming. And I would show up for it, as I show up for everything, because showing up is the only skill I have that never fails.

Uncle Clyde always said the bird can taste your attitude, and this week I brought the bird everything I had — the grief, the music from Mt. Zion still ringing in my chest, the memory of Denise sitting on the back steps watching smoke curl up into the sky. When the cook was done and I was looking for something to do with those golden, smoke-kissed pieces, I turned to Barbecue Jack Chicken — a simple finish that lets the smoke speak first and lets the melted Jack cheese say the last quiet word. It felt right for a week like this one: nothing fancy, nothing forced, just honest food made with steady hands.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 2 lbs total)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3/4 cup your favorite BBQ sauce, divided
4 slices Monterey Jack cheese (or Pepper Jack for heat)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat chicken thighs dry with paper towels. Mix salt, pepper, garlic powder, and smoked paprika in a small bowl. Rub the spice blend evenly over all sides of each piece.
Preheat and sear. Heat a cast-iron skillet or grill pan over medium-high heat. Brush with melted butter. Place chicken skin-side down and cook undisturbed for 6–8 minutes until the skin is deep golden and releases cleanly from the pan.
Flip and baste. Turn chicken over, reduce heat to medium, and brush generously with half the BBQ sauce. Cover loosely with foil and cook 18–22 minutes, until an instant-read thermometer inserted near the bone reads 165°F.
Glaze and melt the cheese. Uncover, brush each piece with the remaining BBQ sauce, then lay a slice of Jack cheese over each thigh. Re-cover for 2–3 minutes, just until the cheese is fully melted and starting to bubble at the edges.
Rest and serve. Transfer to a plate and let rest 5 minutes. Scatter parsley over the top and serve with extra BBQ sauce on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Barbecue Jack Chicken — Smoke, Butter, and the Bird That Can Taste Your Attitude