Blackberry Chicken

Second week of Advent. Calvin preached on the text from Luke about Mary receiving the news—"Let it be to me according to your word"—and I sat in the front pew and thought about what it means to receive something that is going to change everything, to say yes to the incomprehensible thing, to let what is coming come. I thought about March third in a different grammar than I usually do: not as something that happened to me but as something I received. The receiving isn't acceptance. It isn't okay. But it is the posture of someone who is still here, who is still in the world, who is still saying yes to the morning even when the morning is unbearable. Let it be. Let it be according to whatever word this is. I don't understand it. I am still here.

My cooking classes at the church have been going well. We're up to seven regular students now—the original three plus four more who heard and came the following week and haven't left. We've covered biscuits, cornbread, a simple pan gravy, and last Saturday we made fried chicken. I believe in teaching fried chicken early because fried chicken is the centerpiece of Southern cooking and if you can fry chicken you can fry anything and the skills transfer: temperature management, patience, the willingness to let the oil do the work without rushing it. Imani—Beverly's daughter, my youngest student—was a natural. She held the chicken with confidence, laid it in the oil with care, didn't flinch at the spatter, checked the color not the clock. I told her she had her grandmother's hands. She said she'd never met her grandmother. I said, "Well. They found you anyway."

The Saturday class has become the thing I look forward to most each week, which surprises me a little. I always loved it before but now I need it—need the teaching, the passing forward, the proof that the knowledge doesn't die when the person dies, that what Bernice put into my hands I am now putting into other hands, and those hands will put it into other hands, and on and on, the chain of knowing that is longer than any life and lighter than any grief. Bernice is in Imani's first fried chicken. That's the miracle. That's the whole miracle.

We didn’t make this one in class—fried chicken was the lesson, and it was the right lesson—but when I got home that Saturday evening with Imani’s confidence still warm in my chest, I wanted something that felt celebratory without being fussy, something that honored the sweetness of what had just happened without asking too much of me. Blackberry Chicken is what I turned to: a little tart, a little rich, quicker to the table than it looks, and beautiful in that way that simple things are beautiful when you’re paying attention. Bernice never made it, but I think she would have liked it—liked the color of it, liked that the sauce comes together while the chicken is still in the pan, liked that it asks you to trust the heat and not rush it.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 6 oz each)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 shallot, finely minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup fresh or frozen blackberries
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons honey
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 teaspoon dried)
1 tablespoon cold unsalted butter
Fresh blackberries and thyme sprigs, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry with paper towels. Season both sides evenly with salt, pepper, and garlic powder.
Sear the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add chicken and cook without moving it for 5–6 minutes, until a deep golden crust forms. Flip and cook another 5–6 minutes, until the internal temperature reaches 165°F. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the sauce base. Reduce heat to medium. In the same skillet, add the minced shallot and cook, stirring, for 1–2 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 30 seconds more, until fragrant.
Add the blackberries. Add the blackberries, balsamic vinegar, honey, and chicken broth to the skillet. Stir gently, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring to a simmer.
Simmer and reduce. Cook the sauce over medium heat for 8–10 minutes, stirring occasionally and pressing some of the blackberries gently with the back of a spoon, until the sauce thickens enough to coat a spoon. Stir in the thyme.
Finish with butter. Remove the skillet from heat. Add the cold butter and swirl or stir until melted and the sauce turns glossy.
Return the chicken. Nestle the chicken back into the skillet, spooning sauce over each piece. Let rest in the sauce for 2 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh blackberries and thyme if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blackberry Chicken — The Hands That Find You