Chicken Salad-Stuffed Peppers

Mother's Day Sunday. Called Betty first thing in the morning, before the coffee was even done, because Betty raised six children on a miner's salary and a garden and the least I can do is call her before the coffee. She answered on the first ring because Betty has been answering the phone on the first ring since phones had dials, and she said happy Mother's Day to you too, Craig, because Betty considers motherhood a shared condition that includes anyone who feeds people, and I feed people. She asked what I was cooking. I said I hadn't decided yet. She said make the fried chicken. I said Mama, I'm not ready. She said you're fifty-four years old, Craig Allen, when are you going to be ready. She has a point. She always has a point.

So I made the fried chicken. Betty's fried chicken. The real one. No paprika, no cayenne, no adjustments. Chicken pieces soaked in buttermilk overnight, then dredged in flour with salt and pepper — just salt and pepper, nothing else, because Betty's fried chicken is an argument for simplicity. Fried in lard. Real lard. I bought a tub of it from the butcher on Richmond Road and Connie looked at it like I was bringing a weapon into the house, which in terms of cardiovascular risk I suppose I was. Cast iron skillet, inch and a half of lard heated to 350, chicken pieces placed skin-side down, and then you wait. You wait and you don't touch it and you don't flip it until the bottom is golden-dark and the oil sounds steady, not frantic. Twelve minutes per side. Drained on a paper bag, not a rack, because Betty used paper bags from the IGA.

It was close. Closer than anything I've made before. The crust was right — crisp, thin, seasoned just enough. The meat was juicy. The lard gave it that depth that vegetable oil can't touch, that taste of the old kitchen, the old way. I ate a thigh standing at the counter and closed my eyes and I was nine years old in Evarts and Betty was at the stove and the kitchen was hot from the oil and Earl was washing his hands at the sink, the water running black from the coal, and everything was simple and hard and right. I opened my eyes and I was in Lexington and I was fifty-four and my back hurt and Betty was three hours away, but the chicken was right. The chicken was finally right.

Called Betty back. Told her I made the fried chicken and it was right. She said how do you know it was right. I said because when I closed my eyes I was in your kitchen. She was quiet for a long time. Then she said that'll do, Craig Allen. That'll do.

There wasn’t much left after I stood at that counter eating thigh after thigh, but what was left I wasn’t about to let go to waste — because Betty didn’t raise anyone who wastes good food. The next day I pulled the last of the chicken off the bone, chopped it fine, and made these stuffed peppers: no fuss, no pretense, just good chicken used right. It felt like a second conversation with her, quieter than the first, but just as right.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 medium bell peppers (any color), tops cut off and seeds removed
2 cups cooked chicken, finely chopped or shredded
1/3 cup mayonnaise
2 stalks celery, finely diced
2 tablespoons red onion, finely minced
1 teaspoon yellow mustard
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Optional: 2 tablespoons sweet pickle relish

Instructions

Prep the peppers. Slice the tops off each bell pepper and remove the seeds and membranes. Set upright on a plate or cutting board. If needed, trim a thin slice off the bottom so they stand steady without tipping.
Make the chicken salad. In a medium bowl, combine the chopped chicken, mayonnaise, celery, red onion, mustard, and apple cider vinegar. Stir until evenly mixed. Add relish if using. Season with salt and pepper, then taste and adjust as needed.
Fill the peppers. Spoon the chicken salad generously into each hollowed pepper, mounding it slightly above the rim. Don’t pack it — let it sit full and easy.
Serve. Serve immediately at room temperature, or refrigerate for up to one hour before serving. These are best the same day the salad is made.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Salad-Stuffed Peppers — What Betty’s Kitchen Leaves Behind