Chipotle Chicken Skewers with Creamy Dipping Sauce

Thirty-eight weeks. The due date is in eight days but the doctor says the baby could come anytime now, which is the obstetric equivalent of "the bus is coming but we can't tell you when." Jessica is enormous and furious about being enormous and beautiful in the way that only a woman at the very end of pregnancy can be — she radiates something I can't name, some combination of power and exhaustion and readiness that makes me want to stand near her and also get out of her way.

I am on high alert. My phone is charged to 100% at all times. My keys are in the same spot. The hospital bag is by the front door. The car has a full tank of gas. I've driven the route to Banner Desert Medical Center three times this week to confirm the timing: fourteen minutes from our house, sixteen in traffic, twenty-two if there's an accident on the 202. Jessica says I'm being insane. I say I'm being prepared. These are the same thing.

Sofia senses something. She doesn't know what, but she's clingy in a way she hasn't been since she was a baby — she wants to be held, wants to sit on my lap, wants to be read to at bedtime twice instead of once. She fell asleep on my chest Thursday night and I lay there in the dark with my daughter's head on my heart and thought about the fact that after Diego comes, these moments will be divided. Not less — you don't love less when you have more children — but divided. Shared. There will be a lap for Sofia and arms for Diego and somehow I'll have to be enough for both. I will be. Roberto was enough for me, and I was his only. I'll be enough for two.

My mom came over Saturday to help Jessica with final nursery details. They reorganized the changing table (for the third time), washed all the baby clothes (for the second time), and arranged the diapers in a system that Elena described as "organized" and Jessica described as "military-grade." They work well together, my wife and my mother. They didn't always — the first year of my marriage had some tension, the usual mother-in-law adjustments — but now they're a team. United by the common project of managing me and raising my children. I am outnumbered and outmatched and grateful for it.

Made al pastor this week — marinated pork stacked on a vertical spit, which I don't have, so I improvised by threading the pork on skewers and grilling them vertically between two bricks, which is a solution that would make an actual taquero weep but which works well enough for a firefighter in a backyard. The marinade: dried guajillo chiles, achiote paste, pineapple juice, vinegar, cumin, oregano. Shaved off the skewers, served on small corn tortillas with pineapple, onion, and cilantro. Jessica ate five tacos al pastor at thirty-eight weeks pregnant and said "if this baby comes tonight, at least I had good tacos." Priorities. My wife has them in the right order.

The brick-and-skewer setup I rigged up for the al pastor pork got me thinking about how much I love cooking on skewers in general — the way the meat chars on the edges, the way you can shave it right off onto a warm tortilla. This chipotle chicken version is the recipe I come back to when I want that same smoky, pineapple-forward energy but need something I can throw together faster than a slow-marinated pork stack — which, with Jessica due any day and Sofia needing two bedtime books a night, is most of my life right now. Double the skewers, keep the tortillas warm, and make sure whoever’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant gets the first plate.

Prep Time: 20 min (plus 1 hr marinating) | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min active | Servings: 4–6

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
3 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, minced, plus 2 tablespoons adobo sauce
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
3 tablespoons pineapple juice
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup fresh pineapple chunks (for threading)
8–10 metal or soaked wooden skewers
For serving: small corn tortillas, diced white onion, fresh cilantro, lime wedges

Creamy Dipping Sauce:
1 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch of cayenne (optional)

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a large bowl, whisk together the minced chipotles, adobo sauce, lime juice, pineapple juice, garlic, cumin, oregano, salt, smoked paprika, and olive oil until fully combined.
Marinate the chicken. Add the chicken chunks to the marinade and toss to coat thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to overnight. The longer it goes, the deeper the smoke and char will be.
Make the dipping sauce. While the chicken marinates, stir together the sour cream, lime juice, cilantro, garlic, salt, and cayenne in a small bowl. Taste and adjust salt or lime. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.
Build the skewers. Thread the chicken chunks onto skewers, alternating with pineapple pieces every few chunks. Leave a little space between pieces so the heat can get around the meat — this is what gives you the char.
Grill over high heat. Preheat a gas or charcoal grill to high (about 450°F). Grill the skewers for 5–6 minutes per side, turning once, until the edges are charred and the internal temperature reads 165°F. The pineapple should be lightly caramelized.
Rest and serve. Let the skewers rest 3 minutes, then slide the chicken and pineapple off onto a cutting board and give it a rough chop. Serve on warm corn tortillas with diced onion, cilantro, lime wedges, and the creamy dipping sauce alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chipotle Chicken Skewers with Creamy Dipping Sauce — The Backyard Spit That Started It All