Greek Chicken Kabobs

September is here and the light in Tampa is changing — not the temperature, which remains stubbornly summer, but the light, which softens and slants and starts making everything look golden in the late afternoon. I notice light because I show houses, and houses look different in September light than they do in August light, and the difference is the difference between selling a house and not selling a house. A kitchen that looks harsh in August glows in September. This is not poetry. This is real estate.

Alexander is deep into his senior year routine: school, homework, college applications, the grocery store job on weekends. He moves through his days with the efficiency of a machine that runs on ambition and the leftover pastitsio I pack in his lunch. He has started looking at schools seriously — USF is the safety, and he is looking at UCF and Florida State and a couple of out-of-state schools that make me nervous in ways I try to hide. My son might leave Florida. This is what I raised him to do. I raised him to be brave enough to leave and smart enough to succeed wherever he lands. I just did not realize it would hurt this much watching him get ready to go.

Sophia brought home a permission slip for a field trip to the aquarium, which she presented to me with the solemn formality of a lawyer presenting a contract. I signed it and asked if she was excited. She said it is just an aquarium, Mom. I said aquariums have octopus. She said so. I said your Papou used to dive in the Gulf and bring up octopus for dinner. She said that is kind of gross. I said it is kind of Greek. She rolled her eyes. I signed the form. We are communicating.

I listed a beautiful home in Bayshore this week — waterfront, four bedrooms, a kitchen that made me want to abandon my career and just cook in it forever. I took the listing photos myself and spent fifteen minutes photographing the kitchen because a good kitchen photograph sells a house the way a good plate of moussaka sells a restaurant — it tells you everything you need to know about what kind of life is possible inside those walls.

I made Greek-style stuffed peppers tonight — bell peppers filled with rice, ground lamb, tomatoes, pine nuts, and mint, baked until the peppers are soft and the filling is fragrant. It is a dish Mama used to make every September when the peppers at the market were perfect — fat, glossy, begging to be stuffed. I carved out the seeds the way Mama showed me, with a small knife and a steady hand, and I filled each one and laid them in a baking dish and poured tomato sauce around them and baked them until the house smelled like autumn even though the thermometer outside still said summer.

The stuffed peppers came together the way the best September dinners do — almost from muscle memory, hands moving through familiar steps while my mind stayed somewhere between Alexander’s college applications and the light falling gold over Bayshore. When I make something rooted in Mama’s kitchen, I want everything else on the table to speak the same language — herbs, lemon, olive oil, the kind of food that smells like somewhere specific. These Greek Chicken Kabobs are that companion dish: simple enough for a Tuesday, fragrant enough to make Sophia look up from her phone, and Greek enough that Papou would have approved without saying so out loud.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes (plus 30 minutes marinating) | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
1 teaspoon lemon zest
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
1 green bell pepper, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
1 medium red onion, cut into wedges
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish
Lemon wedges, for serving
Tzatziki sauce, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, garlic, oregano, thyme, smoked paprika, salt, and black pepper until combined.
Marinate the chicken. Add the chicken cubes to the marinade and toss to coat thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 4 hours for deeper flavor.
Prepare skewers. If using wooden skewers, soak them in water for at least 20 minutes before grilling to prevent burning. Thread the marinated chicken, bell pepper pieces, and onion wedges alternately onto the skewers, leaving a small gap between pieces for even cooking.
Heat the grill. Preheat an outdoor grill or grill pan over medium-high heat. Lightly oil the grates with a paper towel dipped in oil.
Grill the kabobs. Place the skewers on the grill and cook for 12 to 15 minutes, turning every 3 to 4 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through with no pink remaining and the edges are lightly charred. An instant-read thermometer should read 165°F at the thickest piece.
Rest and serve. Remove the kabobs from the grill and let rest for 3 minutes. Arrange on a platter, garnish with fresh parsley, and serve with lemon wedges and tzatziki sauce alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Greek Chicken Kabobs — The Flavors Mama Brought to September