Grilled Dinner Ideas -- The First Proper Grill Day of Spring

Late March. Lent. We are not the most rigorous Catholics in the family — Mamá goes to daily Mass, my sister Gabby is on a first-name basis with her parish priest, Patty drives Mamá and Papá to Sunday Mass and lectors when needed — but we observe Lent. The kids give up something. Lisa gave up wine. I gave up Coke Zero, which is the only soft drink I drink, and which I will drink with religious devotion for the other ten and a half months of the year. Diego gave up TikTok, which has been hard for him in ways that it would not have been hard for me at seventeen, because at seventeen TikTok did not exist and we wasted our time in lower-tech ways. Sofia gave up nothing because Sofia does not engage with self-denial as a spiritual practice — she lives a life of quiet self-denial year-round and the church's suggestion that she add another layer of it for forty days strikes her as redundant. The twins gave up candy, which they have negotiated to mean "candy except after a soccer game," because the twins are negotiators.

Friday is the no-meat day. This is where my problem-solving comes in, because my freezer is heavily meat-oriented and I have to plan ahead. We have done bean and cheese enchiladas. We have done shrimp tacos. We have done capirotada, which is the Lenten bread pudding my grandmother used to make, soaked in syrup and studded with cheese and raisins. This week I did calabacitas — zucchini with corn, green chile, and cheese — and a pot of pinto beans cooked from scratch with a ham hock that I removed before serving so the dish technically did not contain meat. Lisa said this was a violation of the spirit of Lent. I said the ham hock was a flavor agent and not a serving of meat. Lisa said this was a Jesuit interpretation. I said the Jesuits had a point about most things. Lisa rolled her eyes. The twins ate the calabacitas. Marco asked for seconds. Elena had thirds. Calabacitas is one of those sleeper dishes that nobody outside of New Mexico knows about and that nobody from New Mexico will live without.

Saturday I grilled. The first proper grill day of the spring. The temperature got to fifty-eight, which is not warm but is warm enough. I did chicken thighs — bone-in, skin-on, marinated in lime juice, garlic, oregano, smoked paprika, and a generous amount of red chile powder. I let them sit in the marinade for four hours. I built a two-zone fire on the Weber kettle — coals piled on one side, nothing on the other. I put the thighs skin-side down on the hot side for five minutes to get a sear, then moved them to the cool side, closed the lid, and let them go indirect for twenty-five minutes. The skin was crackling. The meat was juicy. The fat had rendered into the chile. I served them with a pot of pinto beans, the rest of the calabacitas from Friday, and a stack of fresh tortillas Lisa had picked up at the Mexican grocery on her way home from the gym.

Diego invited his girlfriend over for dinner. I had met Hayley before — she is a senior at Eldorado Prep, a good student, a club soccer player, the daughter of one of the longtime boosters — but this was the first time she had been over for a sit-down dinner with the family. The twins were on best behavior. Sofia tolerated. Lisa was warm. Hayley ate three chicken thighs, which Diego had clearly briefed her on as a strategy. (You eat. You compliment Carlos's cooking. You do not complain about the chile. You do not mention vegetarianism. You are home free.) She executed the strategy beautifully. She told me the chicken was the best she had ever had. She asked for the marinade recipe. She did not flinch at the chile. Lisa, who watches these things the way a hawk watches a field, gave me a look across the table that meant: this girl is okay. I gave her a look back that meant: yes, she is.

Diego is going to take Hayley to prom. He told me Sunday morning over coffee. He said he was thinking about how to ask her — there is some kind of expectation now that you have to make a production out of asking someone to prom, with signs and balloons and small video productions, and Diego is not a sign-and-balloons kid. He asked what I thought. I said, "Take her somewhere quiet. Tell her you would like her to be there with you. That is the ask. That is all the ask is." He said, "What did you do for prom." I said, "I did not go to prom. My senior prom was a week before the state football playoffs and I had a film session." He said, "You missed prom for a film session." I said, "I did." He said, "Do you regret it." I said, "No. But I would not blame you if you did not make the same choice." He nodded. He said, "I am going to take her to that overlook off Lookout Mountain and ask her there." I said, "That is a great ask." He said, "Thanks, Dad." He drank his coffee. He went upstairs to study.

Sunday night I prayed for Diego and Hayley and the team and Sofia's 800 and Lisa's back, which has been bothering her, and Mamá's arthritis, and Papá's blood sugar, and the soul of my brother Ruben, who never went to prom either because he enlisted at eighteen and missed it on purpose, and who would have been thirty-nine this year, and who would have been at every Diego game in the front row drinking a Coors Light and yelling at the refs. Lent. Forty days of trying to remember what is precious. The list keeps getting longer. Feed your people. The game is won at the table.

That Saturday marinade — lime, garlic, oregano, smoked paprika, and a generous hand with the red chile powder — is the one Hayley asked to take home, and honestly it’s the one worth writing down. Four hours in the marinade, a two-zone fire on the kettle, five minutes skin-side down on the hot side, then twenty-five minutes indirect with the lid closed: that is the whole method, and it has not failed me yet. If you are feeding people you want to impress, or people you already love, or both at the same table, this is the recipe.

Grilled Chicken Thighs with Chile-Lime Marinade

Prep Time: 15 minutes + 4 hours marinating | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 6 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 4 lbs total)
• 1/4 cup fresh lime juice (about 3 limes)
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 2 teaspoons smoked paprika
• 2 teaspoons red chile powder (New Mexico-style preferred)
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons olive oil

Instructions

1. Make the marinade. Whisk together lime juice, minced garlic, oregano, smoked paprika, red chile powder, salt, pepper, and olive oil in a bowl until combined.
2. Marinate the chicken. Place chicken thighs in a zip-top bag or shallow dish. Pour marinade over the top, turning to coat all sides. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight for deeper flavor.
3. Build a two-zone fire. Light your charcoal and pile the coals on one side of the kettle grill, leaving the other side empty. Let the grill heat until coals are ashed over and the grate is hot, about 10–15 minutes. Oil the grate lightly.
4. Sear the chicken. Remove thighs from the marinade and shake off excess. Place skin-side down directly over the hot coals. Sear for 5 minutes until the skin is golden and starting to crisp. Watch for flare-ups and move pieces as needed.
5. Finish indirect. Move all thighs to the cool side of the grill, skin-side up. Close the lid with the vents open. Cook indirect for 22–25 minutes, until the internal temperature reaches 165°F and the skin is crackling.
6. Rest and serve. Transfer chicken to a platter and rest for 5 minutes before serving. Serve alongside pinto beans, calabacitas, and warm flour tortillas.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 390 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 3g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 480mg