Grilled Honey BBQ Chicken -- The Fundraiser Plate Earl Cooks in Denise’s Name

Fundraiser week. The sixth annual BBQ fundraiser for sickle cell disease research at Mt. Zion Baptist Church, in memory of Denise Renee Johnson, October 15, 1987 — March 7, 2010. My daughter. My girl. The one who called me Big Daddy because she said I was too big for just one letter. The one who ate ribs with a knife and fork because she was civilized. The one who fought sickle cell for twenty-three years and lost on a Sunday morning while the church choir sang "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" through the hospital window.

I don't write about Denise easily. I don't write about her the way I write about smoke and meat and the weather on my route. Those things I can hold at arm's length, turn them over, find the humor, find the lesson. Denise I hold against my chest, close, the way you hold something you're afraid to drop because it will break and it's already broken and you hold it anyway because what else do you do with the most precious broken thing you own?

The week was all preparation. Monday and Tuesday I ordered and picked up eight pork shoulders from Jerome — ten pounds each, eighty pounds of pork, a commitment of smoke and time that would take from Thursday night through Saturday afternoon. Wednesday I prepped the rub — measured out the sixteen spices into a big mixing bowl, blended them by hand, divided them into Ziploc bags for each shoulder. The rub smells like Christmas and summer at the same time: cumin and cayenne and brown sugar and black pepper, a warm heat that rises from the bowl like the promise of something good.

Thursday night I started the first four shoulders on Uncle Clyde's smoker and a second smoker I borrowed from Deacon Harris at the church — not as good as Clyde's drum, a modern offset that runs too hot on the firebox side, but adequate. I sat between the two smokers in the dark, tending both fires, and I thought about Denise. I thought about her at five years old, sitting in this same backyard, watching Uncle Clyde smoke a hog for the church homecoming, asking him why the pig was so still. Clyde said, "Because he's resting, baby girl." She said, "Is he sleeping?" Clyde said, "Something like that." And Denise accepted this with the easy trust of a child who believes adults tell the truth, and I sat there in the dark twenty-eight years later and wished I could rest that easily, wished I could sleep the way she was sleeping now, which was forever.

Saturday morning. The fundraiser. I pulled the shoulders at six AM and transported them to the church in foil pans. Walter Jr. handled the tables. Marcus's students set up a small stage for music. Rosetta ran the donation table with the efficiency of a field hospital commander. Charlie drove in from Nashville — she always comes for this, always, no matter what.

Two hundred people came. They paid ten dollars a plate and ate pulled pork and ribs and coleslaw and baked beans and cornbread, and they put extra in the donation box because the food was good and the cause was right. We raised $8,200. Eight thousand two hundred dollars for sickle cell research, raised on the backs of eight pork shoulders and the memory of a girl who loved Stevie Wonder.

I gave my speech. I stood at the microphone and I said her name — "Denise" — and I told them about the white BBQ sauce chicken I make on her birthday, and the plate at the table, and the choir singing through the hospital window. I said, "Every dollar you give today fights the disease that took my daughter. I can't bring her back. But I can fight. And fight is what we're doing." Rosetta held my hand. The church said Amen. I sat down and ate a plate of my own BBQ and it tasted like purpose.

That night, standing at the microphone saying Denise’s name out loud to two hundred people, I felt something I hadn’t expected—not just grief, but gratitude, and a deep need to feed people something worthy of the moment. The white BBQ sauce chicken I make on her birthday is just for family, just for remembrance, but for a crowd that showed up with open hearts and ten dollars in hand, I wanted something that would hit warm and sweet and smoky all at once. That’s how I landed on the honey BBQ chicken—crowd-scale, bone-in thighs, a glaze that caramelizes low and slow the way good things tend to do. Here’s exactly how I made it.

Grilled Honey BBQ Chicken (Fundraiser Scale)

Prep Time: 30 min (plus overnight rub) | Cook Time: 1 hr 15 min | Total Time: ~14 hrs with rest | Servings: 20—25 plates

Ingredients

• 12 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 20—24 pieces)
• 1/3 cup honey, warmed
• 1/2 cup your favorite BBQ sauce, plus more for serving
• 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
• Dry Rub (mix together):
• 3 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
• 2 tablespoons smoked paprika
• 1 tablespoon coarse black pepper
• 1 tablespoon kosher salt
• 2 teaspoons garlic powder
• 2 teaspoons onion powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper (reduce to 1/2 tsp for a milder crowd)
• 1 teaspoon dry mustard
• 1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
• 1/2 teaspoon celery salt

Instructions

1. Rub the night before. Pat chicken dry. Combine all rub ingredients in a large bowl and mix by hand until fully blended. Coat each piece thoroughly, pressing the rub into the skin. Lay in foil pans, cover tightly, and refrigerate overnight. The rub sets into the meat and the smell—cumin, cayenne, brown sugar, black pepper—will fill the kitchen like the promise of something good.
2. Pull from the cold. Remove chicken from the refrigerator 45 minutes before cooking to take the chill off. This helps the meat cook evenly all the way through.
3. Build the glaze. Whisk together the warmed honey, BBQ sauce, and apple cider vinegar in a small bowl. Set aside near the grill.
4. Set up your grill for two-zone cooking. Bank coals to one side (or light burners on one side only for gas). You want a medium-hot direct zone and a cooler indirect zone. If you have access to a smoker or can add wood chunks, a handful of hickory or applewood at this stage deepens everything.
5. Sear over direct heat. Place chicken skin-side down over the direct zone. Grill 5—6 minutes until the skin is golden and releases cleanly. Flip and sear the bone side another 4 minutes.
6. Finish low and slow on indirect heat. Move chicken to the indirect zone. Cover the grill. Cook 45—55 minutes, flipping once at the halfway mark, until internal temperature reaches 175—180°F. Thighs forgive you more than breasts do—at a fundraiser, that matters.
7. Glaze twice. In the last 10 minutes, brush the honey BBQ glaze over each piece. Close the lid and let it tack up for 5 minutes. Brush once more, close the lid for another 5 minutes. The glaze should be shiny and slightly caramelized, not wet.
8. Rest in foil pans. Transfer finished chicken to foil pans and tent loosely with foil. Let rest at least 15 minutes before serving. For a crowd, this rest period is your buffer—use it.
9. Pull or serve whole. For a fundraiser plate, serve one or two pieces per person with extra BBQ sauce on the side. For a pulled-style presentation, shred the thigh meat off the bone and pile it onto buns or cornbread with slaw and a spoonful of the glaze drizzled over the top.

Nutrition (per serving, approximately 2 thighs)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 680mg