Hawaiian Bacon Pineapple Chicken Kebabs

Fourth of July, year two. Scaled back, as promised — two pork shoulders, not the full arsenal of last year. My knee made the decision for me, and I'm learning to let the knee have a vote in decisions that used to be made by stubbornness alone. Two shoulders, started at midnight, hickory and cherry, the vinegar mop, sixteen hours. I sat with them through the dark and the dawn and the first heat of the July morning, and the sitting was enough. The fire was enough. The smoke rising against the stars was enough.

The family came, as they do. Walter Jr. and the crew. Marcus and Angela — the newly engaged, glowing with the particular light that engaged couples emit, a light that is part happiness and part terror and entirely beautiful. Tyrone with his sweet tea and his lawn chair. Charlie drove in from Nashville, surprising everyone again, and I think she comes to these gatherings not despite being alone but because of it — because the loneliness in Nashville makes the fullness of Orange Mound more precious, the way hunger makes food taste better.

Raymond couldn't make it from Jackson — Ruth is sicker, dialysis three times a week, and Raymond won't leave her side. I understand this. I would do the same for Rosetta. I would do anything for Rosetta. The Johnson brothers love their women with a ferocity that surprises people who think big, quiet men are not capable of tenderness, but tenderness is not the opposite of strength — it's the proof of it.

The shoulders were perfect. Pulled at four o'clock, served on white bread with slaw, the neighborhood smelling like America is supposed to smell on the Fourth: hickory smoke and freedom and the shared conviction that this day, whatever its complications, belongs to all of us. We ate. We watched the fireworks. Trey, who is two and no longer asleep through everything, pointed at the sky and said "boom" twenty-seven times. I counted. Twenty-seven booms. That's a review.

After everyone left, Rosetta and I sat on the porch in the smoke-flavored dark, and she said, "Next year, one shoulder." I said, "One?" She said, "One. And vegetables." I said, "Rosetta, vegetables are not Fourth of July food." She said, "Earl, your knees are not Fourth of July knees." She has a point. She always has a point. The woman is a walking, talking point, and the point is always correct, and I love her for it even when the point is aimed at me.

Rosetta said one shoulder next year, and she’s not wrong — she is never wrong, and I have made peace with that. But one shoulder still leaves a lot of grill space, and a man does not let grill space go to waste on the Fourth of July, not in this family, not in this neighborhood. These Hawaiian bacon pineapple chicken kebabs are what fills that space: fast, sweet, smoky in a different way than hickory, bright where the shoulders are deep, and exactly the kind of thing Trey can point at and say “boom” about without being wrong. They go up alongside whatever the smoker is doing, they come off the grill in fifteen minutes, and they remind everybody that the Fourth is long and the appetite is longer.

Prep Time: 20 minutes + 30 minutes marinating | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
1 lb thick-cut bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 cups fresh pineapple, cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
1 large red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 large green bell pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 medium red onion, cut into 1-inch wedges
Metal or pre-soaked wooden skewers

For the marinade:

1/3 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/4 cup pineapple juice (from the fresh pineapple or canned)
3 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
2 tablespoons sesame oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Make the marinade. Whisk together the soy sauce, pineapple juice, brown sugar, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, rice vinegar, red pepper flakes, and black pepper in a medium bowl until the sugar dissolves.
Marinate the chicken. Add the chicken chunks to a large zip-lock bag or shallow dish. Pour 3/4 of the marinade over the chicken, reserve the rest for basting. Seal and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, or up to 4 hours. Do not marinate longer than 4 hours or the acidity will break down the texture.
Prep the grill. Heat an outdoor grill to medium-high, about 400°F. Lightly oil the grates to prevent sticking.
Build the skewers. Thread the skewers in alternating order: chicken, bacon (folded), pineapple, red pepper, onion, green pepper. Repeat until the skewer is full, ending with chicken. The bacon folds around the skewer so it stays put and bastes everything near it as it cooks.
Grill the kebabs. Place skewers on the grill. Cook for 5 to 6 minutes per side, turning once, until the chicken is cooked through (internal temperature of 165°F) and the edges are caramelized. Brush with the reserved marinade during the last 2 minutes of cooking on each side.
Rest and serve. Remove skewers from the grill and let rest 3 to 4 minutes before serving. The pineapple will be slightly charred and jammy. Serve as-is or over white rice. Goes well alongside coleslaw, and nobody will argue with that.

Nutrition (per serving)

Hawaiian Bacon Pineapple Chicken Kebabs — What Earl’s Grilling the Year Rosetta Gets Her Way