My ex-husband and I met when we were in college in Cheney, Washington. We dated for two weeks and were married a short five months later. It was ridiculous, romantic, and dizzying.
I was living in the dorms when we met. A foodie, even in a dorm living situation, I had a full set of knives, pots, pans, and utensils that I pulled down from my bookshelves on a regular basis to cook for friends. I invited my future husband to eat a dorm-cooked meal with me and my roommate soon after we started dating.
The only thing I knew about his taste in food was that he loaded everything with hot sauce. Everything. Drowned. Drenched. Buried. Flooded. Soaked.
So, with this limited information, I scoured the Internet for recipes. At that time, I was a huge Rachel Ray fan. 30 Minute Meals, 40 Dollars a Day…I was addicted to her cutesy food nicknames and the way she talked to her food as she cooked. “Get into the hot-tub (what she calls her pots or pans), kids!” she’d shriek to her chorizo. Naturally, her website was the first one I went to and this is what I cooked: Smoky Orange BBQ Chicken Sandwiches
The recipe is simple enough: Grill some chicken breasts and make the smoky orange bbq sauce.
- 1 small onion, chopped
- 3 chipotle peppers (smoky hot peppers) in adobo sauce, found in cans in Mexican foods section
- 1/2 cup ketchup, eyeball it
- 1/4 cup orange juice concentrate
- 1 cup chicken broth
Basically, all you do is sauté the onion, put the other ingredients into a blender, blend, pour liquid into the pan with the onion, simmer, and reduce.
Now, I’m not one for following directions exactly. And at this point in my culinary experience, I had never cooked with chipotle peppers before. Instead of three chipotle peppers, I probably added five. Or the whole can. I don’t remember.
I finished the sauce, cooked the chicken breasts, put the sandwiches together, and plated them up for the roommate and the future-mate. The roommate was a picky (read: weird) eater, anyway. She used to eat meals that consisted of white rice with sugar on half and soy sauce on the other. I didn’t expect her to love Rachel’s sandwich. But I fully expected the boyfriend to love them. (Especially because I didn’t realize that I turned the sauce into citrus-y, liquid fire.)
He loved them.
With tears streaming down his face, with me quietly cursing the Scoville units under my breath (I told him I could cook! Look at him; he’s weeping!), he ate the entire sandwich and then finished my roommate’s.
He said he loved it. Still says he loved it.