Clovey Chicken

The name refers to the flavor of cloves, not our former dog Clover, the misunderstood Puerto Rican street hound. Yesterday I prepared ham sandwiches that Pam has made a couple of times. I was in charge of our picnic with friends at Westport Rivers Sunset Music, so the Exceptional Picnic Fare seemed appropriate. (They were a success: my friend Rob suggested I could open a sandwich shop when I retire! It would have this one sandwich and some very good coffees.)

Looking for something light and simple this afternoon that would use some of what was left over from the picnic, I noticed a small package of boneless, skinless (or nearly so) chicken thighs in the freezer. I thawed them carefully and then tossed them with a small amount of olive oil and coated them on both sides with freshly ground cloves.

I then heated a bit more olive oil in a small, indispensable cast-iron skillet and added the thighs once the pan was hot. I allowed them to brown until cooked almost through, and turned them, once browning on the other side.

I then added the super-simple sauce that had worked on the sandwiches: equal parts grainy mustard and peach preserves. I thought of using the cloves because they had worked well in combination with this sauce on the sandwiches yesterday.

I failed to test for doneness while on the stove, so I microwaved them for one minute further. They paired nicely with deli redskin potato salad and In the Buff Chardonnay from Newport, another local vineyard.

And now ...

... the moment you've all been waiting for: a photo of that other Clovey, who we adopted -- through a local shelter -- from the streets of San Juan, where she had spent her first year. She was fiercely loyal to all three of us, but rather unpleasant with most visitors, so few of our friends knew her.