Bacon-Wrapped Chicken Bites — Because the Fourth of July Changes Everything

His name is Ryan. Ryan Abernathy. Yes, ABERNATHY. Same last name. No relation. I checked. He checked. We both checked. The universe has a sense of humor. Fourth of July. Virginia Beach. The bar on the boardwalk. Keisha and Maddie and I showed up at 8 PM in sundresses and sandals and the kind of confidence that comes from being nineteen and tan and it being the Fourth of July. The bar was packed — military town, military holiday, half the people there were in service or connected to service. You could tell by the haircuts. I was at the bar ordering a Coke (nineteen, remember — not legally old enough for anything stronger, not that the bartender cared, but I cared because Abernathys follow rules even when nobody's watching). A guy reached past me for his beer and said, 'Excuse me, ma'am.' Ma'am. I turned around. He was maybe twenty-one. Dark hair, buzz cut, a jawline that looked like it had been engineered by someone who took their job very seriously. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans and dog tags, because of course he was wearing dog tags, because this is my life and my life is a military recruitment ad. 'Did you just call me ma'am?' I said. 'Yes, ma'am.' Not ironic. Not cute. Sincere. This man sincerely called me ma'am at a bar on the Fourth of July. 'I'm nineteen. Don't ma'am me.' He smiled. And look — I'm a writer, or I'm trying to be, and I should have better words for this. But his smile did something to the room. The room got smaller. Or I got bigger. Or something happened in the space between his smile and my heartbeat that communication theory has a name for but that I, standing at a bar in Virginia Beach with a Coke in my hand, could only call: oh no. His name is Ryan Abernathy. He's a Corporal in the United States Marine Corps, stationed at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. He's twenty-one, from a small town in Ohio called Wapakoneta (same town as Neil Armstrong, which he mentioned twice, which I found endearing rather than annoying, which should have been my first warning sign). He came to Virginia Beach for the Fourth with his buddies. He drinks Budweiser. He has a handshake that could crush a walnut. We talked for three hours. Three HOURS. Keisha found me at 11 PM and said, 'We're watching fireworks on the beach, are you coming?' and I said, 'In a minute,' and the minute turned into thirty minutes turned into Ryan and me standing on the boardwalk at midnight while fireworks exploded over the ocean and he said, 'Can I get your number, ma'am?' and I said, 'Stop calling me ma'am,' and gave him my number. I drove home at 2 AM. Keisha was asleep in the passenger seat. Maddie was asleep in the back. I was wide awake. I was vibrating. I was a nineteen-year-old girl who had just met a Marine named Abernathy at a bar on the Fourth of July and given him her phone number and watched fireworks with him and felt something crack open inside her chest that she didn't have a name for. He texted at 2:47 AM: 'Got home safe. Thanks for tonight, Rachel. Happy Fourth.' Rachel. Not ma'am. Rachel. I am in so much trouble.

Every Fourth of July since that night, I make these bacon-wrapped chicken bites — not because they’re fancy, but because they’re exactly what that holiday tastes like to me now: a little bold, a little smoky, the kind of thing that disappears fast and leaves you wanting more. I stood on a boardwalk that night thunderstruck and giddy and low-key terrified by one smile from a Marine named Abernathy, and I needed something to do with all of that feeling when I got home the next day. Turns out, wrapping things in bacon and throwing them in the oven is excellent emotional processing. These have been on every cookout spread I’ve made since — and every single time, I think about fireworks over the ocean and a text that said Rachel instead of ma’am.

Bacon-Wrapped Chicken Bites

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch cubes
• 12 oz thin-cut bacon, strips cut in half crosswise
• 1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional, for heat)
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• Toothpicks, for securing

Instructions

1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a large rimmed baking sheet with foil and place a wire rack on top. Lightly spray the rack with nonstick cooking spray.
2. Make the spice rub. In a small bowl, whisk together the brown sugar, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne (if using), black pepper, and salt until combined.
3. Season the chicken. Add the chicken cubes to a large bowl and toss with about two-thirds of the spice mixture until evenly coated.
4. Wrap the chicken. Wrap each seasoned chicken cube tightly with one half-strip of bacon and secure with a toothpick. Arrange the wrapped bites seam-side down on the prepared wire rack, leaving a little space between each one.
5. Add remaining rub. Sprinkle or lightly pat the remaining spice mixture over the tops of the bacon-wrapped bites.
6. Bake. Bake for 20—25 minutes, until the bacon is crispy and the chicken is cooked through (internal temperature of 165°F). For extra crispiness, switch the oven to broil for the final 2—3 minutes, watching closely so the bacon doesn’t burn.
7. Rest and serve. Remove from the oven and let rest for 3—4 minutes before serving. Serve warm, toothpicks in, straight from the pan — or pile them on a platter for a crowd.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 29g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 620mg