Caribbean Curried Chicken

Valentine's Day is Thursday and Sean handles it the way he handles most holidays: with complete sincerity and no performance. He made a reservation at the place on Tremont Street where we went on our second date, which we've been back to maybe three times in the years since, always for something that matters. He didn't mention he was making it until Monday when he said "Thursday night" and I said "what's Thursday night" and he looked at me the way he looks at me when I've forgotten something I should know and said "Valentine's Day" and I said "right, yes" and we both knew I'd completely forgotten because I have a ten-and-a-half-month-old and my brain operates on triage.

The Indian cooking class. I've been twice now and the second session was better than the first—we made dal makhani, slow-cooked black lentils with butter and cream, and I made it again on Sunday at home and got it close enough that Sean ate two bowls and asked if I was going to make this regularly. I said probably. He said good.

Liam at almost eleven months is a person with opinions who also has opinions about having opinions. He says "da" for Sean and something that sounds like "ma" for me and "ba" for everything else including the dog next door and the Bruins game and several varieties of food. His communication system is efficient if nonspecific. We're working on the resolution.

Four sessions left in the cooking class. I'm learning to bloom spices in oil, which is a technique I knew existed and was doing wrong, and which changes everything about the result. The smell when the cumin hits the hot oil is a thing I want to teach Liam about someday.

The class was teaching dal makhani, but the thing I kept thinking about after was the spice-blooming technique — the way cumin hitting hot oil changes the whole register of a dish, from flat to alive. I wanted to keep practicing that instinct at home without making the same thing twice, and this Caribbean curried chicken let me do exactly that: different spice profile, same foundational move, same reward. Sean ate it without commentary, which in our house means it’s going into the regular rotation.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks
2 tablespoons curry powder (Caribbean-style preferred)
1 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to heat preference)
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons neutral oil (vegetable or canola)
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
1 scotch bonnet or habanero pepper, seeded and minced (optional)
2 medium tomatoes, chopped (or one 14 oz can diced tomatoes, drained)
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup coconut milk
Fresh cilantro or scallions, for serving
Cooked white rice, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. In a large bowl, combine curry powder, allspice, thyme, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Add the chicken pieces and toss to coat thoroughly. Let sit at room temperature for 10 minutes while you prep the aromatics.
Bloom the spices. Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the seasoned chicken skin-side down and sear 4—5 minutes per side until deeply browned. Remove chicken to a plate.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add onion to the same pan and cook, stirring, for 3—4 minutes until softened. Add garlic, ginger, and scotch bonnet (if using) and cook 1 minute more until fragrant — this is the moment the kitchen changes.
Simmer. Add tomatoes and stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Return chicken to the skillet. Pour in chicken broth and coconut milk, bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer 25—30 minutes, until chicken is cooked through and sauce has thickened slightly.
Finish and serve. Taste and adjust salt. Serve over white rice, topped with fresh cilantro or sliced scallions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Caribbean Curried Chicken — The Smell When the Spices Hit the Oil