Grilled Mango Pineapple Chicken

I went to Puerto Rico. I flew to San Juan and drove to Bayamon and I saw the island and the island was broken.

I cannot describe it, mi amor, not fully. You have seen the news footage — the blue tarps on the roofs, the downed power lines, the rivers of mud where roads used to be. But news footage does not have a smell. The island smelled like wet wood and gasoline and something rotting and something burning, all at once, the smell of a place that has been torn open and left in the sun. I drove through San Juan and I did not recognize it. I drove through neighborhoods I had known my whole life and they were gone — not damaged, gone, as if the wind had erased them the way you erase a word from a page.

Bayamon. Hato Tejas. The house. Mami was sitting in a plastic chair in what used to be the living room. The roof was gone. The sky was the ceiling. She looked up at me and she said, Carmen, you are here. And I held my mother the way I held my children when they were born — with the fierceness of a woman who has just been given back something the universe tried to take.

She was thin. She was shaky. She was eighty years old and she had survived a Category 4 hurricane in a bathtub and she was ALIVE and she was criticizing the way Ana had organized the water bottles. Some things do not change. Not even hurricanes change them.

I cooked. I found a community kitchen set up in a church parking lot — a propane stove, fifty-gallon pots, donated rice and chicken and canned goods — and I cooked. Arroz con pollo in quantities I have never attempted. Not fifteen hundred portions like the hospital. More. Hundreds of neighbors, strangers, people who had not eaten a hot meal in two weeks. They lined up with paper plates and plastic cups and I served them and I did not cry while serving because crying while serving is unprofessional and I am a professional, I have been a professional for twenty years, and even when the professional is breaking inside she serves the food with steady hands and a steady voice and she says, Buen provecho, and she means it with her entire soul.

This was the most important cooking I have ever done. More important than the hospital. More important than Christmas. More important than anything. I fed my island when my island was hungry, and the food was good because the food is always good when it comes from love and desperation and the absolute refusal to let the hurricane win. The hurricane took the roof. It did not take the sofrito. It did not take me. Wepa.

The arroz con pollo I made in that church parking lot fed hundreds, but it was simple — rice, chicken, whatever we had. When I came home to my own kitchen, with a roof and a working stove and a refrigerator full of food I did not have to ration, I wanted to cook something that tasted like the island before the storm. Mango and pineapple and chicken on a hot grill, the sweetness charring at the edges, the smoke rising like a prayer. This is the recipe I made the night I got back, standing in my backyard with tears running down my face and a pair of tongs in my hand, cooking for my family the way the island taught me — with fire and fruit and the absolute refusal to stop.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes (plus 1 hour marinating) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs (about 8 thighs)
1 ripe mango, peeled and diced
1 cup fresh pineapple chunks
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons lime juice (about 2 limes)
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped (for garnish)
Lime wedges for serving

Instructions

Make the marinade. In a blender or food processor, combine half the diced mango, half the pineapple chunks, soy sauce, olive oil, honey, lime juice, garlic, cumin, smoked paprika, chili powder, and cayenne. Blend until smooth.
Marinate the chicken. Place the chicken thighs in a large zip-top bag or shallow dish. Pour the marinade over the chicken and turn to coat evenly. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour or up to 8 hours.
Prepare the fruit for grilling. Thread the remaining mango and pineapple chunks onto skewers (if using wooden skewers, soak them in water for 30 minutes first). Set aside.
Preheat the grill. Heat your grill to medium-high, about 400–425°F. Clean and oil the grates well.
Grill the chicken. Remove the chicken from the marinade and shake off excess. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Grill for 5–7 minutes per side, or until the internal temperature reaches 165°F and the edges are lightly charred. Let rest for 5 minutes before slicing.
Grill the fruit. While the chicken rests, place the fruit skewers on the grill. Cook for 2–3 minutes per side until grill marks appear and the fruit softens slightly.
Serve. Slice the chicken and arrange on a platter. Top with the grilled mango and pineapple. Garnish with fresh cilantro and lime wedges. Serve with rice, if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Grilled Mango Pineapple Chicken — The Hurricane Did Not Take the Sofrito