Dahlia’s Fragrant Chicken Fingers

Amarante

Wed, Nov 30 2016, 9:40 am

These are easy and extremely kid friendly fir even the pickiest eater. What child doesn't like chicken fingers. My kids even had chicken finger games where they pretended their fingers were chicken claws lol. Tasty enough for an adult as well.

Dahlia’s Fragrant Chicken Fingers

Excerpt From: Melissa Clark - In the Kitchen with A Good Appetite

Time: 10 minutes
Serves 4 adults or 8 small children

1 pound ground chicken (or turkey)
½ cup plain bread crumbs
2 scallions, chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro, basil, or parsley, plus additional for garnish
1 fat garlic clove, minced
½ teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional
½ teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon ground allspice
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Pinch Aleppo pepper or cayenne
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F. In a large bowl, combine the chicken, bread crumbs, scallions, cilantro (or basil or parsley), garlic, salt, cumin, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, and Aleppo or cayenne.

2. Put half the oil into a rimmed baking sheet. Using your hands, form the chicken mixture into ¾-inch fingers and rest each one on the baking sheet. When all the fingers are formed, brush them in the remaining oil.

3. Bake the fingers until just cooked through, 5 to 10 minutes (check them carefully; the baking time will vary a lot depending upon how thick they are). Garnish with additional herbs, if desired.

Amarante

Wed, Nov 30 2016, 1:53 pm

The cookbook is a quite interesting read because she writes about what inspired her to creat the a recipe and the process of how she fine tunes it.

This recipe was created for her daughter and the story behind it is especially charming although msny of them are equally good reads.

DAHLIA’S FRAGRANT CHICKEN FINGERS

That girl sure likes things with flavor,” said my daughter’s babysitter, biting into a piece of toast slathered with the spicy, garlic-laden hummus I had made for the baby’s lunch.

While the toddlers' reign of white foods and grilled cheese is likely nigh, in the meantime, I’m tickled to be feeding my one-year-old almost anything with a kick. Chili, bratwurst, risotto, short ribs, gazpacho, and that pungent hummus are all on her regular dinner rotation, and she eats them with gusto.

So when my babysitter suggested adding chicken fingers into the mix, we both knew she didn’t mean the usual bland breast meat coated in crumbs.

No, Dahlia’s chicken fingers would have to have verve.

I decided to model the recipe on Naked Nuggets, chicken nuggets created by my friends Eric and Bruce Bromberg, the owners of Blue Ribbon restaurants in New York City (full disclosure: I helped them write their cookbook). I knew that instead of chunks of deep-fried chicken, their recipe, based on the chicken burger they serve at their restaurants, uses ground chicken.

Ground chicken has the distinct advantage of being easy to season. You can mix almost anything into it and it will vigorously absorb those flavors. At Blue Ribbon, the Brombergs keep it simple, sticking mostly to salt, pepper, and garlic. But looking at the pale mound of ground chicken in my mixing bowl, I decided to go for more intensity, knowing that my daughter would probably prefer it. And so would I, the person who ends up eating the bits she feeds me while I’m trying to feed her, not to mention the leftovers on her tray.

But what, exactly, to season the chicken with? As I was thinking about it, I started picturing the chicken fingers in my head. The image reminded me of another, similarly shaped, aromatic ground meat dish that I love to make: lamb kibbe, shot through with cumin, onion, cinnamon, and allspice, plus a healthy dose of chile. Those flavors would work well with the blank culinary canvas that is chicken.

So I went with it, cutting back on the chile somewhat but not entirely, and adding garlic, which was not in the kibbe recipe.

As a binder, the kibbe recipe used soaked bulgur, which I didn’t feel like dealing with. I stirred in some bread crumbs instead. Then I formed the meat into fingers, brushed on some olive oil, and put the pan in the broiler.

As they cooked, the scent of spice filled the kitchen. Since I made them small enough for baby hands to maneuver, they were done in minutes, and I set the pan to cool while I waited for Dahlia to return from her day’s work at the playground.
In the meantime, though, I sampled a chicken finger—for, you know, parental quality control, the same reason I need to constantly be sampling her mac and cheese just in case Annie decides to change the recipe. The chicken was fragrant, garlicky, and tinged with spice, and altogether addictive, I discovered, as I munched my way through nearly half a dozen (really small!) pieces by the time I heard my babysitter’s keys in the door.

I hurried Dahlia into her high chair, excited to see if she’d like the chicken fingers as much as I did.

Before I handed her one, though, I braced myself for a possible rejection. Although Dahlia likes things with flavor, she doesn’t like every thing with flavor, and I’ve disappointedly watched her spit out a host of mom-endorsed morsels, including a grilled Cheddar sandwich, ripe pineapple, lentil soup, and salmon caviar (okay, I admit this last one was not a surprise).

I handed her a finger, still slightly warm from the oven. She inspected it, then waved it around like a baton before opening her hand and letting it fall . . . into my waiting hand beneath her high chair (I’d learned a thing or two about mealtimes). I wasn’t about to waste a single finger. If Dahlia didn’t want them, I most certainly did.

I tried again. This time Dahlia stuck it in her mouth and tore off a chunk with her three sharp little teeth. Then she gummed it around, puffing out her cheeks and shaking her head in delight, and proceeded to eat two more.

The chicken fingers had passed muster, and the mom side of my being was mighty satisfied. The reptile side of my brain, however, was also a little sad not to continue my chicken finger pig-out. But that’s okay; I’ll just double the recipe next time and make all of us happy.