I have had a lifelong fascination with chicken thighs, and it is much to my chagrin that our current clutch of TV chefs bang on about them as if they are a new invention. In fact, they have been around for years - perhaps as long as the chicken itself - and there was a period in my life when my diet consisted of little else.
At the time I was driven by the combination of an obsessive fascination with nutritional efficiency, a lean budget and a zeal for culinary haste. This led me to devise a daily meal of white rice, steamed vegetables and chicken thighs* - all of which could go from zero to meal in the time it took for the rice to cook. It couldn't be beaten for haste or budget, though in terms of nutrititional efficiency it has definitely been topped by Rob Rhinehart's Soylent - the Dunn's River for hipsters.
Repetitive, I hear you say - and it was (less so than the daily tuna sandwich - but that's another tale entirely) but over time I finessed the thighs with a whole suite of different cooking techniques, largely inspired by Japanese food back in the day when sushi could only be obtained from the Japan Centre at Piccadilly.
Of all the things you can do with thighs, two stand out as pinnacles of the experience. I tried to draw a line between them but I really couldn't. The only option was to prepare them both, side by side, as a double-headed (or double-legged) meal.
Chicken Teriyaki
Teriyaki is, of course, the queen of chicken thigh dishes - yet sadly, even in London, there are precious few places which serve it well. Many years ago there was a tiny café at the entrance to Moorgate station that sold the most sublime Teriyaki Bento imaginable. Sadly it vanished years ago.The secret of a Teriyaki is that it should be slightly boring. This gives everything the chance to stand out for itself, and not be drenched in an excess of sauce.
Maybe I shouldn't tell you how to do this, but I will. The thighs need to be boned, but don't you dare remove the skin. It's essential to the taste, the texture, and everything else. They can be stabbed with a fork, then marinade for 20 minutes - no more, no less - in a mix of Kikkoman soy, mirin and a squeeze of ginger juice (grate a ginger and squeeze it).
The thighs should be sealed on a high heat and then - herein lies the secret - cooked on low heat, skin down, with a lid on the pan. All the juices can then be mixed with the marinade, a good dose of sugar, and boiled down to a thick glaze. Glaze the meat in the pan, slice it thinly and serve on rice, a bed of shredded cabbage, or just as it is.
The texture is soft, moist and yielding. The taste - rich, warm and absolutely unbeatable. This may be here some like to bang on about umami, but I'll resist the urge. It's not big, it's not clever. Just to say - try the Teriyaki and you won't want to stop eating.
Salt and Pepper Thigh Salad
If that seems like too much effort, this little dose of perfection is even easier. This is probably the one thing that can't actually be beaten. Probably.Simply slice up the thighs - again, don't you dare remove the skin - and drench in more salt and pepper than you think they need. Fry on a high heat in generous amounts of sesame oil, so they are crisped on the outside, yielding in the centre and truly delicious. To serve, fling onto a salad with a few croutons, or - if you wish - just eat them on their own.
If you want to be fancy you can remove the skin and fry it separately into little chickeny skin puffs, but you don't need to do this. Only if you want.
* Admittedly the drumstick is even more economical, but it's a thoroughly unpleasant lump of meat. It can only be redeemed by removing the tendons. You can do this by grabbing the tail end of the leg and helicoptering the chicken around until the tendons wind themselves up and pop - or yank them out one by one with pliers, if you have that much time on your hands.
