Traditions: Curry Chicken

Everyone says that their own mothers are the best cooks, but I thoroughly believe that my mom IS the best. Witnessing her ethic in the kitchen while I cooked at her side, observing how she processes flavors and textures, and inheriting her joy and wonder while she experiences a meal - this is how I know. Whenever I cook in my own kitchen, the standard that she’s set for me looms large. Even though I’ve worked in the culinary world for most of my adult life and most people consider me an accomplished cook, I’m constantly comparing myself to her. Because of that, I’ve never cooked Jamaican food at home.

No stew peas, no goat, none of it. I always felt like if I did, and failed miserably, it would prove the thought that constantly taps at the back of my brain: that I’m just a person that is good at reading and following a recipe. That I haven’t inherited her talent, that I’m just a poseur that is drifting in a profession in which I don’t deserve to belong. How can I exist in this space if I can’t even cook food from my own culture?

A lot to unpack here, no?

When I started writing and blogging years ago, I knew at some point that I would have to confront myself about how I felt. Also, my mom isn’t getting any younger - standing behind a hot stove for hours isn’t the move for her anymore. What if something happened to her and I let all of those recipes and methodologies slip away? Instead of centering myself and my fears, I had to bridge that gap. A week ago, my mom stayed with us for a few days while she recovered from a minor-ish procedure. After she was feeling a bit more sprightly, I stood with her in front of my spice cabinet and asked her how to cook one of her most loved recipes: Curry Chicken (Jamaican Style). I had a paper and pad at my side and I just listened as she dug around in the cupboard, occasionally chiming in to ask a question or to get clarification on why she did a particular thing. I’m not including exact measurements here, just the ingredients and steps that I took (I wrote them as I cooked and tasted for myself, I’m just not sharing them until I’ve nailed it).

I started with about 2 pounds of chicken; thighs and drumsticks only. Curry Chicken is a braise and using breast pieces isn’t going to give you that sultry, unctuous gravy and melt in your mouth meat. My mom would always start any chicken dish by washing the meat with a mixture of citrus juice and white vinegar. “This takes away that raw taste from the meat and makes it taste less like a chicken coop,” she would often say, laughing. I don’t have a giant cleaver like she does to chop it up, but by scoring open the flesh on the drumsticks and cutting the thighs in half, lengthwise, I could still expose as much of the meat as I could to the saucy goodness to come.

Then, I sliced some onions and a LOT of garlic - this is crucial to build that initial layer of flavor.

These are the roster of spices and herbs that I used: curry powder (I wasn’t able to find Jamaican style curry powder in my neighborhood, but since this was the first time I was making it, my mom gave me a pass. I believe she used to use a brand called Blue Mountain but there are a couple different brands!), turmeric, dried thyme, bay leaf, cumin, garlic powder, black pepper, and salt.

After measuring out the spices, I began to season the meat. As I rubbed in the seasonings, I kept trying to remember how it was “supposed to look”. In the middle of all of these attempts at remembering, I suddenly snapped. No matter how this turned out, it wouldn’t be exactly like I remembered. This was going to be MY take on my mother’s dish and it didn’t have to be perfect! All that mattered was that it tasted good. When I realized that, it set me free. I had to let myself off the hook and just cook the goddamn food.

I started to sweat the onions, garlic, and bay in my largest pan in a few tablespoons of olive oil with a renewed sense of purpose and vigor. I wanted to draw out as much flavor and moisture as possible before they started to caramelize.

Then I tossed in the chicken, and I “turned it” as much as possible to get it covered in the onions and garlic. I didn’t want the chicken to brown too much - I wanted the chicken to absorb all of the allium flavor while it cooked, so I kept the heat at medium low. Next, I threw in a handful of fresh thyme sprigs. As the aromas were starting hitting me, I started feeling like I was on the right track.

I noticed that the spices were starting to get a little too toasty, so I added some warm water to help deglaze the bottom of the pan. A quick taste of the liquid told me that I needed more salt and a little more curry powder. After I made my seasoning adjustments, I covered the pot and let it simmer for about ten to fifteen minutes.

After fifteen minutes, the chicken looked like this:

The gravy was still pretty loose and the meat and skin was just starting to pull from the bones. This was where she said to add more warm water (up to a cup) and to continue to simmer everything down for anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes. “You want a nice thick but not gloppy gravy and the chicken should be tender but not mushy!” she warned.

When the timer went off, I approached the pot with trepidation. The kitchen smelled outstanding but I still needed to take off the lid!

Let me tell you, when I looked down into that pot, my body relaxed for the first time that whole night. I was greeted by glistening hunks of chicken swimming in a pool of silky, golden gravy. The sauce was definitely darker than my mom’s version, but the smell? I don’t think I realized how lonely I had been without that smell.

After we finished dinner, full and happy, I texted my mom a picture of the finished pot of chicken and how I served it up (over white rice, of course).

Me: John had two helpings! I think if I can get my hands on the Jamaican style curry powder, I’ll nail it. It was so good.

Mom: Ok I am Laughing so much! Glad he enjoyed it. You will be better next time 👍🏾😘

Me: It was great but this curry powder is too heavy on the clove and it needs the scotch bonnet powder for the warm heat. It was driving me crazy and I finally figured it out!!

Mom: Yes you are so on point the clove makes it dark! Next time you will get it 👍🏾