Chicken Spiedini with Amogio Sauce

“Spiedini” is an Italian word, but it means “skewer.” There’s nothing innately Italian about that part. People have been cooking things on sticks the world over since the first guy burnt his hand. “Amogio” is innately Italian, specifically Sicilian; old as the hills but with no good story trailing behind. It’s citrus and herbs with olive oil and a touch of spice. It’s a simple recipe that takes advantage of the island’s selective bounty.

I’ve read that when the Greeks arrived, Sicily was inhabited by the Elymi to the west, the Sicuni in the central region, and the Siculi along the east. Each had a style of cooking that, other than that they all used roughly the same ingredients – citrus, herbs, olives, nuts, seafood, and the occasional meat, I’ve read was distinct. I can’t find any commentary to enlighten me as to how they were distinct, just that they were. The Greeks didn’t change much to the cuisine other than introduce fish stew, which seems improbable. Anybody that lives by the sea and has a pot will get that notion on their own.

The Greeks had staying power. Syracuse was a force as early as the fifth century B.C. and Hellenic dialects were still dominant under Augustus when Rome was dependent on the island for wheat. In 831, under Saracen rule, the capital moved from Syracuse to Palermo and Greek influence faded. According to Waverley Root in his book The Food of Italy, the Saracens never left, “They are at any rate still with us in the kitchen. Almost everything which strikes us today as typically Sicilian is typically Saracen.”

Next came the Normans, who thought the Saracens were great when they weren’t resisting Norman invasion. Once firmly in charge, the Norsemen integrated parts of Saracen culture into their own. The rulers were particularly fond of the harem concept. Arab and Viking interaction was nothing new. There were established trade routs between the two cultural groups, or probably more accurately between the two groups of cultural groups, dating back to at least the 700s but this is the first I’ve read of a blending instance. Apparently Norman knights rode alongside Saracen footmen and members of the two cultures sailed together in the navy with Saracens taking a leadership role. Thus “Emir” (or “Amar”) gives us “admiral.” As far as food contributions, the Normans introduced salted fish and not much else.

After the Normans came migrations, sometimes armed and sometimes not, of Albanians, Turks, and Holy Roman governors. Less Nordic Frenchmen ruled for a disastrous twenty-five years. The Sicilians called them tartaglioni, meaning “stutterers” because their Italian was so bad. One of them took liberties, or was at least accused of taking liberties, with a young Sicilian girl on Easter Tuesday 1282. Angry islander murdered Frenchmen left and right, identifying them, according to Root, “by inability to pronounce correctly the word cicero, chick pea.”

There continued a host of other refugees and fortune seekers, all with their own culinary traditions, until Garibaldi arrived in Marsala but Root and others maintain little changed foodwise since the Saracens. I don’t think that’s right. I don’t think the Saracens changed the cuisine all that much.

Sicily is famous for the Mafia, from Root again, “a name which may come from the Arabic manfa, ‘place of exile,’ referring to the Saracens who, after they lost control of the island, became ‘exiles’ on their own former territory, taking refuge in an occult government parallel to the official one.” With foreign regimes stumbling over each other in messy succession a stable shadow organization thrived. Did something similar happen with the way they ate?

What started in the fifth century B.C. as a cuisine taking advantage of citrus, herbs, olives, nuts, seafood, and the occasional meat with eastern, central, and western regional variations is today a cuisine taking advantage of citrus, herbs, olives, nuts, seafood, and the occasional meat with eastern, central, and western regional variations plus new-fangled stew and salt cod and then tomatoes and chilis from the New World. I’m assuming that earlier residents were limited by transportation and made do with what the island had to offer, and later generations were so barraged by an onslaught of culinary influences that none had an opportunity to gain a foothold. Did they find stability in food? I’m reminded of a toddler on Christmas morning who tears open the first present and finds a truck. The adults keep handing new packages to the kid but he just wants to play with the truck. Everybody in the Mediterranean took a shot but forget it. It’s Chinatown.

Sicilian cooking didn’t stay in Sicily, though. Various diasporas spread the tradition far and wide. My great grandparents on my mother’s side hailed from near Saracen founded Messina. It’s funny, but they grew up in the same small town, both moved to Milan and then on to America, but they never met before New York. They founded Carroccio’s, a creamery in New Jersey, where in addition to cheeses they sold prepared foods; old family recipes brought across the ocean and passed from parent to child, generation to generation. Not Amogio, though. I suppose they knew about it, but we never made it at home and I never saw it at a relatives house so maybe my great-grandparents didn’t care for it – which would surprise me because it’s just a mix of kitchen staples – or maybe they called it something different. I found out about it from this woman in California who I follow on Twitter. We hate most of the same politicians and she posts impressive pictures of food she makes.

Culinarily, my marriage rests on a solid foundation of compromise and trickery. If it were up to me, we’d have pasta with a variant of tomato sauce for every meal. In order to keep my wife happy, we don’t.

Instead, we have things like Chicken Spiedini with Amogio Sauce which is breaded chicken on a stick with lemon herb sauce. As you can plainly see by the name, this is not a pasta dish with a variety of tomato sauce. It coincidently pairs brilliantly with oven roasted Roma tomatoes and spaghetti, but those are sides. See the difference?

Don’t confuse Amogio with Ammoglio. Ammoglio is lazy man’s marinara or, as I’ve read it referred to, “Italian salsa” which is weird since “salsa” is an Italian word. I know what they mean, but it’s weird.

Chicken Spiedini with Amogio Sauce

for the spiedini

• 2 lbs. boneless chicken thighs
• wooden skewers
• 1 cup breadcrumbs
• ¼ cup grated Parmesan
• 2-3 cloves garlic, minced
• small handful flat-leaf parsley, chopped
• 2 tsps. lemon zest
• 2 tbsps. olive oil
• 2 tbsps. unsalted butter
• salt to taste

for the tomatoes

• 6 Roma tomatoes
• olive oil
• salt to taste

for the sauce

• ½ cup unsalted butter
• 1 cup olive oil
• ½ cup lemon juice
• 3-4 cloves garlic, minced and roughly chopped
• handful parsley, chopped
• handful basil, chopped
• red pepper flakes to taste
• salt and pepper to taste

This first part can be done ahead of time. I prefer the tomatoes cold but they don’t have to be. Slice them into wedges, spread on a baking sheet or similar, drizzle with olive oil, and salt a bit more than you think you should. Put the pan in an oven preheated to 350°and bake for 1 hour.

Let the tomatoes cool and then set them aside. Like I said, I like them cold so I put mine in the refrigerator where they’ll keep for a couple of days if need be.

The next few steps should be familiar minus a wrinkle or two to anyone who reads this series regularly. Put the thighs on a cutting board and under a plastic bag to avoid a mess and smash to around ½ to ¼ inch uniformish thickness. It’s smashing with a hammer, so have fun. Not monkeys in the 2001 opening fun. Controlled fun.

Cut the flatted chicken into smaller pieces, roughly palm sized. Average adult palm sized.

Mix breadcrumbs, Parmesan, lemon zest, parsley, and garlic together in a bowl. Melt the butter over low heat and combine with olive oil in a separate bowl.

Set up an assembly line. Salt the chicken, coat in butter/oil, and press into breading mix – you may have to flip it a few times to get decent coverage.

Roll the breaded thighs. They may be shaped in a way that folding is all that’s possible and that’s fine. Run them through three to a skewer.

You’ll be asking why you’re rolling them up and putting them on sticks. That’s a great question. The traditional way to cook spiedini is on a stick and spiedini is meat cooked on a stick. It’s circular – the reasoning I mean though rolled chicken is too – and makes no sense. You aren’t going to hold breaded chicken over a fire so the stick is useless to the cooking process. The presentation is nice and rolled up chicken stays moist. Rolled chicken also takes up less space on a baking sheet which is helpful if you’re cooking for a crowd. Other than that, I got nothing. Do it for Chesterton’s Fence reasons.

Put the baking sheet with skewered chicken in an oven preheated to 400° and bake for 15 minutes, turn the rolls over and cook for another 15 minutes.

The sauce instructions are minimal.

Put all the ingredients listed under sauce excepting salt and pepper in a pan and cook over medium until the butter melts. Turn it down to a simmer, stir, salt and pepper to taste, and you’re done. Don’t sauté the garlic first or anything.

After 30 minutes in the oven, pull the chicken out, cut into a thick piece to check for doneness, return to the oven if needed, and serve over a side of spaghetti, tagliatelle, angel hair, etc. with a side of oven roasted tomatoes. A few lemon wedges are as necessary as the skewers considering all the juice and zest already incorporated, but they fill out the plate.

Now you have the stubborn (fish stew, salted cod, and New World baubles aside) culinary tradition of Sicily on a plate, passed to you as it was passed to me in my role as inheritor of the family legacy: via the internet.

Enjoy.