Chicken Schnitzel
In the midst of this nightmare of a year, one of the crutches that has supported me through it all has been schnitzel.
I’ve asked myself why I’ve been so compelled to make schnitzel multiple times a week over the brutal first months of 2021, but I can’t quite narrow it down. There are too many reasons I love schnitzel. Let me count the ways:
It tastes, literally every time, f%&king fantastic.
I find the ritual aspect — the beating, the dipping, the frying — incredibly soothing. Stress-relief with a delicious, practical outcome.
It can be served in so many ways: dripping in melted mozzarella atop red sauce spaghetti, chopped up in a big salad with creamy vinegary dressing, naked with a pool of ketchup, cottoletta alla bolognese-style with prosciutto and parmigiano, next to some wilted greens with a few anchovies on top, between two halves of a sweet bun with coleslaw and mayo…[fill in your fried chicken fantasy here]. So while we’re eating schnitzel three times a week, dinner’s never the same.
It can be mostly prepared ahead of time (any time, really, you feel the need to beat something with a mallet).
Kids do not complain about it. Also, in my experience, you can’t hear kids complaining over the sound of beating the sh!t out of chicken thighs.
It’s a blank slate, just add what you want to the breadcrumbs — tons of dried herbs and salt, lemon zest and fresh parsley, experiment with miso powder and sesame — it’s up to you!
A little bit of chicken goes such a long way: when you pound the chicken out, it becomes enormous.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on the countless cooking traditions around the world, but there are a few I know better than in passing. One of these is the very niche (and quite often subpar) cooking of the communal dining room (haderochel) on an Israeli kibbutz, where chicken schnitzel, served with tiny packets of off-brand ketchup, is a mainstay. Another cuisine I’m intimate with is that of Bologna, Italy, where cottoletta alla bolognese (traditionally made with veal but easily substituted with chicken) is king. To make a quick version of the Bolognese masterpiece, follow my schnitzel recipe, then top each piece with a slice of prosciutto crudo, a small handful of grated parmigiano reggiano, and either bake for a few minutes to melt the cheese or, more traditionally, cook in a covered pan with a small amount of broth until the cheese has melted.
For a far deeper dive on schnitzel than I feel qualified to take, there’s this excellent article by Matt Preston. But after making approximately a million schnitzel meals in the last 3 months, here is my advice:
Don’t use plastic wrap when therapeutically beating your chicken thighs, as many recipes recommend. Parchment paper works WAY better as it doesn’t tear and crumple.
Remember the order of dunkage is always FEB: flour, egg, breadcrumbs. You can’t go wrong.
Don’t bother measuring everything out. Have some extra flour, eggs and breadcrumbs on hand if you run out. My measurements are just ballparks to get you going!
Be very generous with adding the herbs and spices to your panko. To my bowl of panko, if I’m serving it with pasta, I’ll add A LOT of garlic powder, salt, dried oregano and dried parsley — at least a full teaspoon (but probably more because I never measure!) of each.
First I beat all the chicken and only when it’s all flattened do I start dipping the chicken in the FEB. It saves fingers from getting unnecessarily coated in batter. I lay all the crumbed pieces on a tray, which can be stuck in the fridge until you’re ready to fry.
CHICKEN SCHNITZEL
This is the basic recipe for your next emotional crutch: schnitzel. Once you get the steps down, it becomes second nature (or at least making schnitzel is my second nature at this point). Just remember, whenever you’re asking yourself what order you dunk your chicken into its various coating baths, it’s FEB - Flour, Egg, Breadcrumbs. No matter what: FEB. All measurements are approximate — have more eggs, flour and breadcrumbs on hand in case you need to add more to your bowls. And don’t skimp on the seasoning! Serve however you want!
flavorless oil for frying (I use sunflower or canola or vegetable, but any oil [even a mixture of butter and olive oil] will work)
1 kg / 2.2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs (or about 2 - 3 thighs per person)
1 cup (approximately) plain flour
4 eggs
2 - 3 cups panko breadcrumbs (panko’s great but any kind of breadcrumb works!)
fine salt and pepper
optional but recommended to sex up your panko: add lemon zest & dried parsley // dried basil, dried oregano, powdered garlic, onion granules // grated parmigiano// cayenne pepper, etc.
TOOLS YOU WILL NEED: a mallet, a big cutting board (so you don’t smash your kitchen counter), parchment paper, three bowls, tongs, and a frying pan
Start by flattening your chicken thighs: lay out a big piece of parchment paper on a cutting board, lay one or a few chicken thighs on top, then lay another sheet of parchment on top of them. Use your meat mallet to pound the thighs until they’re pretty thin. Don’t be afraid, really whack them. If they break apart, that’s totally fine — you’ve made a chicken nugget. Once beaten flat, set thighs aside and repeat with remaining thighs.
Next, set up your three bowls for dunkage: one for flour, one for the eggs and one for the breadcrumbs with the seasonings added. Whisk the eggs. Set up a tray with parchement paper next to the breadcrumbs bowl so you can lay the breaded chicken there. Sometimes I do this by taking it one piece at a time, but more often than not I just take a bunch of chicken thighs and, using my hands, toss them in the flour bowl, making sure flour is covering them completely. Shake them off, dunk them in the beaten eggs to completely cover, then toss them in the breadcrumbs bowl to completely over, then place them on the tray. Repeat will all the chicken thighs. You can stick the tray in the fridge for a few hours (Matt Preston thinks this makes them tastier), or get frying!
To fry, fill a frying pan with a good amount of oil. I don’t like to keep adding oil as I go, so I make sure there’s a good 1/2 an inch of oil in the pan when I start. Heat it up over medium-low heat, then place in as many pieces of the breaded chicken as will fit without overlapping. It’ll take about 3 minutes per side to achieve golden brown crunchy perfectness — the chicken won’t really dry out as it’s coated, so as long as it’s not burning, you don’t have to worry too much. Pour yourself a big glass of something nice, fry all the chicken on both sides until golden brown, then serve it however you want.
