In praise of boneless, skinless chicken

Boneless, skinless chicken has saved me many a night from having to serve frozen pizza or "freezer-surprise leftovers" for dinner.

I buy them in multi-packs and freeze them. Often is the evening that I've realized,  too late,  I've planned nothing for dinner. Into a bowl of lukewarm water the plastic-wrapped double breast goes (sometimes I'm running so late, I don't bother to dunk it in its defrosting bath). Then, if still frozen, I can cut them sideways into one-inch thick slices and, if there's time, lay them on a plate to defrost a little more.

Even when frozen, they can be sautéed in a pan if cut into smaller chunks.

I generally use the directions for "Sautéed Boneless, Skinless Chicken Breasts (Basic Recipe)"  from the All New Joy of Cooking (p. 587 in my edition). The great thing about this recipe is that it can be adapted wildly.  I've used their basic recipe and then added sherried mushroom sauce (recipe on the cookbook's next page); I've added broccoli and made pasta with broccoli and chicken in a white/cheese sauce; I've added broccoli and ginger and made stir fry.  Even simpler, the sautéed breasts can be served with a squeeze of lemon and a dash of garlic powder over white rice, with a salad on the side.

The other beauty of this recipe is that after the chicken pieces are sautéed, I can set one or two aside for PE and put the rest into a sauce for everyone else.

I also buy boneless, skinless chicken thighs, which are cheaper, and keep them on hand. They're a little darker and meatier, and do better in more stew-like recipes.

Sometimes I miss chicken skin and the good juices that come with it. So, every three or four weeks, I'll make an effort to buy a whole chicken or I'll defrost a cut-up chicken a couple of days in advance in the refrigerator. With that little bit of planning ahead, a whole chicken is faster to prepare than skinless breasts since usually the only preparation required is salting the outside, rubbing it with butter, and sprinkling it with dried herbs before popping it in the oven.

I'm glad that there's a choice (skin or no-skin). Thinking back to my grandmother's day, when preparing a chicken began in the afternoon—chopping off its head, plucking the feathers, and stewing a tough bird a long time—I try to remember to appreciate how easy it is to cook chicken (or almost anything else) now.