"Never Show Betty" Blackberry BBQ Chicken Recipe

Oh, Grandma. Bless her cotton socks and her knack for hiding culinary gold in the most unexpected places. My latest treasure find came not from a forgotten cookie tin, but from the dusty pages of what I can only assume was her well-loved copy of "Bridge Hands of Deceit" (Grandma took her bridge games seriously) Tucked between chapters on "Southpaw Hands" and "Shifty Eyes" was a tiny, handwritten index card simply titled: "Never Show Betty" My curiosity was piqued, and my taste buds, unknowingly, were about to embark on a truly unforgettable, and slightly embarrassing, journey.

The recipe seemed innocuous enough: chicken, blackberries, and a whole lot of peppers. "Perfect," I thought, "a little kick, a little sweet." Grandma knew what's up, and she clearly didn't want Betty to know.

I started with gusto. Two chicken thigh/leg quarters went into a pot to slowly boil. While they simmered, I tackled the peppers: five poblanos, five habaneros (Grandma clearly wasn't messing around), three chipotles, two anchos, and half a bulb of garlic. I chopped, I diced, I sliced with the precision of a seasoned chef (or at least, someone who watches a lot of Food Network). My kitchen counter looked like a colorful, spicy food fight scene.

Oopsies! Pepper Bottom WAKE UP

Then, nature called. Urgently. In my haste, my brain, clearly prioritizing bladder over basic common sense, screamed, "Go! Now! Wash hands after!"

Oh, sweet summer child, I was so wrong. Settled onto the porcelain throne, immediately after drying myself from a tinkle, a fiery tingle, like a thousand tiny dragons breathing fire on my posterior, erupted. It was a "spicy bottom." Not painful, per se, but undeniably… present. I spent the next five minutes doing an awkward dance while zipping up and debating if I should change out of my jeans for a loose fitting dress... (For the record, hands were scrubbed immediately afterward. Lesson learned. The hard, tingly way.)

Back to the stove, the chicken was deboned, returned to its broth, and simmered until most of the water was gone. Then came the magic: the pound of blackberries, all my finely diced (tingle-on-my-bottom) peppers, garlic, salt, black pepper, sugar, olive oil, and butter. It simmered, reducing into this glorious, dark "gravy glaze" of spicy blackberry over pulled chicken. The aroma was intoxicating.

So Spicy Sexy - HA

Just as I was admiring my handiwork (and the thankfully fading tingle), a knock came at the door. It was my cute neighbor, introducing himself and asking for directions to the laundry room. "Smells amazing in here!" he said, sniffing the air. "What is it?"

Emboldened by my culinary triumph (and perhaps a smidgen of latent flirtation), I proudly offered him a spoon for a taste. "Grandma's Blackberry BBQ! It's got a kick, but it's delicious!"

He took a bite. Then another. His eyes widened. A slight flush crept up his neck. "Wow," he managed, between gulps of air. "That is a kick."

Within minutes, our casual "taste test" devolved into a symphony of sniffles and tears. My eyes, sensitive from the fumes of the simmering peppers, started watering uncontrollably. His followed suit.

We were both standing there over the stovetop with spoons still dipping for "tasting", two watery-eyed, red-nosed individuals, awkwardly snuffling our noses between compliments on the "flavor."

It was less a charming culinary experience and more a competition to see who could produce the most snot without losing their dignity entirely.

Gimme Self Beer Goggles! Oyie!

In a moment of pure, unadulterated, pepper-induced idiocy, I instinctively reached up to rub my tearing eyes. Big. Mistake. The residual capsaicin on my hands (despite my earlier frantic washing, clearly some "ghost pepper" particles clung on like desperate lovers) made the tearing explode into full-blown sobbing-without-the-sadness. My eyes swelled shut.

"Are you okay?!" my neighbor asked, his voice muffled by his own tear-induced nasal congestion.

"Just… peppery!" I croaked, trying to blink through the blurry haze. By the time he had returned to the door (because despite the discomfort, it was genuinely delicious!), I could barely see him. My eyes felt like puffy, inflamed raisins. I had no idea if he was still cute, or if he'd just seen me at my absolute worst, looking like I'd just woke up with beer goggles!

The good news? My sinuses were crystal clear. I could probably smell a mosquito fart from a mile away. The Blackberry BBQ was a success in terms of flavor and nasal passages, but perhaps less so in terms of first impressions.

So, here's Grandma's recipe. Try it if you dare. Just remember: wash your hands. Repeatedly. And maybe don't invite a cute neighbor to taste test until you've fully recovered from the sensory assault. You’ve been warned.

Grandma's Blackberry BBQ (Don't Show Betty!!)

Ingredients:

• 2 chicken thigh/leg quarters

• 1 lb (approx. 450g) fresh or frozen blackberries

• 5 poblano peppers, diced

• 5 habanero peppers, sliced (adjust to your spice tolerance, seriously!)

• ½ bulb of garlic, diced

• 3 chipotle peppers, chipped small (from dried, rehydrated, or canned in adobo sauce)

• 2 ancho peppers, chipped small (from dried, rehydrated)

• Salt to taste

• Black pepper to taste

• ¼ cup sugar

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 2 oz (approx. 55g) unsalted butter

Instructions:

1. Place chicken thigh/leg quarters in a large pot and cover with water. Slowly boil until cooked thoroughly (about 30-40 minutes).

   
   

2. Carefully remove chicken from the pot, reserving all the cooking liquid (broth). Let the chicken cool slightly.

   
   

3. Once cool enough to handle, debone the chicken, shredding or pulling the meat into desired pieces. Discard bones and skin.

   
   

4. Return the deboned chicken to the reserved broth in the pot. Bring to a simmer and continue simmering until most of the water has evaporated, leaving the chicken moist but not swimming in liquid.

   
   

5. Add the blackberries, poblano peppers, habanero peppers, diced garlic, chipotle peppers, and ancho peppers to the pot with the chicken.

   
   

6. Stir in the salt, black pepper, sugar, olive oil, and butter.

   
   

7. Continue to simmer on low heat, stirring occasionally, until the peppers soften and the blackberries break down, creating a thick, glossy "gravy glaze" that coats the pulled chicken. This can take 15-25 minutes, depending on desired consistency.

   
   

8. Serve hot.

   
   

   Best enjoyed with a large glass of milk, a box of tissues, and no immediate social plans. You're welcome (but not Betty) LOL