When I lived in Boston’s North End in the 1980s and 1990s, I would occasionally wander into a neighborhood bar called The Corner Café. It was located on Prince Street, near the corner of Salem Street. And indeed it was a neighborhood place. The owner, Richie Longo, was a neighborhood boy who grew up on Prince Street and duly attended Saint Leonard’s School, as his first-generation Italian-American parents had, along with all the other neighborhood kids.

The usual bosses of the time were also people from the neighborhood; all of whom seemed to have nicknames. (although, the nicknames were useful for identification purposes). There was Joe the lawyer, who wasn’t a lawyer at all, but worked as an insurance investigator. Then there was Juan el Abogado, who was a stockbroker, and Juan el Abogado, who was actually a lawyer with an office across the street. And I was always confused by Mary the Nurse, whose nickname seemed unnecessary; in fact, she was a nurse, but she was the only regular named Mary.

Then there were the rest of the regulars: mostly young men, who fancied themselves smart guys. Their conversations were peppered with phrases like ‘fuggeddaboudit’ and ‘ba-da-bing!’ And they often talked about ‘needing to see this guy’ or ‘having to take care of that thing’. But despite the fact that they revered Robert DiNiro, and may have harbored dreams of being known by a nickname like “last rites,” the most serious crime any of them could have committed was betting on the Red Sox in late September.

However, when these local heroes weren’t talking about ‘this guy’ or ‘that thing’, the conversation tended to veer towards food; often, towards Chicken Scarpariello. This was a hot dish, literally and figuratively, during my years in Boston. And people often debated the qualities of one preparation over another. Talk often focused on the merits of Cantina d’Italia’s recipe, which included sausage, over Felicia’s, which did not. Sausage or not, however, Chicken Scarpariello is the kind of dish that would please any know-it-all because it encourages eating with a fork in one hand and a piece of crusty bread in the other; the latter, used to soak up the sauce and to punctuate various exclamations of ‘fuggeddaboudit’ or ‘ba-da-bing’.

The short version of the Chicken Scarpariello story, ‘cobbler style’, is that it got its name from the humble guy who cobbled together the ingredients for the dish from his meager pantry. How it became a favorite of the wise is obscure and most likely lost to history. But I suggest that when you serve Chicken Scarpariello at home, the conversation at the table will perk up and go up a decibel or two above normal. And will you and your tablemates enjoy it? Fugged daboudit.

Skip’s Chicken Scarpariello

Zapatero Style Chicken

Extracted from my second cookbook, “Almost Italian”.

Ingredients:

2 ½ — 3 lbs. Fried chicken cut into 8 pieces

4 tablespoons olive oil

4 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced

1 cup dry white wine (Pinot Grigio or Verdicchio are popular choices)

6 – 8 hot peppers, cored, seeded and coarsely chopped

1 14oz. can of chicken broth (preferably low sodium)

4 tablespoons Italian flat-leaf parsley

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

juice of 1 lemon

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Six Links Sweet Italian Sausage, cut into 1-inch strips chunks (optional)

4 tablespoons Italian flat-leaf parsley

Preparation:

Season the chicken pieces on all sides with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat, then add the olive oil. Add the garlic and sauté for about 1 minute, being careful not to let the garlic burn.

Add the chicken pieces to the pan without crowding. Do this step in batches if necessary. Cook chicken pieces, turning occasionally, until golden brown all over; About 10 minutes. Remove the chicken pieces from the pan and reserve on a plate, covering them with aluminum foil.

Raise the heat to high and add the wine. Boil, stirring with a wooden spoon to loosen any chicken pieces that have caramelized in the bottom of the pan, for about 2 minutes. Add the cherry peppers, chicken broth, parsley, and butter. Allow the mixture to return to a boil, then add the lemon juice. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as needed.

Reduce heat to a simmer, return chicken to skillet, and simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes. For a smart boy presentation, add the sausage at this point as well.

Serve

Remove the chicken pieces (and optional sausage) on a plate, cover with the sauce and garnish with the parsley. Serve with plenty of Italian bread to soak up the sauce.

Serve oven