Can we talk about chicken skin? (That’s a rhetorical question; we’re bloody talking about chicken skin). Peruse supermarket fridges where assorted poultry parts lurk, witness the pallid, pink, skin-free horror and you’ll be asking the same question as we regularly do... where the heck does it all go? Are punters skin-averse, or is it repurposed to make pet food more profitable? Skinless breasts are our absolute bête noire; skin keeps flesh juicy, flavoursome, and yes, ‘moist’ even (the most hated word in food writing). So why would you take that off? If you know, fill us in. In the meantime we’ll keep buying skin-intact marylands, presumably named after the American abomination where fried chicken languishes under a thick, white glug of roux-thickened sauce, bacon and sautéed bananas. Shudder. There’s a recipe amongst all this huffing over absent skin and banana where it shouldn’t be and we know you want it. Taa-daa!

SERVES 4

4 chicken marylands (about 1.5kg)

3 tsp dijon mustard

2½ tbsp white wine vinegar

2½ tbsp finely chopped oregano

80g (1 cup loosely packed) finely grated pecorino or parmesan

½ an onion, very finely chopped

3 cloves of garlic, crushed or finely chopped

60ml (¼ cup) extra virgin olive oil

2 tbsp drained capers

Preheat the oven to 200˚C. Using a large sharp knife, cut the chicken through the leg joint to separate the legs from the thighs and trim off any excess fat. 

Combine the remaining ingredients except the capers in a bowl, season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, then push the mixture under the skin of the chicken; you probably won’t use it all. Place the chicken in a baking dish in a single layer and scatter over any remaining parmesan mixture. Using clean hands, squeeze as much remaining liquid from the capers as possible, then scatter them over the chicken. Bake for 30-35 minutes, or until the juices run clear when pierced with a skewer through the thickest parts. 

Too easy. I team this with boiled baby potatoes and a shredded radicchio salad dressed with balsamic vinegar, extra virgin olive oil, a few finely chopped anchovies and some coarsely chopped parsley. If there’s a lot of juicy stuff in the chicken pan, I syphon it off into a small saucepan and boil the shit out of it until it’s very reduced, then spoon it over the chook when I serve it.