I told Adam on Monday that I wanted him to do something with a chicken on Thursday for supper. So, on Wednesday night, he dreamed this recipe. I mean it: the man dreams up recipes in his sleep. I heard him chopping up stuff in the kitchen on Thursday afternoon, and I knew he was coming up with something yummy:
He marinated it for several hours, and then divided it into portions, putting each in a piece of sealed tin foil, like a "hobo dinner." He cooked these on the grill. The chicken remained moist, and the juices all stayed in, making a delicious gravy. The flavor was wonderful.