Raspberry Chicken Explosion

Since Pam hasn’t updated efoodie in more than a month (hear that, Madam Cumin and cinnamnon-scented turkey meatballs?) it falls to those of us with fewer culinary skills to pick up the slack. And thus, I bring you Diana’s Diversions’s first food blog.

But first, a bit of backstory dump (noooooooooooo!): One of the best things about writing a book set at my alma mater is that it has given me the opportunity to wax nostaligc about college life, and even better college food. New Haven had some freakin’ great food. Food that its four-year denizens remember decades later, entire culinary vocabularies borne of our experiences eating at Yale. We had amazing pizza, unusual burgers, more Thai than you can shake a chopstick at… there was a bookshop on Chapel Street that served the best black bean soup in the world. A bookstore! I’ve already covered some of these gastronomic delights in my book, but since it is not a story about food, it isn’t my focus. But thinking about my time at school, remembering the smell of the streets, the lay of the shadows, everything that helps insert me back in that world, it should not surprise anyone that I developed a very strong craving for some of my dishes from those happy, golden bygone days. (Sorry, broke into a bit of the alma mater.)

So, last Friday, consumed with craving, I called up one of my old college roommates (whom we shall call henceforth G-Lady), a brilliant lawyer-type who mixes her entirely within-graps efforts to save the world with a lovely taste in miniskirts, and told her about my craving. She instantly agreed that nothing made these hot, muggy July days in D.C. worth living like a Raspberry Chicken Explosion, and immediately agreed to meet me to concoct our own version.

Flashback to New Haven, circa 2000
On Chapel Street, in a little basement commercial space, there lives a restaurant called the Rainbow Cafe. The cafe’s offering are drawn in full technicolor on a whiteboard above the cashier and cooks, and once you order, they give you giant, plastic alphabet pieces to signify your order and direct you to a table to await the arrival of your food. Sailor Boy and I habitually visited at 7:45 on a Saturday night. As soon as he took his seat, he would remember, suddenly, that the Rainbow Cafe was BYO, and Connecticut Blue Laws being what they are, would then dash up the stairs and down the street to the nearest liquor store, which would be packed with similarly tardy students in a last-ditch effort to buy alcohol before the weekend moratorium began at 8 p.m.

He’d return with two Sammy Smiths Nut Brown Ale. The Rainbow Cafe has several delicious dishes. Their twice-baked potatoes are delicious, and I’ve always been partial to their blue burger (gorgonzola, not coloring). However, what every Yalie worth his or her college affiliation remembers about the Rainbow Cafe can be summed up in three words:

Raspberry. Chicken. Explosion.

This dish is a simply amazing invention. even in the dead of a New England winter, it brightens the day. And even in the heat of a D.C. summer it cools you off. G-Lady and I immediately set our minds to recalling its exact ingredients. Spring greens, that was the easy part. And chicken, natch. Fruit, the titular explosion of it, was also very important. Were there actual rasberries in it, or was that ingredient relegated to the dressing?

Finally, we divined the appropriate proportions:

Raspberry Chicken Explosion
Originally uploaded by dianapeterfreund.

Spring greens
red grapes, halved
gala apples, slivered
strawberries, halved
diced chicken, sauteed (we marinated our in raspberry vinaigrette, rosemary, salt and pepper, and garlic wine seasoning)
gorgonzola cheese crumbles
raspberry vinaigrette (do *not* use Paul Newman’s. We used Drew’s All-Natural, but you could also make your own)
One half of a large French croissant and two sections of orange, for garnish (do not skip this step!)

Lay down a bed of spring greens, pile the next four ingredients in a jumble on top of it, sprinkle with a healthy serving of gorgonzola crumbles, and drizzle with the raspberry dressing. The croissant is used to sop up whatever remaining blue cheese-raspberry mixture is left at the bottom of your plate, and the oranges are for afterward.

Ah, Raspberry Chicken Explosion, how I adore thee. You were the best meal I’ve had in weeks.
Also, G-lady and I concocted a trial run of the Official Drink of the (Secret) Society Girl series. I think it still needs a bit more work, but the color is perfect.

I want to give a special thank you to everyone who has responded to the author photo survey, both here and by email. I’ll be posting the results next week. In the meantime, Happy Independence Day to the American readers.