Go-To Chicken Kebabs

As a kid, I always knew that company was coming when my dad started threading chunks of chicken onto long metal skewers. I’d watch with anticipation as he assembled the tidy packages, arranged them in rows on the grill, and hovered over them as they sputtered above the flames.

Guests were drawn to the heady scent of the browned, smoky meat as it was heaped onto a platter, and their oohs and aahs emphasized how festive and special it all was. 

Since then, I’ve always associated kebabs with summer and hospitality. But I’ve also realized that meat on a stick has practical benefits: Small pieces of chicken cook quickly and have lots of surface area to coat with a spunky marinade that will char over a live fire. And bite-size morsels are tailor-made for sliding off the skewer onto warm flatbread or scooping up with rice and vegetables. 

I chose boneless, skinless thighs for my kebabs: They are more flavorful and fattier than breasts and, more important, can be cooked to a higher temperature, which allows them to thoroughly brown without drying out. That’s because thighs contain collagen, which, when heated, breaks down and becomes able to hold water and thus keeps the meat juicier.

I trimmed the loose excess fat from 2 pounds of thighs and cut them into 1-inch chunks.

Because the chicken was skinless, whatever marinade I chose needed to do double duty, not only flavoring the meat but also clinging to it and browning on the grill. This ruled out thin oil-based concoctions, so I considered yogurt.

Yogurt is popular for marinades because, among other reasons, it’s quite thick, so it clings beautifully. But I wanted something with even more complexity. Searching for inspiration, I read up on the incredible kebap ustaları (kebab masters) of Gaziantep, Turkey, who coat their kebabs in tomato paste (often in conjunction with red pepper paste).

Not only does the concentrated paste have great viscosity, but it’s also loaded with supersavory glutamates that enhance the chicken as well as sugars that caramelize on the grill. 

To the tomato paste, I added a few marinade musts. Most important: salt, which keeps the meat juicy by preventing the proteins from squeezing water out as it cooks. Salt also travels into the meat, enhancing its inherent flavors.

A bit of sugar added complexity and helped with browning; fish sauce contributed salinity and umami without imparting a distinct flavor (as soy sauce would); minced garlic brought allium depth; and a glug of oil helped not only to prevent sticking but also to release the flavor compounds of the garlic, which are fat-soluble. 

I coated my chicken pieces in the ruddy mixture and refrigerated them for an hour so that the salt would have time to penetrate. Then, while the grill heated, I speared the chicken pieces onto four metal skewers.

I seared the kebabs on one half of the grill over direct heat and turned off the other half of the grill to create a cooler “safety zone” on which to momentarily set the kebabs in the event of a large flare-up.

Once the chicken was browned on one side (this took about 2 minutes), I rotated it a quarter turn, continuing this way until the chicken was browned all over and the internal temperature was 175 degrees. It was nicely bronzed at this point, but I wanted to really try to maximize the crispy char that adds trademark depth to grilled foods. 

I recalled that grill flavor develops from drippings landing on the flavorizer bars on a gas grill or the hot coals on a charcoal grill.

These drippings break down into new, flavorful compounds and then vaporize, waft up, and condense when they hit the food, sticking to it and adding that signature grilled flavor. By trimming all the fat from the thighs, I’d been inadvertently removing the primary source of these beneficial flare-ups. 

I prepared another round of kebabs but this time left all the excess fat intact. (Bonus: My already easy prep was now even easier.) After marinating the chicken as before, I threaded it onto the skewers and transferred them to the grill.

Within minutes, I could see and smell the difference. The fat rendered and trickled down into the grill, prompting small flare-ups that triggered charring. This chicken was coppery brown and streaked with char, and it tasted succulent and savory, with compelling smokiness. 

To round out my kebab offerings, I varied the recipe by swapping out half the tomato paste for other dynamic red pastes. Two powerhouses, harissa and Thai red curry paste, turned out to be spectacular for kebabs.

To the former, I added dried mint and Aleppo pepper for a Turkish-inspired take; the latter I brightened with fresh grated lime zest and lime wedges. 

I’m looking forward to making these kebabs for company this summer—especially my dad.