Baked Lime-Mayo Chicken recipe

I’d arrived at the grocery store – the third grocery store within a half hour – looking for quail. You know quail. It’s a small bird. It’s a small bird that is hunted for its small meat for no real reason other than people can eat it, so we do. Except for those of us living in Tampa, because nobody knows what a quail even is.

Baked mayo-lime chicken

My initial vision for this dish was a tiny quail on a soft bed of wild rice, roasted with a spicy lime quail egg mayo. The poultry lady at the store looked confused and offered up her assistance, “so…you mean you want a Cornish hen?”


I was exhausted. After running around town and coming up empty, I the bitter sense of defeat lingered over my head like an Acme anvil attached to an unthreaded rope. I let out an exasperated sigh that may have come off as rude, which I recognized immediately, and offered up a smile to offset the sigh before throwing my hands in the air and saying, “ok, lady! Take me to your Cornish hens!”

Baked mayo-lime chicken

The bird sat in my hands, being two sizes too big. How dare it? I dropped it unceremoniously into the basket and covered it with a box of trash bags. If I was going to be stuck with this bird, I might as well let it know I wasn’t happy.


Throwing a cooking party with birds twice the size of what I wanted them threw a wrench in my plan, which is why I took my kitchen shears and sliced that Cornish hen in half, scary movie style. I haven’t yet desensitized myself to hacking up chicken carcasses, even though I do it on the regular, and having these birds with such brittle bones makes it feel so weird. It makes me feel gigantic. I can only assume this is how Paul Bunyan felt when chopping trees. Except with chickens.

Baked lime-mayo chicken

But it usually takes me a while to desensitize myself to things anyway. For instance, I’ve been watching birthing videos on YouTube trying to get used to the idea that babies aren’t actually grown in cabbage patches.


My plan was to start with the birth of something tiny – a mouse, maybe – and gradually work my way up to bigger things, like a slightly larger mouse. At that size the animal isn’t large enough to make out the actual horror of birth. But still, I feel like I’m progressing.


Willow the Cat

She and her missing ovaries are sensitive to birth talk.

I guess I should now mention that I’ve had the worst case of writer’s block these last few weeks, and this post is an exercise in writing whatever comes to my mind to break the barrier. It’s like my brain had too much cheese to eat and now can’t go number 2. Wait, no…I didn’t write that.


Pro-tip: for the mayonnaise mixture, you can use either homemade or store bought, but take extra care not to use Miracle Whip. Miracle Whip isn’t mayonnaise. It’s the second sign of the end of days.


The first is not being able to find quail.



Baked lime-mayo chicken

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  • sharon
    January 6, 2013 - 4:23 pm | Permalink

    Hello friend,
    Not sure why no one posted on this one so decided to do so! First of all, sucks that you’ve had a bit of a writer’s block, definitely know that slumpy feeling but you should always be confident in the fact that you’ve got talent (even with the odd reference to #2)! Second, sucks even more that you couldn’t find quail but it is florida, what do you expect? Third, that massive cornish hen still looks damn good…never mentioned if it came out as good as you anticipated. Fourth, totally agree with you about Miracle Whip…should be illegal…how do they call that mayo when it tastes like sweet oily mush??? Don’t get the people who “love” it…perhaps they’ve had good food deprived childhoods or they just don’t have tastebuds…you never know! Anyhoo, just wanted to say thanks for your hillariously yummy posts! Happy you’re back…just saw you posted a couple more things!! (Could’ve emailed but wanted to broadcast my appreciation)

    • January 8, 2013 - 8:17 am | Permalink

      Hi Sharon,
      Thanks so much! The cornish hen still came out pretty great, even though it wasn’t quail :) I’ve come to expect that my area won’t always have the supplies I need on hand, but what kind of cook would I be if I couldn’t improvise? No cook at all!

      And yes…Miracle Whip is the devil. It’s banned from my house FOREVER.

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