Chicken Shawarma

My strongest belief in the universe — aside from never microwaving butter like it’s a personality trait — is that Chicken Shawarma deserves a drumroll and a tiny parade. Also: if you think store-bought garlic sauce is “fine,” we need to talk (but maybe after you try this).

Confessions from the kitchen: the great Thanksgiving grill fail and why I cried over chicken

Once, I attempted to make a “fusion” Thanksgiving where I shoved turkey, cranberry relish, smoked paprika, and my ex’s emotional baggage into one pan. Disaster. Smoke alarm: 1. Emily: 0. I will never forget the moment the cranberry gravy decided to bond permanently to the oven floor (the lemon bars of 2021, but saltier). This is relevant because that same pan-scorching panic taught me discipline: marinades save lives and emotions.

My mother, bless her Midwestern heart, taught me to marinate things until they confess their flavors. Which is how I fell in love with shawarma — it’s basically chicken that’s been interrogated kindly with spices. Also, confession: I used to think shawarma was just “fancy rotisserie” until Trader Joe’s introduced me to real spices and then my life pivoted. (Okay wow, I’m already rambling.

In case you want to daydream while cooking, here’s some light reading: I once paired this with a buttery mushroom-stuffed chicken for a holiday that required redeeming (true story — very cheesy), and it worked wonders for the crowd. That said, nobody should be judged for their pantry choices.

Okay but back to the recipe

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive the entire oven trauma, let’s make the chicken. Marinate like you mean it. If you rush this, the chicken will whisper instead of sing. Also, ponder whether you want pita or rice tonight (both valid grief outlets).

I promise this recipe pairs beautifully with other comforting mains; if you’re feeling indulgent check out this buttery stuffed chicken I referenced earlier for full holiday redemption vibes.

What you’ll need (and my mini-rants about shopping):

• Chicken breasts or thighs (thighs = juicier, don’t fight me)
• 1 cup plain yogurt
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tsp cumin
• 1 tsp paprika (smoked if you dare)
• 1/2 tsp turmeric
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Pita bread or rice for serving
• Optional: fresh vegetables for serving (lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers)

Mini-rants: Buy plain yogurt from Trader Joe’s if you’re feeling nostalgic and thrifty; Aldi’s Greek yogurt is a steal for marinades if you’re on a budget. Don’t waste money on “shawarma spice blends” unless you like paying for mystery.

Also: if you want a creamy garlic sauce, mix yogurt, lemon, garlic, and a pinch of salt. I will fight you for store-bought when homemade exists.

Cooking Unit Converter: quick help for the confused

If you’d rather eyeball than measure, use this tiny helper to translate cups to “my brain units.”

Technique breakdown (I’ll talk you through it like a chaotic friend):

Here’s the part where I wave my hands and confess what actually works. Marination is therapy. Don’t just dump spices and hope for the best — mix, taste the marinade (not the raw chicken, for the love of food safety), and remember that salts are the unsung therapists here. Grill or oven? Both have merits: char is drama, oven is control.

Here’s what I learned the hard way: cook at medium-high so the outside crisps before the inside panics. Let it rest — this is the single most neglected love language in cooking.

1. In a bowl, mix the yogurt, lemon juice, olive oil, minced garlic, cumin, paprika, turmeric, salt, and pepper to create the marinade.
2. Add the chicken pieces to the marinade, ensuring they are well coated. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or overnight for best results.
3. Preheat your grill or oven to medium-high heat.
4. Cook the marinated chicken until cooked through, about 6-7 minutes per side, or until the internal temperature reaches 165°F (75°C).
5. Remove the chicken from heat and let it rest for a few minutes.
6. Slice the chicken and serve in pita bread, over rice, or in a salad bowl.
7. Top with the creamy garlic sauce and fresh vegetables as desired.

Why this matters to me (an emotional aside):

Cooking is how I talk to people without saying the big scary things — it’s nostalgia, identity, and occasionally therapy. My grandmother’s kitchen smelled like lemon and black pepper; my first attempt at a dinner party smelled like burnt ambition. Food anchors me to family, to gratitude, and to the ridiculous realization that we can all be soothed by warm bread and garlic. I cook to remember, to forgive, and to feed people who will clap politely when the smoke alarm doesn’t go off.

Also: if you want a saucier, more indulgent plate near holiday time, try pairing this with a creamy cranberry-spinach stuffed chicken for a full emotional feast — wildly decadent but comforting: holiday-style stuffed chicken pairing.

Micro-anecdote: the pita that flew across Thanksgiving

I once tossed a pita with such gusto at a potluck that it landed on a dog’s head. The dog wore it like a crown. He was majestic. We all clapped. That evening the shawarma tasted like victory.

Frequently Asked Questions — chaotic but helpful

Okay I’ll stop talking now. Make the marinade. Let the chicken rest. Feed someone you love (or a dog wearing a pita crown). If that doesn’t fix everything, at least you’ll have really good leftovers.

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator: quick nutrition check

Estimate how many calories you need today and adjust portions so your shawarma fits your mood.