Pollo con Peperoni

April 16, 2002

I haven't got any brothers so I was never forced to take an interest in rugby when I was growing up. I remember my father bringing home a rugby ball when I was about 11 or 12. He was in the air force and would play the occasional game when they had a big sports day. I guess that explained the presence of the rugby ball in the house.

I don't imagine he was seriously suggesting I take up the game, though I do remember the pair of us on the recreation ground over the back fence having shots at kicking the ball at the goalposts.

I took a mild interestest in the game in my latter years at school when I discovered that some fairly interesting boys played rugby. But I never really picked up the finer points of the game.

When my own two sons came along I stood my ground and said they would not play the sport. Unfortunately, each season some rugby player ends up in a wheelchair because he's broken his neck during a game. I don't think it worried my lads too much as they happily took up hockey and were very good at it.

Younger son decided to play rugby when he went to university. By then he was big enough to decide for himself what he played, though he did manage to break a bone in his hand during a game last year. (No, I didn't say anything…)

Living in a male-dominated house, however, I have had to put up with my fair share of telecast rugby. Just as I settle down to watch the Friday night gardening, or a cooking programme, in comes The Spouse with the good news that "There's a big game on tonight."

And so I have to resign myself to watching, too, or disappearing into another room and putting up with the distant noise.

The Spouse cannot watch rugby in silence. He has to direct play. He lives every moment of the match and at times he gets very vocal. I often wonder what neighbours or passersby think might be happening in our house. There are shrieks and yells, frantic clapping, shouted instructions and admonitions. So far no one has coming knocking at the door to see if there's a murder taking place. However elder son and his girfriend turned up at the climax of a match on Sunday when The Spouse's team managed to snatch victory and he was in full cry as they came through the door. They could hear them at the end of the drive, they said.

His blood pressure returned to normal and he became his usual quiet self but I am not sure people should live so dangerously! I was working away in the kitchen and happened to have the camera at hand so managed to get him riveted to the edge of his chair, directing the action.

Peppers are colourful and plentiful at present so for our after-match dinner I decided to make an Italian dish of chicken and mixed peppers. It's one of the dishes we made at Italian cooking class about three years ago and comes from Southern Italy.

Pollo con Peperoni

One chicken breast per person, boned, skin on
2 large onions, halved and sliced lengthwise
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 or 2 fresh chillies, deseeded and finely chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped
fresh oregano
four peppers (try to get a mix of red, orange, yellow and green)
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 large tomatoes, skinned and chopped

Heat the olive oil in a large deep frypan and saute the onion, garlic and chillies until tender. Don't allow them to burn. Remove from the pan and set aside.

Wipe out the pan, add a little more oil and brown the chicken breasts. This will take about five minutes. Then add the wine and simmer for a few minutes to reduce. Return the onions to the pan along with the oregano, peppers and tomato pulp. Cover and simmer for 25 minutes, seasoning in the last five minutes. Leave the lid off the pan after seasoning so the liquid reduces and thickens.

We had baby potatoes, spinach and carrots with this dish, making quite a colourful meal. It would also be good with fluffy long-grain rice.