I was mowing my lawn at 8:30 AM. The grass was dry since there was no overnight rain or dew to settle on those nice green blades of grass. 

My ear buds were in (my sons actually, I don’t own any) listening to a random playlist of rock-n-roll (again my sons adaptation for me) he knowse what I like … as sung by the Big Bopper;

Chantilly lace and a pretty face

And a ponytail hangin' down

A wiggle in her walk and a giggle in her talk

Make the world go 'round

Ain't nothing in the world like a big-eyed girl

To make me act so funny, make me spend my money

Make me feel real loose like a long-necked goose

Like a girl, oh baby, that's a-what I like

So here I am, mowing straight lines back and forth, jammin’ to the music, when my neighbor, Todd, from three houses down, pulls up at my curb in his BMW convertible and of course starts honking the horn to get my attention. Trust me, I saw him pull up, but I had to ignore him for the first thirty seconds, I needed the win.

I stopped the mower…

“Hey Johnny-Man, what’s shaking?”

“Not much, Todd. What’re you up to?”

“Going golfing! Wanna come?”

“Todd, you know I don’t golf!” Douschebag…

“ I know. Just bustin’. Why don’t you and Deb come over this afternoon. We’re having a Barbie-Que.“

Barbie-Que? Barbie? Really? Ginormous douche.

“Yeah. I think Debbie already talked to Mary. We’ll be there around two,” I said while wiping the sweat dripping down my face.

“All righty then. We’ll see you guys later. Make us something good to eat bro. Okay?”

“Yup!”

When I was done mowing, Deb came outside with a cup of coffee.

“I saw Todd stopped by,” she snickered.

“Yea. Whata putz, but a harmless one,” I responded shaking my head.

“So, what are you going to make for Todd’s Barbie-Que, bro?” With the exaggeration on, bro.

“I was thinking something light, something refreshing it’s so darn hot outside. Maybe those Hawaiian chicken skewers?”

"Ooo. Yeah babe, those were delish and not difficult at all to make.”

Of course it’s not difficult for you, I’m the one making them. I gave her my adoring smile and went over the ingredient list with her.

I needed to purchase a 2 pound package of boneless chicken breast, 2 ripe pineapples, a small piece of fresh ginger, one large package of strawberries, a large bunch of seedless grapes, a bag of cleaned kale and 4 inch wooden skewers.

All the other ingredients I had at home:

Maraschino cherries, honey, orange juice, S$P and hoisen sauce.

I arrived back from the store before noon with two bags of groceries in hand. I put my wares on the counter and was ready to begin.

Debbie entered the kitchen.  “That was a quick trip. Did’ja get everyhing ya’need, Johnny-Man?”

“Oh, cut it out, short stuff,” I said as I hit her with a grape.

“Hey!”

So before I got started with making my version of Hawaiian Chicken Skewers I needed to address two issues… a drink and my music. You know me … 

A drink… hmmm. Hawaiian chicken? Bingo, frozen pina coladas, I had all the ingredients. 

“Hey, Deb's. Can you blend a batch of pina coladas. My Hawaiian chicken has a hankering for some.”

“Hankering? Really? Geek. To much Todd,” she threw back at me.

Allman Brothers today.  I wasn’t their biggest fan, but why not… Lord I was born a Ramblin Man.

Got my drink, got my music, got the love of my life next to me. Now let’s get started…

First I give the Mrs. a pat on the tush for good luck and proceed to filet the chicken cutlets, placing them in a large bowl. In a separate bowl I mix 12 ounces of OJ, three tablespoons of honey, some maraschino cherry juice, S$P to taste, fresh ground ginger, a little fresh chopped garlic (remember,  I am Italian, sono Italiano) and a tablespoon of hoisen sauce. Using an immersion blender I emulsify the ingredients and pour it over the chicken being sure to coat each piece with the marinade. 

Question - How many readers thought I was going to marinade the chicken in the pina coladas the Mrs. just made?

Humph … not a bad idea, right?

Let the chicken marinate in the refrigerator for about thirty minutes. In the meantime, start your grill, let it get nice and hot. Pour another pina colada, dance with the wife outside on the deck or in your kitchen and before you know it, thirty minutes have past and the grill is ready. 

Cook your chicken till it’s no longer pink or emits any juices, internal temp of 165 degrees. 

VERY IMPORTANT: 

DISCARD THE REMAINING MARINADE. IT CONTAINED RAW CHICKEN WHICH CAN BE HARMFUL IF INGESTED!

Next. Let the chicken rest so when we cut it, all the flavors remain. While we’re waiting, rinse your strawberries and grapes. Cut the green stems off the strawberries, slice them in half and set aside.

Let’s now show the pineapples the attention they deserve:

Using a chef's knife, lop off the top of one pineapple (called the crown) and the base from both pineapples (known as the base).

Take the pineapple with both ends missing, lay it on its side and cut discs about thumb thickness (be careful not to slice your thumb). Lay the disc flat, trim the exterior prickly skin (called “raphides”) and dice it into 1" cubes, eliminating the core. Do this with each disc. Set cubes aside,

SUGGESTION : Want to get creative? Before cubing the pineapple, place the discs on the grill brushing both sides with honey and maraschino cherry juice. Cook each side about six minutes. This will unwrap the sugar in the fruit, later enhancing the flavor of the skewer.

Next cube the grilled chicken filets into bite-sized pieces. While we are doing this, pour yourself another pina colada. 

The second pineapple (we’ll call him Mr. P.) will need the raphides totally trimmed from his exterior. 

On a plastic platter, arrange a thick layer of kale and place Mr. P.  in the center. Organize your grilled chicken, strawberries, grapes and skewers in front of yourself. 

Build each skewer; starting strawberry, chicken, grape and chicken. Arrange by inserting each skewer around the pineapple systematically. Final step,  lightly drizzle balsamic glaze up, down and around. All that's needed is a dollop of glaze on each piece of fruit and chicken.

Bingo. You’re done. 

“Johnny-Man, it looks great,” the Mrs. said to me. 

“Not half as good as you’re looking babe.”

We ended up being late to the party.