CHICKEN BREASTS w/ PROSCIUTTO, BOURSIN, SUN-DRIED TOMATOES w/ MARSALA SAUCE     

Table of Contents: CHICKEN

4 dehydrated sun-dried tomatoes


4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts


Salt


Freshly ground black pepper


Paprika


4 ¼-inch slices of boursin garlic-herb cheese


2 slices prosciutto (thinly sliced Italian dry-cured ham)


1 ½ cups chicken broth


¾ cup Marsala cooking wine


Natural-color cocktail picks

 

 

 

 

 

Soak sun-dried tomatoes in a bowl with a small amount of hot water to re-hydrate them. Pound each chicken breast until flat.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Lightly sprinkle each breast with salt, pepper & paprika.  Cut the 2 slices of the prosciutto in half to make 4 strips.

On each flat breast add a slice of the boursin cheese, a strip of prosciutto, & one sun-dried tomato cut with scissors into tiny strips.  Roll the breast, beginning on the long side, & pin with cocktail picks; then tuck in the ends & secure with cocktail picks also, trying to keep all

of the stuffing encased inside the breast.  Repeat with the other three breasts.  Place the rolled, stuffed breasts into the baking dish & bake for about 35 to 40 minutes.  Check the doneness of the breasts with a meat thermometer.  While breasts are cooking, add the chicken

broth & Marsala cooking wine to a small saucepan & cook until the liquids are partially reduced.  Keep at least a cup of liquid.  After breasts are cooked, remove them to a warm serving platter.  Carefully add the Marsala liquid to the drippings in the baking dish & stir to

blend.  Return this mixture to the saucepan & heat to hot, but not boiling.  Pour the Marsala sauce over the breasts to serve.  Serves 3 to 4.

 

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Speaking of cheese, Joe and I were rattling around in the northeastern part of Italy when we found a great agriturismo for a couple of night’s stay.  The lodging inn, The Four Seasons, at the agriturismo had four small apartments, and ours overlooked a long, steep valley

surrounded by the Italian Alps.  Breathtaking!   We were in the center of the farm that raised cows that were milked to make Fontina cheese.  Every morning we would be awakened to the sounds of the cows’ bells as the cows were herded down the mountain to the lower

pastures.  Then, in the afternoons we heard the bells again as the cows slowly went up the mountain for the night while being followed by several very patient drivers in tiny cars. Our apartment was a woodworker’s dream.  The family that owned the farm also had a small

woodworking shop where the father and sons had made every piece of lumber, trim, and furniture in all the buildings.  The trim was light in color with beautifully simple lines similar to Alpine Scandinavian styles.  How talented these people were -cheesemakers, farmers, cattle

growers, innkeepers, woodworkers – heaven only knows the skills that we didn’t learn about.  They did not speak any English; so most communications were routed through their daughter on a telephone in a city somewhere in Italy.  I’ve already told you that my Italian

language usage can usually only get me in trouble!  The views were fabulous; the aromas pungent, when the cows were traveling by; the sweet, mellow cows’ bells in the distance were soothing and heavenly; and the Fontina cheese was beyond comparison.


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