Greek cooking is not one of my specialties. Whatever fondness I may have for lemon, garlic and roasted meat, I’ve just never really put it together in any substantially Greek way. That’s not to say that Grecian cuisine is not a part of my daily routine. Ideally, a morning begins with Fage 2 percent yogurt with honey. This thick stuff is such a welcome change from its drippy counterpart you might find on a breakfast bar. And I’m nearly as enthusiastic about the possible probiotic benefits of yogurt as I am about the flavor, texture and other magical qualities of honey. No wonder I’m in love with the combination.

I’m a big enough fan of Fage yogurt that I’m Fage Facebook follower (FFf). Good thing, as they posted a recipe for fried chicken not so long ago. Since I’ve got no Greek recipes up my sleeve and because the same goes for fried chicken, I thought I might dive in – particularly in that my chicken tandoori has already sold me on marinating chicken in yogurt.

First attempt was for the husband and me alone, and my first alteration was going boneless – breasts with skin at Whole Foods.

Making the marinade is simple. There’s really nothing at all demanding about this recipe. Stir up the marinade and douse your breasts for at least six hours, no more than 12, and you’re nearly guaranteed succulent meat. After wiping it down and throwing the chicken in the dry ingredients, I arrived at what was for me the trickiest juncture: frying. Like I said, this was new territory to me. I’ve sort of pan-fried chicken before, but merely thin filets. These hefty breasts were a bit beyond anything I was used to. And where I failed somewhat was in my lack of patience. I should’ve let the oil get a decent bit hotter before I threw in the chicken. I test hot oil by throwing in a drop of water and hoping it pops. It did, but not instantly. I should’ve waited. My impatience – which is really out of character, trust me – again got the better of me in that I should’ve let the chicken fry longer. One side of each breast wasn’t given enough time to get really crispy. Considering you’re cooking with hot oil, it’s not as though you’re going to drop the chicken in, set a timer and go for a walk. Hovering over the pan, you’re going to be right there to head off any burning. I don’t know why I was in such a rush. But I got a decent brown all over, and into the oven it went. Meanwhile, I fried up some Yukon golds and made a salad with a simple Greek dressing. The dressing was fine, but it was the fresh feta that made the salad worth something.

Chicken, meet yogurt

Before mixing, yogurt and dry ingredients are weirdly beautiful

Marinating, in the time it takes to fly across the Atlantic

After marinating comes the spiced flour

In the meantime, why not some Costco spanikopita?

Fry, delicious breast, fry

And for the lacto-ovo vegetarians who find this whole post barbaric, please enjoy the salad

No meat in the taters, neither

Must be the Irish in me that finds beauty in potatoes frying. Or the glutton.

And back to the butchery…

You know you want it

Extreme close-up – very graphic!

What the whole affair looks like with guests

All in all, the results were not too shabby. The yogurt marinade worked as promised and the chicken was about the most moist I’ve ever made, made all the better with lemon juice and salt after plating. So, with some friends coming for dinner – one of whom was once married to a Greek guy, and therefore all his extended family, no pressure – I whipped it up again.

I started them off with some tzatziki and hummus from Cava, while I kept cooking. Instead of frying my own potatoes, I had the husband just pick up take-out fries from a place in the neighborhood. And the chicken goes from marinade to plate in about 40 minutes, so I didn’t start cooking it till they arrived. This time, it was crispier, as I’d learned my lesson. The Greek salad made an encore, and we opened some South African sauvignon blanc, Indaba.

And not to knock Fage, but the baklava sort of stole the show at the end. This is something else I’d never attempted, but I had no idea it was so easy. If you can buy phylo, melt butter and chop nuts, you can make baklava. For the nuts, my base was pecans, followed (in ever lesser amounts) by walnuts, almonds and pine nuts. The honey I used for the syrup was a dark honey from Tyler, Texas, which likely provided a more intense flavor than a lighter honey. Following tips I read, I made twice as much syrup as the recipe called for, and let it cool before pouring it on. I actually ended up with about a third-cup more than I could use, but better too much than too little.

Still, Fage deserves a nod for the backlava, too. If it wasn’t for their chicken, I wouldn’t have tried to pull together a Greek menu, baklava and all.