How to make chicken schnitzel in the oven

I know that this blog post title isn’t the most sexy or alluring, but I think that it is important to share game changers, so here we are.

I love a pub dinner and I rate these pubs purely on their chicken schnitzel. Now schnitty┬áis a bit like sex, or pizza. Even when it is pretty ordinary it is still pretty good. It is a crowd favourite. Marrying into an Hungarian Family, there is no one that can make Schnitzel like the OG Mrs Woog. She makes it all from scratch and has all the old school equipment like a deep fryer. She doesn’t believe in making just a few, she will make a mountain of schnitzel so you can eat it for days. What it is a sandwich, eat it straight up over the sink, it never goes to waste.

One of my least favourite things to do is to decide what to have for dinner. Mid week, now that school and activities are back, is a complete nightmare! Ballet practice, cricket practice and rugby training means that there is very rarely a night that we are all sitting down together for dinner.

The texts come in mid afternoon…

“What’s for dinner?”

I respond with something…

“OH I HATE THAT!”

And all I want to do is send a flurry of texts back detailing what I want to do with said dinner, or cook something yourself you brat, but I take a deep breath and put the whole thing out of my mind.

Yesterday I was at the butcher with Horatio, pondering what to cook. Horatio wanted steak, then this, then that, then schnitzel.

“I cannot deal with the mess…” I lamented.

Then Tim the butcher told me that I could bake them. Bake a schnitzel? Isn’t that against the law? Won’t that be dreadful? It just seemed wrong. But he assured me that it was possible and if there is anyone more trustworthy in a community, it is the local butcher.

So, whack your oven onto 200 degrees. Get that motherfucker really hot. Take a baking tray and line it with baking paper. Get your schnitzel and give it a good spray with olive oil, both sides. When your oven is hot enough to sear off your eyelashes when you open the door, put in the tray and set a timer for seven minutes.

Pour a glass of confidence cordial.

Make a salad.

Once your timer goes off and you scrape yourself off the ceiling because LOUD, flip those babies over and set the timer for seven minutes.

Wander through the house calling out for the people who live here, only to realise one was at dance and one, well I had no idea where he was, and the other one was on a work call.

Set the table for one, and eat that crunchy, yummy, non soggy, non greasy schnitzel all by yourself. Throw the baking paper into the bin and marvel at how you ate schnitzel and do not have tp spent the next half an hour spray and wiping every surface.

Did you know about this?

What is your least favourite thing to cook?