Lay Your Wary Head Upon My Chicken Breast

My primary therapist in the wake of all things JChef was a friend I turn to in times of deepest crisis; the one who can spend 15 hours per week on a teary phone, then understand when I fail to call for the following 3 weeks when a new love arrives; the one who bakes me cookies and tells me I could never be fat (and even if I was, I’d be stunning); the one who assures me JChef will return when he comes to his senses; the one who loves me first, most and always, my very best friend, my Mom.

She recently took off for a “bring back Mardi Gras” road trip with my dad, assuring me that she’d call from her cell phone every day to make sure that I was okay. During our last chat she mentioned that she threw a little present in the mail for me, something that “people are talking about”. It was a nice touch, a little we-still-love-you-even-if-he-doesn’t gifty, and I was praying it wasn’t from QVC.

I received a box from Amazon a few days later and I breathed a sigh of relief. Cool, a new cookbook, some sort of CD, maybe a novel? I opened the box and pulled out the book. I saw the cover and screamed, dropped it and ran to the other side of my apartment. Slowly I crawled toward the offending best-seller, rubbing my eyes to be sure it was actually what I thought it was. There was no denying it: my mother had sent me a book from Dr. Phil.

I mean, for the love of Christ, are you mistaking me for someone who grew up in Topeka? Mom, remember those few years in California when I didn’t have a TV? Do I look like I would watch, nay READ Dr. Phil? What exactly about me screams MORON? I was offended, I was shocked, and the only consolation I could find was my Mensa card and my Ivy League degree. I was better than this. I scored 1320 on my SATs and I’m a Brooklyn liberal. So there. I called my cousin of Cranberry Nut Bread fame and confirmed that my mother was, in fact, insane.

But you know, my mom spent good money on the thing, and it’s not like millions of Americans can be totally wrong, so I slipped the god awful cover with big, bald, loud Phil screaming “LOVE SMART: Find the One You Want – Fix the One You Got” off the thing and stuffed it into my pocketbook on the way to the subway. Friends close, enemies closer.

I snickered my way through the introduction, choking as I read about how McGraw could get a bride's veil on my head in ten easy steps. Oh yeah, like I'm wedding hungry. Please. Then in chapter 2 I developed a character analysis of HIM (really, just going through the motions), and didn’t necessarily disagree when Dr. Phil said he only needed to be 80% there; we’re not looking for Mr. Perfect. I’ve always considered myself and 80/20 person, so okay, P-dog has a point.

Then I started developing MY character sketch (Chapter 3) and analyzing why I was still single (Chapter 4). The man wasn't all wrong. True, I started getting a little baby crazy (I’m 33, cut me some slack). I made some career changes that cut my income and refused to get a roommate. Or a new outfit. Or a meal that I paid for myself. I’ve been making myself more than a little desperate.

Before long, I was so engrossed I was missing my subway stop. Though my friends don’t know it, I’ve begun referencing the P-star when they ask me for love advice. Not directly, but there’s a new found peppiness and faith in the possibility of love that wasn’t there two weeks ago.

To my college roommate who loves the outdoors and is considering a move to San Francisco:
Roomie: what do you think it would be like to be single in SF at 34?
Me: It's a good place to just be you, and when you're being you, you meet others.

To my recently divorced friend who is shy on the dating scene:
Shy: I’ll never meet someone sitting in my apartment.
Me: No, but you will meet a guy at some point who loves sitting in his apartment, just like you!

To JChef, who spied the book on my table and gasped:
JChef: What are you doing with a Dr. Phil book? And don’t try to change me.
Me: Would never dream of changing you; you’re perfect as you are, for someone. Me, I’m just going to keep dating. But thanks for the flowsers. Care for an oyster?

This got me to thinking about the nature of the advisor, and the advisee, and the pure and simple fact that clichés are clichés for a reason, it’s better to love and lose than never to love at all, and good advice can come from any number of sources.

Which brings me to today’s recipe: Chicken Schnitzel (stay with me, segue forthcoming), aka The Best Chicken Cutlets You've Ever Had. I recently completed a 5-week cooking class, during which I tell my students to bring me all questions, no question is stupid, and that I will modify the class to their specific dietary needs.

So at the end of one class, Mademoiselle, an I-don't-want-to-touch-anything-resembling-an-animal type of student, asked me for some boneless, skinless chicken breast recipes. To which I responded: “I’d be happy to give you some great boneless, skinless, chicken breast recipes. In fact, I've got several that will insure a dry, flavorless dinner in less than 20 minutes. Oh where to begin! It’s almost as fun as fat-free cooking.”

She frowned and returned to washing parsley.

Next week I apologized to Mademoiselle, and to the whole class, in fact. While I’m a fan of bone-in dark meat birds, not everyone is. And it’s not their fault. But I’m a teacher, and though part of my role is stretching students, another part is in meeting them where they are and helping them gain the confidence to take the next step. Only by having familiar, comfortable success will they have the courage to reach.

And so, on the final day of class, I gave a chicken schnitzel demo. We pounded boneless, skinless chicken breasts, prepared a standard breading procedure, and pan-fried the perfectly coated cutlets-to-be. And when I tasted the sample I sent around the room, I gotta tell you, it was pretty freaking tasty. I think I might even send the recipe to Mom.


CHICKEN SCHNITZEL DR. PHIL
Allison Fishman, The Wooden Spoon

1 1/2 cups flour
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups panko bread crumbs
1/3 cup roughly chopped parsley
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (best quality, organic if possible)
Kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper
Grapeseed or other neutral (vegetable) oil for frying
1 lemon, quartered

1. Prepare standard breading procedure: in three separate shallow bowls or plates (pie plates are ideal), place 1) flour 2) eggs, lightly beaten, 3) panko and parsley, combined.

2. Place breasts, one at a time, between two sheets of wax paper (if you purchased the chicken from a butcher, just use the paper in which the breasts are wrapped). Using a meat mallet, gently pound the breasts, starting with the thickest part, until they are about 1/3-inch thick. After all breasts are pounded, season well with salt and pepper.

3. Heat a large skillet over medium heat; add 2 tablespoons oil. Preparing one breast at a time, and using one hands, dip the breasts into the flour, shaking off any excess, then drop into the beaten eggs. Switch to your other hand (to avoid breading mittens), and when the breast is coated with egg, drop it in the panko mixture, completely coating. Place in skillet and cook until golden brown, 4 to 5 minutes. Flip and cook cutlets an additional 4 minutes, or until cooked through. Serve warm, with lemon wedge.

NOTE: For thicker cutlets, you may need to complete cooking in a 350 degree oven for 5 to 10 minutes, after both sides have browned.