Flat chicken and green noodles

Well, this just isn’t going to work out at all. Noah called today to tell me he’d found an apartment off-campus. But clearly he’s not ready to live on his own yet. I mean, just look at him. He can barely see over the counter. An apartment is a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t know how to do laundry. He doesn’t know how to cook. I expect he could figure out how to fit the Eggo waffles in a toaster, but I’m not going to let him use a toaster. He’d burn himself. He’s just a little boy. A wee little boy.

Okay. I know. I’m delusional. But that’s what I was thinking this morning when my wee little boy, who

The real Noah: large and able to accomplish simple tasks on his own.

is edging toward six feet tall, told me he’d found an apartment. With Bunny’s help. His grandmother has been my long-distance goon squad for the last month.  We were in total agreement. Nothing that exhibited evidence of roaches or vermin. Nothing where you could see dirt through the floor boards. Nothing icky. For $400 a month. That was his limit. I truly thought I had him at a standstill because there’s no way he could find something for $400 a month.

Dammit. Dammit Boy. He did. “Uh, the only thing, Mom, is that I have to move in in June,” he said over the phone. “They won’t hold the apartment until August. ” … So that means you’re not coming home this summer? “I hate it, Mom, I was really looking forward to coming home for the summer, but I don’t really have a choice.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Oh, hell. I remember wanting to live off campus and the place I found would have horrified my parents had they seen it. It was a former funeral home in Murray, Kentucky, and there was a suspiciously long stainless steel sink in my room. I shared it with four other people. I loved it. It was a total dump, but I loved it. It’s just that it’s different when it’s your baby of almost 20 living in an apartment. On his own. Did I tell you I’m going to turn his room into a guest room? Ha! That will fix him.

So, flat chicken and green noodles. Noah’s favorite childhood meal. I think he can accomplish that in his efficiency apartment. In his spacious kitchenette with a 24-inch stove he can probably reach into the refrigerator for the ingredients, cook the meal, clean up and get ready for bed without moving an inch. He called it flat chicken because I pounded the chicken breasts into thin cutlets. And green noodles? Just pesto and pasta.

Flat Chicken and Green Noodles

2 chicken breasts, pounded into 1/4-inch cutlets

Seasoned breadcrumbs

Vegetable oil

Juice of one lemon

1 4-ounce container pesto

1/2 pound thin spaghetti

Put the breadcrumbs on a plate. Rinse each cutlet with cold water and then dredge them in the breadcrumbs. Heat the oil and lemon juice to medium high heat. Saute the cutlets until golden brown.

Cook the pasta starting in warm water in a shallow pan deep enough to submerge the pasta. Keep moving the pasta around with tongs to keep it separated as the water continues to get hotter. The pasta will be cooked al dente before the water reaches a boil. Mix with pesto sauce.

 

What is that?

“Oh, my God. She’s brought a tree branch into the house. I never get to go outside so I just see them from the screen door. I think it’s a tree. No, it’s got nubby things on it. What are those?

Should I be afraid of this thing? Maybe she wants me to use it as a cat toy. But I don’t do toys. She knows that. I barely do people. Maybe when she leaves the kitchen I’ll take a little nibble. I like green things. I always chew them up and swallow them and then, wouldn’t you know it, I just throw them back up. That’s why she usually doesn’t have green things in the house. Shoot, she’s not leaving. So I guess I’ll have to pretend not to be interested. That’s not hard. I don’t do interested, even on a good day.

Max.

It’s not often you walk into a grocery store and see Brussels Sprouts on a stalk. So when I walked into Trader Joe’s today, I just giggled. I have to have that! I felt giddy just carrying it around. I have written before of my love of all stinky vegetables. In fact, I have given you the recipe before that I am about to give you again. I sense everyone didn’t make it.

Noah is coming home from college tonight and I will teach him what Brussels Sprouts look like before they are slathered in butter and bread crumbs. He is also a lover of stinky vegetables and he is bringing a friend home. I will convert him as well. I think of it as a mission.

O.K, here’s what you do. This is more of a procedure than a recipe. You can do this with just a few Brussels Sprouts or a whole stalk, which I am just so proud to possess.

Take off the outer leaves of each sprout. Put them in a microwave container with a little water and nuke them for about three minutes. Let them sit for a few minutes before testing to see if they’re done. They should be just starting to give to pressure. Not rock hard. Not squishy soft. If they’re still rock hard, keep nuking until you get the right consistency.

Now then, melt a copious amount of butter – real butter – in a skillet. Add the juice of one lemon (or half a lemon if you’re not doing a big batch of sprouts).

Meanwhile, cut the sprouts in half through the core. Put the sprouts cut side down in the skillet and let them brown nicely. Browning is one of the keys to this so just be patient and do it. If it looks like the pan is getting dry, add more butter. Once the sprouts are browned and you still have a pretty good amount of butter in there, add a sprinkling of seasoned breadcrumbs – enough to soak up all that butter! Toss and serve. If you don’t become a convert after this, then I just feel sorry for you.