Cooking IRL — Chicken Piccata

Ina Garten’s Recipe at Monday Dinnertime

By James Neil Clarke

It’s about 5:00 pm tonight, and my wife is asking what’s for dinner? I know that we have capers, which is not really a meal. It’s barely a food. Just picked berries off of some random English plant. My wife declares, “chicken,” and so I think Chicken Piccata. It’s one of my favorites, but I have never made it before.

I recently retired from a corporate law job, and so I am finding my way into what it is I actually do. I cook (Food Network arm-chair quarterback level), and this is how dinner came together this evening.

I go on the Internet to get a Chicken Piccata recipe. I have a general sense of how to make it, but not the specifics. It is breaded chicken cutlets in a buttery lemon sauce. I avoid Giada, whom I can’t take seriously (I decide it’s not me judging her for big boobs and white teeth — qualities that I typically admire. Instead, I tell myself that the Osso Bucco I made from her recipe was overwrought. That’s it.) And there, Ina Garten’s Chicken Piccata. The Barefoot Contessa. Reliable. Essential. Always Beautiful.

I scan the recipe, and ask my wife, “Do we have white wine?” “No,” she replies with revealing authority about our alcohol supply. So, I send her off for wine. I start pounding out chicken. Before she goes, I add,“We need a side, like broccoli or broccolini or broccoli rabe.” I say, “You be in charge of that. Just steam it in the microwave in that Pampered Chef black plastic pot thing.” That is a solid piece of cooking equipment, I think. We microwave a vegetable in that little pot every day. It works perfectly. She heads out for wine and broccoli-something.

More reading and re-reading of the recipe. No capers in Ina’s dish? What the frack am I going to do with these little pickled green berries taking up space in the fridge?! Seriously, that is why I was making Chicken Piccata, the capers. This damn chicken is getting capers whether Ina wants them or not.

But, despite the lack of capers, Ina’s recipe is a confidence builder. A basic breading technique, simply explained. Seasoned flour, egg, Panko. In the pan, out of the pan, on a rack in the oven. Very solid. I can adapt this to 15 other dishes, I think. Thanks, Ina!

I stall (pan off the fire), until my wife returns with a GIANT bottle of wine. OK, can’t really complain about that. She measures a half cup for me.

I make the sauce with the lemon and the wine. Ina advises to put the squeezed lemon halves in the pan as you melt the butter. I don’t think that does much of anything, but I comply and imagine Ina telling me that essential oils from the lemon are infusing themselves into my sauce. I have to admit, that the lemons in the pan look pretty badass. I wave my wife in for a look, without mentioning the four lemon halves in my pan. I announce that Ina is dead on that two lemons equals a third-cup of juice. I think that is kind of badass, too.

Damn, this dish comes together quickly. Just five minutes for the chicken in the oven. The sauce is working. I microwave the broccolini myself, and forget to season it. My wife later reminds me.

But, time gets away, and I let the wine reduce too much before I add the final three tablespoons of butter (that is a lot, I think), but nothing burned. I spoon in a lot of capers. “Chicken Piccata has capers, Ina!” I yell inside my head. Later, the Internet confirms that Giada uses capers. She is really lovely, I think. So authentically Italian and graceful. She knows that capers belong. My estimation of Giada swells.

Chicken on the plate, sauce on the chicken. Parsley. Damn it.

I ask my wife to clip some parsley from the garden. She comes back empty handed. I am irritated. I go to look in the garden myself, next to where workers are redoing my stone patio. The garden is covered in dust, and parsley is nowhere to be seen. I am sorry to have felt even a little irritated. I know that it made my wife unhappy, to have sent her on a dusty errand, and then to have shown annoyance. I remind myself that the point of cooking Chicken Piccata is to MAKE my wife happy, not piss her off.

So, I think that I can win back her favor with nice plating. Nice plating cures a lot of sins, I think. Chicken on the plate, sauced, and done. I am a little short on sauce, having over cooked it. I tell myself that less of that buttery sauce is a healthy lifestyle choice. No parsley. Mentally, I suppose (without unnecessary confirmation) that Giada does not use parsley. A smart choice, Giada, I conclude.

My wife reminds me to S&P the broccolini. I thank her, deservedly. Damn unspoken parsley spat. And there it is. The chicken is crispy, tender, and lemony good. The capers really set the dish apart. Probably 30 minutes in the kitchen to get it done. Monday night, Ina Garten’s Chicken Piccata WITH CAPERS (and no parsley) for dinner with a GIANT bottle of wine (less one-half cup.)

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