Chicken And Asparagus Bake

Mid-April. The spring is full now — everything blooming, the balcony shiso pushing up, the farmers market riots of color and green. I am standing in the middle of spring and my father has Parkinson's and the juxtaposition is the human condition: the world beautiful, the life difficult, the soup simmering, the tremor trembling, everything at once, all the time, and the only adequate response is to keep cooking.

I made tempura — a spring tempura, with asparagus and sweet potato and shiso leaves, fried in a cold batter that puffs and crisps and turns ordinary vegetables into something golden and extraordinary. The tempura is the transformation: raw to cooked, soft to crispy, ordinary to special. The transformation takes thirty seconds in hot oil. Thirty seconds between one state and another. Ken's diagnosis took one sentence: "You have Parkinson's disease." One sentence between one state and another. The transformation is that fast. The living-with is that slow.

Miya does not know about Ken's diagnosis. She is five. She does not need to know that her grandfather's hand shakes because his brain is changing. She needs to know that the onigiri is ready and the park is open and the hiragana homework is due Saturday. She needs to know that the world is safe, even though it is not, even though no one's world is, even though the job of every parent is to maintain the fiction of safety while managing the reality of its absence. I am managing. The managing is the parenting. The parenting is the managing. Both are exhausting. Both are essential. Both require miso soup at six AM.

I wrote a blog post about spring tempura — just the recipe, just the technique, just the beauty of a shiso leaf turned golden and crispy in thirty seconds. No grief in this post. No anxiety. No tremor. Just food. Sometimes just food is what the readers need. Sometimes just food is what I need. Sometimes the food carries the writer when the writer cannot carry herself, and the carrying is the practice, and the practice holds, even in April, even in spring, even when the father is sick and the flowers are blooming and the world is both at once.

The asparagus I fried in that cold tempura batter kept calling me back all week — not as tempura again, but as something quieter, something that could sit in the oven while I sat with my thoughts. This chicken and asparagus bake is that recipe: the same bright spring vegetable, the same instinct to let the season carry the cooking, but slower now, gentler, the kind of dish you can put in at 375 and just breathe for thirty minutes. When the food has been carrying the writer, sometimes the writer needs a recipe that practically makes itself.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 6 oz each)
1 lb fresh asparagus, woody ends trimmed
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, divided
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
1 lemon, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Lightly grease a large rimmed baking sheet or 9x13-inch baking dish with cooking spray or a thin coat of olive oil.
Season the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry with paper towels. Rub each with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, then season evenly with paprika, thyme, 1/2 teaspoon of the salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of the pepper.
Prepare the asparagus. In a bowl, toss the trimmed asparagus with the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, minced garlic, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon pepper until evenly coated.
Arrange the baking dish. Place seasoned chicken breasts in the center of the prepared baking dish. Arrange asparagus spears around the chicken. Lay lemon slices over the top of everything.
Bake. Transfer to the preheated oven and bake uncovered for 25–30 minutes, or until chicken reaches an internal temperature of 165°F and asparagus is tender with lightly caramelized tips.
Finish and serve. Remove from oven, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and fresh parsley, and let rest 5 minutes before serving. Serve directly from the pan with rice or crusty bread if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken And Asparagus Bake — When the Asparagus Carries You Through