Chicken Florentine Panini

The five-year anniversary. April 16, 2022. Five years since Easter Sunday. Five years since the ham and the last words. The ritual: Cascade Heights kitchen, not mine but Mama's original, three streets away. Jasmine and Isaiah and me. Curtis at the table. The Folgers can traveling from my counter to Mama's counter for the day. The pilgrimage. The practice.

This year, Jasmine fried the chicken entirely alone. Fourteen years old. She did every step: the soak, the flour, the oil, the waiting. Isaiah prepared the greens — his greens, his recipe now, evolved from Mama's with his own adjustments (he adds a touch of apple cider vinegar at the end that gives the greens a brightness Mama never used but that works beautifully and that I have not told him comes from a YouTube video I watched him watch). I stood in the doorway. The teacher in the doorway. The watcher. The woman who used to do everything and now does the most important thing: she watches. She lets go. She trusts the hands.

Curtis ate at the table. Five years without Brenda. Five years of Saturday dinners and fried chicken and "hm" and "good" and "different" and the particular endurance of a man who has outlived his wife by five years and continues because a daughter cooks for him and grandchildren sit at his table and the table doesn't stop even when the heart does. He ate. He said, "Five years." I said, "Five years, Daddy." He said, "She'd say the greens need more salt." I looked at Isaiah. Isaiah looked at Curtis. Curtis winked. The wink was Brenda's. The wink was the love. The love is the salt. The greens are perfect.

I chose this recipe because Jasmine and Isaiah earned something that could hold the weight of that kitchen. The fried chicken was theirs that day — every step, every decision — and this Chicken Florentine Panini carries that same spirit: golden chicken, wilted greens, the pressing together of simple things into something that matters. It’s not Mama’s cast iron and it’s not a Saturday in Cascade Heights, but when you make it slowly and you pay attention, it lands in the same place. The greens are in there. The love is the salt. That part doesn’t change.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1 lb total), halved horizontally to make 4 thin cutlets
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups fresh baby spinach, loosely packed
1 clove garlic, minced
4 ciabatta rolls or 8 slices sourdough bread
4 tablespoons basil pesto
4 slices provolone or mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, drained and sliced
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat chicken cutlets dry and season both sides with garlic powder, onion powder, red pepper flakes, salt, and black pepper.
Cook the chicken. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken cutlets and cook 4—5 minutes per side until golden and cooked through (internal temperature 165°F). Transfer to a plate and let rest.
Wilt the spinach. In the same skillet over medium heat, add minced garlic and cook 30 seconds until fragrant. Add spinach and toss until just wilted, about 1—2 minutes. Season lightly with salt. Remove from heat.
Build the panini. Spread pesto on the inside of each roll or bread slice. Layer one chicken cutlet, a spoonful of wilted spinach, a few strips of roasted red pepper, and one slice of provolone on the bottom half. Close the sandwich.
Press and toast. Butter the outside of each sandwich. Cook in a panini press or a grill pan weighted with a heavy skillet over medium heat, 3—4 minutes per side, until bread is golden and cheese is melted. Slice and serve warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Florentine Panini — The Hands That Learn the Recipe By Heart