Chicken Neapolitan

The MRI results came back on Tuesday. The neurologist is ninety percent sure it's early-stage Parkinson's. He said "early-stage" three times during the call, the way doctors do when they are trying to deliver bad news without making it sound like the worst news. He also said "slow progression" and "many good years." Those are the phrases we are holding onto. David put them on a Post-it on the fridge. Karen said, "Well. That's that," and went outside to plant the tomatoes. David called me and said, "She went outside and planted the tomatoes." I did not know what else to say except, "She's Karen."

I drove out Thursday after work with another cooler. Galbitang again, because it went down easy. Some jeon. A pot of doenjang jjigae I had made Wednesday night. Karen met me at the door and hugged me and said, "I'm fine, honey. Stop looking at me like I'm dying." I laughed. I am going to get a lot of practice, in the coming years, at being the daughter of a mother who is not going to tolerate being handled.

David asked me, quietly, in the kitchen while Karen was in the living room, whether I thought they should move. Downsize. Get something smaller, easier, fewer stairs, closer to a hospital. I said they should ask the neurologist what the timeline looks like for mobility before making housing decisions. David nodded. He has lived in that split-level since 1989. Karen moved her whole life into that house. I do not think either of them will move. I do not think either of them should have to.

Kevin took the news harder than I expected. He called me on Tuesday night and I could tell he had been crying. He said, "She raised me through my worst years, Steph. Some of those years I hated her. She never quit on me." I said, "I know." He said, "I'm going to come up this weekend." He came up on Saturday. It was the first time in two years the three of us — Kevin, me, Karen — have been in the kitchen together. Karen made her pot roast, slowly, and Kevin and I plated it, and we ate at the table Karen has set for family meals my whole life, and Kevin told Karen she was tougher than the rest of us combined and Karen said, "I know, honey. Eat."

James stayed home this weekend to give the three of us space. I appreciated that. He does that kind of thing without being asked.

Dr. Yoon this week: we talked about the collision of two mothers. Karen's diagnosis. Jisoo's pending email. The way I am going to spend the rest of my life holding both at once. Dr. Yoon said, "The holding is the work. You are already doing it." I left the session tired but steady.

The recipe this week is galbitang again. I made a huge pot of it and froze it in portions because I am going to be driving out to Bellevue a lot for the foreseeable future, and the least I can do is arrive with a soup that heats up in twenty minutes and does not ask Karen to use her hands.

I said in the narrative that the recipe this week is galbitang, and that is true — but the spirit of it is really this: something that simmers low, holds together, and travels well. Chicken Neapolitan became my backup pot when I had already made the galbitang and needed something else in the cooler, something with enough body to feel like a meal and enough simplicity that Karen could reheat it without fussing. It is the kind of dish that does not ask anything of anyone except that they sit down and eat it, and right now that is exactly the kind of cooking I want to offer.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 1/2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, sliced into strips
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup kalamata olives, pitted and roughly chopped
2 tbsp capers, drained
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp dried basil
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
2 tbsp fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat the chicken pieces dry with paper towels and season all over with salt and black pepper.
Brown the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Working in batches if needed, add the chicken skin-side down and cook without moving for 5–6 minutes, until the skin is deep golden. Flip and brown the other side for 3 minutes. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion and red bell pepper to the pot and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Add the liquids and seasonings. Pour in the crushed tomatoes and chicken broth, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Stir in the olives, capers, oregano, basil, and red pepper flakes.
Braise the chicken. Nestle the browned chicken pieces back into the pot, skin-side up, so they sit partially submerged in the sauce. Bring to a gentle simmer, then reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and cook for 30 minutes, then uncover and cook an additional 10 minutes to let the sauce thicken slightly and the chicken cook through (internal temperature should reach 165°F).
Taste and serve. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper as needed. Ladle into bowls and scatter fresh parsley over the top. Serve with crusty bread or over polenta or egg noodles to catch the sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Neapolitan — Something Warm to Carry to the People You Love