By Election week. The country holds its breath. I hold mine. Elijah, thankfully, holds nothing except his toes and the occasional spoon, which is the appropriate level of political engagement for a four-month-old.
Kevin called. Crystal is still in Ohio. She's been there for two months. "A few weeks" has become "a few months" has become "we're figuring things out." The figuring sounds like the opposite of figuring — it sounds like two people standing in separate states with a phone between them and nothing to say that will fix the geography or the loneliness or the fact that Army life is a marriage that doesn't leave room for another one. Kevin's voice is tight. Not angry. Tired. The Mitchell tired — the tired that comes from holding everything together with one hand while the other hand is empty. I know that tired. I've been that tired since I was eleven.
Terrence's monthly visit was this weekend. He held Elijah for most of Saturday and I watched them together — the baby in the man's arms, the brown skin against brown skin, the quiet closeness of a father and son who see each other twelve times a year and make every hour count. Terrence talks to him in a low voice. He tells him about music. He hums. He sings fragments of gospel songs and Elijah stares at his face with the intensity of a person memorizing. The baby is memorizing his father. Twelve visits a year and the baby is building a face from the pieces. Some children see their fathers every day and don't look at them this hard. Elijah looks at Terrence like he's studying for a test that matters. The test matters. Knowing your father's face matters.
Chloe asked me this week — out of nowhere, at dinner, between bites of chicken: "Mama, are you happy?" Are you happy. My eight-year-old asked me if I'm happy. I said: "Yes, baby. I'm happy." She said: "Because you seem tired." I said: "I can be tired and happy at the same time." She thought about that. Then: "Like how the food can be simple and still good?" Like how the food can be simple and still good. My daughter just created a metaphor that connects emotional complexity to culinary philosophy and she's eight years old and she got it from me and from Earline and from every woman in this line who understood that simple doesn't mean lesser and tired doesn't mean broken.
I made roasted chicken — a whole bird, herb-rubbed, roasted until the skin crackled and the apartment filled with the smell of thyme and garlic and the kind of effort that says: this meal matters. Not every meal matters equally. Some meals are Tuesday. Some meals are a whole roasted chicken that takes ninety minutes because the question your daughter asked you requires a ninety-minute answer. Am I happy? The chicken is the answer. The apartment smelling like thyme is the answer. The table set for four is the answer. Yes, Chloe. I'm happy. Tired and happy. Simple and good.
When Chloe asked me if I was happy—really asked me, between bites, like she needed the truth—I knew the answer had to come from somewhere deeper than words. I reached for what Earline always reached for: something herb-scented, intentional, worth the effort. This chicken souvlaki is that answer. Marinated in lemon and garlic and oregano, grilled until fragrant and golden, it’s the kind of meal that fills an apartment with a smell that means someone here cares. Simple and still good. Tired and still happy. That’s all any of us can ask for.
Chicken Souvlaki
Prep Time: 15 min + 1 hr marinating | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 1 hr 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 teaspoons dried oregano
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- Wooden or metal skewers
- Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish
- Lemon wedges, for serving
- Warm pita bread and tzatziki, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Make the marinade. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, garlic, oregano, thyme, paprika, salt, and pepper until well combined.
- Marinate the chicken. Add the chicken pieces to the bowl and toss to coat thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to 8 hours for deeper flavor.
- Prep the skewers. If using wooden skewers, soak them in water for 30 minutes before grilling to prevent burning. Thread the marinated chicken pieces onto the skewers, leaving a little space between each piece.
- Preheat and grill. Heat a grill or grill pan over medium-high heat and lightly oil the grates. Grill the skewers for 5 to 6 minutes per side, turning once, until the chicken is cooked through and lightly charred at the edges (internal temperature 165°F).
- Rest and serve. Transfer skewers to a platter and let rest for 3 to 4 minutes. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve with lemon wedges and, if desired, warm pita and tzatziki.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 3g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 530mg