Chicken with Mushrooms and Zucchini

The first ear of corn. Jack picked it Saturday morning. He'd been checking the ears for days — peeling back the husk just enough to see the kernels, checking for color, checking for size, the way Dad taught him over the phone. Saturday he decided it was ready. He pulled back the husk all the way and held up an ear of Bodacious sweet corn, twelve rows of golden kernels, tight and full, grown in a suburban backyard by a six-year-old Weber.

I called Dad. I said, "Jack picked the first ear." Dad was quiet for a moment — the Roger Weber quiet, the big quiet. Then he said, "How's the fill?" I said, "Full to the tip." He said, "That's good. That's very good." Then he said, "Tell him to check the others. If one's ready, the rest are close." That's how Roger Weber says he's overcome with emotion. He gives agricultural instructions.

We boiled the corn. Just the one ear, because the first ear deserves its own moment. Seven minutes in boiling water. Butter and salt. Jack, Emma, Noah, Kevin, and I gathered around the kitchen table and we each took two bites. Two bites per person from one ear of corn. It tasted like — I don't know how to write this without sounding dramatic, and I'm not a dramatic person. It tasted like the farm. Like Grinnell. Like August on the Weber land. Like the corn I grew up eating. Like home. It tasted like home, and home has been a place I couldn't find for two years, and here it was, in an ear of corn, in my kitchen in Des Moines, grown by my son.

Kevin, who is not a poetic man, who is a man of steak and insurance and practical things, said, "That's really good corn." He said it like a man who understood that he was saying something larger. Jack said, "That's Bodacious." Kevin said, "I know, buddy." And that was the moment. That was the whole thing.

I made a simple dinner that night: grilled burgers, the remaining corn (Jack picked three more ears), sliced tomatoes from the garden. Nothing fancy. Everything extraordinary. The corn was sweet and warm and it tasted right — the word I've been looking for since we left the farm. Right. Not the same as the farm corn. Not a replacement. But right, in the way that things are right when they come from hands you love in soil you tended.

That dinner — the burgers, the corn, the tomatoes still warm from the garden — became the template for every summer night that followed. We started cooking whatever the backyard gave us, and the meal I kept coming back to was this one: chicken with mushrooms and zucchini, because by mid-July the zucchini was relentless and I wanted something that honored what we grew without overcomplicating it. It’s the kind of dinner Roger Weber would approve of — simple, honest, nothing fancy, everything right.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced
2 medium zucchini, halved lengthwise and sliced into half-moons
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. Sprinkle the chicken pieces with Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper. Toss to coat evenly.
Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook without stirring for 3–4 minutes until golden on one side. Flip and cook another 3–4 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate.
Cook the mushrooms. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil to the same skillet. Add the mushrooms and cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until golden brown and most of the moisture has evaporated.
Add the zucchini. Add the zucchini to the skillet with the mushrooms. Cook for 3–4 minutes until the zucchini is tender-crisp and has a little color on the edges.
Build the sauce. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook for 30 seconds until fragrant. Pour in the chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Let the broth simmer for 1–2 minutes until slightly reduced.
Finish the dish. Return the chicken and any resting juices to the skillet. Add the butter and lemon juice and stir until the butter melts and everything is coated. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Serve. Spoon onto plates and top with fresh chopped parsley. Serve alongside grilled corn, rice, or crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken with Mushrooms and Zucchini — A Simple Garden Supper Worth Sitting Down For