Cornbread Chicken

Halfway through July. The heat is constant now, the kind of heat that starts at 6 a.m. and does not let up until 9 p.m., and even then the release is grudging, like the air is doing you a favor by cooling to eighty-five. I drive with the windows up and the AC on and the slow cooker plugged in, which means I am simultaneously heating and cooling the cab, which is inefficient and necessary, because the chili does not care about my electric bill.

I visited Gayle three times this week. She is steady — the word I use because it is more honest than 'fine' and less alarming than 'declining.' She is seventy-four and she lives alone and she eats the dinners I bring and she watches Wheel of Fortune at seven and goes to bed at nine and wakes at five, and this routine is her life, and the routine is what holds her together the way rebar holds concrete. Remove the routine and Gayle would crack. So I do not disturb the routine. I bring the dinner and I leave and I call in the morning, and the calling and the bringing are my routine, and our routines interlock like gears, and the machine keeps turning.

Justin went to a football camp at Grand Island Senior High — a week-long thing, morning sessions, for kids entering eighth grade. He came home each day drenched in sweat and vibrating with the specific energy of a twelve-year-old boy who has found something he is good at. He is fast. The coaches noticed. He is aggressive in a way that is channeled, directed, pointed — the anger that used to scatter everywhere now has a target, and the target is a football, and the football can take it. I am cautiously optimistic, which is the most optimistic I allow myself to be about anything involving Justin, because optimism with Justin has always been a fragile thing.

I made chicken fried steak for dinner Saturday — the real kind, pounded thin, dredged in seasoned flour, fried in a cast-iron skillet, served with cream gravy made from the pan drippings. This is the meal Gayle made every Saturday when I was growing up, the meal Larry came home to, the meal that means Nebraska to me the way lobster means Maine to someone from Maine. The cream gravy is the point. The cream gravy is always the point. It covers the steak and the mashed potatoes and the inadequacies of the week, and everything under the gravy is forgiven.

Chicken fried steak is Gayle’s recipe and always will be — I wouldn’t try to reproduce it here, because some things belong to the person who taught them to you. But the spirit of it, the cast-iron skillet and the seasoned crust and the idea that a hot dinner can cover a lot of ground — that I can give you. This Cornbread Chicken carries the same intention: something golden and real, made in a pan that holds heat the way a good routine holds a life together. It’s what I make when Justin needs feeding after a long week and Gayle’s routine and mine are running like gears, and I need the kitchen to feel like it’s doing its job.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 6 oz each), pounded to even thickness
1 cup yellow cornmeal
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 large eggs
1/4 cup buttermilk
3 tablespoons vegetable oil or lard (for frying)

Instructions

Prep the coating. In a shallow dish, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, salt, pepper, garlic powder, paprika, and cayenne until evenly combined.
Make the egg wash. In a second shallow dish, beat the eggs with the buttermilk until smooth.
Dredge the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry. Dip each piece in the egg wash, letting the excess drip off, then press firmly into the cornmeal mixture, coating both sides completely. Set on a wire rack and let rest 5 minutes so the crust adheres.
Heat the skillet. Warm a large cast-iron skillet over medium heat. Add the oil and heat until shimmering — a pinch of cornmeal dropped in should sizzle immediately.
Fry the chicken. Add the coated chicken breasts in a single layer, working in batches if needed. Cook undisturbed for 6—8 minutes per side until the crust is deep golden and the internal temperature reaches 165°F. Do not crowd the pan or the crust will steam instead of crisp.
Rest and serve. Transfer to a clean wire rack and rest for 5 minutes before serving. Serve with mashed potatoes, green beans, or — if the week has earned it — a pan gravy made from the drippings.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cornbread Chicken — The Cast-Iron Comfort That Carries the Week