Homemade Pita Chips

I applied for Sandra's lead tech position formally this week, even though Dr. Pham has basically told me it's mine. Paperwork matters. Process matters. I filled out the application at the kitchen table while Mason did homework (first-grade homework is "read for twenty minutes," which Mason exceeds by approximately forty minutes every night because he cannot stop reading) and Lily colored beside me. Three people at a table, doing their work. A small, complete unit. The application asked for my career goals. I wrote: "To provide excellent veterinary care while leading and mentoring a dedicated team." What I wanted to write: "To have a job I love and health insurance and enough money to raise two children alone, and to not die." But they don't have a box for that.

Brett and I had our Wednesday dinner. He's settled into the apartment with Claire and it's good — genuinely good. He cooks now, things Claire has taught him, and he's proud of it in the slightly astonished way of a forty-year-old man discovering that he can make risotto. He brought me a container of his risotto this week and it was, I have to admit, really good. "Claire's teaching me," he said. "She says I'm a natural." I said, "You're a Dawson. Of course you're a natural." We cook. It's what we do.

Scott forgot the custody weekend. Just didn't show up at the Horseshoe Bend gas station on Friday. I waited forty-five minutes with two kids in the car before calling him. He answered, confused, apologetic, full of excuses — he'd mixed up the weekends, he'd been on a call, he'd meant to text. The kids didn't know. I hadn't told them we were going to see Daddy — I'd learned to keep expectations low where Scott is concerned — so the disappointment was only mine. I drove home, made popcorn, and put on a movie, and we had a Friday night that was better than what was planned, because planned was a gas station and unplanned was my couch with my kids and a bowl of popcorn and Hank's head on my lap.

I didn't call Scott back. I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I felt a cold, clean anger that was not heat but ice — the kind of anger that comes from expecting nothing and still being disappointed. He will forget again. He will always forget. And I will always be standing in a gas station parking lot, or I won't, because eventually I will stop standing in parking lots and start building a life that doesn't require his participation at all.

I made popcorn on the stove — the real way, oil and kernels and a pot with a lid, shaken back and forth over the burner until the popping slows. Butter, salt, nothing else. Movie popcorn. The simplest food in the world, and the most perfect for a Friday night that didn't go as planned but went exactly as needed.

That Friday—the one that started in a gas station parking lot and ended exactly right—reminded me that the best nights are usually the ones built from whatever you have on hand. We’re a stovetop-popcorn family, but on slower weekends, when I want something to put out in a bowl that feels a little more substantial, these homemade pita chips are what I reach for: five minutes of work, pantry staples, and something warm and crispy to pass around the couch while the movie starts and Hank settles in and the three of us become, again, exactly enough.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 17 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 pita rounds (white or whole wheat)
3 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika (optional)
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line a large baking sheet (or two) with parchment paper.
Cut the pitas. Stack the pita rounds and cut them into 8 wedges each, like a pizza. Separate any pitas that are pocketed into two thin halves before cutting—thinner chips get crispier.
Season. Spread the wedges in a single layer on the baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil, then sprinkle evenly with salt, garlic powder, paprika if using, and black pepper. Toss gently with your hands to coat, then spread back into a single layer.
Bake. Bake for 10 to 14 minutes, flipping once at the halfway point, until the chips are golden and crisp at the edges. Watch closely after the 10-minute mark—they go from golden to dark quickly.
Cool slightly and serve. Let them cool on the pan for 2 to 3 minutes. They will crisp up further as they cool. Serve warm or at room temperature with hummus, salsa, or just as-is.

Nutrition (per serving)

Homemade Pita Chips — The Snack I Make When the Night Resets Itself