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Lemon Cream Pasta with Chicken -- The Next Best Thing to Mama's Bowl

Back to the plant after the shutdown week. There is always a transition period after a break — the first shift back feels ten hours long even though it is eight, your hands remember the work before your mind does, and the noise of the line is startling after a week of relative quiet. Jerome said it best: "Coming back to the plant after vacation is like getting back in the pool after drying off. Everything\'s cold for the first five minutes." He is not wrong. Production ramped up immediately. We are building toward a sales push for the 2017 model year, which means the line is running at maximum speed and everyone is working overtime — voluntary this time, which means time and a half, which means I said yes before they finished the sentence. Money is money. Overtime is how you bridge the gap between what you earn and what you need. Brianna had three hair clients this week. She did two wash-and-sets and one sew-in weave, which took four hours and paid a hundred dollars. She was exhausted but proud. She is getting better — faster, more confident, developing a style that her clients are responding to. She showed me photos of her work on her phone, scrolling through before-and-after shots the way I imagine surgeons scroll through case studies. She has talent. I have always known that. The question is whether she has the discipline and the consistency to turn talent into a career. That is the question for all of us, really. Aiden is saying more words now. Mama, Dada, no, da (still the dog), and this week he added "more" — specifically in the context of food, specifically in the context of Cheerios, which he would eat until he exploded if we let him. He also started pointing at things and making a demanding sound that means "tell me what that is." Everything is a question. The world is new. I envy him that — the state of perpetual discovery, where nothing is boring because nothing is familiar. Dinner situation this week: Brianna made tacos on Monday (ground beef, packet seasoning, hard shells, the basics), leftover tacos on Tuesday, spaghetti on Wednesday, I brought home Coney Islands from the restaurant on Gratiot on Thursday (two coneys each, chili and onion, no mustard for me, extra mustard for Brianna), and Friday we ate at Mama's because Mama sensed — through some maternal radar system that operates independently of physical proximity — that we needed feeding. She made chicken and dumplings, which is not a Detroit dish specifically but has become a Cheryl Carter signature: thick, creamy broth with chunks of chicken and soft, pillowy dumplings made from flour and butter and milk. It is the kind of food that wraps around you like a blanket. I ate two bowls and fell asleep on her couch. She covered me with an afghan and did not wake me up. That is love.

Mama’s chicken and dumplings on Friday night set a standard that’s hard to follow — two bowls deep and asleep on her couch is about as well-fed as a person can feel. I can’t recreate that exact dish on a Tuesday after a double shift, but this lemon cream pasta with chicken gets at the same idea: one pot, chunks of tender chicken, a sauce that coats everything in something rich and smooth, the kind of meal that asks nothing of you except to sit down and eat it. It’s not Cheryl Carter’s kitchen, but it’ll hold you over until it is.

Lemon Cream Pasta with Chicken

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 12 oz fettuccine or linguine pasta
  • 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 cup heavy cream
  • 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1 lemon, zested and juiced (about 3 tablespoons juice)
  • 3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
  • 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • Salt and black pepper, to taste
  • 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

  1. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water before draining. Drain and set aside.
  2. Season the chicken. Pat chicken pieces dry and season generously with salt, black pepper, and Italian seasoning.
  3. Sear the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken in a single layer and cook without moving for 3–4 minutes until golden. Flip and cook another 3–4 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate and cover loosely.
  4. Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Melt butter in the same skillet. Add garlic and cook, stirring, for 1 minute until fragrant. Add chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Pour in heavy cream, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer.
  5. Add the cheese. Stir in Parmesan a little at a time, letting each addition melt fully before adding more. Simmer the sauce 3–4 minutes until slightly thickened. Add red pepper flakes if using. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
  6. Combine. Return the cooked chicken to the skillet along with the drained pasta. Toss everything together over low heat, adding reserved pasta water a splash at a time if the sauce needs loosening. The pasta should be well coated but not soupy.
  7. Serve. Divide into bowls and top with extra Parmesan and fresh parsley. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 610 | Protein: 44g | Fat: 26g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 490mg

DeShawn Carter
About the cook who shared this
DeShawn Carter
Week 16 of DeShawn’s 30-year story · Detroit, Michigan
DeShawn is a thirty-six-year-old single dad, auto plant worker, and a man who didn't learn to cook until his wife left and his five-year-old asked, "Daddy, can you cook something?" He called his mama, who came over with two bags of groceries and spent six months teaching him the basics. Now he's the dad at the cookout who brings the ribs, the guy at the plant whose leftover gumbo starts fights, and living proof that it's never too late to learn.

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