Labor Day. The unofficial end of summer, which in Duluth means the unofficial beginning of eight months of winter preparation, both physical and psychological. The light is already changing — shifting from the high white of July to the golden slant of September, which is beautiful but carries a warning. Enjoy this. It's going.
Anna and David brought the kids up for the long weekend. The house was full — genuinely, physically full — in a way it hasn't been since the kids were young. Sophie, eighteen and starting at the U of M next week. Jakob, sixteen, who has grown four inches since I saw him in June and now looks at me from a height that is mildly alarming. Lena, thirteen, who spent the entire weekend reading a book about wolves and asking me questions about Duluth wildlife that I couldn't answer and she could.
Paul was in his element. He loves when the house is full. He becomes more animated, more talkative, more the Paul who stood in front of a classroom for thirty years making dead people come alive. He told the kids about the Mataafa Storm. He told them about the Edmund Fitzgerald. He took Jakob to the Maritime Museum and they didn't come back for three hours, which means Jakob either loved it or was too polite to escape, and knowing Jakob, it could be either.
I cooked for all of them. Of course I did. This is what I do — this is what Mamma does, what Mamma's mother did, what some woman in Sweden four generations back did: you fill the house with people and you fill the people with food and the two acts are the same act.
Monday's dinner was a full production: roast chicken with root vegetables, wild rice casserole, fresh bread, and a blueberry crisp for dessert using the berries from last week's pick. The chicken was brined overnight — salt, sugar, bay leaves, peppercorns — because brining is the difference between good chicken and extraordinary chicken and I am not interested in merely good chicken.
Sophie helped in the kitchen. She's getting better. Her knife skills have improved since June — she can dice an onion evenly now, which took me ten years to learn and she's learned in ten weeks, which is either talent or youth or both. She asked me about working as a nurse. "Is it hard, Grandma?" I said, "Yes." She said, "Is it worth it?" I said, "Every day." She nodded. She didn't need more than that.
The house emptied on Tuesday morning. Anna and David loaded the car, the kids said goodbye, and I stood in the driveway and waved until the car turned the corner, and then I went inside and the rooms were quiet again and I stood in the kitchen for a moment and listened to the nothing.
Paul came in and said, "Good weekend." I said, "The best." Sven found a sock that Jakob had left under the couch and carried it around the house for the rest of the day. He'll give it back at Christmas. Or he won't. Sven's relationship with found socks is complicated.
Monday’s dinner was always going to be the centerpiece of the weekend — the meal that justified the full table, the noise, the borrowed chairs. I brined the chicken overnight because that’s what Mamma taught me, and I roasted it over root vegetables until the whole house smelled like something worth coming home to. If you want to bring that same feeling to your own table — that particular alchemy of fragrant spice, caramelized vegetables, and golden chicken that turns a kitchen into an event — this sheet pan curry chicken is the place to start. It scales easily for a crowd, cleans up in one pan, and it’s the kind of thing that makes people linger at the table just a little longer than they planned.
Sheet Pan Curry Chicken and Vegetables
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 1/2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks
- 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 2 teaspoons curry powder
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 3 medium carrots, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
- 2 medium parsnips, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
- 1 medium red onion, cut into wedges
- 1 medium red bell pepper, seeded and cut into chunks
- 1 cup cauliflower florets
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Fresh cilantro or flat-leaf parsley, for garnish
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 425°F. Line a large rimmed sheet pan with foil and lightly coat with cooking spray or a drizzle of olive oil.
- Make the spice rub. In a small bowl, combine the curry powder, smoked paprika, cumin, turmeric, garlic powder, 3/4 teaspoon of the salt, and pepper. Stir to combine.
- Season the chicken. Pat the chicken pieces dry with paper towels. Rub 1 tablespoon of the olive oil over the chicken, then coat evenly with about two-thirds of the spice rub. Set aside.
- Toss the vegetables. In a large bowl, combine the carrots, parsnips, red onion, bell pepper, cauliflower, and minced garlic. Drizzle with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil, sprinkle with the remaining spice rub and 1/4 teaspoon salt, and toss well to coat.
- Arrange on sheet pan. Spread the vegetables in a single layer on the prepared pan. Nestle the chicken pieces skin-side up on top of and among the vegetables, making sure the chicken skin is exposed and not crowded.
- Roast. Transfer to the preheated oven and roast for 35 to 40 minutes, until the chicken skin is deep golden and crispy and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the thickest part of a thigh reads 165°F. The vegetables should be tender and caramelized at the edges.
- Finish and serve. Remove from the oven and drizzle the lemon juice over everything. Let rest for 5 minutes, then scatter fresh cilantro or parsley over the top and serve directly from the pan.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 390 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 21g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 510mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 24 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.