Weeknight Chicken Francese — The Pan-Sauce Wednesday

First Wednesday of senior year. AP English with Mr. Briggs, fourth period, the same classroom I’d had him in for junior year except now the desks had been rearranged into a circle and he’d put up a Eudora Welty quote on the whiteboard about places mattering more than anybody admits. He handed back our diagnostic essays — the in-class write he’d had us do Tuesday, three pages on a passage from Faulkner’s “Barn Burning” — and mine had a single comment at the top in red pen, no grade, no rubric, no marginal notes anywhere on the body of the essay. Just one sentence: “Apply early action. Vanderbilt deadline is November 1. Start now.”

That was it. He didn’t look at me when I read it. He was already at the whiteboard starting the lecture. I read it three times standing in the hallway between fourth period and lunch, leaning against the locker that’s been mine since freshman year, and then I folded the page in half and put it in the back of my AP English binder where I keep the things I’m trying not to lose. Early action means applying months before regular decision — an answer in December instead of April, a commitment to get the application in before Halloween. November 1 is exactly seven weeks away. Mr. Briggs has decided that’s the timeline. So now I have.

Wednesday night, after the writing program session ended at nine and I was home by nine-twenty, I made chicken francese for dinner because I was too keyed up to sit still and because chicken francese has a pan sauce, and the focused choreography of a pan sauce is the closest thing I have to meditation. Two chicken breasts pounded thin between sheets of plastic wrap with the smooth side of the meat mallet — about a quarter-inch thick, even all the way across, which I learned the hard way after three or four attempts where one end was thin and the other end was rubber. Dredged in seasoned flour, dipped in a beaten-egg-and-parmesan-and-parsley batter, and sautéed in a mix of butter and olive oil over medium-high until the edges turned the color of strong tea. Out to a plate. Then the pan sauce: lemon juice from one lemon, half a cup of dry white wine I had a third-bottle leftover of from a chicken piccata two weeks ago, a tablespoon of capers drained from the brine, and two pats of cold butter swirled in at the very end off the heat to make the sauce glossy without breaking it.

The whole thing took about twenty minutes start to finish, which is one of those luxuries I didn’t have when I first started learning to cook. The same recipe was a one-hour, three-mistake ordeal the first time I tried it in tenth grade. Now it’s a Wednesday-night weeknight thing because the muscle memory takes care of the timing. The flour-egg-pan choreography happens without my brain being involved. The pan sauce builds itself if you don’t walk away. That’s the gift fifty practice runs gives you — the gift of being able to think about something else, something bigger, while your hands do the dinner.

Iris messaged me on AOL Instant Messenger Tuesday afternoon — we’re both still on AIM because we’re old-school and because her mother won’t let her have a smartphone until she turns eighteen — and asked if I’d come up to her house in Bristow Saturday to read the latest revision of the grandmother piece in person, page by page, with her at the kitchen table. I told Mama at dinner Wednesday between bites of chicken francese. Mama said yes if I drove the truck and was home by dark, which in early September meant by eight. I asked Iris on AIM what to bring — just to ask, just to be polite — and she typed back after a pause, “my mom wants to know if you’d bake a pound cake. she’s been telling people about it.” I read that line on the screen and almost dropped the phone. Iris’s family had been talking about my pound cake at their family dinners.

I lay in bed Wednesday night thinking about that — Iris’s mother in Bristow, talking about something I made over a meal I wasn’t at. About Mr. Briggs writing “start now” on a diagnostic essay because he believed I would. About the kitchen and the writing being two separate skills that, somehow, in this one specific year, were starting to point at the same horizon line. I didn’t fall asleep until almost two.

Pound the chicken thin first — that’s the whole game. Here’s the build.

Weeknight Chicken Francese

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

Ingredients

• 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 6 oz each), pounded to 1/2-inch thickness
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 large eggs
• 2 tablespoons milk
• 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1/2 cup dry white wine (or low-sodium chicken broth)
• 1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
• 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
• 1 lemon, thinly sliced
• 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

1. Dredge the chicken. In a shallow dish, whisk together flour, salt, and pepper. In a second shallow dish, beat eggs with milk. Dredge each chicken breast in the flour mixture, shaking off the excess, then dip into the egg mixture, letting any extra drip off.
2. Sear the chicken. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook 3—4 minutes per side until golden and cooked through (internal temperature 165°F). Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
3. Build the pan sauce. Reduce heat to medium. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil to the skillet. Add garlic and cook 30 seconds until fragrant, stirring constantly. Pour in the white wine and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Simmer 2 minutes until slightly reduced.
4. Finish the sauce. Add chicken broth and lemon juice. Bring to a simmer and cook 3—4 minutes until the sauce has reduced by about a third. Stir in the remaining 1 tablespoon butter until melted and the sauce is glossy. Add lemon slices.
5. Return the chicken. Nestle the seared chicken breasts back into the skillet. Spoon sauce over the top and simmer 1—2 minutes to warm through. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately over egg noodles, pasta, or with crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 360 | Protein: 38g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg