Parmesan Chicken with Lemon Rice

Week 200 of this blog. I did not plan to count, and I did not plan to write this long, and I did not plan for any of this — not the blog, not the followers, not the Overdrive column, not the woman in Tulsa making chili in her cab because I wrote about making chili in mine. I planned to drive trucks and feed my family and survive each week, and the surviving became the writing, and the writing became the blog, and the blog became something I do not have a word for except maybe this: proof. Proof that I was here, that I cooked, that I drove, that I loved, that the chili simmered and the bread rose and the children grew and the road went on. Two hundred weeks of proof.

I hauled to Council Bluffs mid-week. The Iowa border in January is a frozen line on a frozen map, and crossing it changes nothing — the cold is the same, the road is the same, the sky is the same shade of gray that means Nebraska and Iowa are the same place in winter, which they are, because winter erases borders and makes the Midwest one continuous flat cold.

Amber is reading college pamphlets. She is fifteen, a sophomore, and already thinking about the future with the systematic seriousness of a girl who has learned that the future does not take care of itself. She has a folder. The folder has tabs. The tabs are labeled by school. She has not told me this — I saw the folder on her desk when I was putting away laundry, and I did not open it because the folder is hers, and the planning is hers, and the future is hers, and my job is to make sure she gets there, not to choose the destination.

I made chicken pot pie again — the comfort food, the winter food, the food that says: the world outside is frozen and the world inside this crust is warm. I made two: one for us, one for Gayle. I drove the second one to Gayle's house and she opened the door and said I was not expecting you, which is what she always says and which is never true because she was dressed and her hair was done and the coffee was fresh, which means she was expecting me, and the pretending-not-to-expect is the game we play, the dance of a mother and daughter who need each other and will not say it in words.

I made two pot pies that week, but I won’t always have the time to build a crust from scratch — and on the nights I don’t, this is the chicken I come back to. Parmesan chicken with lemon rice has the same quality I love about pot pie: it is warm, it is complete, it is something you can carry to someone’s door. It is the kind of meal that says the world outside is cold and I thought of you anyway, which is, at bottom, all a pot pie is ever really saying.

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

Ingredients

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 6 oz each)
3/4 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese, divided
1/2 cup plain breadcrumbs
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup long-grain white rice
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Zest of 1 lemon
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil and set a wire rack on top. Lightly coat the rack with nonstick spray.
Make the coating. In a shallow dish, combine 1/2 cup of the Parmesan, breadcrumbs, garlic powder, Italian seasoning, salt, and pepper. Stir until evenly mixed.
Coat the chicken. Brush each chicken breast on all sides with olive oil, then press firmly into the breadcrumb mixture, turning to coat. Place on the prepared rack.
Bake. Bake for 22—26 minutes, until the crust is deep golden and the internal temperature reads 165°F on an instant-read thermometer. Do not flip — the rack lets heat circulate underneath.
Cook the rice. While the chicken bakes, bring chicken broth to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add rice, stir once, reduce heat to low, and cover. Cook 18 minutes, until liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and let stand 5 minutes.
Finish the rice. Fluff rice with a fork. Stir in butter, lemon zest, lemon juice, remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan, and parsley. Taste and adjust salt if needed.
Serve. Spoon lemon rice onto plates and set a chicken breast alongside. Garnish with additional parsley and a lemon wedge if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Parmesan Chicken with Lemon Rice — The Crust Holds Everything In