Finally, Chicken Parmesan (and a simple tomato sauce)

But first, a short science lesson.

Recently, I've been referring to the bane of my existence as "CPS".  What happened to my fibromyalgia, you may be asking.  And what is this CPS thing, besides Child Protective Services (which is decidedly NOT the bane of my existence, but rather my life's work)?  Well, my official diagnosis is Chronic Pain Syndrome, CPS.  Most people don't know much about it, and it is virtually identical to fibromyalgia, which most people do know something about.  I believe I have read that Chronic Pain Syndrome is the broader category and that fibromyalgia is a type of chronic pain syndrome.  I'm not sure exactly what the differences are, or if there really are differences.  I don't think the medical profession knows what the differences are.  I know I did not test positive for all 18 pressure points - I think I had 11 of them - but I had already been taking Cymbalta, a medication prescribed for fibromyalgia, for a number of years for depression and anxiety. Certainly, unwittingly, and serendipitously, I must have benefitted, fibromyalgically (is that a word?) speaking.   Which begs the question of just how many pressure points I would have felt if I had not been taking Cymbalta for many years.

So what am I suffering from?  Pain. Ever-shifting, never-ending chronic muscle pain and weakness.  And a few other things, which you can find in any official list of fibromyalgia symptoms:

Severe fatigue and decreased energy
Insomnia and waking up feeling tired
Stiffness upon waking or after staying in one position for too long
Difficulty remembering, concentrating, and performing simple mental tasks ("fibro fog")
Irritable bowel syndrome and digestive disorders
Tension and migraine headaches
Sensitivity to odors, noise, bright lights, medications, and cold
Feeling anxiety and chronic depression
Numbness or tingling in the face, arms, hands, legs, or feet
Itching/burning skin
Balance problems

No tolerance for exercise; muscle pain after exercise

I don't suppose it really matters whether you call it chronic pain syndrome or fibromyalgia.  I use them interchangeably, which is probably as accurate as I will ever be able to be.  What matters is that this condition, this syndrome, this thing - is a big part of what I blog about.  I suppose I am blogging through it, and I thank you for your patience.  I hope the recipes make it all worthwhile.

And now, chicken parmesan.  No wait, first a simple tomato sauce.  A marinara sauce that will have you licking the inside of the saucepan. This one is inspired by Melissa Clark's article and recipe in the New York Times.

Simple Tomato Sauce (Marinara)

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1/4 teaspoon red chile flakes
2 - 28 oz. cans diced tomatoes with basil, garlic, and oregano
2 sprigs fresh basil
kosher salt and coarsely ground pepper, to taste
dried basil
granulated garlic
sugar
1-2 tablespoons butter

In a deep, medium-sized saucepan, over medium heat, warm the oil. Add garlic and cook until just lightly golden. Add chile flakes if desired and cook 30 seconds.  Stir in tomatoes and juices, basil sprigs and salt and pepper.  Bring the sauce to a simmer and cook until sauce is thick and tomatoes have mostly fallen apart, about 30 to 40 minutes. Adjust heat as needed to keep at a steady simmer. Remove sauce from heat and discard basil.  With the back of a wooden spoon, crush the tomatoes and garlic bits against the side of the saucepan and stir into the sauce.  Repeat until the sauce is the texture you desire. Now adjust your seasoning, using any of the spices or herbs in the ingredient list.  Then return the skillet to very low heat and keep fine-tuning the flavors.  When you are completely satisfied, add the butter and stir until it melts.  The butter will actually pull all the flavors together.  Set aside while you prepare the chicken.

Finally, chicken parmesan!  Okay, it has been my experience that chicken parmesan tends to be bland.  The sauce definitely adds a great deal of flavor, but it seems to me that the chicken itself, bound like a sleeping butterfly in a cocoon of unseasoned bread crumbs, needs to be more than just a friendly slab of protein.  The natural chicken flavor, which I love, needs to be enhanced to stand up to the rest of the dish.  Otherwise, you might as well use firm tofu, an idea that is turning my stomach even as I type it.

So I marinated the chicken in an herb-lemon-olive oil combo.  I've never done that before when making chicken parmesan (I told you there was no real recipe, remember?) and this time the results were delicious, better than before, the best! I wrote it all down, so I guess it is now officially a recipe.

Cindy's Recipe for Chicken Parmesan

1 - 2 pound package frozen chicken cutlets (approximately 5 good-sized cutlets), defrosted overnight according to package directions. (Trust me, use the frozen cutlets)

Italian seasoning blend
Parsley flakes
Lemon pepper
Garlic salt
Dried chopped chives
Lemon juice (fresh or Minute Maid, defrosted)
Roasted garlic extra virgin olive oil

1 package Progresso Panko Plain Bread Crumbs
2 extra large eggs
1 or more cups all purpose flour
Canola oil for frying

8 oz. Parmesan cheese, grated
1 - package sliced cheese (8-10 slices) like provolone, mozzarella, muenster, pepper jack
1 recipe Simple Tomato Sauce

The day before: Rinse the defrosted cutlets under cold running water, then place them in one layer in a clean plastic container with a lid.  Sprinkle the cutlets with a good amount of the Italian seasoning blend, parsley flakes, lemon pepper, garlic salt, and chives.  Drizzle with lemon juice and olive oil, using enough to coat the top of the cutlets and to moisten the herbs and spices.  Cover and place in the refrigerator overnight, turning the cutlets occasionally.  Sprinkle on more herbs and spices if you need to first time you turn the cutlets. (Note: if the cutlets are large, feel free to cut them in half crosswise.)

When you are ready to cook:  set up a breading station.  I like to use 3 disposable round aluminum cake pans.  Put the flour in one, then the eggs in another, and the panko in the third, lining them up in that order.  With a fork, beat the eggs till the yolks and whites are combined.  Place a 9 by 13 inch aluminum baking dish at the end, after the panko.  Pick up a cutlet, letting the excess marinade drip off.  Dredge it in the flour so that all surfaces are dusted.  Shake off the excess.  Next, dip the cutlet in the egg so that all surfaces are covered.  Let the excess egg drip off.  Finally, place the cutlet flat into the panko crumbs, turning the cutlet over as necessary and gently patting it into the crumbs to assure that they adhere.  Place the finished cutlet in the baking pan, and repeat with the rest of the cutlets. You may need an additional baking pan if you bread all the cutlets at one time.  I prefer to bread the second batch while the first batch is in the frying pan.

In a large skillet, heat about a half inch of canola oil over medium high heat.  Place 2 to 3 cutlets carefully into the hot oil and cook until the panko turns golden brown.  Turn each cutlet and cook the other side.  Remove the cooked cutlets to a baking dish which has some tomato sauce ladled across the bottom.  Repeat until all the cutlets are fried.  You may layer the cutlets like you would an eggplant parm, but I prefer the chicken in a single layer, so I end up filling two aluminum pans.

Ladle sauce over each cutlet.  I used all of the sauce, but you could cut back if you prefer.  Over each cutlet, sprinkle a good amount of the Parmesan.  Next, place the sliced cheese over the cutlets.

In a 350 degree oven, bake the chicken parm until the cheese is melted.  Try not to let the cheese brown, you want it soft and melty (is that even a word?)

Serve and enjoy.

Pain is the Name of the Game

February 10, 2015 - Today I hit a new low.

After a mildly contentious morning in court, the pain in my lower back became so bad, so damn excrutiating, I had to leave.  Hurriedly handing over my remaining two cases to my very sympathetic supervisor, I gathered my possessions (having had to ask a coworker to pick my purse up off the floor, since bending over was a practical impossibility at that point) and headed out, probably looking like a crippled blue crab from behind. I left the courthouse and the remainder of my workday.  I left my routine, my planned projects and my responsibilities.  I left behind that feeling of accomplishment I'd enjoyed just the night before, when I'd happily worked late, and finished knocking out two quality petitions;  I'd engaged in trial prep with case managers during the afternoon;  I worked good and hard and productively during the entire day and I was happy. That was yesterday and this was today.

I went home and for the first few hours could not even think about climbing the stairs to my bedroom.  I could not get comfortable on the couch. I could not eat, although I tried, and it wasn't until 3:30 that I could finish the blueberry muffin I had started for breakfast.  Now I am going to go upstairs, close the door, and maybe leak a few tears, the ones I held back while briefly discussing a friend's return to chemotherapy after five obstensibly cancer-free years.

I take nothing stronger than Advil.  I am jusifiably terrified of pain-killers, addictive, destructive.  I cannot take Lyrica because of side effects, and I have been taking Cymbalta for years.  Neither Lyrica nor Cymbalta have ever given me a consistent degree of relief.  Lately I notice the Advil is unable to meet the level of discomfort I live with.  So I sleep because I can do nothing else.

"You're too young to be a hot mess."  That's what the nurse told me today after I explained why I had come into the doctor's office today.  It's tomorrow, and I knew from the moment I sat up in bed that I would not be able to go to work.  Pain is the name of the game.  My balance is off as well.  Stood on the doctor's scale and had to close my eyes.  Earlier, I contacted my office and let them know I would not be coming in, and I had cases that had to be covered in court.  I did not feel real good about having to do that.

What am I going to do?

Apparently, I am going to take more drugs.  Nothing like oxycontin or hydrocodone - I won't take that sh*t.  I've seen what happens when people take that stuff.  I've seen the lives it has ruined, the families it has destroyed.  Something that works on the nerves, like Lyrica, but of course I can't take Lyrica because it causes me to gain weight rapidly.  And another pill to help deal with depression.  Ha, my depression is in my bones like Stage 4 cancer.  The Cymbalta I have faithfully taken does help, a lot.  But not totally, so I'll try this other stuff, what the hell.

What am I going to do?  Well, I decided that I am going to do my trials tomorrow, come hell or high water.

And I'm going to beat this thing.

If at first you don't succeed, fry, fry again - Corned Beef Hash

Sunday.

Beer and honey braised corned beef; that is what I was going to call it.  It was a nice solid pieece of corned beef brisket, and I still had some red-skinned potatoes and all the other ingredients I needed to prepare a really nice entree.   Five hours on High in the crockpot.  It was all smooth moving from there.

Until I fell into one of my stupid stupors on the couch, and failed to wake up in time to tend to the corned beef.  After bubbling in beer, beef broth and honey for the equivalent of 13 hours on Low, this piece of brisket was dead, Jim.  After removing it from the crockpot and letting it cool, I could not find a way to cut it.  Like most meats, corned beef is cut across the grain, but no matter how I turned the beef and where I started the cut, I was always working with the grain, which left a good part of this sad, dead piece of protein in shreds.  Additionally, the braising liquid, enhanced by spices and butter, which all sounded so good on paper, left an odd flavor I found less than thrilling.

So I chucked the whole thing in the trash, because even the dogs wouldn't eat it.

Actually I did no such thing.  I threw it in the refrigerator until I could bear to look at it the next day.  And I already knew I wasn't going to waste it.  I would make hash.  Corned beef hash, with the potatoes, and some caramelized onions, and a bag of frozen tri-color bell peppers.  Salt and pepper.  A little canola oil for frying.

And it was good.  Really good, tasty and homey and warm and soul-satisfying.

Best of all, Rob and Cory both proclaimed it to be the best corned beef hash they'd ever had.  I'm sure the sunny side up eggs on top helped.  Because you've got to top corned beef hash with a fried or poached egg.

Wake Up, America - Dill Pickle Soup (Link)

You all know I watch too much news.  For someone with my history of depression and anxiety, it's a fool's errand.  But I can't look away.  And neither should you.  Listen:

I have heard people say that if CNN and the Internet had existed in the middle of the last century, there would have been no Holocaust.  I even believed that at one time, believing as well that if the civilized people of the United States could have seen the horrific acts of the Nazi regime, few if any Jews would have died.  I should have known better.  Long before there was an Internet, I took a course in Modern Jewish History while at New Paltz, and learned of the terrible apathy, in the face of knowledge, from the Roosevelt administration.  Even before that, my Pop told me that FDR was an anti-Semite.  The great, revered FDR and his equally anti-Semitic Secretary of State, Cordell Hull.

But this is the 21st century, and we would never tolerate another Holocaust! (Would we?  Could we?)

I think the color photo was taken quite recently.  I picked it off the Internet after seeing it flash on the screen while watching Greta van Susteren.  I know the black and white photo was taken sometime around 1943.  Apparently, the Islamic terrorists are just as careful as the Nazis of keeping photographic records of their handiwork.

Wake up, America.  Mr. Obama, get out of your golf cart, put down that microbrew, and do your job - protect us, sir! Actions speak louder than words, and you could learn a lot from the King of Jordan.

Indiana looking guilty

Now, if you still have your appetite, or expect to regain it in the near future, here is the link to a soup recipe I have been wanting to try for a while.  Since we are just one bowl away from running out of soup, it seemed a propitious time to do so.

I found this on a site called The Noble Pig.  Lots of good things to explore on that site, and not just about pickles.  I want to make it, and I was all ready to make it when I had a cooking fit at 3:00 am, but realized I had a fridge full of vegetables that had to be dealt with expeditiously.  What I came up with is so damn good, I keep thinking Rachael Ray is hiding in my house, preparing soups when I'm not looking.  But this is definitely not one of her recipes - it is totally born of the inspiration that hit me when I looked in the produce drawer.  Whoo Hoo, you're gonna love it!  But that's another blog post.  In the meantime, I would recommend you click on the link for The Noble Pig and try that dill pickle soup.  I'm still keeping it at the top of my list of recipes to try.

Sometimes, the news is good - Pan de Provence con Queso

Sometimes the news is good ... for a change, and I would like to share with you:

This baby is having a baby!

Iris and Jason are expecting a baby!  Which means Mark and Sandy are going to be grandparents again, and Jason's lovely mother Carrie is going to be a grandmother for the first time.  Heartfelt happiness to everyone in the Fendrick and Joyce families.

Congratulations to Starr on the occasion of her engagement to her young man.  He proposed while they are riding a Ferris wheel!  The ring is pink and gorgeous.  May you both enjoy a long, happy, healthy life together!

I tried Vietnamese food tonight.  Not bad at all. And the company was wonderful.  Thank you Tony and Carmen for joining us for dinner.

Yeah, I'm being silly in naming this recipe, since it has nothing to do with Spain or Spanish food, but all that good news left me feeling a trifle tipsy.  Drunk on happy news.

Pan de Provence con Queso

1 slender baguette, about 8.5 oz.
1 stick butter
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1-2 teaspoons capers, chopped fine
kosher salt
black pepper
herbes de Provence
granulated garlic
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil
2 tablespoons chopped oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
Pecorino-Romano cheese, grated
8 slices unsmoked Provolone cheese

Embrace the caper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cut the baguette into half-inch slices and lay them flat in an aluminum baking dish.

In a small saucepan melt the butter over medium low heat.  Add the olive oil, the garlic, the capers, and salt, pepper, herbes de Provence and granulated garlic to taste.  Cook over low until the garlic softens, but don't let it brown.  Remove from the heat, then stir in the basil and sun-dried tomatoes.

Distribute the solids evenly over the bread, then spoon over the oil and butter mixture.  Sprinkle on some of the Pecorino-Romano.  Finally, lay the sliced Provolone over the bread.

Bake for 15 minute until cheese melts and starts to brown.  With a small, sharp knife, cut the melted cheese between the bread slices so they separate easily.

I am already addicted.