Preamble
I learned how to cook chicken with rhubarb.

And then I learned how to cook chicken with mushrooms.

I thought you might like to know.

Story Number One: Rhubarb Chicken

The rhubarb chicken was actually rather conflicted, in the sense that we were conflicted as to whether or not we liked it.

Let me rephrase that: I was not conflicted. I thought it a lovely dish, saucy, sweet and sour, with a kick of heat. The kids, however, didn’t like the heat and John took issue with the “fruity flavor.”

“Chicken should not be fruity,” he stated firmly.

“It’s not!” I wailed. “You can’t even see the rhubarb!”

We were clearing the table and arguing when my brother and his wife stopped by.

“Ya’ll be quiet,” I ordered my family, not wanting them to foil my plan, and then turning to my brother and his wife I asked sweetly, encouragingly, “Would you guys like to do a little taste testing for me?”

“I’m already filled up on beans and rice,” my sister-in-law murmured.

“Um, can I have a piece of chicken, too?” my brother stage whispered.

I snatched them some silverware from the drawer. They helped themselves to some plates.

“This is really good,” my sister-in-law said, scooping the sauce into her mouth. “What’s in it?”

“You tell me that,” I countered.

“Alcohol?” Yep.

“Lemon?” Nope.

“It’s sweet and sour…hmm, I don’t know. But I like it.” She took seconds.

“It tastes how barbecued chicken ought to taste,” my brother suddenly declared triumphantly.

Huh? We all turned to stare at him, squinched up our eyes (we had to—he was so far out in left field we could hardly see him), and then collectively pronounced his statement hogwash.

“Bah. That’s hogwash.”

But I was vindicated. The chicken is good, so there, John!

Story Number Two: Mushroom Chicken

The mushroom chicken was another one of those conflicted dishes. Mainly because no one in my family likes mushrooms but me.

But if you saw these mushrooms at the Farmer’s Market wouldn’t you have to buy them, too?

A recipe for chicken with morels and shallots in the latest Bon Appetit (which is hugely improved now that they have new leadership) had been sitting in the wings of my brain waiting for a chance to star in the show that is my kitchen, and the mushroom-laden table at the market was just the thing to get me going.

It’s a classic French chicken dish (or so I’ve read)—wine, cream, mushrooms, and chicken.

Basically, just cream of mushroom chicken dish, but with a lot more class.

And you know what? My husband, mushroom hater that he is, said the dish had good flavor but that he didn’t like the texture of the mushrooms. We’re moving up, people! Full-blown sophistication may be in my family’s future!

Now for the recipes.

Rhubarb Smothered Chicken
Adapted from an Emeril Lagasse recipe from Food Network

No one need know there is rhubarb in this recipe (if they are adverse to the idea of fruit with chicken), but it adds a splendidly zingy zip.

The recipe did not say how much Essence to use, so I put in a couple tablespoons. It gave plenty of flavor. (If you are sensitive to heat, go skimpy on the cayenne.)

3 ½ pounds of chicken pieces
2 tablespoons Essence seasoning (recipe follows)
2 tablespoons flour
1/4 cup olive oil
1 pound rhubarb, diced
2 onions, cut in half and then crosswise, thinly
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 bay leaf
½ teaspoon dried thyme, or a couple sprigs of fresh
1 cup white wine
1 tablespoon dried parsley, or 1/4 cup fresh, chopped
S & P, to taste

Combine the Essence and flour in a bowl and toss with the chicken pieces.

Heat the oil in a large pan and brown the chicken pieces—about 5 minutes on each side. Remove the chicken from the pan and add the rhubarb and onion, some salt and pepper, and saute for about 10 minutes. Add the garlic, bay leaf, thyme, and white wine and stir well, scraping up the little browned bits from the bottom. Return the chicken pieces to the pan, cover loosely, and simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. (At first it may seem that there isn’t enough liquid, but as the rhubarb cooks, it releases more and more water. By the end, the dish was quite saucy.) Immediately before serving, add the parsley and taste to correct seasonings. Serve over rice.

Essence Seasoning:
2 ½ tablespoons paprika
2 tablespoons salt
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1 tablespoon black pepper
1 tablespoon onion powder
1 tablespoon oregano
1 tablespoon thyme
2 teaspoons cayenne

Mix and store in the freezer.

Chicken with Mushrooms
Adapted from the May 2011 issue of Bon Appetit magazine

The original recipe (and how I made it) called for browning the chicken pieces and then simmering them in the sauce. However, I’m not a huge fan of large pieces of meat on my plate (though I did like them in the above recipe) and the resulting sticky fingers and bits of refuse littering the table. Next time I’ll just poach a chicken, debone it, and toss the meat in at the last minute. I’ll lose some of the flavor from browning, but sauteing the shrooms in a bit of bacon grease would remedy that problem.

1 3-4 pound chicken, poached, deboned, and cut into pieces
1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil, butter, or bacon grease
1 small onion, minced
1 pound morel mushrooms (I used white oyster), roughly chopped
1 cup white wine
1 cup chicken broth
½ cup heavy whipping cream
salt and black pepper, to taste

Pour the oil into a pan set over medium-high heat. Add the onions and saute until soft. Add the mushrooms and saute for another 2-5 minutes, or until they have released a bunch of their moisture and are getting soft. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the mushrooms and onions to a bowl.

Add the wine to the pan, and bring to a boil. When it has reduced by half, add the stock and bring it to a simmer. Add the chicken pieces, the cooked mushrooms and onions, and heat through. Add the whipping cream and bring to a simmer. Taste to correct seasonings and serve over rice or noodles.

This same time, years previous: the bike question, revisited, baked macaroni and cheese

“Mom, what’s that huge store that you went to that has cars in the middle?”

“I have no idea.”

“You know, it’s really big and there’s all these stores?”

“A mall?” I guessed.

“Yeah, a mall! I think we should go to a mall sometime.”

Does my son really not know what a mall it? Really? I’m semi-stunned.

Think what kind of culture shock he’s going to experience when he and his friends go to the mall to hang out.

Actually, I think he’ll have a blast. He’ll go berserk. He’ll probably hijack one of the security guard’s golf carts and take it on a zigzag joy ride through the hat kiosks.

Another recent conversation: we were driving through town and he said, “It makes me feel kind of sad.”

“What does?” I asked.

“That people buy their playhouses because they don’t know how to build them.”

“Yes well, not everyone knows how to build things.”

“Yeah, nobody knows how to do anything anymore.”

This conversation made me want to:

a. laugh—an 11-year-old sagely mourning a day and age he never knew
b. chortle—he appreciates our more hands-on lifestyle, yippee!
c. deliver a lecture—Let’s look at the big picture, sonny. Some of those playhouse-buying people can do things you’ll NEVER be able to do. Everybody has different gifts, so don’t look down your nose just cause you know something that someone else doesn’t.

I did none of those things. Instead, I kept my eyes on the road and just mm-hmmed.

As of late, he’s been getting a bunch of orders through his etsy shop.

“A bunch” is a relative term, of course. What I mean when I say “a bunch” is that it’s been keeping us busy. We’ve been spending whole mornings, and sometimes afternoons, making jewelry, book-keeping, emailing, and packaging up the items.

He’s doing more and more of the work himself—not only is he smashing the coins, but he’s coming up with new ideas, filing the coins, crafting the jewelry, addressing the envelopes, communicating with consignment shop owners (two have taken his jewelry), etc. He’s enjoying himself, too. He thrives when he’s king of his mountain—the more we become like equal partners (and less like bossy mom and recalcitrant son), the happier he is (and I am).

Over the last few months he has been gradually learning about good business etiquette and acclimating to my exacting standards. No longer does he argue (so much) when I tell him his handwriting isn’t neat enough or that a coin isn’t smashed properly. (Yes, I have standards for how we wreck things.)

For awhile there it was like pulling teeth (and it still is some days). It got so bad that I made him memorize Thomas Edison’s quote, “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work,” and recite it to me multiple times every day. Now if he starts lagging, I just holler, “Opportunity, boy! Opportunity!”

The other day while I was photographing some custom-ordered necklaces, my son hauled down the baby head statue (an art project of my brother’s, modeled on [after?] Yo-Yo’s toddler head) and thunked it on the table. He and his sister adorned it with the jewelry and ordered me to photograph it.

“There is no way I’m putting these pictures in the shop,” I said. “We’d probably lose customers with a head like this.”

Then they mounted the head on a stool and dressed it.

Later—no pictures, sorry—a bridal Miss Beccaboo married it.

And even later I walked into the room and found it talking on the phone, a newspaper in its pocket and a puppy dog trailing behind.

This same time, years previous: roasted rhubarb, I have nothing to say (ha!), pounding the pulpit

Hold on to your hats, people. Have I got a drink for you!

It’s springy!
It’s light!
It’s refreshing!
It’s cold!
It’s sour!
It’s zippy!

And yes, there’s a little alcohol in it. And I had two of them last night.

Wanna make something of it?

It takes two syrups to make this drink, one rhubarb and the other rosemary. Right before serving, mix the two together, add rum, lemon, and ice, and you’re good to go. It’s an absolutely delightful experience.

The original recipe says to combine everything and serve—it makes eight servings. I contemplated doing that but then decided a cup-and-a-half of rum just for me might be a bit much for one evening.

Aren’t you impressed with my discretion?

So I kept the syrups separate and mixed just enough for a moderate one-person serving (promise) at the last minute.

You can cut out the alcohol all together, if you wish. (What a weird wish that would be, but to each his own, right?) And the rhubarb juice is fantastic by itself. I imagine it would also be good added to iced tea or lemonade or limeade or orange juice or… you get the point. Of course, rum added to all those drinks would be good, too. You get the point.

Rhubarb Daiquiri
Adapted from Aimee of Under the Highchair and she, in turn, got it from Bon Appetit magazine.

3 cups chopped rhubarb
2 1/4 cups water, divided
½ cup rosemary sprigs and needles
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
6 tablespoons lemon juice, divided
1 ½ cups rum or tequila
lemon wedges, for garnish
rosemary sprigs, for garnish

For the rosemary syrup:
Combine 1 cup of water with 2 tablespoons sugar in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Add the rosemary, lid the pan, and remove from heat. Steep for 5 minutes before straining the liquid and discarding the rosemary. Pour the syrup into a little jar and chill.

For the rhubarb juice:
Put the rhubarb, the 1 1/4 cups remaining water, the ½ cup of sugar, and 1 tablespoon of lemon juice in a blender and whiz for a little. It will be pulpy but juicy. Strain the mixture, pressing on it vigorously with a spoon to extract all the liquid. Discard the pulp. Pour the juice into a quart jar and chill.

To mix for a group:
Combine the syrups with the remaining lemon juice and rum. Divide between 8 ice-filled glasses and garnish with lemon wedges and rosemary sprigs.

To mix individual drinks:
1/3 cup rhubarb juice
2 tablespoons rosemary syrup
2 tablespoons rum
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Mix, pour over ice, and garnish with a wedge of lemon and sprig of rosemary.

This same time, years previous: how to get your bedding/house/kids clean all in one day, classy rhubarb pie with cream cheese pastry