In my later years, the end of summer has become bittersweet. Not because I love it so much that I hate seeing it pass; actually, autumn is my favorite time of year and by the end of July I'm eager for it to come. What's bittersweet about summer's waning is that it makes me keenly aware that my own life's summer is waning—and a lot faster than I'd like.
I'm not, of course, alone in this. Recently an email newsletter landed in my in-box with a link to an article warning of twenty-five things we should NEVER eat once we pass our fiftieth birthday.
Yes, they said never. The lion's share of the list was processed food, which ought not to be the dominant part of anyone's diet. Predictably, the bad-boy contents of most of the foods and drinks on this list were sodium, processed fat, preservatives, and alcohol. "No more three-margherita taco lunches" it said. Well, over-indulging in any of those things was never healthy at any age. THREE margheritas in the middle of the day isn't a good idea for anyone.
The underlying message in these "never do this" articles is that if you obey them, you'll somehow stay healthy and live forever. But not one of us is going to get out of this alive. In the end, we're going to die from something. So, when did we decide that the length of the journey was more important than how much we enjoyed the trip?
It's common sense (or ought to be) that a large part of enjoying the life we have left to us is staying reasonably healthy. And a large part of staying reasonably healthy is being mindful of what we put in our mouths and how often we put it there. But think about it: do you really want to spend your last years stoically passing up every single hot, crisp, French-fry that passes under your nose, never savoring a glass of wine, never knowing the comfort of good salted butter melting into a hot, crusty piece of bread?
Of course not.
So, here's an idea: stop being afraid of your food and instead start paying attention to your body. If you really get in tune with it, it'll tell you what it needs, and will tell you when it's had enough. As we get older, we have to accept that we don't need as much fuel, and if you're listening, your body will let you know when the tank is full. It will also let you know when something breaks down and can no longer process a favorite food in a way that the pleasure you get from it isn't worth the discomfort it's going to cause once it passes your taste buds.
In short, let's stop worrying about how much time we have left at the table and start enjoying the time that we have around it right now.
Chicken Piccata with Lemon and Capers
This is a standard in my house that we still enjoy even though we're way past fifty and it contains alcohol, butter, high-sodium capers, and, yes, more salt. We just eat it in smaller portions and indulge in it less frequently than we used to do.
Piccata, by the way, is the Milanese name for scaloppine and not a specific way of preparing them. There are actually several versions, but in our country, "piccata" usually refers to the most famous one with lemon and parsley, to which we frequently add capers. It's also a lovely way to prepare veal, turkey, or pork scaloppine.
This is quick cooking, and the keys to success are to watch the pan, not the clock, and to understand that the approximate measure given for the wine is just that: I never pour it into a measuring cup but add it straight to the pan, letting my eyes do the measuring.
Serves 2
1 boned and skinned chicken breast, about 8-10 ounces
Salt and whole black pepper in a mill
About ¼ cup all-purpose or instant-blending flour such as Wondra
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 heaped tablespoon nonpareil capers, drained
2 teaspoons minced flat-leaf parsley
½-¾ cup dry white wine or dry white vermouth
½ lemon
1. Trim the chicken breast of any fat and cartilage and lay it on a flat work surface. With a sharp knife, cut it horizontally in half. Put the two pieces side-by-side between two sheets of plastic wrap and lightly pound them into scaloppine of a uniform thinness. I actually use a textured mallet rather than a scaloppine pounder to beat them out, because nowadays chicken breasts in our country are so large that they can be a bit tough. Season both sides of each scaloppine well with salt and pepper.
2. Put the oil and butter into a heavy-bottomed, medium (10-inch) skillet or sauté pan. Warm it over medium-high heat. When it's hot and the butter's foaming subsides, roll each scaloppine in the flour, shake off the excess, and slip it into the pan. Cook, turning once or twice, until both sides are golden and the meat is just barely cooked through (about 90 seconds altogether on each side). Remove them to a plate. They can be cooked up to two hours ahead to this point: Turn off the heat and set the pan aside, let the scaloppine cool, and cover them.
3. When you're ready to finish the scaloppine, return the pan to medium high heat, let it get hot, and add the capers, stirring until they're warmed through. Add the wine and bring it to a boil, stirring and scraping the pan to deglaze it. Squeeze in lemon juice to taste and add the parsley. Return the cutlets to the pan and warm them through, turning several times, about 60-90 seconds. Remove the pan from the heat, taste and adjust the lemon juice, and serve at once.