Don’t Wake the Baby: Cooking Edition

I t’s been a long time since I had to temper my cooking noise to preserve the slumber of a sleeping baby. This week, however, proved to be a good reminder, as I’m living with my sister, brother-in-law, and new nephew. Having recently completed a move so my brother-in-law could get his master’s, they asked me to join them for a month as they settled into life in a new place, with a new routine and new baby. When you’re offered almost a complete monopoly on holding your nephew and a chance to cook for more than one person, you take it. (Fun fact: Most of this essay was typed one-handed, as my nephew took his afternoon nap on me.)

First order of business? Meal planning. I have a long list of recipes to try out, and two willing eaters, so that isn’t difficult. Half of the dishes need to be freezer-friendly, so they have some easy fallbacks during the semester. Chicken pot pie, lasagna, and sweet-potato gnocchi fit the bill here, so I’ll prep those later in the month. Other dishes, like potato and Polish sausage hash, will appear sooner, and I’m especially looking forward to making a particular meatballs and roasted chickpea dish for them (though I do a mixture of ground meat and pork sausage rather than ground turkey for my meatballs).

This past Tuesday, it was chicken and potatoes in a mustard cream sauce. I’m always wildly skeptical of recipes that claim to be one-pan and combine chicken breasts and potatoes. Spuds cook slowly, often taking so long that your chicken dries out before the potatoes are ready (unless you use boneless chicken thighs — then you might have more success). So it was with some trepidation that I started this recipe. My mom is firmly in the “pound your chicken” camp, but due to home noise ordinances instated by my sister, pounding was out and slicing was in. After a quick pan fry for the chicken and cubed potatoes (why buy baby potatoes when you have perfectly serviceable russets at home?), I made the Dijon mustard and cream sauce, incorporated the meat and potatoes, and popped the pan in the oven.

Now, time for dessert, which involved a rather large number of lemons.

One of my sisters (No. 5) has a thing for lemons. As in, she sucks the juice straight out of lemon slices with nary a pucker. While I’m not quite that dedicated in my love of this versatile fruit, it often occupies a place of honor in the various dishes I prepare.

A quick digression: You’ll rarely find me without one lemon in the house, as they serve as the basis for one of my favorite condiments — aioli. Back when I was living in New York City, my family did Whole30, then eased off and tried to just go Paleo — both of which I followed and attempted from afar. Some aspects of these diets have stuck around in our daily routines, and one of my favorite holdovers from our Paleo era is roasted veggies with garlic herb aioli.

I’ll eventually make that aioli during my stay here, however this week’s order of business was lemon bars. Lemon bars are a staple in my repertoire, but it’s been a while since I’ve made them. There are plenty of excellent lemon-bar recipes out there, and I’ve had fairly good success with one from my great aunt’s cookbook. This time, though, I dug into my giant America’s Test Kitchen (shocker, I know) TV-show cookbook (the 2001 to 2021 edition) for their version.

The crust on these bars is a shortbread, made simple by the fact that you stir melted butter into the dry ingredients and pat the dough into a prepared pan. I also must confess to a bit of laziness when making these bars: I skipped putting lemon zest in the curd. First, while I’m completely aware of lemon zest’s power in terms of flavor, I dislike the texture of it in my baked goods. Second, those who’ve read this recipe know you’re supposed to strain the lemon curd before pouring it into the dish with the crust, which would remove the offending zest. I, however, felt I’d dirtied enough pans for one night and avoided the straining step. There are a few kitchen tasks I loathe, and cleaning mesh strainers is high on that list — topped only, perhaps, by handling whole raw chicken, peeling small potatoes, and scrubbing out muffin tins.

Did the flavor suffer owing to my culinary indolence? Maybe a little, but the color certainly didn’t. This may be the most brilliantly yellow batch of lemon bars I’ve baked to date. Mostly though, I was just relieved that I’d managed to juggle making the bars and the main dish simultaneously. Those contestants on Beat Bobby Flay make it look so easy, zipping between various components of their dishes. I had my recipes right in front of me and kept mixing them up, as well as forgetting what timers went with which dish. Oh, and as I predicted, the potatoes outstripped the chicken in cooking time, so out came the frying pan to finish them off before the chicken got cold.

A little while later, we were settled at the table for dinner, the lemon bars cooling nicely on the counter. I certainly enjoyed my slice later — but not as much as I enjoy holding my nephew.