Chicken Skin and Other Cures for Heartache and Loneliness

Carmel-by-the-Sea, California


Billy flew home today. In the rain. It was sad. He'll be back next weekend, but it's the fourth time I've said goodbye to people I love in less than three weeks. That's way too much separation anxiety shuttled into too-short a period of time. What did Karen Blixen say in Out of Africa? I'm better at hello. Well, me too.

It's enough to make you eat. Abandonment can lead you down very dangerous paths. Especially in a house where thoughtful and generous house guests have brought all kinds of goodies. One couple actually brought two pies! When Billy is here, we cook a lot. While we have a few favorite restaurants here in Carmel, it should be pointed out that the house we rent has a six-burner Wolf range. This makes it great fun to cook here, though we generally have fun no matter where we're cooking. Too much fun, as in the spirit of throwing caution to the winds. So when we're apart, like tonight with me here and Billy back home, we both try to be good and eat more cleanly, so that we can live to misbehave another day.

After I drove Billy to the airport, I stopped by Whole Foods in Monterey and bought two chicken breast halves, a potato, and some rainbow swiss chard. I prepped both breasts with some meyer lemon-flavored olive oil, and seasonings; cut up the potato and tossed it with unpeeled garlic cloves and olive oil. Then I roasted them together. The idea was to eat one of the chicken breasts after removing the skin, and save the other one for tomorrow night's chicken soup. I roasted them in the Wolf in convection "roast" mode. This browned up the skin really nicely, and so . . . well, I ate the skin. Now, I know we're supposed to avoid the skin because of the fat. But the truth is that it was heavenly. I was just going to eat one little strip of it with the white meat, but before I knew it I had adiosed all the skin. I'm usually not this bad. Most of the time I really do peel it off. In fact, Billy's favorite chicken recipe bakes chicken breasts without the skin, breaded with panko crumbs and cayenne pepper. I should have done that one.

I had just heard this report on NPR (I think it was on Science Friday, which should be explored as an insomnia cure) that said something to the effect of this: If you tax your frontal lobe -- say you're stressed, or you take a test, or something which depletes that part of your brain function, you greatly reduce the capacity for willpower. In the study that supports this, they worked the brains of half the group, and let the other half loaf around. Then they offered both groups cookies. The loafing half had marked resistance to this temptation, compared to the other half. Hmmm, can I blame the stress of saying goodbye to Billy for my inability to resist the temptation of crispy chicken skin? And, by the way, did I mention the cookies?

Yes, I did eat cookies, too. Though, the truth is that I don't have much of a sweet tooth. Don't get me wrong, put a wonderful dessert in front of me, especially chocolate cake, and I am there. But I don't need a big slice. And I won't go back for seconds. I buy a box of Girl Scout Thin Mints every year and chuck them into the freezer. They last a long time, as does the box of Mallomars, similarly purchased when in season. If you give me a box of See's Candies, even a full pound of dark chocolate Bordeaux (my favorite), I will never finish the box. I eat one piece every so often. But I'm not so noble, people. My resistance for crunchy/salty runs appallingly, embarrassingly low: popcorn at the movies; chips at a Mexican restaurant; well-done french fries. Chicken skin. You get the picture.

So, what would Sandra do? Well Sandra brought an entire dinner to Carmel. How cool is that? A house guest who brings dinner for the first night. You gotta love her. We provided dessert. Ollalieberry pie, anyone? Le sigh . . . and thanks for reading my blog.