Dinner made easy

I enjoy cooking on the weekend and look forward to planning Saturday night's meal each week.

The menu usually depends on which family members will be eating at home that night.

Sometimes I do more complicated meals because I have more time to cook on Saturday and love to make yeast rolls or dessert to go with what I'm serving.

This past Saturday's menu was an easy one. It all started because I wanted a spinach salad. I ran across a new recipe for a fabulous and simple dressing a few weeks back, and Reggie and I loved it. I was eager to try it again. I had a quart of strawberries in the refrigerator, so it seemed like the perfect time for a spinach salad. So, what should I serve with it?

I knew chicken breasts were on sale at our favorite grocery store and decided on a simple chicken recipe my sister, Susan, gave me many years ago. I bought whole chicken breasts, which are much cheaper than tenders, and cut them into strips (or tenders) with my kitchen shears.

The recipe calls for the chicken tenders to be brushed with honey mustard and dipped in Italian bread crumbs. A sauce of apple juice and butter is drizzled on top. That's it. The chicken cooks under aluminum foil for part of the baking time, so it comes out tender and juicy.

I served it Saturday with angel hair pasta topped with a little butter and Parmesan cheese. This meal comes together in a short period of time. I made the salad and cooked the pasta while the chicken was cooking. The food was on the table in less than an hour from the time I started prep work.

The meal was delicious, and we had lots of leftovers.

I had only made enough salad for the two of us, so there was plenty of spinach and salad dressing for another meal. The chicken is very good in a sandwich or could be sliced and served in a leftover spinach salad.


Susan's Chicken Tenders

• 3 chicken breasts cut into strips or tenders
• Honey mustard
• Italian bread crumbs
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
• 2 tablespoons apple juice

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and prepare 9X13-inch dish with baking spray.

Brush chicken with honey mustard and dredge in bread crumbs. Place in prepared baking dish.

Mix butter and apple juice and drizzle over chicken.

Cover with foil and cook at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Uncover and cook for an additional 10 to 15 minutes or until cooked through.

Serves four.

Susan Hoffman


Spinach Salad Dressing

• 1/4 cup white sugar
• 1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 cup vinegar (I used apple cider vinegar, but balsamic or white vinegar would be a good substitute)

Mix ingredients in a covered bowl or covered cruet and pour over salad. Toss to coat. Refrigerate for 20-30 minutes before eating.

*In our spinach salad, we use baby spinach sliced strawberries and toasted sliced almonds.

Let the graduation project begin!

My daughter, Anna, will graduate in 2012. That means she's in the first Wilson County Schools class required to complete a graduation project.
I moaned the first time I heard about the proposal. Just what we need, I thought, another project.
This child has used enough glue sticks and printer ink on school projects to supply a small school district. We are forever going out after dinner to buy supplies for such things as a scrapbook for Scout in "To Kill A Mockingbird" to Mod Podge or a bone folder (look it up; I'd never heard of it either) for an art project. Last night, we retrieved an old hairdryer and a white sheet from the linen closet at Mama's. I have no idea why she needs these things at school. She told me why she needed the hair dryer, which doesn't have to work, but I didn't understand the explanation. It involved wrapping something.
When I heard about the graduation project, I could only imagine the expense and the time element involved in such an undertaking. If you have a child in school, you are familiar with projects. We've done it all at our house: exploring the solar system; making papier mache masks; building dinosaurs from newsprint; researching poets; constructing a small-scale room; growing all kinds of plants. Right now, a crop of kidney beans planted in eight plastic cups is slowly wilting on my dining room table. Some projects are very elaborate and most are time-consuming.
This summer, Anna worked seven or eight hours a day (sometimes even more) on a summer IB art project. It consumed every waking moment for weeks with either the thought process, the purchasing of materials or the actual execution of the assignment in her sketchbook. She went about the project with a fierce determination and motivation to do it right.
She also spent several days with two Wilson artists who unselfishly gave their time to help her complete a requirement of exploring new art mediums.
The summer experience with IB art reminds me very much of what a graduation project will be. It will be time-consuming, it could be very expensive, and it will require the help of others. But it will also be a wonderful exercise in learning, and if it's like Anna's experiences this summer, it will stretch the student's imagination and broaden his knowledge. Perhaps it will even excite him, like it did my daughter when she learned how to properly change the lighting on a photograph and later made a black and white print in a photographer's darkroom.
Yesterday, Anna's English class learned more about the graduation project. Their teacher broke down the timeline over the next three years as they narrow in on a topic and work towards completion. At the request of her teacher, Anna asked her dad and me to talk to her about the project last night. She has already come up with three or four project ideas. They are all related to the arts and are all topics that are not taught in Wilson County Schools. If she finds a mentor willing to give 15 hours of his or her time, she will be able to learn more about print photography, Photoshop, silversmithing or hand-thrown pottery. The three of us talked about the possibilities the project offered and the people she could ask to help her. I'm so glad the schools already have them thinking about this project.
I hope other high school sophomores are having these same conversations with their parents. It's going to take not only the student and teachers to get these graduation projects complete, it's also going to take the parents and community, with volunteers willing to offer their time to teach their craft or share their occupation with students willing to learn.

"How's your Mama?"

Almost every day, someone asks, "How's your mama?" I appreciate the concern, I really do, but I don't always know how to answer the question.
Mama is not well. She's a frail whisper of her former self, when she was buying size 14 Alfred Dunner matching tops and slacks. At less than 90 pounds, even size small hangs on her thin frame.
She almost always has a sad or at least serious look on her face. Her smiles are saved for rare and special occasions: a visit with her sister, daughter from out of town and great-granddaughter, who, at age 10 months old, has the gift of making Grandma Helen happy.
During the summer, there were spells when Mama would eat less than a half-cup of food a day. She's had more of an appetite in recent weeks, but that doesn't mean she's eating heartily. I was thrilled to learn she had eaten one and a half chicken tenders and about a tablespoon of broccoli casserole I had cooked Saturday night. That was a huge meal for her, and I was happy.
At some meals, Mama will suddenly forget how to swallow. Of all the things I grow impatient over, this is at the top of the list. On a visit to the house to pay the caregivers Thursday morning, I watched milk dribble out the corners of her mouth. She made quiet grunting sounds and pointed to her mouth to let me know there was a problem. "Swallow it, Mama. Let it go down your throat." Blank stare. I rubbed her throat and repeated my request: "Swallow it, Mama." Sometimes this works, but not that day. I picked up a napkin and blotted the milk that was running down her chin. And forget about those last two pills. There was no way she would swallow those either, crushed or whole. So we gave up.
Walking is a challenge more and more each day, it seems. A hospice nurse told me months ago she was amazed that my mama could still walk. Her physical decline hasn't keep up with her mental decline. But her walking is so unsteady. She often crosses her feet when she walks, stumbling with each step. We hold onto her, guiding her moves the best we can. There are days when she walks with a slant towards the right. Other days, her walking pattern is definitely towards the left. Some days, one foot will lag, and one day last week, her left foot turned under with each step she took.
But don't try to stop her from walking. When she has the strength, she paces all day long, from one door to the next, looking for her family, who are busy at school or work. But she doesn't understand that. She thinks we are abandoning her with strangers.
I visit her as often as I can, but I know it's not enough. I drop by most days at lunch, and we sit and hold hands. There's not much talking. I ask her questions: "How was your night?" "Did you have a good breakfast?" She looks at me, puzzled, and has no idea how to answer. "I didn't do it." "Nobody told me." One day last week, I asked her a similar question, her answer was, "He's dead." She's still thinking of my daddy.
There are days when she talks. We don't understand much of what she says because she talks so quietly, and her words are a muffled garble. But sometimes she will tell us something that we understand. At her sister's house recently, she told us, "I don't feel good." It's not normal to hear a complete sentence that makes sense, so we paid close attention to what she was saying. Earlier this summer, again at her sister's, she told everyone present, "I love you," and followed it with a kiss. I cried. I cry a lot.
When I left her yesterday afternoon, after 30 minutes of just sitting and holding her hand, I kissed her goodbye. She reached up her right arm to hug me. She never does that. It was a tight hug, and she cried softly as we embraced. There's so much sadness inside that tiny body.
So, how is my Mama? My mama is frail. My mama is sad. My mama's not well.