Bon Appétit (September 2008)
Growing up, my mom owned a small business -- a florist, actually -- that demanded long hours of her.
We spent a lot of time there as a family, with Mom and Dad filling orders, processing all the paperwork, and doing deliveries, while my brother and I did homework, helped with chores like folding bills and riding along on deliveries, taking flowers to the doors of our friends and neighbors. (Knowing us, we likely complained as much as helped, but I'm choosing to remember that we helped more.)
Looking back, it's a remarkable thing that my mother did, starting that business and growing it into a thriving one, moving it from a small space into a much larger, new space that my parents built, and growing a loyal and supportive clientele. She was just about my age now when she started. It was a lot of long hours, working holidays, unexpected funerals and no doubt many thankless tasks.
Because of this crazy schedule, Mom wasn't the sort who cooked lavish meals every night -- and understandably so. There were many nights that we ordered food or ate very simple dinners. That said, Mom's a good and very competent cook. I would imagine she would describe her own cooking style as "country," consisting of simple but hearty staples.
But there's one dish my mother made growing up that I looked forward to every time she would make it. When I went to college, it's the thing that I would ask her to cook when I came home. Since college, she's made it for me almost every time that I've visited them, and it never disappoints.
This dish, my friends, is fried chicken.