Quick Meal: Chicken Cutlet Sandwiches

Posted by Yoga Bynum

I love cooking, but it often falls further down on my to-do list than I’d like. The Pepperplate app is amazingly helpful when it comes to meal planning. I, however, still need some work on the follow through.

Fortunately, I’ve run a across a few recipes that allow me to put a quality meal on the table in a short amount of time. One of them is this chicken cutlet sandwich recipe adapted from Martha Stewart. I use the term “adapted” because more often than not, I forget to buy an ingredient or two despite the fact that I use my meal planning app to generate a shopping list.

Ingredients
Sesame or Kaiser Buns
Boneless, Skinless Chicken Breasts
Salt & Pepper (or Seasoned Salt)
Olive Oil
Red Onion
Lettuce
Tomato Slices
Spicy Mustard
Honey

1. You can purchase chicken that’s already pounded into cutlets, but I prefer to make my own. It’s less expensive, and I find using a meat mallet to be a great stress reliever. Place the chicken on a cutting board, lay a piece of plastic wrap over it, and pound until meat is a 1/4″ thick. You get the best results if you start at the center and move outward.

2. Season both sides of the chicken with salt and pepper and cook over medium high heat until cooked through. It usually takes about 2-3 minutes per side.

3. The original recipe calls for a dijon-mayo blend, but we’re honey mustard people. So I mix a little honey with some spicy brown mustard.

4. To prepare a sandwich, slice a cutlet in half, top with red onion. lettuce, and tomato. Spread a little spicy honey mustard on the top bun. If you want to get fancy, you can toast the buns.

Here’s a pic of the finished product. If you decide to try this, let me know how it turns out!

Farewell, What Not to Wear

Posted by Yoga Bynum

I’ve been a fan of TLC’s What Not to Wear since the show’s second season. I tuned in from time to time during the first season, but Stacy London was partnered with some long-haired dude that I thought was mean. Once Clinton Kelly came on board, I made it a point to watch. They had great chemistry and did their best to have a positive impact on the show’s guests. The two of them, along with Carmindy, Nick, and later, Ted, have made over hundreds of contributors who have run the gamut of fashion disasters. Their influence went beyond the clothes; they helped people tackle issues that were weighing on their self-esteem.

I was never on WNTW, but I wanted to be. And during the few seasons when the team worked with both men and women, I submitted a entry for Hubby. They didn’t pick him, but he sure needed it.

Despite the fact that no one from our household won a trip to New York and five grand for a new wardrobe, WNTW helped me find my own personal style. I learned much about what works for me:

Fit and Tailoring. Ill-fitting clothes are a disservice. Altering works wonders. If altering isn’t in the budget, I leave the item at the store.

Dark Denim. It’s extremely versatile. It works at the office, on a date, or while running errands on the weekend.

Jackets. I LOVE jackets. They add structure, balance out shape, and add a layer of interest.

Color, Texture, Pattern, and Shine. This is Clinton’s mantra. The right mix of these elements can make for a great outfit.

Five-Minute Face. Carmindy is a genius. She took the fear out of make-up and explained how a few choice products are all I need.

It’s not you. It’s the clothes. I walked into a J.Crew once and tried on every pair of pants in the store. Nothing worked, and I left feeling as if there was something wrong with me. When I learn to accept that it was a flaw in the clothes and not my body, shopping became a lot more fun, and I was open to trying new things with no hard feelings.

Thanks so much WNTW. No telling what would be in my closet if it weren’t for you.

A Look Back: Saturday Night Fever

Posted by Yoga Bynum

When I was a single gal, I looked forward to the weekend. I could sleep late, run a few errands and still have enough weekend left for some fun. I wasn’t a big party girl, but I typically had plans a few times a month. It was a good mix of movie nights with friends, dates, and club outings.

These days, my weekends consist of grocery runs, dance practice, and laundry. I got up early today so I could drive my mom to church for usher board meeting. Then I went to Target, where I miraculously spent only $30 before heading to the hair salon.

I still need to take Mini Me to have her hair braided, I’ve not made it to the grocery store, and I agreed to watch my cousin’s daughter because her sitter is sick.

And it’s all good.

Yeah, I sometimes miss those single-gal weekends. When Mini Me and Lil Ma simultaneously go into full-out-screeching cry mode, I fight the urge to run and hide. On days when I come home from work to sink full of dishes and Hubby asks about dinner, I want to hit him with a crusty spatula.

I try to focus on the good stuff instead. Mini Me’s laugh. Lil Ma calling her sister’s name. The first steps. The first sprint, in Lil Ma’s case. Hubby finishing my sentences. Loads of hugs and kisses.

I’d trade single-gal Diva’s life for this in a heartbeat.

I do know, though, that weekends are much to valuable to spend all of them at the grocery store. I need to do a better job injecting fun between the errands. Maybe we’ll start today with a movie night. Any suggestions?

Fashion Friday: Stripes

Posted by Yoga Bynum

There are three things I absolutely love when it comes to clothes: black and white, stripes, and sales.

This trio formed a perfect union my latest find, a sleeveless tunic from Marshall’s. It was on clearance for $10. I’m not familiar with the brand, Yuni Los Angeles, but it’s made from a nice flowy fabric, and the denim trim with button detail gives it charm. That totally justified adding another stripe to my collection.

It paired well with my red-orange pants. That color is borderline neon, so the tunic helped tone it down.

Mini Me gave this outfit her seal of approval, and she posed me for this pic.

The Stigma

Posted by Yoga Bynum

It’s been hard to come up with posts the write these past couple of days, and I didn’t really want to delve into the reasons why. The more I try to avoid it, the more the it stands in the way.

Lee Thompson Young.

I didn’t know him personally. When The Famous Jett Jackson debuted, I was 10 years older than the target audience. I watched it anyway. I wanted to support a show that had a strong African-American family at it’s center. Plus, there was something about his eyes. They were kind.

Throughout the years, I saw him in other shows. He popped up on Scrubs and Smallville. I continued to watch Rizzoli & Isles week after week because he was a series regular.

As far as I could tell, Lee Thompson Young avoided the pitfalls that derailed other child actors. I imagined there was a content, mild-mannered soul behind those brown eyes.

But you never really know anyone.

While I was growing up, I was enamored with my older cousin Evan*. Tall and handsome, he moved with a confidence I wished I had. He had friends and teenaged adventures. Evan was the responsible one. The one parents entrusted to keep an eye on the younger kids. The one who never got into any trouble.

He too, had kind eyes.

But you never really know anyone.

I was 12 when my mother got the call to inform us that Evan attempted suicide. Momma grilled the person on the other end of the line. Dissatisfied with the answers, she headed to the hospital to see Evan for herself. We sat with him and talked about everything from upcoming holiday plans to the latest episode of The Cosby Show . The “Incident,” as my mom would later call it, was not discussed.

A few months later, the family pretended as if the Incident never happened. I tiptoed around my cousin, but I felt like I was only one doing so. To me, Evan was smaller, less jovial. His eyes held no sparkle.

Whenever our family gathered, I watched Evan closely, fearful that he would slip into another room and try to kill himself again. I wanted to ask him if he was OK, but I was afraid to do that too. I didn’t know the source of his sadness, and I didn’t want to be the one who reminded him of it.

I asked my parents and a few others about his recovery. I was stonewalled.

I haven’t seen Evan in 20 years. I never learned why he attempted to take his own life, and I have no idea how he was able to move past it or if he ever did. Something I remember most about that time is the state of mass confusion and the overwhelming pressure to keep things quiet. There was a lot of effort spent hiding the Incident instead of dealing with it. No one wanted Evan labeled as “crazy.”

The stigma associated with seeking mental healthcare is still prevalent. I recently heard during a sermon that people should get on their knees instead of going to therapy. I was stunned by the number of folks who clapped in agreement. I wanted to jump up and scream that it’s not that simple. Some of us need a relationship with God AND help from a mental health professional.

As we move through our day and interact with others, we don’t know what another person is going through. We toss out words like “crazy” and “bi-polar” without fully considering their impact. I know I’ve been guilty of doing so. Even these small moments can perpetuate the stigma and impact a person’s decision to seek help.

Since Lee Thompson Young’s passing, there’s been an increase in dialogue about mental illness and treatment. I pray that it will encourage those who need help to reach out for it.

(*I changed my cousin’s name out of respect for his privacy.)