Some Recipes to Make When You Lose Your Bodily Autonomy

Delicious weeknight staples for our current dystopia!

Quick and Easy Chicken Paillard

A traditional French dish beloved for generations, chicken paillard is a crowd-pleasing favorite for the whole family.

1. Pat dry two boneless skinless chicken breasts

2. Season on both sides with salt and pepper

3. Lay the chicken on a paper towel on a hard, flat work surface

4. Lift a heavy-bottom cast iron pan over your head and firmly smack it down on the chicken.

5. Again.

6. Again, bitch.

7. Again.

8. Don’t stop. Bang the chicken again. Bang it until it is fucking flat.

9. Scream. No, not a dumb little shout. Really scream. Scream from somewhere very deep inside your guts. Scream with the collective anguish of your ancestors. That’s it. Now bang the chicken and scream.

10. Keep banging and screaming.

11. Throw out the chicken. You have destroyed it.

12. Google “Chicken Paillard near me.”

13. Drive to the nearest place that has it. Buy it in cash.

14. Drive home. Put it on a serving plate next to a little arugula salad with a drizzle of lemon vinaigrette (see next recipe).

15. Call out “Dinner’s ready, everyone!”

16. Eat it with your government-mandated family.

Weeknight Meyer Lemon Vinaigrette

Comes together quickly with just a few ingredients, this sweet and tangy dressing is the perfect accompaniment to a seasonal salad!

1. Wash two ripe Meyer lemons and dry the rind.

2. With a cheese grater, zest the lemon and reserve one tablespoon.

3. With the heel of your hand, roll the lemons on a wood cutting board to release the juice.

4. Get a large knife from the knife drawer. Stare at it for a minute.

5. Look at the blade. See it glint in the evening light.

6. As you bring the blade down onto the lemon’s gleaming flesh, picture someone who is not a lemon.

7. Go ahead. Really picture that scenario. It’s not illegal to picture it.

8. Slice a little. Imagine the lemon begging you for mercy.

9. Say: “What did you think would happen?” to the lemon.

10. Watch the lemon beg you for forgiveness.

11. Say: “You’re too late.” to the lemon with no emotion in your voice.

12. CUT. CUT THE LEMON IN HALF.

13. Cackle.

14. When your son asks “Who are you talking to?” Say “Nobody! Mommy was just being silly!”

15. When your child asks “Why are you crying?” say “I got lemon juice in my eye! Bad lemon!”

16. Stare at the lemon halves for a moment, leaking their acid onto the countertop in a little puddle.

17. Repeat: “Bad lemon.”

18. Squeeze the lemons into a bowl, whisk in some olive oil, season with salt and pepper, maybe some rosemary, who fucking knows, who even fucking knows anymore.