Behind the scenes of the culinary arsenal

A few days ago, I wrote the origin story for Daddy's Chicken with Rice Bombs, and a couple of you have inquired about the recipe. This is entirely charming and naïve of you, since I'm worthless when it comes to codifying specific amounts of ingredients. I tend to adhere to the less-formal school of Eyeballing. Besides, cooking for your kids is a very subjective business, depending on what the darling little punks will deign to eat. So every recipe can be boiled down to the two basic instructions of 1) don't undercook it, and 2) season to taste.

The process has evolved since its inception, but here are the current steps that I mostly follow each time it's Bomb Night. Proceed and personalize at your own risk:

1. Get some boneless chicken, but don't get dark meat because Robert hates dark meat. This is inexplicable to me, as thigh meat is succulent and delicious, while breast meat is dry and as flavorful as particle-board. Perhaps Robert's taste buds were irrevocably shifted that one time when he was two and fell off the bed.
2. Cut the chicken into bite-size pieces, or strips, or scalene triangles, or whatever-the-hell.
3. Marinate the chicken in a mixture of thyme, parsley, garlic powder, soy sauce, and a shot of that miso soup base that you get in that Asian convenience store every time you're back in the old neighborhood. Squish to combine, cover, and stash in the fridge.
4. Announce it's time for a "marinade check!" Enjoy how TwoBert likes to smell the bowl and pretend to faint dead away with joy, like they do in the cartoons.
5. Combine a cup of rice with two cups of water, and make sure TwoBert scoops it because TwoBert is a good cook and wants to help and DADDY YOU SAID I COULD HELP!
6. Start the rice on a low simmer, set the timer for 20 minutes, and make sure TwoBert is within audible distance when it goes off. Because TwoBert is in charge of turning off the timer, and if he doesn't hear it and you turn it off because you'd rather cook without persistent, piercing beeeeps rattling your molars, TwoBert will find out and fire up is Umbrage Meter to 1,000 and DADDY YOU SAID I WAS IN CHARGE OF IT!
7. Allow Robert to cut the broccoli into individual florets, or scalene triangles, or whatever-the-hell. Intervene when he starts beheading stalks with dramatic swipes and yelling "YAAH!"
8. When there's about five minutes left on the rice timer, dump the lightly salted broccoli into a heated, non-oiled frypan. Flip it about a dozen times like they do on TV because it looks cool. Sauté for about three minutes, or between the time when it's tender and it's charcoal.
9. Spread the broccoli to the perimeter of the pan and dump the chicken mixture in the center. Brace for the stampede of little legs who want to help flip the individual pieces so they all get an external sear. Tell TwoBert to get that chair to stand on so he can see what he's doing.
10. No, not the chair with the fraying hole in the seat. The one you're less likely to fall through.
11. I know you like that chair, and that you already put in all that effort to get it here. But really, it's unsafe.
12. Hey, have you ever pulled your groin muscle? Because that will totally put you on the DL for 6-8 weeks, and you'll walk around like you have sand up your butt.
13. Yes, I know that sounds hilarious, but trust me. It completely isn't.
14. OK, now you're just laughing to tick me off. I will SO school you when you learn how to read.
15. Resolve to get one of those cheap stepstool things the next time you hit IKEA.
16. When the chicken pieces are all cooked on the outside, get the big metal mixing bowl and place it upside down over the frypan. You did this that one time when you were experimenting and the chicken came out really tender (even that awful, tasteless breast meat).
17. Let sit for about a minute, then stick a knife under the rim and fling the bowl off the frypan with a flourish because metal conducts heat exceedingly well.
18. When the rice timer goes off, DO NOT TOUCH IT BECAUSE I AM IN CHARRRGE OF IT!
19. Throw a little butter and salt in with the rice. Let it sit until the butter melts. Stir to combine, then form the Rice Bombs with the shot glass and place in the center of the plates. Resist the instinct to pour some of the cooking liquid over the bombs because that is Gross and Completely Unacceptable.
20. Plate the chicken and broccoli around the plate's perimeter, and not on top of the rice because the bombs must remain utterly pristine and virginal until the boys drown them in soy sauce.
21. Serve with ice-cold-water-from-the-fridge and a dry riesling. Refill your glass as necessary.
22. Let them lick their plates. Resolve to assume this is their tacit way of thanking you.