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In food or garb, elegance has its moments I tried explaining the concept of presentation to my 14-year-old son the other day, to no avail. He couldn�t understand why I want food to look nice on the plate, or why I�d take time for something as silly as sliced lemons or chopped parsley, let alone more elaborate garnish. "You�re just going to mess it up when you eat it, Mom," he said. But then, this is the same boy who failed to grasp why he couldn�t wear shorts to his middle school graduation ceremony, the kid who is aghast that he�ll have to don a tie for an upcoming family wedding. "Why can�t I be comfortable?" he fumed in the department-store dressing room. "Why does it matter?" Because, I explained � not for the first time � there are certain circumstances in life that call for formality, times when casual simply won�t do. That philosophy applies equally to elegant meals and inelegant teenage boys. Maybe I�m just an un-hip mom, but I don�t believe that basketball shoes and Durasheen shorts are appropriate for every occasion, even if they do endorse Michael Jordan. Sure, rap music stars and multi-millionaire basketball players can wear gym clothes to a wedding. So far, however, my son is neither and I believe he should dress accordingly. As you might imagine, that argument didn�t go over well. Nor did the dozen other clothing-related debates that hissed through the dressing room doors. We�d been shopping since lunch and it was almost dinnertime and still, he hadn�t selected a single shirt or pair of slacks, let alone a tie. The best we�d done was to narrow a pile of khakis to four of the least objectionable choices. I told him I didn�t care which pair he picked, even the ones that threatened to fall around his knees. "I like these," he said, fabric pooling around his ankles. "OK," I said wearily. "That�s fine." A more enlightened parent probably would have given in earlier. "Choose your battles," all the books on raising teenagers say. "Save the struggle for something that really matters." Did this really matter? By the time we reached the dress shirts, I wasn�t sure. But then my son emerged from the fitting room and I knew it did. Gone was the kid in the T-shirt and shorts. Beneath the stiff collar, the crisp tie and the creased slacks, suddenly there was a young man. I saw it, sure, but more important, my son saw it. He peered at himself in the mirror, clearly surprised at his reflection. He turned this way and that, marveling at the sudden maturity a mere outfit conferred. He squared his shoulders. He set his jaw. He cocked his head thoughtfully. "This shirt�s OK," he conceded. I nearly sprinted to the checkout stand. Later that night, as I made dinner, I tried again to explain the philosophy of presentation. "See?" I said, scattering capers and sliced lemons over an ordinary saut�ed chicken breast. "See?" I said, adding a sprig of parsley. "Sure, Mom, whatever," he said. Then he asked his dad how to tie a tie. You�ll find that recipe for Lemon Chicken below. Lemony Chicken Breasts 2 tablespoon all-purpose flour � teaspoon salt � teaspoon ground pepper 4 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves (about 4 ounces each) tenderloins removed 4 teaspoons olive oil 2/3 cup chicken broth � cup fresh lemon juice 2 tablespoons drained capers (optional) 2 tablespoons fresh chopped parsley On a sheet of waxed paper or in a shallow dish, mix the flour, salt and pepper. Coast each breast with the mixture, shaking off the excess. In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the chicken and cook for about 3 minutes on each side or until lightly browned and no longer pink in the center. Remove to a serving platter. Add the chicken broth and lemon juice to the skillet. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring to scrape up any browned bits in the pan, for 2 to 3 minutes, or until sauce is reduced slightly. Stir in the capers and parsley. Pour the sauce over the chicken and serve right away. Makes 4 servings. Per serving: 314 calories, 53 grams protein, 5 grams carbohydrates, 8 grams fat, 132 milligrams cholesterol, 584 milligrams sodium. Recipe from "The Woman�s Day Cookbook" (Viking, 1995, $24.95). (Send questions to A la carte, P.O. Box 1108, Medford, OR 97501. Reach JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465 or by e-mail at [email protected] ) Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.