My grandmother winced as she made a pathetic attempt to cut a piece of meat off the bird. A Cornish hen, accidentally served upside down, sat in front of her alongside some Carolina rice, giblet gravy and creamed kale. She struggled to steady the bird with her fork while making half-hearted jabs at it with the knife she held in her other hand, seemingly unable to coordinate her efforts. After more than a few attempts to extract a bite, she gave up and shook her head a few times at the thought that eating could be such a challenge.

Momentarily frustrated by her inability to do what once was an easy task, my grandmother Gaysie then let out a sigh of annoyance for who, after all, could make such a perplexing choice for dinner. With her dissatisfaction now made public, she could excuse herself from the table to use the restroom.

Scenes like this are common when dining with my grandmother whose faculties and once sharp mind have succumbed and continue to succumb to dementia. Meals can be a particularly painful time – not just for her but also for those she’s eating with.

Ordering is an ordeal. She can no longer decipher a menu; though she can read the words, she struggles to make sense of them. Her tastes are anything but predictable. One day she can’t eat spicy food, the next she likes some spice in there. One day she’s not big on sweets, the next she’ll be disappointed if you don’t order one to share. And it need not be day-to-day; she’ll often change her mind about what she likes and her story about what she’s never liked between placing an order and when the food arrives. She forgets to eat between bites and if eating at home, can get distracted between each and every bite by the same previously read letter in front of her.

Her decline makes us remember all too poignantly how vibrant, engaged and curious she always was. Yes, we are thankful she is still with us, that she can remember our names, and that she doesn’t show the aggression and anger that are often symptomatic of dementia and other progressive diseases that affect the brain. But sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough.

While I miss the conversations we used to have most – and I think somehow she must too – I have to grasp that just being with us makes her happy now. I need to accept that her presence is all I can expect from her. That and a few laughs at her expense. Like when her sandwich arrived in halves stacked one on top of the other and she picked up the whole lot and actually tried to open her little mouth wide enough to bite into it. Or when my mom handed her the cell phone to talk to someone and she ended up having a conversation with the backside of the phone, the screen lit up and facing me on the other side of the car. She’s always a good sport though and gets in on the joke.

***

We decided to prepare four Cornish Hens and double the recipe vis-à-vis the sauce. At about 2 pounds per hen, they are great to serve per person. We did not quarter them, but instead roasted whole. Below is the original recipe from The Silver Palate.

I thought the creamed kale was pretty top notch and definitely recommend this recipe from Nutmeg Nanny. My cornbread also made another appearance!

Chicken Dijonnaise
Serves 2 to 4

1 chicken, 2 1/2 to 3 pounds, quartered
1/3 mustard (we like half Dijon-style and half coarse Pommery-style mustard)
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/3 cup vermouth or dry white wine
1/2 cup Crème Fraîche or heavy cream
salt, to taste

1. Coat the chicken with the mustard and set in a bowl, covered, to marinate at room temperature for 2 hours. (With all the hype around salmonella, we opted to let these marinate in the fridge.)

2. Preheat oven to 350°F.

3. Arrange chicken, skin side up, in a flameproof baking dish. Scrape out any mustard remaining in the bowl and spread it evenly over the chicken. Season lightly with pepper and pour the vermouth or wine around the chicken. (I am a big believer in seasoning my meat with salt and pepper so added some salt here as well.)

4. Set dish on the center rack of the oven and bake, basting occasionally, for 30 to 40 minutes, or until chicken is done. You may have to bake the dark meat sections for another 5 to 10 minutes. (Cornish hens, if cooking whole, will take about an hour. As with any poultry, you want the internal temperature to reach 165°F.)

5. Scrape the mustard off the chicken and back into the baking dish. Transfer chicken pieces to a serving platter, cover, and keep warm.

6. Skim as much fat as possible from the cooking juices and set the baking dish over medium heat. Bring to a boil, whisk in the crème fraîche or heavy cream, and lower heat. Simmer the cause for 5 to 10 minutes, or until it is reduced by about one third. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Taste, correct seasoning, and spoon sauce over the chicken. Serve hot or at room temperature.