Inspired by the way Chef Tom Colicchio lit up that Top Chef dude during the Classics Challenge, Tamalehawk wanted to see if he could make chicken piccata. He could, pretty much, but not so well that he wouldn't face certain elimination at the Judge's Table. Slice and pound your chicken breast flat with all the fury that boring chicken deserves. One thunderous blow for each time you've suffered through an awful, desiccated chicken sandwich at a sports bar. Put the mallet down and cool off for a second. Dip your flattened chicken in flour, then a beaten egg, then flour again. The double-flour forms an extra layer of protection from the pan's advancing heat. Also, when you're done eating, it makes a little sweater for your heart!
Tenderly place your chicken into the hot oil in your pan and let it ride like Dreyfuss. Flip them over when they get very light golden - don't wait too long or the flour will break down and make your ancestors sad. Tamalehawk then took the chicken out of the pan, let it be like The Beatles, and worked on the sauce. Add some chicken broth, more butter mixed with a little more flour (or a beurre manie), and the juice of a lemon. Toss in some capers. Whisk and simmer as the sun sets and reflect on your life, deciding that it has been more of a kaleidoscope than a prism in its fractured beauty. Strain the sauce if you're shooting for sophistication. Settle your chicken back in the pan for a brief bath before plating for awaiting beaks.
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