Delicious and….. green……

I think I got side-tracked hiding bodies and forgot to tell you about the rest of my Louisiana trip.

There are certain foods I can only get in Louisiana. My absolute favorite is called doberge cake. Years ago you could ONLY get this cake at a handful of bakeries in the New Orleans area. Since hurricane Katrina, regional Louisiana foods have spread out a little. I even saw doberge at a grocery store. And being the sick, sick, doberge addict that I am, I had to try it. The cake wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Gambino’s. I don’t think they quite understood the intricasies of making a good doberge. I’ve tried making a doberge cake at home and discovered that it uses every damn pan and dish in the kitchen and I still couldn’t quite get it right. Sigh. Every year for my birthday I have one flown in from Gambino’s instead.

So Saturday morning was devoted to acquiring doberge. I was edgy because I’d been there 48 hours already and hadn’t had doberge. I don’t get my doberge and I hide bodies. I stopped at Gambino’s and they have bite sized cakes and so I picked up a few squares of red velvet cake, another food I have trouble finding outside of Louisiana. However, I’m backing out of my parking space, slam on the brakes, throw open the door and let it all fall out my mouth onto the concrete. My aunt looks at me in dismay and yells “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” I wiped my mouth and said quite seriously “Life’s too short to eat bad food. It was dried out and chokey. Bleckkk. Hand me a doberge square.” Yes, I had to have some squares as a precursor to the two doberge cakes I just bought because it would be, like, a half hour before I could cut into the cake. I know. I’ve got a problem. Better than crack though….

One of my young cousins stopped by on Saturday. She’s in her very early 20’s, unwed and the mother of a 13 month old. Dad’s already abandoned them. (I’d start on a tirade here about what the hell is wrong with the world bringing all these children into it without two parents, but then I’d get side tracked and all, like I did with the cake. I’m still thinking about the cake, by the way. I like cake. Mmmmm dobergey goodness…..) ANYWAY, I was talking to her about her plans for the future and her plans to support this baby and herself. She was in nursing school when she became pregnant and I encouraged her to go back. She had already applied to go back but get this…..My UNCLE (her father! Not Uncle Fart.) told her not to waste her time going to school, to just find someone to take care of her and the baby. WTF?!?! Who gives that kind of advice to their children!?!?! Don’t be self sufficient! Find someone to depend on! OMFG!!!! I almost fell off my chair. I alternated between wanting to go over and kick his ass and..no….you’re right, I didn’t alternate. Just wanted to kick his ass. What kind of mentality is that?!?! LAWWWWDDD HAVE MERCY! This is what is wrong with the world! Sigh.

I think I forgot to mention that I’d been inviting relatives over every night and cooking. Grandma really enjoys the constant parade of people that make their way over when I’m in town. There was only one minor problem in that I made a huge pot of cuban black beans and certain unnamed relatives were um, banned by their spouses from ever eating beans again because of the um, reprocussions….or percussions as the case may be… No mo’ comment on the beans…

So on Saturday, I promised to make a huge pot of crawfish etoufee. I’d connect you to the wikipedia link on it, except the information in it is wrong. Etoufee means smothered in French (smothered vegetables.) Etoufee is a cajun dish that you used to really only be able to find in the Acadiana region of Louisiana. As the regional lines have blurred in Louisiana and cajun food has become more popular, you’re able to find cajun food in New Orleans. However, if you want a true etoufee, eat it in Acadiana.

The creole influence brought rich, tomato based dishes to Louisiana cuisine. Cajun purists will tell you that a true etoufee has no tomato sauce in it. But as I said, regional lines have blurred and some of the people in my family have started using tomato sauce in the etoufee while others use the “white sauce.” So before I even started cooking, the tomato sauce argument started. And it was a loud argument, lemme tell you. To be honest, I make it both ways. My grandmother made it with tomato sauce, and Auntie Cutsupalot makes it with tomato sauce, but my mother and another one of my aunts use the white sauce. I had intended on being a cajun purist that day and making it with the white sauce (which isn’t really white at all, you should know.) Now before I go on, the information vital to understanding what happened next is this: THE ENTIRE EFFIN’ FAMILY HAS SEVERE A.D.D.!!!! Seriously. The attention span of a gnat’s. And they all get distracted by bright, shiny objects. So with all of them flitting about the kitchen, still arguing about the tomato sauce, I started putting people to work. The Holy Trinity needed to come together. For those of you unfamiliar with the religion of cooking, the Holy Trinity is onions, garlic and bell peppers if you’re from Louisiana. Some people say onions, garlic and celery. All food in Louisiana starts with a roux and the Holy Trinity. I needed things chopped. And the rule about too many cooks in the kitchen in Louisiana? You just try and keep them out. A fricken’ stranger will go behind you and season your gumbo. Doesn’t matter. Everybody’s gotta fix it.

So I assign Auntie Cutsupalot to chopping. And I showed her the recipe sitting right next to her. Not that any of us usually cook with a recipe, but in this case, for so many people, I did not want any mishaps. I had to leave the kitchen for a minute due to hearing too many children in the bathroom and voices that sounded like MY children. When I returned Auntie had dumped it all in the pot and I dutifully began sauteeing veggies. One of the things Auntie was supposed to chop was fresh parsley. It was also the first time she’d ever seen it. How does that happen?! 

Another quality of Louisiana cooks is that we all cook by taste. We taste it, adjust it, and keep on cooking. So imagine my horror when I tasted it sometime later and OMFG! The. Worst. Thing. EVVVAHHHH. It was unbearably bitter! I mean, drag your tongue on the ground bitter with a horrible aftertaste. I bring in Auntie Cutsupalot and my cousin (sister to smart ass cousin cuz smart ass cousin doesn’t cook anything but cereal and milk) and as we’re all standing there with spoons in our mouth and making faces, another aunt comes in and says “It can’t be THAT bad….EEEEEEEEEEEEW! What the hell?!” We ended up concluding that someone had taken Grandma’s spice mix in her cabinet and put in some salt substitute stuff and that was the bitter flavor with the horrible aftertaste. *I* wanted to throw the whole thing out and start over but cousin and auntie were convinced we could save it. ‘Cept I didn’t see Jesus around, so I was still pushing to throw it all out. It also came out at this point that Auntie had not measured and just thrown everything in the pot, including WAY too much parsley which, in case you’re wondering, produces a GREEN etoufee. Sigh. Auntie flitted in and out of the kitchen over the next hour while me and my cousin didn’t leave the pot, trying to produce something edible. Evenutally we were successful. Never let it be said the natives can’t cook….We finally managed to make something that tasted good although it required a team of cooks. Everyone pronounced it delicious and…. green.

I promised the relatives I’d finish telling the whole story so I’ll be back with Tales from the Swamp later….

 

My cousin, the smartass…

Being the oldest child, I was not privvy to the experience of having older and wiser siblings. The closest thing I had was my cousin who is three years older than I am. However, in the last decade or so, SHE apparently has gotten younger while I continue to get older. At my sister’s wedding someone asked her how old she was and she stated an age five years younger. As the person walked away I leaned over and between clenched teeth said “You lyin’ bitch!” She looks surprised and said “What?!” and I said “You can’t possibly be that age because that would make you younger than me and I distinctly remember you being born before me.” Obviously caught in the lie but unwilling to admit defeat, she says “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” We both burst out laughing but I let her have that on account of her getting so old and all. 

It was at my older younger cousin’s knee that I also learned sarcasm. She is the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met in my life and I learned how to be a complete smart ass from her. Or maybe it’s genetic or contagious. I’m not really sure. ANYWAY! A couple of weeks ago I got one of those recipe emails where you forward your favorite recipe to two people and you’re supposed to get 36 recipes in return. The only recipe I got was one from my supremely smart ass cousin:

Ok my favorite recipe:

1 cup of your favorite cereal

3/4 cup milk

enjoy  lol

On second thought, it’s probably better I didn’t have any older siblings….

 

 

The aftermath of the Farm….

Every summer I take the kids to a farm nearby. We pick a ton of fresh produce and come home and eat it. There really is nothing quite like picking your produce off the vine or digging it out the ground and eating it within a few hours. It’s the way God meant for us to eat. Even though I love the fresh, delicious food, taking the kids to U-pick farms is a mixed bag for me. On the one hand, it teaches them about where their food comes from, how it’s grown and a huge appreciation for nature. The taste can’t be beat. They’ve become extraordinarily adventerous with food. They will eat any fruit, vegetable or herb. However. Yes, it’s a big however. The problem is always what happens after we go to the farm.

Today we came home with seven pounds of carrots and two and a half flats of blackberries. After one trip last summer we came home with TWENTY FIVE POUNDS OF POTATOES! You don’t even know the pressure I feel. I called Steve at the office and simply said: I hope you like carrots. He burst out laughing and started listing off carrot dishes like Forest Gump: carrot soup, carrot stew, carrot gumbo- “What about carrot cake?!” I demanded.

Last summer I made blackberry crisps, blackberry pies, blackberry cobbler, blackberry pancakes, blackberry smoothies, and blackberry jam…..

So if you’ve got a recipe for blackberries or carrots, please oh please, dear internet, put it in the comments. I need recipes, people. I got carrots and blackberries comin’ out the wazoo…… ;D

 

The great naked cooking debate

I’m sittin’ here at my computer, minding my own business, eating a cracker as I go through my daily blog readings. And I get to my friend, Susan’s blog, and when I read her entry, my mouth fell open, cracker fell out my mouth, and I almost fell out my chair.

It’s because I discovered that not only does Susan naked cook, she BLOGGED that she naked cooked and well, she burned her business naked cooking. Now this concerns me on multiple levels, besides the obvious burn factor. The first thought that crossed my mind is “How often does she naked cook?’ Because Dear God, I’ve eaten her cookies. Were those cookies naked cooked? How many meals and snacks have I eaten from her house that were naked cooked? She so nonchalantly referred to this naked cooking that it can NOT be the first time. Clearly the novelty of naked cooking has worn off to the point that she does not realize the horror of naked cooking?

So obviously, I have to marshal the forces and get all our friends involved. (It’s not like I’m telling a secret here, Susan, YOU BLOGGED IT! It’s fair game!) So I sent out an email informing the public that Susan naked cooks. Susan defended herself with the following:

Some points in my defense:

1. I wasn’t cooking naked. I was merely removing a pan of delicious cookies from the oven before they burned.

2. Pot, have you met the kettle? I seem to remember you having a very similar injury when you were living here. And yes I laughed at the time. I’m not laughing now.

3. (This is the best point of all) What one of you guys (sorry ladies) wouldn’t love to have your spouse, girlfriend, etc. Serve you fresh, hot, delicious cookies while naked? Ok, some of you girls might like that treatment too.

4. I did not rub up against the food, and my hands were clean since I had just finished showering.

5. The cookies were cleaner than those cooked with clothes on since there was no lint, dust, dirt, or thread that could have fallen on them. That’s one of the reasons they make you get naked when you’re having surgery.

6. I was conserving energy since I was doing all my consumption of resources at non peak hours.

How can you argue against cleanliness (we know your fanatacism about it) and energy conservation (you are a self proclaimed tree hugger)?

And in typical, predictable fashion, the men were all about being served cookies naked. I should also point out that I do not cook naked. She clearly has me confused with someone else. And I guarantee you I would NEVER, EVER, EVER want cookies served to me with ole’ Johnson flopping around. Has Susan lost her damn mind?! My darling husband responded:

I have to admit, you had me at #3. Helen, please make the necessary arrangements.

YES, he’s getting cookies with ex-lax baked into them immediately. I asked who wanted a side of….hair……with their cookies since the men were clearly intent now on the idea of naked cooking. The only husband with an iota of sense replied:

Fast food cooks are required to wear hair-nets to keep stray hairs out of the food. So I hope you were wearing a hair-net on your head along with however many additional strategically placed nets would be needed to cover up any/all such outcroppings of fur. Or are you suggesting that only a single net on your head would be necessary to successfully mask all your plumage (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

He’s not getting ex-lax cookies, but he might be getting slapped over trying to find out whether Susan has a Brazilian wax or not. Susan claimed that her wet head of hair was all slicked back and not in the cookies and refused to wear a hair net on her nethers. There was also some debate about whether a hair net was actually needed. The conversation degenerated further over Susan, who is a nurse, pointing out that you are naked when they do surgery on you. There was a lot of debate over this until I pointed out that only the cookies should be naked, while certain people insisted the doctors were naked too. Ok, all our friends have a few screws loose and arguments often turn to the completely unrealistic and borderline insane….Mostly due to Susan’s husband, but that’s another story altogether. But alas, once again they have tried to distract me from the fact that SUSAN COOKS NAKED! And I ask you, dear internet, am I THE ONLY ONE WHO FINDS NAKED COOKING UNACCEPTABLE?!?! 

 

A good ole’ southern dinner

Son #2 comes into the kitchen and says “Mom, what are we having for dinner?” I reply “Corn, spinach, cous cous and chicken fried tofu.” He stares at me for several seconds. “Chicken fried?” I know no other name for this style of cooking. It’s how you’d make a pan-fried chicken fried steak. Then his eyes get really wide. “MOMMMMM” he says in horror “You’re eating MEAT?” I had to laugh. “No son, you know how fried chicken has the crust on it? The tofu has a crust on it. It’s just tofu.” “Ooooohhhhh” he says and walks away looking very relieved. And before you say it, I know no one in Louisiana even knows how to pronounce cous cous, much less what it is. It’s my west coast version of comfort food…

 

Is it wrong?

Is it wrong to eat several spoonfuls of cookie dough for dessert if you’re tired and want to go to bed and are too tired to turn on the oven and wait for them to cook? Is it still wrong if you’re not tired? Is it wrong to go and kill the effin dog who won’t SHUT THE HELL UP?

Back to the cookie dough. Is it wrong to stand at the kitchen counter and eat it right out of the bowl? Is there an etiquette for making a pig of yourself when no one is looking? Is it wrong TO LIKE the cookie dough better than the cookie most of the time? Is it wrong to intentionally not cook the cookie all the way so that it’s very much like it’s orginal doughy goodness? I just need to know the magnatude of the sins committed here this evening. And I really was too tired to cook it….but is it wrong to just make cookie dough and not make cookies?

 

A word to the wise…

Or not so wise in my case. Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT try to make a ricotta cheese substitute with tofu and feta, goat and parmesan cheeses. Just go to the damn store and buy ricotta. I’m going to go drag my tongue along the floor now to try to get the taste out of my mouth. <shudder>

 

Plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers

I was in the hardware store last weekend buying some seeds to plant. This guy stops and looks at me and said” You’re buying seeds? I didn’t know anyone did that anymore. I never have time to plant seeds.” If he only knew. I LOVE planting seeds. And bulbs. And flowers of every kind. And then I run outside every morning like a kid at Christmas to see if the seeds germinated. I stand over them and chant “Grow! Grow! Grow!” I know, it’s weird, but there’s something primatively soul satisfying about planting seeds and watching them grow.

Since we moved here, I’ve had this gardener who must truly hate me. For 2 years now, every single time I plant seeds, she pulls them up. And it almost makes me cry. I go from furious (who can’t tell the difference between weeds and plants?) to almost tears (she pulled up my sweet peas last year when they were about 6 inches tall!!!!) I finally figured out it’s mostly because she just rakes everything up and all the seedlings come with it. We had a little disagreement about it last week. She saw I bought seeds and asked where I was planting. I said I was only planting in my pots because I’ve given up planting seeds in the ground. She of course took offense at that, but honestly, TWO YEARS! In two years I have not been able to grow a single plant from seed. NOT ONE! So anyway, I planted a bunch of seeds in my pots and hanging baskets and then had the brilliant idea to get the flats and plant the seeds in the flats! I spent the morning outside planting seeds in the flats. I am just giddy with anticipation. Plants I’ve been trying to grow for two years, that I can only find in seed form, now have a chance at survival!!!

I know I am unique in that I still take time to garden. I cook from scratch, and I make jam in the summer. I enjoy cooking a meal from fresh ingredients we picked at the farm. I love picking flowers from the backyard and putting them in vases all over the house. These things are becoming obsolete in our busy, harried world. The art of sewing, cooking and gardening have fallen by the wayside. It’s more of a west coast problem then say, the south, but still, I find it disturbing. I only have two friends that sew. I’m the only one I know of around here that can sew. People have lost essential survival skills. They have lost the ability to be self sufficient and “make their own.”

I, for one, will continue to make jam. I will continue to grow plants from seed. I will continue to sew and cook things from scratch. It’s a lost art. But these are things I learned to do from my grandmother and mother. And I will pass them down to my children. If the time ever comes again where humankind is forced to be self sufficient, my children and my children’s children will know how to cook. They will know how to make their own clothes. They will know how to grow their own garden. So plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring to you flowers.

 

Suck it Martha!

When I was eight years old, my cousin showed me how to decorate cakes. By the time I was ten, I had a little business going selling cakes. On and off throughout my life I’ve sold cakes. I love cake decorating. It’s like art with food. I had kind of gotten away from decorating cakes by the time I had reached my late twenties, but having children renewed my cake decorating passion. I started making elaborate cakes again, spending hours and hours decorating them. We NEVER have store bought cakes. In fact, several times when crisis came around and making a cake caused great stress, Steve would suggest we BUY a cake. Everytime I look at him as if he’s suggested we eat garbage.

I don’t think I mentioned son #2’s birthday party is today. We considered cancelling the party, except the party place doesn’t have another opening until April and his birthday has already been postponed several times due to the wedding and funeral. So even though I am having a hell of a time with son #1 right now, you guessed it, I insisted on making son #2’s birthday cake.

 Lately I’ve seen this trend in cake decorating where a bunch of cupcakes are grouped together and iced like a cake. I decided this method would be the easiest and fastest way to get son #2 his birthday cake. I have to say, it’s a pretty fast method and son #2 is thrilled. And I got to have a little fun. Martha Stewart can just suck it.

 

Someone please explain to me

WHY my $16 blender works better than the copper $120 blender. PLEASE. I want to know.

 

Inner Martha got her ass kicked

After the Fridge Fiasco, Inner Martha got her ass kicked by Inner Food Network Chick. I’m pretty sure my nutrition has hit an all time low. Tonight I ate some raw baby carrots that got hot in the fridge (Please God, don’t let me get diarrhea), a bowl of plain rice and then followed it up with a banana that I dipped in melted chocolate chips. Don’t judge me.

 

Martha Stewart rules the roost…

When the inners argued this morning, Inner Martha bitch slapped Inner Food Network Chick and decided to make pancakes from scratch. I put all the ingredients together and was just about to stir it, when I picked up the buttermilk carton and noticed it felt warm. My hands were icy, but….I picked up the eggs….warm. Oh no. I opened the fridge to check the temperature: 64 degrees. Crap. The door has an alarm that goes off if it’s left open and no alarm went off. So instead of the usual plumbing breaking when Steve’s gone, it appears the fridge has broken. The phone rang just as I started to cry. It’s Steve. I forbid him from leaving for this long ever again. (I did that last September when he was only home for 8 days the whole month. Notice he left again for more than a week. ) I think he was about to tell me how much Spain sucked with only a dial up connection in his hotel room but decided my Inner Angry White Male just might be homocidal.

After I was able to gather myself, I went outside to our garage fridge which had spare eggs, milk, buttermilk, and butter and re-made the pancakes. Inner Food Network Chick was pretty smug about this until Martha sucker punched her. Looks like Martha hooked up with Angry White Male last night and has a new lease on life. Chocolate chip pancakes from scratch are TOTALLY worth it.

Martha threw four tennis balls in the dryer with the down jacket and the feathers seem to be unclumping a bit. It still smells a little like wet dog. And washing it probably removed any waterproofing. Sigh. The repair guy for the washer insisted we switch to a High Efficiency detergent for our front loading washer. Dude. I told him we bought this washer before HE detergents were even invented. But he insisted and Steve listened. So Steve bought All detergent. Just so you know, All sucks. It sucks big….AHEM. Sorry. Anyway, it’s not cleaning. Which is really annoying because I’m going to have to rewash this jacket and after spending 2 days trying to get it to dry with no heat and 6 times through the dryer, I’m annoyed. Really annoyed. And the pizza stains didn’t come off my youngest’s shirt. I told him not to wear his pizza, but he never listens. Martha does NOT recommend All. Or Tide. They sucketh. Martha will be going in search of some yummy smelling Gain or Mrs. Meyers that actually CLEANS clothing.

We’re slipping back into summer mode. The kids are reading and drawing and playing quietly. After basketball yesterday I refused to leave the house, because the kids have started fighting the second we get into the car. Being enclosed in a small space during a civil war could drive someone to drink. I took them to a restaurant yesterday and they started screaming and fighitng and punching each other DURING THE MEAL and I could not get them under control. I’d grab one and the other would be throwing a roundhouse punch, I’d grab the swinging arm and the one child I didn’t have would kick or throw another punch. Needless to say, I walked out the restaurant without them even finishing their meals. I was totally humiliated. I would have walked out carrying one under each arm, but their combined weight is more than I weigh. Two teenagers were staring at me as I was trying to get them into the truck with them punching and screaming. I almost turned to the teenagers and screamed THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX! But my youngest was punching in the face by then and I didn’t want to have to visit the ER so I had to focus on them.

I drugged the crap out of the dog last night. He’s all mellow now. He’s staying high until Steve gets home. Because it’s the drugs or the gas chamber. I’ve had it. My other dog seems embarassed to even know the bad one. She tries to pretend she’s never seen him before in her life.

I forgot to mention that due to a trainer induced injury, I couldn’t turn my head yesterday. Well it wasn’t all his fault. I worked out eight times in 6 days. My back rebelled. Night before last I couldn’t sleep due to pain. It was so bad last night I debated about searching the medicine cabinet for some narcotics. But I decided that I probably couldn’t combine narcotics and my knee medicine, so I opted for a boat load of Tylenol. I’m a little better today. I can turn my head, although not very far. I usually work out on Mondays, but perhaps I’ll ride the stationary bike tomorrow and read a magazine. I still have to do running club too, and extreme pain makes me crabby. I listened to my neighbor and dropped the intensity of my workouts when I’m not working out with my trainer, but the problem becomes that I don’t feel like I worked out. So then I work out again. Sigh. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

We’re headed to California on Saturday for 11 days. I’m really hoping the weather is nice. I’d like to spend some time on the beach. And I’ll be doing a lot of running. I might go work out with my old swim team too. Certainly there’ll be stories to tell. And Thanksgiving is coming up. Where Martha rules the roost and we don’t even know that Food Network Chick.  

 

Meals are deteriorating and my inners are arguing……

In episode 6 of Steve’s gone, we have: I am not cooking. Just trying to survive. For dinner I ate: broccoli, some baked onion rings and peanut butter and apples. lol. I made the kids something with meat in it so I didn’t eat it.

Don’t worry, the kids are being fed, but my inner Martha Stewart has died and been replaced by that semi homemade chick from the Food Network (she sucks, by the way.) Inner Martha might come back tomorrow. She saw some recipes she wanted to try in a cookbook. But inner Martha was traumatized by coaching basketball today. Inner Lucille Ball was working overtime. Inner Martha also washed her new down jacket because it kept smelling like wet dog every time she got rained on. Inner Martha may have ruined her new jacket. Enter Inner Angry White Male. Where the hell was he during the coaching of basketball?! Inner Lucille would like to point out that the kids had their best game ever. And they applied skills learned in last night’s practice, also run by inner Lucille.

Inner Martha and Inner Food Network Chick are having an argument right now about breakfast tomorrow morning. I’m going to take me and all my innards to bed now before anyone else shows up…….

 

Halloween Sick-Out, Year 2

Halloween is usually a mellow time for me before the Christmas rush starts. Before children, I used to have most, if not all of my Christmas shopping done by Halloween so that I could enjoy November and December at a leisurely pace. I could entertain, make Christmas gifts by hand, bake and besides holiday cooking, I’d relax. Every year we would host an ornament painting party and a holiday dinner for friends in early December. Then son #1 came along. I would get Christmas shopping done by Thanksgiving, but after a few years I didn’t bake as much, the Christmas gifts were less elaborate, and we started skipping years for ornament painting. Then son #2 came along. A Christmas baby. Gone are the days of early holiday shopping. Added to the Christmas list is a birthday party at the busiest time of year. Gone are the ornament painting parties. Baking is relegated to only a handful of different items. Teachers are the only ones who get something handmade. I’m trying to put the brakes on, but I can’t.

This year, the insanity has started in early October. I am room mom for both children. I had 2 class parties to plan. I gave a coffee for kindergarten moms at my home last week. We attended two other Halloween parties. It was so crazy, we didn’t have time for our usual tradition of going to a pumpkin farm and selecting pumpkins. We went at 4:45 pm yesterday to the pumpkin farm. The pumpkins were picked over, but we were the only ones there.

For the second year in a row my children are sick. Last year everyone was sick too. Except my youngest came down with the fever a hour before I was supposed to be at my oldest’s classroom for the party. I could not find a babysitter so I made him sit quietly in a corner and hoped he didn’t breathe on anyone. The temperature dropped into the 20s at night for the last few days. I struck the same deal with the kids as last year, although I was less prepared for a sick out. We played Clue.

I make chili and cornbread every year for Halloween, although this year I did not have time to cook. So I threw everything into the crock pot and let it cook it for me. (Crock pot does an awesome job by the way.) I usually make pumpkin cornbread, but again, no time. They got plain cornbread.

We took the kids to about 7 houses. I could tell my little guy was fading fast so we headed back home. He had on three layers of clothes and a down jacket to try to keep him snug. Our neighbor made a huge treat bag for the boys that included Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans. After dinner we sat around the table and son #1 tried them. Then foisted them on Steve. Their pack included the following flavors: soap, dirt, booger, vomit, earthworm and several other flavors. I watched as son#1 ate vomit and shuddered and made faces. Then Steve tried it and gagged and spit it out. I laughed until I cried. Steve tried to wash out the vomit taste with soap. At which time he surprisingly stated that it tasted like his mouth was being washed out with soap. He requested a buttered popcorn, and my son mistakenly gave him earwax while Steve howled in disgust. I was crying, my nose running, and doubled over in laughter.  You’d think an adult would have the sense to stop after that, but he kept on, sampling black pepper and sardines. And was still surprised when it tasted horrible. I just smelled one and gagged. I had the sense God gave me not to put one of those in my mouth.

We tucked the kids into bed, happy and warm. And I sagged with relief into the arm chair that Halloween is over. After five Halloween parties, I am exhausted. We are going back to California for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. I am hoping that it would be less hectic, but something tells me it’s going to be absolutely insane. Either pray for me or send me valium. Either one will do…..

 

For the love of fudge…..

In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m an old-fashioned southern cook and stay at home domestic Goddess. I worship all things Martha Stewart and I make everything from scratch. Which is why when I read this post I laughed REALLY hard. I know the feeling.

Anyway, lately my new cooking goal is to lower the fat in a lot of my favorite recipes. Fudge is one of my biggest weaknesses. I LOVE fudge. And I only make it at one time during the year. From October to Christmas. That’s it. That’s the way my mother did it, my grandmother did it and I think even my great grandmother did it. Nothing says the holidays to me like fudge. And last year, nothing said fat on my ass quite like fudge. Making fudge is a complicated, elaborate process involving just the right heat on the stove, candy thermometers, a massive arm workout from stirring thick, gooey goodness quickly enough to keep it from setting and turning, and then sweating over the stove during the whole process. There’s nothing quite like sweating over then burning your tongue on a hot pot of fudge.

So anwyay, you will imagine my delight when I figured out how to make perfectly smooth, delicious fudge in three minutes in the microwave. No sweating, no stove, and no thermometers to make sure it comes out perfectly. It’s low in fat and calories (compared to regular fudge- don’t go eating the whole damn pan) and my husband actually likes it better. He says the other fudge is so sweet it makes his teeth hurt. I’m a huge fan and my kids devoured an entire pan in 2 days. Steve says it makes a good breakfast dessert. lol. As always, the higher the quality of chocolate that you use, the better the fudge. Chocolate chips will work but try to use at least Baker’s Semi Sweet Squares.

Easy 3 minute microwave fudge:

1 can fat free condensed milk (NOT evaporated)
18 ounces semi sweet chocolate (or 3 cups of chips)
pinch of salt
1.5 tsp. vanilla
1 7 oz. jar marshmallow creme (I used Kraft Jet Puffed)

Microwave milk, chocolate and salt for 1.5 minutes. Stir. Microwave 30 more seconds and stir again. Keep alternating stirring and checking every 30 seconds until mixture is smooth. It takes  less than 3 minutes in my microwave. If you microwave it too long or microwave without stirring, the chocolate will seize and it will be ruined. When chocolate is melted stir in vanilla and marshmallow creme. Pour into greased (with butter) 8×8 pan. Refridgerate until set. This doesn’t need to be refridgerated once it is set. Cut into squares and serve. Serves 18 (approximately 2×2 inch pieces in 11×7 pan- 238 cal per piece. 5 points weight watchers.)

Enjoy!

 

Martha Stewart failed me

For the first time ever, Martha Stewart failed me. I made her “Truck Stop Cinnamon Rolls.” It would be much more appropriate to call them “Door Stop Cinnamon Rolls.” Steve called them “Truck Stop Bathroom Rolls.” Feel free to suggest any other clever names you might think of…..

 

Tosoni’s in Bellevue

This weekend we had dinner at Tosoni’s in Bellevue. My new nav system has Zagat ratings and reviews and Tosoni’s came highly recommended. It did not disappoint. The review said there was no menu. The waiters give you the menu verbally because it constantly changes. I called ahead and asked if they had vegetarian entrees because sometimes we get to a restaurant only to find that every item on the menu has meat in it, including the salads. The person I spoke to told me not to worry, that the chef would make me something.

I have not had a chef make up a special meal since we were in Europe. The food was incredible. Most of the clientele seemed to be regulars, as the chef would come out the kitchen and have a glass of wine with some of the diners. I did not even ask what he was making, the waiter just said, “Oh he will make up a nice vegetarian meal for you.” It was FABULOUS. And there was so much food, I couldn’t even finish it. He made some sort of Indian dish, that was fantastic, for a side. And then my meal had mushrooms in a sauce that were to die for, mashed potatos, an eggplant/mozarella/tomato bake, and grilled zucchini. The appetizers, salad and dessert were outstanding as well.

This is my new favorite restaurant. Our anniversary is next week and we’re going back. I love being surprised by what I’m getting. It’s so very European.  It doesn’t get any better than “The chef will make you something delicious.”

 

Vegetarian "Ground Beef"

It’s hard being a vegetarian in a house of meat eaters. Granted, I do the cooking, but there are certain members of the household who complain loudly about the lack of meat. We won’t name names. So I try to make sure that I cook familiar dishes, converting them to a vegetarian dish. I try not to use fake meats. Frankly, they don’t taste that good and they contain soy protein isolates, which studies are beginning to show may not be good for you.

I can remember, when I first became a vegetarian, combing the internet for recipes for meat substitutes and frankly, what’s out there isn’t too good. As I have become more proficient at cooking vegetarian style (you don’t even want to know how yucky the “burgers” I’ve tried to make were.) Tonight, I finally was able to make a vegetarian “ground beef” that I liked. The other thing about fake meats is that they put smoke flavor into them which I don’t like. Tonight we had baked potatoes with veggie ground beef topping, sauteed portabella mushrooms, butter and sour cream. Mmmmm.

So here’s a recipe for veggie ground beef that doesn’t taste like you set fire to it. Unless of course, you set fire to it. ;) 

1 package organic soy tempeh (chop to a fine crumble in a food processor)
1 cup re-hydrated TSP (Textured Soy Protein comes dry and you need to add 1 cup of hot water to re-hydrate it)
most of 1 can of lentils (chopped to a paste in food processor)
salt
pepper
vegetarian powdered bullion/broth
about 2 TBSP red onions
about 1 tsp oil

Fry the onions in oil until clear and browned. Add Tempeh and TSP. Add lentils and seasoning to taste. Cook until heated through. Enjoy!

 

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sushi

Yeah, you read that right. I love to watch the show Unwrapped and recently they had peanut butter and jelly sushi on it. Usually the show inspires me to make some complicated candy. Like the time I watched and decided to make homemade candy canes. Just so you know, there’s a reason machines do the work, because handling 250 degree candy and trying to stretch and twist it into canes causes one to become severly burned. Plus the peppermint burns your eyes. I have successfully tried homemade caramels and peppermint patties that were TO DIE FOR. The candy canes tasted good but came out really homely looking though.

Anyway, they had the peanut butter and jelly sushi on there which is great because it’s something new, bite-sized and the kids think they have a really cool lunch. However, with all the peanut allergies my kids aren’t allowed to take peanut products to school. I get around this by using almond butter. It tastes the same* (my kids can’t tell the difference and neither can I) and they can bring it to school. It’s pretty easy to make too. Take a rolling pin and roll the bread out so it’s thin. Cut off the crust. Spread a thin layer of peanut/almond butter on. Then a thin layer of jelly. Roll it up then slice it. Voila!

If your child is the one with the food allergy, you can make this with hummus, baba ganoush, egg or tuna salad, or any spreadable sandwich ingredient.  Enjoy!

 

*I should note that if you eat the kind of peanut butter with sugar and fat (like Skippy) almond butter WILL taste different. If you eat the natural peanut butter made only with peanuts and salt, there is no discernible difference.

 

Gettin’ your eggs on

I’ve never been a huge fan of eggs. You can pretty much cook them any way and I don’t like them. I can sometimes choke them down, but most of the time I feel the gag reflex rising in the back of my throat and then waves of nausea roll over me. The only time I ever willingly ate eggs was when I was pregnant with son #1 and ate all kinds of weird things I never ate before. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them Sam I am.

The problem with being vegetarian is that the quality of many nutrients derived from plants is not as good or nutritious as some animal derived nutrients. Eggs (and fish) contain Omega 3’s which are vital to good health. Since I don’t eat fish and don’t like to take supplements, guess what that leaves me with? Yuck. Eggs. The only supplement I take is the whey protein powder because with the weight training and working out I’m doing right now, it is impossible to get in enough protein.

I have found a way to circumvent the whole eating of eggs. I put egg beaters in a protein shake. It runs a shiver up my spine if I think about the fact that I’m actually drinking the eggs, but it’s better than eating them. The egg beaters do make the shake light and fluffy though. I’m Rocky Balboa. Drinking my eggs raw. <shudder> Do NOT make a protein shake with RAW eggs, unless you want to get very sick with salmonella. I’ve had salmonella before. Trust me, you don’t want it.

So here’s the lastest shake recipe.

Chocolate Protein Shake- 1 serving

1 scoop high quality, microfiltered chocolate whey protein powder
1/2 cup lowfat milk
2 TBSP fat free evaporated milk
1/4 cup egg beaters (pastuerized egg substitute)
ice 1-2 cups

Whip all ingredients except ice for a about 2 minutes- until fluffy and lighter colored. Add ice. 4 points weight watchers.  30 grams protein.

I’m gettin’ my eggs on.

 

Today’s the day and other things on the agenda….

Today’s the day! Today’s the day! I’m so excited! Today’s the day! Ok, I know you’re not that excited, but I am! I want a new car! I can’t even imagine what it’s like to go somewhere and not get lost! I’m so tired of printing out the directions on Mapquest only to get lost anyway. I’ll have a nav system! Woo hoo! The only bummer is that I still haven’t emptied out my car. It’s been raining so hard this week that I just can’t bring myself to go stand in the rain and clean out my car. I’m not even sure I’m going to trade it in, but I need to be ready, right? Driving it off the nearest cliff is really what I want to do with it, but I get money to trade it in, right? They’ll give me at least a dollar, right?

The day hasn’t started off so well. My oldest child decided this morning that my alarm clock (my cell phone) annoyed him so he turned it off. That’s right folks, he just turned it off. So I woke up about 45 minutes later than I usually get up. I woke up to the kids fighting and screaming. My youngest has the perfect pitch of a scream that can break glass.

I still had a headache from yesterday. I sat in on the after-school drama program. The man that runs it has 4 kids. He’s used to utter chaos. The kids were screaming, running around, rolling on the floor, causing general mayhem and he’s calmly sitting in a chair trying the kids out for parts in Peter Pan. I couldn’t even hear myself think, much less hear the kids trying out, but he seemed ok with it all. My youngest child got the part of Michael.  I can’t even believe he’s going to do this. He’s a little shy and nothing like his boisterous, self-confident brother. But I guess sitting there watching his brother do plays all last year made him brave. And I don’t think they realized he’s 5, because kindergartners never get big parts. My son is huge. He’s the size of your typical third or fourth grader. In fact, during the school open house, parents and teachers thought my kindergartner was my fourth grader. He was standing in the hall when the fourth graders got out yesterday and he was middle-of-the-pack for height. Sigh. It’s not going to be easy for him being that tall. He’s the tallest in his class. Anyway, I almost fell out my chair watching him try out for parts yesterday. I still can’t believe he’s going to stand up in front of a bunch of strangers and do this. It will be awesome for him. I’m very excited.

Last night I made dinner for a friend who just had surgery. She’s allergic to wheat so I spent quite awhile trying to figure out what to make and checking and rechecking labels. I bought an allergen free cookie mix and made cookies for her. It was the double chocolate chunk cookie by The Cravings Place. It tasted pretty good. I think I will try it again and use prunes next time to give it a chewier texture. I’m not a huge cookie person. I’ll let you know how that goes. The kids gobbled it up, so I guess that means it’s a winner.

I made a mexican casserole, but put meat in the one going to their house. This was hard for me, because I have no idea how it tasted. I used tempeh and fake meat for ours. I made son #1 come and taste the meat and tell me if it tasted all right. He’s so picky, I figured if he ate it, other people would. I hope theirs tasted ok. Ours was awesome. That was the first time I’ve been brave enough to cook with tempeh. I’ve had it at vegetarian restaurants but never really knew what to do with it at home. Turns out that I think it’s a better meat substitute than the fake ground beef. It has a better texture and twice as much protein. So that’s my new cooking item: tempeh. It’s my new tofu. lol. When I first became a vegetarian, I had no idea what to do with the tofu. I loved it when I got it at restaurants but had no idea what to do with it at home. I still sometimes screw it up, but for the most part, I’ve got the hang of it. Tofu is interesting because it takes on the flavor of anything you’re cooking with. But I don’t like the squishy texture of it plain from the container. It grosses me out a little. But it’s awesome in scrambled eggs. I made a chocolate cream pie with it once. I do lots of stir fries with it and make baked tofu fries at least once or twice a week. But I’m still learning. Going vegetarian meant I had to totally re-learn to cook. And we eat pretty much every grain-things like Quinoa- which I had never even heard of until I became a vegetarian. It’s been hard to try and convert my favorite recipes to meatless. But I’ve pretty much mastered that now. I would like to use less fake meats and figure out how to better do it with things like tempeh and whole grains. I’m learning. Every meal I cook, I learn. 

There’s one more item on the agenda I wanted to mention. I mentioned a few days ago that I had a group of friends I met about eight years ago. We were all struggling with infertility problems. Some of these women had a much harder journey than I did, filled with years and years of infertility, treatments, miscarriages, still borns and heart break. We’re a close group, bound together by something that is very hard for anyone who hasn’t expierenced it to understand. We’ve laughed together and cried together and ached for the pain each of us suffered. My friend, Tina, the chef I’m always talking about, is one of these women I met back then. Tina sent me an email last night asking me for help setting up a blog. She’s going to adopt a little girl from Kyrgyzstan. I’ll let Tina tell you her story and how she ended up on this journey, but please visit her blog and lend your support as she documents the adoption process.

I guess that about wraps up the morning for me. The kids joined a running club, which means *I* just joined a running club, so I’m off to run this afternoon. This could be a bad thing. You know I’m still not running on my knee yet, right? Do you think someone would lend me a golf cart? Anyway, hopefully I won’t be blogging from the floor again. But if I do, do you think you could actually call 911 this time? Last time you all just sat there and looked at me.