We spent the past week in Oregon, walking on foggy beaches, eating the best marionberry scones in the universe, and generally decompressing until we could barely lift our heads from our pillows each morning. We also ate a lot of fish, as you would expect from being next to the ocean and all. Apparently we ate enough to put me in the mood to cook more for dinner tonight; in fact, the fish practically jumped out of the case at Whole Foods today and begged me to buy them (and as an aside, isn't it nice to go back to your grocery store after vacation? So homey. So not-lost. So nice.) Anyway, usually I'm nervous about cooking fish. I leave it to Husband and his magical grill basket: he makes the best grilled sockeye salmon you'll ever eat. But even though I'd give myself a B- most nights with fish in the kitchen, this time was definitely an A.
Here we go: Cod for Four.
1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds cod (this cod was black cod, and it was perfect)
2 shallots, peeled and diced
2 Meyer lemons, zested and sliced into wedges
4T butter
1/4 cup white wine
Sea salt and fresh ground pepper
Slice the cod into 4 equal pieces and set aside. Melt 3/4 of the butter in a large sauté pan and add the shallots. Saute for a few minutes until soft, and then throw in the lemon zest. Cook another minute and then remove and set aside.
Add the rest of the butter, let it melt, and then add the cod, skin side down. Cook for several minutes over medium heat. While the fish is cooking, squeeze the juice out of one of the lemons, mix in a cup with the wine, and set aside. Turn the fish and cook 2 minutes more. Add the lemon juice + wine and cook 2 minutes more. Take the fish out, place on a plate, and salt and pepper it.
Add the shallots and zest back into the pan and cook with the remaining sauce for 1-2 minutes. Pour shallots, zest and sauce over the fish and serve each piece with a wedge of lemon. Save 2 wedges for your sparking water and feel even more virtuous.
I served this with heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella, and a delicious zucchini gratin I made before I started on the fish. Mwah! Delicious! Enjoy!
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Ambrosia
Forget all you have ever known about "ambrosia" as dessert - you know, mini marshmallows, pineapple, something creamy holding it all together - yuck, in other words.
I have figured out how it was really made.
When the Greek gods were chowing it down, it consisted of
Strawberries, sliced
Peaches, same
Fresh basil, cut into very fine strips
all mixed together and topped with Ricotta cream, which take about 2 minutes and consists of
15 oz whole milk ricotta cheese, mixed in the blender with
2 T sugar and
a generous squirt of honey
That's it. Simple. Perfect. Amazing.
Happy Father's Day.
I have figured out how it was really made.
When the Greek gods were chowing it down, it consisted of
Strawberries, sliced
Peaches, same
Fresh basil, cut into very fine strips
all mixed together and topped with Ricotta cream, which take about 2 minutes and consists of
15 oz whole milk ricotta cheese, mixed in the blender with
2 T sugar and
a generous squirt of honey
That's it. Simple. Perfect. Amazing.
Happy Father's Day.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
House Rules
Some friends and I were talking recently about having simple "house rules" for kids to follow. Their children are much younger than mine, and the rules consist of lists of what to do at bedtime, how much TV and computer time you can have each day of summer break, etc. These lists are great ideas to help keep things simple and clear for kids, and to help avoid having to repeat yourself until your voice gives out ("did you brush your teeth?" "then brush your teeth." "did you put your clothes in the hamper?" "well, do it now." and so on).
But in this house, we have come to the point where we need other rules. Different rules. Rules that make mom break out in hives as she writes them down.
We have, ladies and gentlemen, House Rules for Growing Boys. Ahem:
I wrote the first draft, and Husband edited. I handed the boys each a copy today when they got home, and posted a third copy on the fridge.
You see, One asked me the other day if he could date someone (or was that a capital offense at his age? He apparently needed to know.). And Two - as much as I hate to admit it - is getting a cell phone at the end of next week when school lets out. It scares me a bit, but they are growing older. I'd rather tackle these difficult things up front than make it up as we go along. I'm not that way about everything; bedtime, for instance, has never been more than a lofty goal. And many other decisions have been made in the past (and will be made in the future) based on what feels right given all the circumstances. But these kinds of rules - especially the dating-related ones - I want to get right from the outset. I want expectations to be completely clear. First of all, it's an emotional topic (in a teen's mind in particular), and one that does not lend itself to "what feels right for Mom at this particular moment". It's also a subject on which I don't expect a lot of communication from the boys. They may not want me in this part of their lives, for the most part. And really, except for setting out the expectations their father and I have for their behavior, I don't think we belong there unless expressly invited. Because of that, I want to make our expectations as straightforward as possible.
So here we go. I'm sure the list will grow and change as the boys do. Wish me luck! I need it.
And a drink. I need a glass of wine right now -- badly.
But in this house, we have come to the point where we need other rules. Different rules. Rules that make mom break out in hives as she writes them down.
We have, ladies and gentlemen, House Rules for Growing Boys. Ahem:
1. If you
are dating someone, we need her name and home phone number. Yes, we will talk
to her parents.
2. Members
of the opposite sex are not allowed upstairs.
3. Members
of the opposite sex may not come to the house when no adult is home.
4. Rules 2
and 3 apply at your girlfriend’s house, even if her parents don’t say so.
5. If you
are dating someone and your grades drop, you will have to stop dating her.
6. Dating
someone will never be an excuse to stop participating in extra-curricular
activities, or to avoid signing up for them.
7. Use your
cell phone to talk to or text with friends/girlfriends. Please don’t tie up the
house phone for long.
8. Cell
phones will be downstairs on the dining room table by 9pm on school nights,
10pm on weekends.
9. We will
read all your texts. We have an app for that.
10. You’re not
allowed on social networking sites. Sorry.I wrote the first draft, and Husband edited. I handed the boys each a copy today when they got home, and posted a third copy on the fridge.
You see, One asked me the other day if he could date someone (or was that a capital offense at his age? He apparently needed to know.). And Two - as much as I hate to admit it - is getting a cell phone at the end of next week when school lets out. It scares me a bit, but they are growing older. I'd rather tackle these difficult things up front than make it up as we go along. I'm not that way about everything; bedtime, for instance, has never been more than a lofty goal. And many other decisions have been made in the past (and will be made in the future) based on what feels right given all the circumstances. But these kinds of rules - especially the dating-related ones - I want to get right from the outset. I want expectations to be completely clear. First of all, it's an emotional topic (in a teen's mind in particular), and one that does not lend itself to "what feels right for Mom at this particular moment". It's also a subject on which I don't expect a lot of communication from the boys. They may not want me in this part of their lives, for the most part. And really, except for setting out the expectations their father and I have for their behavior, I don't think we belong there unless expressly invited. Because of that, I want to make our expectations as straightforward as possible.
So here we go. I'm sure the list will grow and change as the boys do. Wish me luck! I need it.
And a drink. I need a glass of wine right now -- badly.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Pulled Pork Sliders are Served in Heaven
Every time I make pulled pork I screw it up.
Every. Single. Time.
Except today, which is truly a miraculous happening. Here's the recipe that occasioned the wonder. I started with a recipe in the Williams Sonoma catalog (no, really) and played from there.
1 4lb pork shoulder (pork butt, whatever you call it. I'll stick with shoulder, if only to avoid as many "butt" jokes as possible)
1 T kosher salt and 1 T freshly ground pepper, rubbed onto pork shoulder
1 yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic
2 T Dijon mustard
Generous squirt ketchup
1/2 cup cider vinegar (I use Mrs. Bragg's, which I'm convinced is somehow healthy)
2 cups low salt chicken broth
Dash or two cayenne pepper
Place the six ingredients above in the bottom of a large dutch oven, and put the pork shoulder (with salt and pepper rubbed in) directly on top. Cover tightly with a lid and bake at 300 degrees for 4 hours. FOUR HOURS. You can check it before that, but it needs to cook until it's falling apart --- and that means FOUR HOURS. Take a nap.
When the pork can be pulled apart with a fork easily, take out and let rest. Meanwhile, spoon the fat off the top of the sauce, and add the following:
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup ketchup
3 tsp Worchestershire sauce
Keep the sauce warm and place the pork in a large bowl. "Pull" or shred the meat, and then pour the sauce over the top. Toss and serve on toasted, buttered slider buns. Wowza.
Every. Single. Time.
Except today, which is truly a miraculous happening. Here's the recipe that occasioned the wonder. I started with a recipe in the Williams Sonoma catalog (no, really) and played from there.
1 4lb pork shoulder (pork butt, whatever you call it. I'll stick with shoulder, if only to avoid as many "butt" jokes as possible)
1 T kosher salt and 1 T freshly ground pepper, rubbed onto pork shoulder
1 yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic
2 T Dijon mustard
Generous squirt ketchup
1/2 cup cider vinegar (I use Mrs. Bragg's, which I'm convinced is somehow healthy)
2 cups low salt chicken broth
Dash or two cayenne pepper
Place the six ingredients above in the bottom of a large dutch oven, and put the pork shoulder (with salt and pepper rubbed in) directly on top. Cover tightly with a lid and bake at 300 degrees for 4 hours. FOUR HOURS. You can check it before that, but it needs to cook until it's falling apart --- and that means FOUR HOURS. Take a nap.
When the pork can be pulled apart with a fork easily, take out and let rest. Meanwhile, spoon the fat off the top of the sauce, and add the following:
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup ketchup
3 tsp Worchestershire sauce
Keep the sauce warm and place the pork in a large bowl. "Pull" or shred the meat, and then pour the sauce over the top. Toss and serve on toasted, buttered slider buns. Wowza.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Chihuahuas always Win
Gypsy, our half-feral two year old Boxer, has the chest of a heavyweight champion and the bark of a 5lb toy dog. The boys are embarrassed by her yips; Two so much so that he's written a story about how this travesty came to be. Here we go...
Once upon a time, when Gypsy was feral, she met a small Chihuahua. Gypsy was hungry -- very hungry -- so she said to the Chihuahua, "I am so hungry, I don't care that you are a dog and not a cat. I will eat you."
"Beware!" said the Chihuahua. "I am a magical dog, and I have the power to curse you if you hurt me."
"Ha!" said wild Gypsy. "You are my lunch!" And she pounced and ate him up in one bite.
But woe be it to Gypsy, the Chihuahua was indeed a powerful, magical dog. As Gypsy jumped on him, he had just enough time to mutter a spell, and he cursed Gypsy with his last breath. The curse? That Gypsy would grow big and strong, but no matter how big she was, she would always bark like a Chihuahua.
And so she does.
The End.
Once upon a time, when Gypsy was feral, she met a small Chihuahua. Gypsy was hungry -- very hungry -- so she said to the Chihuahua, "I am so hungry, I don't care that you are a dog and not a cat. I will eat you."
"Beware!" said the Chihuahua. "I am a magical dog, and I have the power to curse you if you hurt me."
"Ha!" said wild Gypsy. "You are my lunch!" And she pounced and ate him up in one bite.
But woe be it to Gypsy, the Chihuahua was indeed a powerful, magical dog. As Gypsy jumped on him, he had just enough time to mutter a spell, and he cursed Gypsy with his last breath. The curse? That Gypsy would grow big and strong, but no matter how big she was, she would always bark like a Chihuahua.
And so she does.
The End.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Food on the Fourth
We didn't do much to celebrate the Fourth - it seems odd to be off in the middle of the week for one day, frankly. But we did cook, as usual, and it was wonderful.
Tomatoes and mozzerella. I was very lucky with some beefsteak tomatoes at Whole Foods - when I cut into them they smelled like childhood summer.
An enormous pile of meat, compliments of Husband's copious grilling talents.
Broccoli rabe with shallots and bacon. Mmmmm, bacon.
Elotes, since One can't eat corn on the cob right now, what with braces and everything. It might taste even better this way - I need to eat a lot more of it so I can make up my mind about that.
And of course, s'mores.
You know it's summer. Even if it only hit 90 today.
We've watched the NYC and DC fireworks on TV, are going to read the Declaration of Independence and then head off to bed. Hope your Fourth was a good one!
Tomatoes and mozzerella. I was very lucky with some beefsteak tomatoes at Whole Foods - when I cut into them they smelled like childhood summer.
An enormous pile of meat, compliments of Husband's copious grilling talents.
Broccoli rabe with shallots and bacon. Mmmmm, bacon.
Elotes, since One can't eat corn on the cob right now, what with braces and everything. It might taste even better this way - I need to eat a lot more of it so I can make up my mind about that.
And of course, s'mores.
You know it's summer. Even if it only hit 90 today.
We've watched the NYC and DC fireworks on TV, are going to read the Declaration of Independence and then head off to bed. Hope your Fourth was a good one!
Sunday, April 15, 2012
John Updike: Seven Stanzas at Easter
Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall
It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.
The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.
Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.
The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.
And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.
Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall
It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.
The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.
Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.
The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.
And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.
Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Welcome Home Gypsy
Here is the latest addition to the Grass Widow Household, the no-longer-wandering Gypsy. Two weeks ago she was in a kill shelter when Lone Star Boxer Rescue swooped in to save her. She spent two weeks being kenneled at a vet, she was spayed yesterday, and she came home with us today. She is unbelievably good and sweet, full of kisses she wants to give away, and instantly, madly in love with Knight.
In other words, a keeper.
In other words, a keeper.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Slow-Roasted Duck
I made this recipe tonight for the first time and it was divine. I served it plain, but if you wanted to deglaze the roasting pan while the duck is resting and make a sauce to pour over the duck, that would be a great idea, too. I'm thinking a little dry white wine and maybe a smidgen of honey? Scrumptious.
Here's the duck recipe itself. Well-worth the wait of several hours' roasting time.
1 5-pound duck, backbone cut out, flattened, rinsed and dried
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Garlic powder
Onion powder
1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Season duck generously inside and out with salt and pepper, and season the skinless side only with the onion powder and garlic powder. Place in a roasting pan skin-side up and cover with foil.
2. Roast duck for 10 minutes, then lower the temperature to 300 degrees and roast for 2 1/2 hours, skimming off fat at least once.
3. Remove foil. Roast duck for 1/2 to 3/4 of an hour more, until the skin is gloriously brown.
4. Transfer duck to cutting board and let rest 15 minutes. Cut into eight pieces and serve.
Makes enough for three normal people or two hungry ones. Derived from this recipe, which I didn't copy in full mostly because I think beets and turnips are some of the worst tasting things in the universe, and I wan't going to let them near my pwecious bird.
Oh, and don't forget to save the duck drippings in a bowl and skim off the golden goodness of the duck fat when it's cooled. Save in the 'fridge to use when frying the best potatoes you'll ever eat.
Enjoy.
Here's the duck recipe itself. Well-worth the wait of several hours' roasting time.
1 5-pound duck, backbone cut out, flattened, rinsed and dried
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Garlic powder
Onion powder
1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Season duck generously inside and out with salt and pepper, and season the skinless side only with the onion powder and garlic powder. Place in a roasting pan skin-side up and cover with foil.
2. Roast duck for 10 minutes, then lower the temperature to 300 degrees and roast for 2 1/2 hours, skimming off fat at least once.
3. Remove foil. Roast duck for 1/2 to 3/4 of an hour more, until the skin is gloriously brown.
4. Transfer duck to cutting board and let rest 15 minutes. Cut into eight pieces and serve.
Makes enough for three normal people or two hungry ones. Derived from this recipe, which I didn't copy in full mostly because I think beets and turnips are some of the worst tasting things in the universe, and I wan't going to let them near my pwecious bird.
Oh, and don't forget to save the duck drippings in a bowl and skim off the golden goodness of the duck fat when it's cooled. Save in the 'fridge to use when frying the best potatoes you'll ever eat.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Let's go with "Strongly Disagree"
I wrote some weeks ago about selfishness and the lack of understanding of what makes most of the world's personal relationships go 'round, after reading the Atlantic's piece All the Single Ladies. Now there's an even fluffier (that's actually a good thing, since the Atlantic piece was as dense as bad fruitcake) bit of nonsense in the New York Times, by author Dominique Browning. In this paean to single womanhood - written, perhaps, as Ann Althouse has posited, to make the Times' large contingent of 50-something female readers feel good - Browning lies on her deck after a fall and thinks happy thoughts about being a single woman. Some gems from this insightful piece include:
"Because many women, once released from marriage, seem to feel that it would take an act of madness to move back into a setup that involves not only housekeeping in all its manifold time-sucking beauty but also husband-keeping." [my emphasis] Really? How about the attendant "wife-keeping" that goes on in a marriage? The "to have and to hold" promised in so many wedding vows? And is the time-suck known as "house-keeping" (never mind that I suspect there's a woman hired for this purpose in Browning's household, given that she is financially able to live alone in Manhattan) really that much harder when there are two people in the house instead of one? Even if you reduce a husband to no better than an annoying pet, as Browning does, certainly even they can be trained to take out the trash and load the dishwasher now and then.
"Women alone eat breakfast at 11 if we feel like it, lunch at 3 and dinner never if that’s the way the day is winding down. Single women do not worry about cooking unless we want to. And we don’t want to unless we like to." I have not only a husband but (gasp!) two male children in the house, and I, too, manage to eat pretty much whatever and whenever I want. I don't cook when I don't want to; Husband is more than happy to sample the delights of the Whole Foods hot bar for dinner, and the boys are always up for Chick-fil-a. Mealtimes don't seem like such a big problem to me, sister.
"We love the give and take of making our own decisions." There is give and take in making one's own decisions? Who are you compromising with, exactly? Be real: there is no compromise when you live alone. I know this from listening to my own mother, who asks disbelievingly "what do you mean, you didn't your first choice on where you're going for vacation this year? how can this be?" And then I have to patiently explain to her that when you are married and you respect your spouse, you don't always get exactly what you want every single minute of the day. This confuses her, as it obviously confuses Ms. Browning.
"A marriage is a lot of work. Strike that. A man is a lot of work." Let's ask Ms. Browning's ex if he thinks women are a lot of work, shall we? I bet we can all guess what he will say.
And so the Times and the Atlantic go ever more frequently for Vanity Fair's audience, and put these poorly written, confusing pieces of misandry where real thought used to be. I'm not surprised, nor am I very disappointed. Pandering to one's audience, no matter how low-brow, is a time-honored tradition in the media. And think of the money it saves those readers who actually care about the content of the magazine or newspaper, rather than just the aging name on the cover! Sounds like a win-win situation for me.
Perhaps now someone from the Times will cab over to Ms. Browning's place and pick her up off her deck. All those assistant editors have to be good for something...
"Because many women, once released from marriage, seem to feel that it would take an act of madness to move back into a setup that involves not only housekeeping in all its manifold time-sucking beauty but also husband-keeping." [my emphasis] Really? How about the attendant "wife-keeping" that goes on in a marriage? The "to have and to hold" promised in so many wedding vows? And is the time-suck known as "house-keeping" (never mind that I suspect there's a woman hired for this purpose in Browning's household, given that she is financially able to live alone in Manhattan) really that much harder when there are two people in the house instead of one? Even if you reduce a husband to no better than an annoying pet, as Browning does, certainly even they can be trained to take out the trash and load the dishwasher now and then.
"Women alone eat breakfast at 11 if we feel like it, lunch at 3 and dinner never if that’s the way the day is winding down. Single women do not worry about cooking unless we want to. And we don’t want to unless we like to." I have not only a husband but (gasp!) two male children in the house, and I, too, manage to eat pretty much whatever and whenever I want. I don't cook when I don't want to; Husband is more than happy to sample the delights of the Whole Foods hot bar for dinner, and the boys are always up for Chick-fil-a. Mealtimes don't seem like such a big problem to me, sister.
"We love the give and take of making our own decisions." There is give and take in making one's own decisions? Who are you compromising with, exactly? Be real: there is no compromise when you live alone. I know this from listening to my own mother, who asks disbelievingly "what do you mean, you didn't your first choice on where you're going for vacation this year? how can this be?" And then I have to patiently explain to her that when you are married and you respect your spouse, you don't always get exactly what you want every single minute of the day. This confuses her, as it obviously confuses Ms. Browning.
"A marriage is a lot of work. Strike that. A man is a lot of work." Let's ask Ms. Browning's ex if he thinks women are a lot of work, shall we? I bet we can all guess what he will say.
And so the Times and the Atlantic go ever more frequently for Vanity Fair's audience, and put these poorly written, confusing pieces of misandry where real thought used to be. I'm not surprised, nor am I very disappointed. Pandering to one's audience, no matter how low-brow, is a time-honored tradition in the media. And think of the money it saves those readers who actually care about the content of the magazine or newspaper, rather than just the aging name on the cover! Sounds like a win-win situation for me.
Perhaps now someone from the Times will cab over to Ms. Browning's place and pick her up off her deck. All those assistant editors have to be good for something...
Monday, January 9, 2012
Hunting Unicorns
It's easy when they walk right into your dining room. I didn't even need to feed this one - not that I'd begin to know what unicorns eat, mind you.
Anyone for a Swim?
Five inches of rain (and counting) since last night; the backyard is now a lake. Those brown patches are not dry land; they're mulch and leaf mould floating on top of the water.My lawn will grow back! Praise be! I love living in a swamp - or, at least, I'm glad to have my swamp back.
UPDATE: the water is 6" deep in the back of the backyard swamp. I know this because I threw sticks into the deepest parts and let Knight do the measuring for me. As Husband frequently comments: "you're not a very nice person." Knight pouted for some time after his information-gathering session outside. I really don't blame him. I know I didn't want to go out there.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Birth Day Songs
Okay, this meme is going around Facebook - it's about finding out the #1 song the day you were born. I did my own, that was bad enough:
Then I looked up Husband's. My apologies to all of you.
And One's. He says he might vomit now that he knows this. I'm sorry, my love, but from a mommy's perspective, it's quite sweet: "I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life... I have been waiting all my life." Cheesy? Of course. But kinda cute...
I'm not sharing Two's with him. Eight is a little young for a song with the word "ass" in the first line, don't you think? And this pose? Ms. Lopez, my son does not need to know about you.
So we're 1 for 4 in the Grass Widow Household (in my opinion, anyway). I knew there was a reason I've always disliked Top 40 music.
Then I looked up Husband's. My apologies to all of you.
And One's. He says he might vomit now that he knows this. I'm sorry, my love, but from a mommy's perspective, it's quite sweet: "I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life... I have been waiting all my life." Cheesy? Of course. But kinda cute...
I'm not sharing Two's with him. Eight is a little young for a song with the word "ass" in the first line, don't you think? And this pose? Ms. Lopez, my son does not need to know about you.
So we're 1 for 4 in the Grass Widow Household (in my opinion, anyway). I knew there was a reason I've always disliked Top 40 music.
Speaking Greek
One and I were having a conversation about Husband's and my days in college tonight, mostly consisting of him throwing out questions here and there and me giving highly sanitized answers to same. At one point I started a sentence "Now your father's fraternity..." and One interrupted:
"Dad's fraternity was the one full of nerds, wasn't it?"
I don't even begin to know how to respond to that. Anyone want to take a shot?
"Dad's fraternity was the one full of nerds, wasn't it?"
I don't even begin to know how to respond to that. Anyone want to take a shot?
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Resolved
I am not the type to make New Year's resolutions; in fact, I'm not sure that I have ever done so. But motivated in part by a friend's loss of 15lbs (over Christmas no less!) and also by Venomous Kate's recently-posted resolutions, I am making an exception this year.
First of all, as a general resolution that effects how seriously I take the rest of these, I resolve to worry less in 2012. I desperately need to try to take more things in stride, and to look actively and consistently for less stress in my life instead of more. In addition, if such things can be accomplished at the same time, I would like to:
1. Lose 15-20lbs
2. Quit drinking diet soda forever
3. Exercise several times a week, even if it's just an evening walk
4. Pray more and cuss less
5. Speak and think positively - both about myself and those around me
I could go on forever, but likely all of these things will still need quite a bit of work one year from now, so I think I'll stop now.
Happy New Year, y'all.
First of all, as a general resolution that effects how seriously I take the rest of these, I resolve to worry less in 2012. I desperately need to try to take more things in stride, and to look actively and consistently for less stress in my life instead of more. In addition, if such things can be accomplished at the same time, I would like to:
1. Lose 15-20lbs
2. Quit drinking diet soda forever
3. Exercise several times a week, even if it's just an evening walk
4. Pray more and cuss less
5. Speak and think positively - both about myself and those around me
I could go on forever, but likely all of these things will still need quite a bit of work one year from now, so I think I'll stop now.
Happy New Year, y'all.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Twenty Questions
"People are not objects"
That was the bumper sticker on the ridiculously underpowered Mercedes sedan in front of me on the Tollway this morning. As an aside, a 200 series, really? With four people in it? I'm surprised it could actually accelerate enough to make in onto the freeway. Blech. People do really stupid things for what they perceive as status, yes?
Anyway, the sticker. What does this mean to you, that people are not objects? That you've figured out basic human biology? That you remember "animal, vegetable or mineral" from childhood? Or what? It had some veeerrryy tiny print underneath it, that another driver could only read if they slammed into the Mercedes from behind - sort of the last thing you see before you're dead, that kind of print. Not. Helpful. All I know is, it is a beautiful sunny day, ELO was very loud and cheerful, and sententious, self-righteous people need to keep themselves to themselves a little bit more.
Thank you very much. That is all.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Battle of the Go-Go's
Two has come to love these little toys, so they were (of course) the main feature on his note to Santa this year. I like them, too, even though they do make Husband sing "We Got the Beat" every time he sees them. One is willing to play these with his brother at home, although I think he would draw the line at bringing them to school, as Two loves to do. Here the two of them are, enjoying Christmas vacation with small, brightly-colored plastic objects.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Comfort Food
I made this Braised Red Cabbage dish as a part of Christmas dinner, and wow, was it a perfect side dish for a cold, rainy day. It paired so well with prime rib; I suspect it would do the same with any hearty beef dish. I'm not usually much of a cabbage fan so I didn't tinker with this one at all - and thankfully it came out just right the first time. It comes from one of my favorite cookbooks, David Waltuck's Staff Meals, which is sadly out of print. Here you go:
Braised Red Cabbage
5 strips bacon cut into 1/4" pieces
4 T unsalted butter
2 medium red onions, halved and cut into thin slices
2 minced cloves garlic
3 T sugar
1 large head purple cabbage, cored and sliced thin
1 1/2 cups low sodium chicken stock (I like Pacific brand)
1/2 cup dry red wine
1/4 cup honey
2 T red wine vinegar
2 T cider vinegar
2 bay leaves
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
Start with a very large pot. Saute the bacon and butter over medium heat for a bit, then add the onions and cook until translucent (10-15 minutes). Add the garlic, cook a minute, then add the sugar and cook a minute more.
Add the cabbage along with everything that's left. Increase the heat to high and bring things to a boil, then reduce to medium low. Cover and simmer for at least an hour - maybe an hour and a half. You want the cabbage tender but not mushy. Remove bay leaves, add more salt and pepper if needed, and serve.
Note: getting everything together before you start this recipe is a must. I was trying to prep this and au gratin potatoes at the same time and arrgh!, my head almost flew off. Next time I will do my mise en place and things will be more organized, yes? Yes.
Braised Red Cabbage
5 strips bacon cut into 1/4" pieces
4 T unsalted butter
2 medium red onions, halved and cut into thin slices
2 minced cloves garlic
3 T sugar
1 large head purple cabbage, cored and sliced thin
1 1/2 cups low sodium chicken stock (I like Pacific brand)
1/2 cup dry red wine
1/4 cup honey
2 T red wine vinegar
2 T cider vinegar
2 bay leaves
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
Start with a very large pot. Saute the bacon and butter over medium heat for a bit, then add the onions and cook until translucent (10-15 minutes). Add the garlic, cook a minute, then add the sugar and cook a minute more.
Add the cabbage along with everything that's left. Increase the heat to high and bring things to a boil, then reduce to medium low. Cover and simmer for at least an hour - maybe an hour and a half. You want the cabbage tender but not mushy. Remove bay leaves, add more salt and pepper if needed, and serve.
Note: getting everything together before you start this recipe is a must. I was trying to prep this and au gratin potatoes at the same time and arrgh!, my head almost flew off. Next time I will do my mise en place and things will be more organized, yes? Yes.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Two's View of Christmas
Two is a bon vivant. He is the child who ate eight pieces of candy, a Cadbury bar, Pop Rocks, and a serving of chocolate mousse on Christmas day alone. But he's also more serious that most people (including me, most of the time) give him credit for.
Here is his picture that he drew for his 3rd grade school concert - they ran a slideshow of "what the holidays mean to you" during one of the songs, and this is what Christmas means to Two.
As the carol says "...Born that men no more may die. Born to raise the sons of Earth, Born to give them second birth." Indeed.
Here is his picture that he drew for his 3rd grade school concert - they ran a slideshow of "what the holidays mean to you" during one of the songs, and this is what Christmas means to Two.
As the carol says "...Born that men no more may die. Born to raise the sons of Earth, Born to give them second birth." Indeed.
Notes on Christmas
The Grass Widow household had a perfect Christmas. The past two+ days have been filled with sleep, presents, food and peace. Here are some vignettes:
Santa is going to get an angry letter from me, because this was one of Two's presents. Yes, it's sharp and dangerous. He has reassured us at least 30 times, "don't worry." Thanks, sweetie; just what we all need to hear.
One received many, many books, this being the worst (and, of course, one of the favorites - thank you, Husband). He didn't feel very well yesterday, so he curled up and read four books in his beloved new chair. Yes. Four. And I carried that enormous chair upstairs by myself last night - no mean feat, if I do say so myself.
I didn't take many food pictures, although we ate like royalty, feasting on prime rib, au gratin potatoes, braised red cabbage, roasted brussel sprouts, carrots sauteéd with orange peel and thyme, and chocolate mousse for dessert. Here is part of our mid-day snack, minus the paté and baguette.
Two received a Lego project much larger than his head, and is still working on it. He's also created a number of new and interesting creatures, including the house-sized Mangmar fish, which is the sworn enemy of the Quacktable squid (yet to be made).
The family member who enjoyed Christmas the most: Knight. He thought the novelty of spending an evening at Gaga's was delightful, surpassed only by Christmas day at home. He hasn't been this happy since Lambie left us.
Just in case you think Husband and I didn't enjoy ourselves as well, I have evidence to the contrary. Here he is, laughing so hard he's crying (I'll take credit for that) and I'm looking cute in my favorite new pair of red shoes. Our 15th Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Happiness: pure bliss.
I hope y'all's Christmas was as warm, relaxing and wonderful as ours.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Santa is going to get an angry letter from me, because this was one of Two's presents. Yes, it's sharp and dangerous. He has reassured us at least 30 times, "don't worry." Thanks, sweetie; just what we all need to hear.
One received many, many books, this being the worst (and, of course, one of the favorites - thank you, Husband). He didn't feel very well yesterday, so he curled up and read four books in his beloved new chair. Yes. Four. And I carried that enormous chair upstairs by myself last night - no mean feat, if I do say so myself.
I didn't take many food pictures, although we ate like royalty, feasting on prime rib, au gratin potatoes, braised red cabbage, roasted brussel sprouts, carrots sauteéd with orange peel and thyme, and chocolate mousse for dessert. Here is part of our mid-day snack, minus the paté and baguette.
Two received a Lego project much larger than his head, and is still working on it. He's also created a number of new and interesting creatures, including the house-sized Mangmar fish, which is the sworn enemy of the Quacktable squid (yet to be made).
The family member who enjoyed Christmas the most: Knight. He thought the novelty of spending an evening at Gaga's was delightful, surpassed only by Christmas day at home. He hasn't been this happy since Lambie left us.
Just in case you think Husband and I didn't enjoy ourselves as well, I have evidence to the contrary. Here he is, laughing so hard he's crying (I'll take credit for that) and I'm looking cute in my favorite new pair of red shoes. Our 15th Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Happiness: pure bliss.
I hope y'all's Christmas was as warm, relaxing and wonderful as ours.Merry Christmas, everyone!
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