Slut's Spaghetti

Okay, so it really isn't called"slut's spaghetti," except in Nigella's book.  It is actually called  pasta alla puttanesca, which (according to Nigella) translates into "slut's spaghetti."  Even if it is completely wrong, it's fun!  The recipe is here.   

Swede and Annika went to run errands so I started cooking.  It was a surreptitious meal, I will admit.  Here's why:  the ingredients include anchovies, capers, and olives - all of which are objectionable to the other members of my family. 

It was very easy to make.  I even made the pasta myself.  I used pasta dough I'd frozen from prior pasta making experiences.  For what it's worth, homemade pasta dough freezes perfectly if wrapped tightly in saran wrap and then placed in a ziplock bag.  I thawed it in the fridge and it rolled out like freshly-made dough.  And as long as we're on the pasta topic, I highly recommend the KitchenAid pasta attachment for anybody who has a KitchenAid and has ever thought of making pasta.  As evidenced by the fact that I have now made pasta several times, it is easy and idiot-proof.  Astrid sampled the noodles after I cooked them.  She squealed in delight.  I take that to be a good sign.  Though she also squeals when she manages to get a piece of random fuzz off the floor and into her mouth.  I do heavily salt my noodle-cooking water, so the noodles were deliciously salty.  Perhaps Astrid inherited my affinity for salt.  I know Annika did (she will eat the soy sauce straight out of the bowl at sushi). 

By the time Swede and Annika came home, the pasta was ready and I was just finishing up peas with mint (a bag of frozen peas with a few leaves of mint from the garden, salt, pepper, and a tablespoon of butter).  Swede walks in and immediately says "it smells interesting in here."  Note, "interesting" and not "good."  Astrid and I knew that it was the anchovies, but I wasn't about to tell him that!  He claims to hate anchovies and I wanted him to actually try the pasta.  (For the record, I am also deeply disturbed by anchovies and hated every second of chopping them.  But I reasoned that I love authentic Caesar dressing, which has them in it.  So cleverly disguised in other yummy ingredients, anchovies are also yummy.)  The capers and olives were far more obvious, but what are you going to do?

It is Memorial Day and the weather has been fantastic, so I told Annika to set the table outside.  She complied.  I poured her some apple juice and popped a bottle of sparkling rose for me and Swede.  Annika came to the table with her own drink - coconut water that she had her dad buy her at the store.  She explained that it is better to have two drinks.  That way when you run out of one, you can just drink the other.  Swede asked whether it would be better to have TEN drinks based on that logic.  Annika was flummoxed.  I raised my champagne flute to toast "Happy Memorial Day" with Swede.  Annika wanted in on the toasting and insisted that each of us toast both of her drinks.  That's my daughter - double-fisting it. 

Both Swede and Annika loved the Slut's Spaghetti, despite the anchovies, capers, and olives.  Once Swede started eating his second helping, I told him what was in it.  "I KNEW I smelled something weird!" he said.  He then reminded me he hates anchovies.  But he admitted to loving the pasta and finished his second helping.  It was good. Salty and vinegar-y.  I will totally make it again because it was super-easy and quick.  Annika even loved it despite her self-proclaimed hatred of olives as of last week.  *sigh*  Is there any consistency among five year olds? 

Happy Memorial Day, everyone!

Roses and Thorns

It has been almost a month since I've posted.  I've been slacking.  Big time.  But Astrid is nine months now and in a very grabby phase that makes it very hard to use a computer around her (without long strings of incomprehensible characters due to her helping me type, anyway).  Most of my previous posts werewritten immediately after dinner while my memory was still fresh and Astrid quietly nursed.  I have a system where I can put a pillow behind the boppy and type over her.  (Sorry if that was too much information to share with you, but really, if you've read any of this blog or know me at all, you can't possibly be surprised that I am pro-breastfeeding?)  That system no longer works because Astrid is now old enough to eat and grab things (or press computer keys) at the same time.  Nor can I set her on the floor with her toys and type away.  She is mobile and will get to me and my computer no matter where I put her!  The kid just loves to press buttons, literally and figuratively. I could not, however, let May pass by with no blog entry.  So here goes . . .

There really is nothing quite like coming home from work with your dinner already 75 percent done.  Nope, I did not hire a personal chef.  I'm talking about the crock pot!  Really, it is a treat to walk in the door and smell dinner already cooking (insert snarky husband comment here).  It is a bit of a pain to deal with a raw, whole chicken at 5:30 a.m., but the payoff is worth it.  Today I made cilantro lime chicken before I went to the gym.  You take a whole chicken (Whole Foods now sells pasture-raised hens!), rub the outside with salt and pepper, then squeeze the juice of one lime over the chicken.  Then you put the lime rind into the chicken cavity with 3 cloves of garlic and a bunch of cilantro.  Then you cook the chicken on low for 7 hours.  Easy!  Although anyone in my house can attest to the very loud "EEEEW!" that can be heard as I remove the gizzards from a raw chicken cavity before I've had my coffee. 

Once I got home from work, all I had to do was make the Brussels sprouts.  I think I've posted this before, but it is so good and so easy I must post again.  Melt 1.5 tablespoons of butter with 1.5 tablespoons of olive oil.  Partially thaw a bag of frozen Brussels sprouts in the microwave (about 2 minutes).  Brown the sprouts in the butter/oil and sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper.  Once they are slightly browned, add a half cup of water, put a lid on the pan, and simmer for 5-10 minutes.  Then take the lid off and cook the liquid down if necessary.  While the sprouts were cooking, I took the chicken off the bones (the meat just falls off the bone after sitting in a crock pot all day), put the juices in a measuring cup and skimmed the fat off the top.  I added a splash of vermouth to the juices and then poured a little over the chicken.  Yum!  The sprouts recipe is from the book Hungry Monkey.  It is written by a foodie.  I am proud to say that the chicken recipe is from a crock pot book recommended by said foodie that I prior to ever reading Hungry Monkey.  I cannot tell you how cool I felt when I discovered that I already owned a book recommended by the author of Hungry Monkey!  (The book is called Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker Recipes.)  Crock-baked chicken is tender and juicy.  And the sprouts - as always - are buttery and heavenly.  Is that redundant?

While I was cooking, Swede set the table.  It was very sweet of him.  But lately I've given that job to Annika, who (according to her teacher) needs to take more responsibility around the house.  Her reward for setting the table each day is that she gets to choose who sits at what colored place mat. In Annika world, the special place mats are the Swedish colors, blue and yellow.  The consequence of not setting the table is that she has to sit where we tell her.  This is evidently a very big deal.  Because when she told me she didn't set the table today, I told her she was stuck at the pink place mat and she had a meltdown of Fukushima proportions (too soon?).  I am not exaggerating or embellishing when I tell you the child almost spent the rest of the night in her room because she could not have the blue or yellow place mat.  She won't neglect to set the table ever again. 

While Annika pouted in her chair, Astrid devoured Brussels sprouts.  I chopped up three decent-sized sprouts for her and she finished them before Annika was done with her tantrum.  I think the butter must ahve gone to Astrid's head because she was in rare form.  Swede mentioned that he wanted to watch the rest of the Vancouver/San Jose game.  At the mere mention of hockey, Astrid started clapping her hands.  Seriously, we successfully recreated the clapping by saying "Astrid, Vancouver!  Vancouver!"  Ordinarily we have her trained well enough that she'll clap after you say "let's go Redwings/Rangers/Canucks/Lightning" in that singsongy voice that people use to cheer at games.  But this was something new.  Clearly she is brilliant.  Astrid was so cute and so hungry, I gave her some mashed up black beans, which she also devoured.

By this time, Annika

Annika was intrigued, so I made her start to keep her enthusiasm up.  And what was her rose?  Eating lunch.  That was apparently the best thing that happened to her today.  I'm pretty sure that's pitiful.  Her thorn was that she didn't have a very good day.  When I insisted she be more specific, she referred me to the first half of dinner.  We went around the table and each gave our roses and thorns.  Swede vetoed my new bottle of rosé as my rose, although that is technically an accurate statement!  We decided that Astrid's rose was Brussels sprouts.  Her thorn was the gigantic bruise she had mysteriously acquired across and behind her left ear.  (I realize that babies have hard heads and that I need to let her learn to walk on her own and fight my helicopter parent urges, but big red marks on her porcelain skin make me want to wrap her in bubble wrap!  Wait, that's probably a suffocation hazard.  Change of plans, we're padding every hard surface in the house!)

Annika was so inspired that she created her own game in which we go around the table and say our favorite animal and our favorite thing in the house.  Annika's favorite animal was "sea creatures, all of them."  Okay.  I went before Swede, so I got to steal "my family" as my favorite thing in the house.  Swede, who couldn't copy me, was stumped for a minute and then came up with TV.  Annika made him choose something else.  He then chose his hockey equipment, at which point Annika warned him that if he didn't pick something good she'd choose for him.  And she'd choose flowers.  Amy, let this be a warning to you for tomorrow's dinner.  If Annika asks you to name your favorite thing in the house, it should be her.  Or flowers.  Or Swedish colors.

Easter Eggs and Homemade Pasta

Tomorrow is Easter.  Swede and I are lazy agnostics, so poor Annika thinks Easter is all about colored eggs and the Eastser bunny.  Evidently that will endure for another year since we neglected to tell her that yesterday, Jesus died.  Without that crucial information, it wouldn't make sense to tell her tomorrow that he rose from the dead. 

As ambivalent as I am about religion, however, I hold very strong beliefs when it comes to food.  I think artificial food dyes are evil.  And that is why the Paas egg-dying kit had to go this year.  I was so excited to discover that you can dye eggs with natural ingredients. It takes a lot longer than the fake chemical dyes, but promised to make a fantastic mother-daughter project.  Annika almost ruined it this morning.  She told a lie (a really stupid lie, she lied about whether she had eaten a piece of licorice).  Lying has been an issue lately, so we really came down on her.  One of the punishments mentioned was taking away Easter.  The problem is, I really wanted to try these naturally-dyed eggs!  So I pleaded with Swede to let her earn egg-dying back.  She still has no TV or iPod all weekend.  But I get my eggs, so all is well.

On the way home from boxing class today, I went grocery shopping and picked up beets, red cabbage, and an extra jar of paprika because I was running low.  I also picked up some white eggs.  I usually buy the free range brown eggs, but I suspect they won't dye well.  While Annika napped, I shredded the beets and cabbage in the food processor (LOVE that thing!) and pre-measured two tablespoons each of paprika and turmeric.  When Annika woke up, everything was ready to go.  To dye Easter eggs, naturally, you need to boil the eggs in the dyed water.  So that Annika wouldn't have to hover on a stepstool over a hot stove, I set up an electric griddle at the dining room table. 

We started with two pans for efficiency.  Annika - suprise! - chose to start with pink (beets).  She placed four eggs in each pan (and by "placed" I mean "dropped," cracking two of them!).   I read online that changing the pH of the water affects color.  So in one pot we put two cups beets, 4 cups of water, and a tablespoon of vinegar.  In the other pot, we did the same thing except we used baking soda instead of vinegar.  Then we let them boil. 

After 10 minutes, the damn water was still not boiling on the electric griddle.  I became impatient and just transferred them to the stove,where they boiled over after I failed to watch them for four minutes.  Once I got the pots to an efficent, non-boiling over boil, I checked out the eggs.  The dye in the vinegar pot had turned into a brilliant pink and the eggs were slightly pink.  The dye in the baking soda pot had turned a very dark ugly pink and the eggs were starting to take on the hue of poo.  I immediately put the baking soda pot eggs into the pretty dye and put the ugly dye out of its misery by dumping it down the drain.  I let the eggs boil for 15 minutes, at which point they were still very white and hardly pink at all.  I strained the beets out of the liquid and transferred the eggs and liquid to a bowl to sit for awhile. 

Annika chose purple next, so we put four cups shredded red cabbage into a pan with 5-6 cups of water and a tablespoon of vinegar.  Having learned from the prior failure, I went straight to the stove with the pot and skipped the separate baking soda pot entirely.  Once I got those on the stove, we started another pot of turmeric-dyed eggs (yellow). 

The yellow vividly imparted itself on the eggs very quickly.  The cabbage?  Not so much.  And it was blue instead of purple.  I took both off the stove after 15 minutes, strained the liquid, and let them sit in the dye like the pink eggs.  Then we turned to our final hue, orange (paprika).  After 15 minutes, it was clear the paprika was a weak dye as well.  Those eggs also got to sit for awhile longer in the liquid. 

At that point, I started my pasta. The recipe was wickedly complicated - three eggs and two cups of flour.  Because my new pasta maker is actually an attachment to my Kitchen-Aid, I drug that clunkly mixer out of the bottom of my pantry and cleaned it.  Fortunately, I was able to do all my mixing in the Kitchen-Aid with hardly any kneading.  Sweet!  I ended up adding about 2 Tablespoons of water to get the consistency of the dough right.  I then wrapped it in plastic wrap and let it sit for 20 minutes while I read my pasta maker instructions.  I've been excited yet terrified to try my hand at pasta.  I've heard it's tedious, tricky, unrewarding, and time-consuming.  Egg noodles, as it turns out, are none of those things.  I made the dough into fettucini-style egg noodles with no issue.  Then I boiled the noodles in salted water for 3 minutes and tossed it with leftover  reheated spring chicken (a Nigella recipe)- minus the chicken and mixed with about a cup of heavy cream.  (Our spring chicken was made with turkey bacon rather than ham, of course.)

Because it was a lovely day, I had Swede set the patio table for dinner while I fed the baby. 

Dinner was so delicious.  I won't say perfect because there weren't enough vegetables.  But the pasta was damn good!  There really is a difference between homemade and store-bought.  My homemade was perfectly al dente and delicious (probably as a result of the salted water).  And Nigella's leftovers as sauce?  I never doubt Nigella.  She is a genius and a goddess.  Annika ejoyed the meal, but was quite distracted by all the outdoor wonders in our back yard.  "I see a lizard!  A baby lizard!  Oh, a fly!"  She did enjoy drinking her apple juice out of a "grown up glass" - a wine glass.  Could it be sending the wrong message?  Sure.  But it makes her feel like a sophisticated diner.  It therefore makes her more polite.  I'll take it.

Shortly before dinner was ready, I took the eggs out of their dye-baths.  Here is the result - not exactly Paas quality. 

But Annika was pleased.  I feel fortunate to have a daughter so easy to please.  And at least they are not bathed in chemicals. The only dye worth its salt appears to be the turmeric.  That yellow is very yellow.  But I am a little scared to try the deviled turmeric eggs tomorrow, particularly the cracked ones.  Those might just be a little spicy!  Maybe next year we'll do what Swede did as a child and paint the eggs with actual paint.  And mabye we'll tell Annika about Jesus then too.  I hope it doesn't ruin the Easter bunny for her.

Dim Sum

Today's post is the lunchtime edition of the family dinner.  My parents are visiting this week, so I decided it would be nice to broaden their cultural horizons and take them to dim sum.  I've already indoctrinated my Swedish mother in law, so she happily agreed to go.  My friend Erin, a fellow dim sum lover, joined us as well. 

I have to admit that I lured my parents there in a slightly less than honest way.  See, my parents - in particular my father - are good old Midwestern meat 'n' potatoes folk.  My mom is a little more adventurous than my dad (especially in the realm of vegetables), but dim sum would certainly be a new concept to them.  Knowing they would protest, I tried to approach it casually.  I mentioned we planned to take them to dim sum on Sunday.  I immediately got the suspicious look.  "What is dim sum?"  "Oh, it's Chinese food.  Yeah, but they serve it a la carte."  This is, of course, true, but not the whole truth.  Dim sum is full of textures and flavors unfamiliar to people whose Chinese food experience consists mostly of General Tso's chicken.  My half truths bought me skeptical acceptance. 

After a brutal kickboxing workout on Sunday morning, I collected the family and went to dim sum.  (The brutal workout is an important component of dim sum.  It allows me to consume massive quantities of grease without feeling guilty.)  Dim sum is perfect for dining with small children.  There is immediate gratification because the carts swarm your table as soon as you sit down.  And it is big and noisy, so nobody glares out you when the baby starts fussing . . . or outright screaming. 

We sat down and the dumpling cart made a beeline for our table.  Within about 30 seconds we had shrimp dumplings, scallop dumplings, spinach shrimp dumplings, and pork dumplings.  Annika helpfully pointed out that she and I don't eat pork, but they were fair game for the rest of the table.  As the gelatinous blobs of dumplings made their way around the lazy susan, my dad announced that if this was the only type of food available to him, he'd lose a lot of weight.  Funny, I'd weigh about 350 pounds and could live out my dream of being on The Biggest Loser. 

Annika, sandwiched between my parents, was quite the pusher.  "Oh, did you try these shrimp dumplings?  I LOVE shrimp dumplings!"  "You HAVE to try these green beans, they are SOOOO good!"  Annika is a dim sum pro.  As the carts come around, Annika will listen to what they have and either say yes for the table or squish up her face and say "eeeeew!  I don't eat that!"  The latter is reserved for dishes made of beef or pork.  So far, none of the servers have seemed offended from her reaction.  Sometimes she's not sure, so she'll yell across the table to ask me "mom do we eat lobster?"  Like I said, dim sum is nice and noisy.  Perfect for children.

To further encourage my parents, I mentioned that they actually eat much more on the menu than I do.  (Seriously, why is pork in everything?)  My dad protested "yeah, but I don't recognize any of it.  Where's the rice?  Do they just have rice?"  I threatened to take them next door for sushi.  I am proud my parents.  In spite of their significant hesitation, they managed to eat a full meal each.  Although I never thought I'd see my dad so happy to lay eyes on a plate of stir-fried noodles (he recognized them and was able to order them himself). 

Annika probably ate more than anybody at the table.  After enthusiastically sampling  everything that came her way, she - while gulping apple juice - proclaimed that she was so full her tummy hurt.  That lasted all of three minutes until the dessert cart came by.  Miraculously, her stomach healed itself so that she could eat half a mochi ball and a quarter of a cream-filled bun. 

All in all, I think it was a success.  I waited until we got home before I told my parents about chicken feet and shark's fin.  I doubt my parents will ever voluntarily go to dim sum again, but at least they have a fun cultural story to tell their friends.  And at least it wasn't sushi.

Chaos!

Admittedly, "chaos" could be the title for every post.  It is the one word that most accurately describes the lives of all the working parents I know.  (Actually, this could easily extend to many working non-parents I know as well.)  It seemed particularly appropriate tonight, however.  Maybe it's a Monday thing.

On the menu tonight were red wine risotto with garlic and rosemary and asparagus with lemon shallot vinaigrette.  They are both from The Complete Italian Vegetarian Cookbook by Jack Bishop.  Everything I've ever made from this book has been great.  But a lot of the recipes are very complex and time consuming.  Perfect for a Monday, right?  Oh, yeah, and it was my first attempt at risotto. 

I've heard that risotto can be tricky and you have to get everything just right.  This was not, then, a good recipe for my normal technique of haphazardly prepping the ingredients at the same time I'm cooking other ingredients.  At around 5:00, I started.  Swede was at Target, so it was just me and the girls.  I plopped Astrid into her Jumperoo, where she happily hung out.  This was a good sign since in the evenings I have about a 50-50 chance of being able to put her down without loud protests. 

5:05 - I grab the scissors and head outside to cut sprigs of rosemary and pick a lemon from our tree.  As I open the door I hear a loud crash followed by crying.  Setting the scissors down, I head to Annika's room.  She tearfully explained that she walked backward into her book case.  It made no sense, but I really wanted to make good use of the time Astrid was willingly seated in the Jumperoo.  So I examined her scrape (it was a decent one) and handed her an ice pack without further inquiry.

5:10 - I cut two sprigs of rosemary and picked my lemon.  Once inside, I chop the rosemary until I have two teaspoons.  Then I heated 6 cups of vegetable broth in a sauce pan.  While it was reaching a good simmer, I measured out the other ingredients - 3 tablespoons of butter, 2 cups arborio rice, 4 minced cloves of garlic, a half cup of red wine, and a half cup Parmesan cheese.

5:25 - The broth now simmering, I melted 2 tablespoons of butter in another large sauce pan. 

5:27 - I add the rosemary and garlic to the butter and start sauteing. 

5:29 - I add the rice to the butter and continue stirring.  Swede comes home from the store.  Astrid starts to fuss.  Swede realizes that nobody's checked the mail, so he goes back outside.

5:30 - I add the red wine, Swede returns with the mail.  Astrid is fussing and I am stirring.

5:32 - I begin adding the simmering broth a half cup at a time, stirring until it is absorbed into the rice.  Though I am supposed to stir constantly, I can't help but sift through the mail.  Astrid is expressing great displeasure at being trapped in her Jumperoo.

5:33 - I find a collection notice!  The hospital where I gave birth is excellent at providing medical care, but really really bad at billing.  In the eight months since I had Astrid, they still haven't billed my insurance properly - despite several phone calls.  The last time I spoke with them, they agreed to put my account on hold while they sorted out their incompetence.  Clearly that was a losing battle because now there is a debt collection agency involved. 

5:34 - Swede comes to rescue Astrid from her baby toy prison.  I tell him about the scrape on Annika's back. He goes off to investigate.

5:35 - I stir more broth into the rice.  I am also seething.  I want to call the billing department of the hospital, but I have about 20 more minutes of constant stirring in my immediate future.  The anger wins out and I decide to call them on speaker phone while I stir.

5:40 - I continue to stir while on hold.  I hear shouting down the hallway.  Swede tells me that Annika has lied about breaking a hanger.  She broke the hanger while trying to pull down a dress from her closet.  There is also a large exercise ball in her room.  Suddenly her scrape starts to make more sense. 

5:45 - Still on hold. Still stirring.  Annika wanders out.  The dress she had been trying to get down was her butterfly Halloween costume. She is now wearing it.  I confront her about how she really hurt herself.  She gives me some vague story about walking backward into the bookcase.  It is now abundantly clear she is lying and I tell her so.  She admits that she stood on the exercise ball to get a dress from her closet, fell off, broke the hanger, and hit her back on her bed frame.  Aha!  This is like the third lie in a week, so I lecture her and send her to her room (she also loses all forms of TV and iPod).  It is hard to be stern with a butterfly. 

5:47 - I have about a cup of simmering liquid left.  I continue to add it slowly while stirring the rice.  I am still on hold.

5:48 - Eureka!  A live person answers the phone.  I pick up the phone, pinching it between my shoulder and ear and continuing to stir and pour. 

5:51 - The representative sympathizes with me, but can't help me.  I have to call back to a different number in the morning.  Yeah, right, by tomorrow there will be a strongly worded letter heading their way.  Fortunately, I am more competent than the hospital billing department and have managed to not ruin the rice during the conversation.  And they say there's no such thing as multi-tasking!

5:55 - I remove the rice from heat and "vigorously" stir in the last tablespoon of butter and the Parmesan cheese.  I set it aside. 

5:55 to 6:05 - I blanch the asparagus in salted water and whisk together the vinaigrette (juice and zest of one lemon, one minced shallot, a quarter cup of olive oil, and a pinch of coarse sea salt).

6:06 - I toss the asparagus in the vinaigrette and make Annika set the table. 

Annika gladly set the table because she knows it means she gets to assign the seats.  She made a very dramatic presentation of "eeny meeny miney moe" and selected me to sit next to her.   According to Annika, it was because she loves me.  As I serve the food and Swede puts Astrid in her high chair.  Annika cannot not resist sampling the asparagus. 

Annika:  "You can not eat until everybody is at the table!  Unless you just want to try a little bite.  It's okay to try a little bite.  Mmmm . . . these beans are good."

Me:  "That's asparagus."

Annika: "Yeah, okay, but the beans are good!  And lemony."

Me:  "The green stuff is asparagus, Annika"

Annika:  "Whatever, they're good."

When we were all seated, Annika announced "this dinner wasn't bad after all!"  Well, thanks, I guess.  I thought it was much better than "not bad."  The risotto consistency was pretty darn close to perfect, not too mushy, but sufficiently creamy. (According to Swede, his grandfather made risotto all the time and it looked nothing like mine.  I'm glad I have my husband and daughter to keep me humble.) The red wine and rosemary gave the risotto a nice savory flavor that was not overpowering.  Good thing I like it, because there is plenty left over.  Annika might have incorrectly called the asparagus "beans," but she got the "lemony" part right.  The shallot and lemon were a great match for the pungent asparagus, which was nice and tender. 

All and all it was a tasty dinner; pleasant, even.  Well, up until the point our geriatric dog got stuck under the table and had to be lifted up and carried away from the table.  Yep, we're just like the Cleavers.

Holy Garlic, Batman!

It has become a Sunday tradition for Annika to choose a recipe from her kids' cookbook to make.  After that, we make ice cream.  Today, Annika chose angel hair pasta with herbs, garlic, and shrimp. Okay, she actually chose mac and cheese, but I made her choose something else and THEN she chose angel hair pasta. 

Annika then "chose" cherry ice cream.  See, cherry is the flavor I wanted to make, so I gave her the following "choices":  spiced ice cream, coffee ice cream, mint ice cream, and cherry ice cream.  Cherry it was!  (As long as kids have the illusion of choice, they're good - she didn't even question why chocolate wasn't on the list.) 

Finally, I had Annika chose a vegetable to make as a side dish.  She chose broccoli . . . again.  It is the child's favorite veggie.  She even told me the other day that her farts smell like "yummy broccoli"!  Wow.  Annika specified that she wanted the broccoli with lemon and garlic, like we'd had last week.  Okay, I can't argue with that.

I typically like the Williams-Sonoma kids' cookbook that I bought for Annika.  The pictures are great and the recipes are grown-up friendly too.  But you have to use common sense.  For instance, the lasagna she made two weeks ago called for an entire pound of mozzarella and almost two pounds of ricotta.  Um, no.  We halved that and it was perfectly fine.  That brings me to the pasta.  It called for eight cloves of garlic.  Eight!  I should have remembered the lasagna, but I figured hey, it's garlic, garlic is good.  Why not?  Annika and I dutifully mixed 8 oz. of quinoa pasta (cooked in salted water) with the sauce.  We easily made the sauce out of eight cloves of garlic sauteed in 2 teaspoons of olive oil.  Then we added a pound of peeled shrimp (Annika peeled them), a quarter cup of chopped parsley, and the zest of one lemon.  (On a side note, can somebody please create an easy zest?  Like a jar of zest?  Or "easy zest" lemons?)  Then we tossed the sauce with the pasta.  I say "we," but it was really me.  It was at this point Annika decided she was done cooking.  I fought every instinct to push her to continue.  After all, I want her to enjoy cooking, not dread it.  I did manage to cajole her into stirring the pasta and sauce together after she dumped in a quarter cup of Parmesan cheese.

While Annika  was off not stirring the pasta, I made the broccoli.  Yet another Peter Berley recipe.  First., I blanched one head of broccoli (cut into bite-sized florets) in very salty water.  Then I sauteed 2 cloves of garlic in hot olive oil for 30 seconds and added the broccoli and sauteed it all for 3 minutes.  Serve it with a lemon wedge for squeezing.

If you are keeping score at home, that is a ten garlic clove meal.  Don't get me wrong, it tasted good, but my  breath is likely still a weapon of mass destruction.  The garlic absolutely eclipsed the rest of the pasta.  Next time I'll probably use four.  The broccoli was perfect, tangy and garlicky.  On its own, the broccoli would have been great.  With the pasta, it was adding insult to injury.  That, of course, didn't stop me from bringing both leftovers for lunch today.  Sorry, coworkers. 

The ice cream was a delicious treat.  Really, can you ever screw up ice cream so badly that it isn't?  But this was particularly good.  It tasted more like cherries than cream, which is awesome if you love cherries and I do!  Here's the recipe:  http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Cherry-Ice-Cream/Detail.aspx  An ice cream maker is a great investment.  It is pretty cheap and - as long as you remember to freeze the canister in advance - it is nearly instant gratification.  You just mix a handful of ingredients and pour them into the canister and wait for about 15 minutes.  And then you have delicious, homemade ice cream (in our case, organic) as a reward!

Eating Healthfully on a Budget

One of my biggest pet peeves is when I hear people complain that eating healthfully is cost-prohibitive.  Yes, organic chicken is way more expensive to purchase than the factory farmed "chickens."  Organic milk is more expensive than milk from tortured cows.  (Okay, this post might be just a bit preachy.  Sorry.)  Eating cherries out of season (shipped in from Chile) is pricey.  But it is perfectly affordable to eat good food.  In other words, being on a budget is no excuse for eating crap.  By sticking to unprocessed whole grains, legumes, and seasonal produce, you can craft a nutritionally-complete meal for what you would pay to feed your family off the value menu at a fast-food joint.  Dinner tonight is an example.

**In this post, I am using the terms "cost" and "price" to refer exclusively to what you will spend out of pocket.  There are abundant hidden costs to processed, factory farmed food - poor health, animal cruelty, and a ruined environment, to name a few.  But that's for another post, or to read about in a Michael Pollan book**

Tonight we ate red lentil soup and broccoli with balsamic butter.  While I usually regale you with amusing (or so I hope) anecdotes of my family at dinner, this post will break down the price and nutrition of dinner.  Okay, maybe I'll give you a cute Annika story at the end to make up for being so boring.  I hate numbers too, but this is an important point to make!

The red lentil soup consisted of:
one chopped onion ($1.27 for prechopped organic onion, you could save money by chopping yourself but they make me cry)
4 ribs organic celery - chopped (1/3 of a $2.69 stalk = $.90)
2 T organic, extra-virgin olive oil ($6.99 for a 16.9 oz bottle = $.41)
1 lb organic red lentils ($2.69 from the bulk section of Whole Foods)
1 t each cumin and turmeric, 3/4 t coriander (I can't remember what I paid for the spices, so I'll give them collectively $.50)
6 c organic low-sodium veggie broth ($1.99 for a 4 cup carton at Trader Joe's = $2.99)
Juice of one organic lemon (I have a lemon tree, so it was free, but I'll give you $.50 to buy one)

To make it, you saute the onion and celery in the oil and then dump everything into the slow cooker with a little water for 6-7 hours (from my go-to slow cooker cookbook - Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker Recipes).  The actual prep work takes approximately 7 minutes.

The broccoli is also simple (thank you Peter Berley):
1 lb organic broccoli ($2.99 because I buy just the broccoli crowns, full stalks are less)
1.5 T organic butter ($5.99 for a package of 4 sticks = $.28)
1.5 T organic aged balsamic vinegar ($5.99 for a 16.9 oz bottle = $.27)

You blanche the broccoli in salted water (okay, $.02 for the sea salt).  While you are doing that, brown the butter by letting it cook over medium heat in a small skillet.  It will foam, then begin to brown.  Once it browns, turn off the heat, mix in the vinegar (careful, it will sizzle and splatter).  Then toss the drained broccoli with the balsamic butter.  Easy peasy. 

The lentil soup was very flavorful.  I might add garlic next time, but it was certainly not bland, nor was it too spicy.  The balsamic butter thickens considerably so that it is almost a glaze.  It makes the blanched, tender broccoli deliciously sweet and buttery. 

Using www.sparkpeople.com and www.sparkrecipes.com, I was able to calculate the nutritional value of the meal by entering each recipes' ingredients:

So (drumroll please) for $12.82, you get a nutritionally-balanced dinner for 4 and 1-2 servings of leftovers for lunch.  That works out to just over $2/serving.  And it is all organic. You might think that 10 grams of protein for dinner is unreasonably low.  I say Americans tend to get way too much protein.  But if it makes you feel better, throw in a serving of quinoa or brown rice and add about $.50/serving.  Also, there is less than 20 minutes of actual work involved in this meal - less time than it takes to hit the drive thru and get home. 

Does this mean my grocery bill is super-low each week?  Heck no!  I buy the organic dairy and a couple servings of sustainable seafood and organic poultry.  I also buy rice milk for Annika and prepacked apple sauce for her lunch.  Oh, and of course there is wine.  But (other than wine) these are not necessities; these are luxuries.  I could survive without them and save a ton of money.  My point is that the basics - while not particularly exciting - can sustain you for a very reasonable price.  Something to keep in mind next time somebody tells you how much cheaper it is to eat McDonald's or how Kraft Mac and Cheese is the only budget-friendly option. 

I will now step off my soapbox and give you the cute kid stories you've come to expect.  Annika was a bit like the month of March for dinner - in like a lion, out like a lamb.  She began by throwing herself to the floor and screaming that she wanted to sit in my seat.  I don't negotiate with terrorists or children behaving badly (is there a difference?) so I said no.  She burst into tears and after about two minutes sobbed, quite pitifully, "I just want to sit next to my baby sister!"  Sure enough, Astrid's high chair had ended up between me and Swede.  It was an easy enough fix to push the high chair in between me and Annika instead.  No, that was not giving in to a screaming child.  Remember, the screaming child wanted to sit in MY chair.  Rather, moving the baby was a mature, amicable solution that we could easily accomplish once Annika communicated instead of screamed.  Lesson learned.  I'm sure it will never happen again.  In any event, Annika dubbed the soup the "beautiful gold soup."  I believe the turmeric is responsible for the hue.  She also ate the broccoli and declared "this dinner wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."  With a four-year-old, that's all you can ask for.  On top of that, Astrid ate all her pureed peas with minimal criticism.   I'll take it.

Best. Chicken. Ever.

Today is St. Patrick's Day.  My friends are at Irish pubs consuming green beer and celebrating.  I am at home because Swede has an early hockey game.  As it turns out, this works in my favor.  Since I'm home tonight, I made a new Nigella recipe:  chicken with 40 cloves of garlic.  http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/nigella-lawson/chicken-with-40-cloves-of-garlic-recipe/index.html

That might sound like too much garlic (though to some of my friends it isn't even close).  The thing is, you don't peel the garlic, so it isn't overwhelming.  I got home from work at around 5 and started immediately on the chicken.  It is simple to prepare, just brown the chicken thighs (which I had to defrost on the fly because I lack the ability to plan), quickly sautee the green onions/thyme, add the garlic and vermouth (oh how I love vermouth), and throw it in the oven.  It then has to bake for 90 minutes.  I fully intended to prepare carrots to go with the meal.

I took the 90 minutes, however, to go outside and enjoy the weather before it gets deathly hot outside.  I brought the girls out on the patio with me.  Astrid happily played in her exersaucer while Annika raced her bike back and forth, pretending to be Lightning McQueen competing for the Piston Cup and sponsorship by Dinoco.  Since nobody else was competing with her, she won four Piston Cups and - of course - got the prestigious sponsorship.  In the meantime, I read my Kindle.  It was so idyllic, I completely forgot about the carrots.  One night without veggies, won't kill us, right?  Sure hope not.  I guess that's why we take multivitamins. 

Then the chicken was ready.  It smelled heavenly.  I transferred Astrid to her high chair and let Annika feed her some Os (the organic Whole Foods version of Cheerios).  Annika asked if she could have her water in a "big girl glass."  I determined this meant a wine glass.  Hopefully this won't create problems later, but I agreed.  To fancy up her water (and to alleviate some guilt at forgetting the carrots), I sliced up a couple strawberries and put them in her water/wine glass.  Annika also requested to sit in my seat at dinner.  She apparently felt quite grown up.

I cut her piece of chicken up for her because it had a bone in it (if you have been avoiding chicken thighs for health reasons, stop it.  Thighs taste so much better and are only marginally higher in fat if  you forgo the skin.)  The chicken melted off the bone and I was able to carve it up with a butter knife.  Annika (blech!) likes the skin, so I left a bit for her.  I served myself without skin.  I just can't get over the fact that it's, well, skin!  Ew!  The meat was tender and succulent.  It tasted faintly of garlic and thyme. The vermouth added a welcome bite.  In sum, it was amazing!  I am a loyal devotee to my butter chicken, but I think this is the best I've ever made.  It was juicy and flavorful.  I seriously started gnawing whatever meat I could scavenge off the bone.  Both Annika and I had a second thigh each.  We likely would have each had a third, but I had to save some for Swede (I only made 6). 

The meal was so amazing that Annika left her seat on three occasions to hug me and tell me how delicious the chicken was and how much she loves me.  Astrid happily ate her Os, not having any idea what she was missing.  Annika didn't complain about a single thing.  This might be the first time that's happened.  I will definitely make this chicken again - next time with a side of veggies, though. 

Ice Cream

Tonight I went with a Nigella classic - scallops with Thai-scented peas. 
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/nigella-lawson/scallops-with-thai-scented-pea-puree-recipe/index.html

This is "classic" because I've now made it three times.  The first time, I decided to spring for jumbo scallops.  It turned out great - the scallops caramelized perfectly.  They were slightly crispy on the outside and deliciously tender and sweet in the middle, just like they are supposed to be!  The second time, I opted for frozen bay scallops, which are much smaller but roughly half the price.  They released way too much liquid into the pan and did not caramelize at all.  They still tasted pretty good, but were a bit rubbery, completely soggy, and a little fishy. 

Last Sunday when I saw bay scallops on super-sale at Whole Foods, I couldn't resist - despite my prior water-logged experience.  I vowed that this time would be different.  I'd thaw them in plenty of time so that I wouldn't be scrambling to thaw frozen scallops right as I throw them in the pan.  Oops.  As it turns out I totally forgot about them until this afternoon.  I had to thaw them under running water in my strainer.  Still determined to avoid sogginess, I put them in a single layer between two paper towels.  Before I put the top layer of towel on, I sprinkled them with a little salt to draw out extra water.  (You are evidently not supposed to do this with seafood as it can become rubbery.)  Then I only sauteed half at a time so that they were not pressed against each other while cooking.  It worked!  Each batch caramelized beautifully - although having to turn a bunch of tiny bay scallops is a pain in the butt.  They were tender and sweet on the inside, buttery and slightly crisp on the outside.  The pureed peas were a lovely compliment.  The Thai curry and sour cream make them more exotic than the pureed peas I feed Astrid.  But it's really the same thing. 

At dinner, Annika thanked me profusely for the food, insisting that I make the best food ever and that I am therefore the best mommy ever.  I can't lie - that will never (ever) get old.  Annika ordered everybody to eat their peas first because they were delicious.  I am not going to question the logic of what deliciousness has to do with order of consumption; the point is my four-year-old is eating peas like they're french fries. 

The real treat of the evening, however, was our homemade ice cream.  In what is becoming a Sunday tradition, I let Annika pick out a recipe to make with me.  (This week was lasagna.)  Feeling generous, I let her pick out an ice cream flavor for us to make in our very neglected ice cream maker.  She chose strawberry.  The problem was that I forgot that I had to put the ice cream maker bowl in the freezer for about 24 hours prior to making the ice cream, otherwise it isn't cold enough.  I remembered this on Sunday morning.  Oops.  (If you're keeping score at home, I forgot to take the scallops out of the freezer and forgot to put the bowl in the freezer.  Welcome to my life.)  So we had to push the ice cream to Monday instead. 

Annika chose strawberry ice cream.  "Because it is my favorite color - pink!  And because I like strawberries."  I sliced up two cups of strawberries and put one and a half cups into the food processor with a cup of two percent milk, a cup of heavy cream, and three-fourths a cup of turbinado sugar (all organic).  After blending until smooth, we stirred in the remaining half cup of strawberries.  To make ice cream, we poured the mixture into the (now sufficiently-frozen) bowl of the maker and attached the top, which has a mechanical spatula that slowly spins to keep the ice cream soft as the bowl freezes it.  It took about 20 minutes until we had just over a quart of strawberry ice cream.  It probably wasn't cheaper than buying a quart, but it was tastier and all organic. 

(This is Annika wondering why the heck we're photographing the ice cream instead of eating it.)

As any child would be, Annika was delighted with the ice cream.  The true test was Swede, who does not really care for sweets.  I consider it to be a genetic defect.  Swede was impressed - probably because it tasted more like strawberries and cream than sugar.  We each had a small bowl and put the rest in the freezer.  We'll see how long it lasts . . .

Spaghetti and Turkey Balls

On Saturday I told Annika to choose a recipe from her kids' cookbook.  I watched nervously, praying that she would not choose mac and cheese for the hundredth time (okay, like third, but it seems like 100).  She sailed right over mac and cheese and chose spaghetti with meatballs, with one slight modification. 

Annika:  "I choose spaghetti with meatballs.  But we don't eat MEATballs.  EEEEEEW!  We'll have to make spaghetti with turkey balls."

This is not her first introduction to turkey meatballs.  Nigella Lawson has a phenomenal turkey meatball recipe.  (http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/nigella-lawson/turkey-meatballs-in-tomato-sauce-recipe/index.html)  We've had it a number of times.  No matter how often we eat it, however, Annika cannot seem to say "turkey meatball."  It is always "turkey balls."  And God forbid you accidentally call them "meatballs."  You immediately get "EEEEEW!  We don't eat MEATballs!"  I've created a monster.  But at least she's a healthy monster.  A healthy monster who hopefully does not go to school and tell her teacher she ate turkey balls for dinner. 

Annika chose cauliflower as the vegetable accompaniment to her spaghetti and turkey balls.  "My favorite vegetable, of course!"  Yeah, favorite except the time that broccoli was your favorite, or beans were your favorite, or peas.  I went online and found a yummy-sounding cauliflower recipe.   (http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/cauliflower-with-brown-butter-recipe/index.html)

Sunday afternoon rolled around and dinner time approached.  Feeling benevolent, I did all the prep work.  I chopped everything that needed chopping and premeasured everything else into little bowls to make it easy and (hopefully) mess-free.   Annika chose that precise moment to declare that she didn't feel like cooking.  I'm sure there are more constructive ways to deal with a fickle four-year-old than saying "That's too bad, you committed to this.  You either do it or you lose your DVD for the night."  Unfortunately, I don't know them.  So into the kitchen we went, one of us quite begrudgingly.  Once she climbed the stepstool and started pouring stuff into the pan, she completely forgot that she didn't want to cook.  After we sauteed a clove of minced garlic in a tablespoon of olive oil, we added two cans of diced tomatoes, some oregano, 3 tablespoons of tomato paste, some salt, and a cup of water.  Then it was time to make the turkey balls.  

To make turkey balls, Annika put a pound of ground turkey (I use dark meat), an egg, about a quarter cup of bread crumbs (the recipe called for 6 crushed saltines, but I don't keep saltines in the house, so this was my estimated replacement), oregano, and salt.  Then you take your (meticulously cleaned) hands and mix away.  I don't know whether it was the egg or the raw turkey, but Annika became quite squeamish.  She hung in there like a champ until the ingredients were mixed and even rolled about 5 turkey balls.  Then she fled to the kitchen sink to scrub all the yuckiness off her hands.  I have to admit, this is not my favorite part of cooking.  I put on a brave face so that Annika would think plunging one's hands into dead flesh is no big deal and rolled the remaining turkey balls. 

Once the balls were rolled, we dropped them carefully into the simmering tomato sauce.  Annika did great on this step.  Usually she drops items into simmering liquid from the highest point she can possibly reach, which results in hot liquid splashing everywhere and me getting irritated.  This time she gently dropped them from a reasonable height, saving us both some trouble.  I put the lid on the pan to let them cook and released Annika from further cooking duties. 

I should add that all of this was accomplished with Astrid strapped to me in her Ergo carrier as my attempts to get her to sit in her jumperoo or high chair were met with howls of protest.  Since it is not safe to brown butter and saute cauliflower with an infant strapped to your chest in a flammable cotton carrier, I dropped the baby with Swede before I finished cooking. 

I cooked the spaghetti noodles (quinoa pasta - if you haven't tried it, you should - it tastes like the naughty white stuff but has more fiber and protein) and made the cauliflower without incident.  Although I confess that the thought of using four tablespoons of butter for only one head of cauliflower horrified me a bit.  As much as I love butter and think it is okay to use to make veggies palatable, I cut it and the breadcrumbs in half.  The cauliflower still tasted great and plenty buttery.  One of the great things about browning butter is it really makes the flavor much more intense and pervasive.  Consequently, you need less.  Two tablespoons was perfectly fine. 

We all sat down for dinner and Annika - having chosen and prepared the dinner - declared it delicious.  Nigella's meatballs are better, no question. But for a simple recipe from a children's cookbook, the meatballs were quite good.  I would use more bread crumbs next time because they turned out pretty dense.  But they were a good blend of salty and savory.  The tomato sauce turned out surprisingly flavorful.  Annika, Swede, and I enjoyed our dinner.  Astrid enjoyed scooping up small handfuls of Rice Krispies (the organic brown rice version from Whole Foods) and releasing them onto the floor.   That's why we have dogs, right?

Managing Expectations

Annika was sent home from school on Thursday with a 101.5 degree fever.  By Friday morning, it was up to 102.7.  When her dose of Motrin wore off Friday afternoon, her temperature spiked to 103.4.  Fortunately, this is not considered a serious fever for a child (or so the pediatrician's office told me).  I expected Saturday to be more of the same sick, whiny, clingy child so hot you could fry eggs on her forehead.  Instead, she woke up with a temp of 99.  I wish I could heal so quickly! 

Annika was better, but still not well enough to attend the back to back birthday parties we had planned to attend.  I planned to drop by one of the parties with Astrid still, but that left the evening wide open.  I decided to make a special evening out of us being home-bound.  I told Swede to pick a meal from Peter Berley's The Flexitarian Table.  It is my "fancy" cookbook.  The meals are delicious, but are more complex than in Fast Food Fresh (his other book) and consequently take longer to make.  They are a weekend luxury. 

Swede looked at me and said "anything I want?????"  I replied, "sure, but if you choose something from the summer chapter, I might not be able to find the ingredients at Whole Foods."   A couple of minutes later, I was on my way out the door to go to boxing class and I hear a voice call from the TV room "ooooh, short ribs!"  "No!  Something I eat!" I replied.  Swede then complained about all the conditions I was now imposing on dinner.  How selfish of me indeed, to want to spend over an hour cooking something I'll actually eat. 

Swede settled for shrimp with brown butter and tons of herbs served over polenta along with roasted broccoli with parmesan. 

http://www.tastebook.com/recipes/1377574-Shrimp-with-Brown-Butter-and-Tons-of-Herbs
http://mouthfromthesouth.com/roasted-broccol/

I used broccolini so I wouldn't have to peel the stems of the broccoli.  I should have realized that broccolini is a bit more delicate than broccoli and checked on it earlier than the 25 minutes prescribed in the recipe.  My broccolini was a little TOO brown and crispy, but still good.  The crispy chunks of parmesan were delicious treats among the green (okay, greenish-brown) veggies. 

The shrimp was delicious (I halved the butter sauce and polenta because there were only 3 of us).  If you have never tried using brown butter in your cooking, you need to. Brown butter is rich, nutty, and (get this) buttery.  You only need a little bit of brown butter for the flavor to really come through in the dish, so you can use it sparingly.  But for God's sake, don't use a butter substitute - that would be heresy.  The herbs mixed with butter gave it a robust savory flavor that lingered on the shrimp, but more importantly, oozed into the polenta making it delightful. 

When making shrimp earlier in the week, I discovered something about buying and preparing shrimp.  At Whole Foods, a 1 lb bag of peeled shrimp was $10.99.  A 1 lb bag of "easy peel" shrimp was $5.99.   I agonized over whether $5 was worth it to avoid peeling dead shrimp.  Turns out it wasn't.  I got the easy-peel shrimp and defrosted them.  Turns out they are super-easy.  The veins are already removed and the shell is split down the back.  I turned the shrimp over to Annika and she peeled almost the whole pound herself.  I am happy to have my own sous chef!

Back to last night's dinner.  The food was excellent and my intentions were grand.  My expectations, however, were unreasonable.  Even though Annika was feeling much better, she was still whiny and annoying.  As soon as I set the plate of food in front of her, she started shivering and cowering.  "I'm afraid of the food," she whined.  After 10 minutes of insisting she was scared of the food (all ingredients she had eaten before), she then began negotiating about how many bites she had to take.  Then she climbed off her chair repeatedly and wandered around the table.  Then she complained about being scared of the food.  At least 5 times, I said "Fine!  Don't eat!  Just go to your room and go to bed then!"  Every time she would promise to be nicer and more cooperative.  Then she wasn't.  All the while Astrid was refusing to eat her rice porridge -
spitting it out all over everything within a 3 foot radius. 

Are these the Saturday nights I signed up for when I decided to have kids?  It was too chaotic to even break out the sparkling wine I bought at Whole Foods back when I believed a dinner at home could be made special.  Nor did I want to serve the Tammy Coe cupcake I bought at the store to share with Annika, feeling bad (at the time) that she had missed out on two birthday cakes that day.   My mistake, as it turns out, was expecting to have a nice dinner by adult standards.  Expecting some kind of sophisticated meal at home served only to set me up for disappointment.  Next time, I will expect chaos and if it turns out a little bit better, I'll be happy. 

I ate my half of the cupcake later and Swede and I drank the sparkling wine while watching The Book of Eli after Annika went to sleep.  The night ended up being okay.  Dinner, however, was a disaster.  At least the food was good. 

Making up for for not eating bacon.

Apparently bacon is the new "it" food.  Bacon chocolates, bacon caramel, good old BLTs, bacon wrapped pork, and I even just bought a bottle of bacon vodka.  I'm not joking.  Bacon vodka.  (That's what happens when, in the delirium of late-third trimester pregnancy, you make an offer to your boxing instructors that whoever's class puts you into labor gets a bottle of alcohol of their choosing.)  To the extent I've been gaining any "foodie" status, it has evaporated because I loathe bacon.  Not just because of the ethical issues involved in eating factory-farmed pigs, but because it is gross!  I hate it.  Hate the smell, hate the taste, hate the soggy fatty part.  *shudder*

As I finished reading my Hungry Monkey book, it became clear to me that I am in the minority with my bacon views.  It seems to be what all the cool kids are eating.  But then the author started raving about duck.  Duck sounds kind of trendy and cool.  And I suppose it falls close enough to "poultry" (which I eat) on the meat scale.  I got some duck legs at Whole Foods (do they even make non-organic duck?) and went at it.  I had to work from home today because Astrid had her 6 month checkup, so the 3 hour recipe was perfect for today.  This is from Hungry Monkey:

Brown 2-4 duck legs, seasoned liberally with salt and pepper, (the recipe calls for 2, but I did not realize that each package had 2 legs until I opened them, so 4 it is) in 1 tsp butter and 1 tsp olive oil heated over medium-high heat.  This requires 10 minutes skin side down, then another 5 minutes on the other side.

Remove the duck from the pan and pour off all but a tablespoon of fat.  Add 1 chopped carrot, one chopped celery stalk, and one chopped onion (I doubled the carrots and celery).  Saute for about 5 minutes then add 2 cloves of garlic, 1 teaspoon brown sugar (I used turbinado sugar), 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves (I used allspice because I don't have cloves), and 1/8 teaspoon of cayenne pepper (or more if you like it spicy).  Saute for another minute.  Add 1 can of tomatoes and 1 cup of marsala, bring to a boil.  Then add the duck back in, cover, and put it in the oven for 1.5 to 2 hours at 300 degrees.

When the duck is tender, take everything out of the oven.  Take the duck out of the pan and cool it enough to shred it.  Once shredded (I removed the skin at this point), put it back into the sauce and simmer 5-10 minutes while it thickens.  Serve over pasta (I used whole wheat curly pasta). 

Oh, it was good.  Sorry Donald, Daisy, Daffy.  The flavor of the sauce was fantastic, savory, and hearty (I credit the marsala).  The duck made it a little greasy, which is always yummy.  The celery and carrots retained just enough crunch and weren't too squishy.  I was a little concerned that Annika would balk at the thought of eating a beloved cartoon animal.  But she dug right in and declared it "delicious"!  It can't be too unhealthy, it is loaded with tomatoes, carrots, celery, and onion and most (okay, a lot) of the duck fat is poured off after browning.  It was good and I felt pretty cool.  Duck is no boring chicken.  Maybe I can keep my "foodie" card even without the bacon. 

 Tonight we also fed Astrid her second meal.  Her first meal was last night.  It was about a teaspoon of banana mixed with copious amounts of breastmilk.  And each bite resulted in the kind of face you would get from me if you fed me breastmilk.  But seeing as that is her favorite food, I'm not sure why she was complaining.  Annika hovered about the entire time, laughing hysterically at every face.  This is cute at first, then you realize she's distracting the baby.  Then it's annoying.  Tonight I tried to remedy that by feeding Astrid while the rest of us (aka Annika) were occupied with our own meals. 

I made some rice porridge by pulverizing brown rice in the food processor for 2 minutes and then simmering it in water.  Then I mixed it with copious amounts of breastmilk (anybody seeing a pattern?).  I was not hopeful.  If she didn't like bananas, no way she'd like rice paste.  This only goes to show you only make yourself look stupid when you try to predict what a baby will do.  The rice went down much better than the bananas. 



Still a lot of bitter beer face (if you're too young to get the reference, I'm not explaining it to you), but also some smiles.  And a few porridge-filled raspberries blown.  Awesome that she learned to blow raspberries the week before starting "solid" foods.  As you can tell from my descriptions, "solid" is a total misnomer.  Annika still hovered about distracting Astrid, so I put her to work and let her feed Astrid a spoonful.  She managed to do this without choking her baby sister, so I'll let her do it again next time.  Plus I got a cute picture out of it.

One Reason My Husband Rocks

It really doesn't seem like that long ago I would be calling around to figure out where people were going out tonight.  Yes, on a Wednesday.  I went to school in Vegas.  Something was going on every night.  But in the exciting life I have created for myself since graduation, tonight will be spent reading a pile of papers because I took on a rush project at the last minute.  You're totally jealous, right?  I know.  Livin' the dream.

In any event, the point is that I was short on time for dinner tonight.  Due to an extremely high-maintenance four-year-old, I was also extremely short on patience.  As soon as I got home, I plopped Annika in a bath, fed Astrid, and started dinner.  I have to say, I am so happy we've reached the point where Annika can bathe by herself without constant  supervision.  The day we realized we could leave the bathroom without fear of her immediately drowning was a liberating day.  I think some people recommend waiting until age five for unsupervised bath time, but the kid has been in swim lessons since 9 months old.  Plus I know she's breathing (and thus not drowned) because she's always making noise - singing, bossing her toys around, or just making random sounds for amusement.  And because our house is pretty small, I can hear her from the kitchen.  So Annika bathed while I cooked. 

No frills tonight.  I made a Nigella chicken recipe that involves dousing chicken thighs with lemon juice and olive oil, sprinkling them with salt and pepper, and then baking for 30-40 minutes (longer if you use bone-in thighs).  I also made the chard from the last post.  While everything was cooking, I was able to get a little work done and then set the table.  (At some point setting the table really needs to be Annika's job.)  Magically, the kitchen cleaned itself while the food cooked!  Okay, it wasn't magic, but it was pretty cool.  My husband cleans.  He cleans well.  He cleans a heck of a lot more than I do.  Counters, dishes, laundry, floors.  And that is one of the reasons I'm able to work full time (often more than full time), take care of the kiddos, and still do family dinner.  I would be remiss if I didn't give him some credit.  There is no way I could cook every night if I also had to clean up after. 

Swede grew up in (wait for it) Sweden, where they apparently don't teach their men that cleaning is a woman's work.  Either that or his mom raised him differently.  Either way, I am grateful.  Without his willingness to pitch in, we'd be eating frozen pizza off paper plates at least three times a week (nutritionally and ecologically, that horrifies me).  I figured that a couple days before Valentines Day was an appropriate time to give him the props he deserves. 

Despite Annika's extreme whininess earlier in the day, dinner was fine.  Annika inhaled her chicken before Swede even sat down at the table (he was back in the bedroom changing Astrid's diaper - nobody told him that was a job for mommies).  Annika then skeptically examined her greens asking "what is this?"  I excitedly said "chard" in the same way you would say "chips" or "donuts" hoping that might encourage her to eat a green leafy vegetable.  After a couple bites, she declared it was delicious.  That is what a little bit of butter and lemon juice can do for a veggie.  There are very few things in life that can't be made better by butter and lemon.  

Annika ate all the food on her plate long before Swede and I finished our food.  Eyes shining, she looked around the table and said "dessert?"  I offered her a popsicle.  She asked for ice cream, knowing we have single-serving Ben & Jerry's in the freezer.  I said no and like any four-year-old she wanted to know why.  "Because mommy doesn't want to share her freezer stash" is not an appropriate answer, so I didn't know what to say.  Swede rescued me by explaining ice cream is for the weekends (when she will either have forgotten them or they'll be gone).  Annika happily accepted a popsicle, and then spelled popsicle when asked.  My kid can spell desserts!  I am so proud. 

That's all for this week I suppose.  Next week I'll be introducing Astrid to the exciting world of solid food and I'm sure I'll have a lot to write.  In the mean time, I have some work to do. 

E-Recipes

I love my iPhone.  I had a brief flirtation with the iPhone when it first came out, but it did not work with my e-mail server.  So I had to settle for a Blackberry for years.  That all ended when my employer announced late in 2010 that the iPhone would now sync with our work e-mail.  Just after Christmas, I ordered the iPhone 4.  I got it refurbished for only $99.  So what if I had to sell my soul to AT&T for another two years. 

What does this have to do with family dinner?  Apps.  I immediately downloaded Facebook, Sparkpeople (to track diet and exercise), Snooth (wine), and Beat the Traffic.  (I'm not sure what this says about me and my priorities.  I'm sure Freud would have a heyday analyzing what people put on their phones.)  That sated me for awhile, but there had to be more.  Electronic recipes, of course!  I've been using the internet for recipes for awhile now.  I particularly like http://www.foodnetwork.com/, http://www.allrecipes.com/, and http://www.vegweb.com/.  I have been absolutely thrilled with user ratings (to tell if something is good) and user comments (that often contain suggestions to make it better). 

There are countless recipe apps.  I chose Whole Foods Recipes because I shop there, can easily find the ingredients, and trust Whole Foods to consult with foodies for recipes.  I also chose Allrecipes.  There is a cool feature that will randomly select a recipe for you.  I am too picky for that, so I upgraded from the free version to the $2.99 version so I could have more advanced search options and a virtual recipe box to store the recipes I like.  Allrecipes shows user comments and ratings which is key if you don't trust the person providing the recipe.  I trust Peter Berley and Nigella Lawson.  I'm giving Whole Foods the benefit of the doubt.  Will all others, I am skeptical and need user feedback.

Around the same time I got the iPhone, I got a Kindle.  It took me awhile to come to terms reading "books" without books.  I love slowly turning the pages on a lazy Saturday afternoon (to the extent I have them anymore, which is rare).  But the Kindle is surprisingly awesome.  On the recommendation of my friend Amy, I downloaded Hungry Monkey by Matthew Amster-Burton.  It is a "A Food-Loving Father's Quest to Raise an Adventurous Eater."  The daughter he is trying to turn into a foodie is the same age as Annika.  I relate to his humorous anecdotes.  But more importantly, there are mouthwatering recipes in every chapter.  The Kindle makes it super-easy to bookmark recipes that look interesting.  It is the virtual equivalent of a sticky note, but it doesn't come off so easily when you throw the book in your purse, briefcase, or cupboard.  I am tempted to purchase a real cookbook on my Kindle and would love to hear the experiences of anyone who has done that.  It is tough.  In addition to the superior pictures in paper books, there is something about a spattered and battered cookbook that makes me sentimental.

Tonight, all of our recipes were e-recipes.  From Hungry Monkey, I made parsnips and chard.  For the parsnips I quartered them, coated them in olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roasted them in a 425-degree oven for about 15 minutes.  They were slightly crisp on the outside and mushy on the inside.  They were sort of like home-made french fries, but with that distinct sweet parsnip taste.  Definite thumbs up.

For the chard, I roughly chopped the leaves from two bunches (as long as I'm proclaiming my love of inanimate objects, I should give a shout out to my new food processor that has a slicing function, making this very quick and easy).  Then I melted 1.5 tablespoons each of butter and olive oil in my wok.  When the butter/oil were hot, I tossed in the chard and sauteed with two minced cloves of garlic.  When it was nice and wilted, I stirred in a tablespoon of lemon juice.  The tart lemon makes salt completely unnecessary.  And the butter/oil proved that even the scariest vegetable can be made appetizing by cooking it in a bit of fat.  Don't feel guilty.  Fat helps your body absorb the vitamins and minerals in the veggies.  Fat is practically health food. 

I also made baked barramundi with lime, salt and pepper (the recipe calls for tilapia, but I had barramundi). 
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/paula-deen/bobbys-baked-tilapia-recipe/index.html
The fish was very mild, which allowed the lime to shine through.  The subtle seasoning would not work for a stronger fish like salmon.

Annika took an unscheduled nap before dinner and was super out of it when we sat down to eat.  When I passed her the water pitcher she tried to drink out of it instead of pouring herself a glass.  Uh oh.  Sleepy four year olds are volatile.  And staring her in the face was half a plate of greens.  The recipes proved kid-compatible, though.  She ate the fish and parsnips readily and the chard only took mild coaxing.  She ate it all with no complaints, no fights, no threats to take away her DVD player.  I think I have to add Hungry Monkey to my list of trusted recipe sources.

A Crabby Dinner

Last Sunday I went to Whole Foods to buy groceries for the week.  Like a renegade, I did not plan my weekly menu in advance.  Rather, I decided to just buy main ingredients (produce, poultry, fish) and find recipes to go with them.  At the seafood counter crab legs were on sale.  They were also sustainably fished (crabbed?).  The low price and the ethical karma of sustainability made me forget that crabs are boiled alive, which actually disturbs me greatly.  I shouldn't be eating them.  But they are delicious.  And in this case also inexpensive and sustainable.  Sorry little crabs.  I am sad that you were boiled alive.

Also at Whole Foods were beautiful bunches of locally-grown organic chard.  I could not resist.  So for Sunday dinner we had crab with Spicy Coconut Sweet Potato Soup with Chard (instead of spinach):
http://cookbookcooks.wordpress.com/2010/01/03/peter-berleys-spicy-coconut-sweet-potato-soup-with-collard-greens/

I think I've already reviewed this soup.  It is yummy.  The sweet potatoes and coconut milk really balance out the spice.  The chard went very well in it, assuming the flavor of the soup. 

My dinner intentions, then, were good.  The end result?  Not so much.  The soup takes 30-40 minutes to make.  While it was in its final simmer, I boiled a pot of water to steam the crab legs.  I know they cook quickly, so I also started browning some butter to make a butter/lemon/garlic dip for the crab legs.  My first mistake was throwing in the garlic while the butter was browning in the pan.  The garlic blackened immediately and tasted sort of burnt.  I guess it should have been added after the butter was off the stove, when I mixed in the lemon juice.  It was still decent, so I poured it into three ramekins and set the table while the crab legs were steaming in batches because my biggest pot really isn't that big. 

As I was setting the table, I realized we only have one crab-opening untensil.  How, you  might ask?  Aren't such things sold in sets?  Who eats crab legs by herself?    I have no idea.  In all likelihood, there was a set initially.  But now we only have one lonely crab-opener.  I decided to crack open some crab legs and extract the meat for Annika before we all got to the table, since Swede and I would have to share the crab-opener once dinner started. Opening Annika's crab took 10 minutes and did not help my mood.  Crab is a pain in the ass!  I extracted a nice pile of meat for her and announced the start of dinner, simultaneously announcing that we would not be eating crab again in the near future. 

I wasn't even done with my own first crab leg (I got the opener and Swede decided to use a steak knife - amazingly without severing a finger in the process) when Annika finished inhaling her crab meat.  By now, struggling with my own crab, which promised to be cold by the time I actually ate it, had significantly worsened my mood.  Annika demanded more crab.  When I declined and told her to eat her soup, she insisted that instead I needed to pour her a glass of water.  My mood went from "not so great" to "foul."  Indignantly slamming down my unopened crab leg, I poured her some water.  I then resumed my work  Completely oblivious to my declining mood, Annika then declared that her soup was yucky and refused to eat it.  (She ate it the last time I made it without issue.) 

Still laboring over my own crab leg, having not yet tasted the sweet fruit of my efforts, I snapped.  Raising my voice much more than I care to admit, I told Annika that I was sick and tired of her picking something out of every meal to complain about.  I further informed her that I had spent 10 minutes getting the crab meat for which she hand't bothered to thank me and I was now working on my own and didn't want to hear anything else from her thankyouverymuch!  A stony silence ensued. 

After my meltdown, I finally got to eat my crab meat and calmed down a bit.  I did the "choose a number between 4 and 20 and that's how many bites you'll eat" trick.  Annika chose 6, which is more than I would have made her eat.  That always makes me laugh.  My mood improved, she ate six bites of soup (declaring the greens "yummy" - go figure!), and I resolved to make the rest of the week better.  Crab will not be served in the Homstrom house for quite a long time, if ever again. 

Quick Post About Salmon

I know I just posted two days ago.  But tonight I made one of my faves and thought I'd share:  lemony salmon with cherry tomato couscous:  http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/nigella-lawson/lemony-salmon-with-cherry-tomato-couscous-recipe/index.html

This is a recipe from Nigella's cook book that can be made in 30 minutes start to finish.  And it is GOOOOOOD.  Before Nigella I rarely cooked seafood.  Not because I don't like it, but because I don't like it when I cook it.  I would rub it with olive oil, salt, and pepper and then cook in varying ways (broil, bake, pan-fry).  It never really tasted fresh or flavorful, more like a nice mouthful of ocean water.  The seafood recipes I've tried from Nigella's book, on the other hand, have always turned out delicious - like I would expect in a restaurant.  This one in particular requires you to rub the salmon in garlic-infused olive oil, salt, paprika, and lemon zest.  Not too far off from what I've tried in the past, but the garlic, paprika, and lemon zest make a world of difference. 

This is the fourth time I've made this dish.  The first three were sufficient to convince my family they like my salmon. When I picked Annika up from school, she was hiding in a tire because she didnt't want to go home yet.  The kid actually wanted to stay at school.  The Montessori method is supposed to instill a love of learning, but this is taking it a bit far.  She started to pout when I told her in no uncertain terms it was time to go.  Rather than let this turn into a full-fledged eye-rolling, head-tossing, exasperated sighing episode (she is 4 going on 16), I simply said "I'm making salmon for dinner."  Bingo!  Into the car we went. When we got home, my mother in law was exhausted and went to pass me the baby so she could slip out the door, go home, and sleep.  But then she saw me take salmon out of the refrigerator.  All of a sudden, "well, maybe I can stay for dinner."  The salmon came out perfectly-flavored (as always, thank you, Nigella!) and the couscous was the perfect accompaniment. 

I have a confession to make.  I am a health nut and am morally opposed to white bread, white pasta, white rice, etc.  It doesn't enter my house.  But that doesn't mean I don't LOVE the taste.  I don't understand people who say things like "I really prefer the nuttier taste of whole wheat pasta."  Um . . . no.  White pasta tastes so much better.  But because it is devoid of any meaningful nutrients, I sacrifice taste for health.  That is how I feel about couscous.  I consider whole wheat couscous to be borderline inedible.  It just does not taste good!  But I love it in this recipe.  The whole wheat flavor is lost in the taste of fresh organic tomatoes ("fresh" is the key to great tomato taste), ginger, lemon, cilantro, and onion.  Your taste buds are bombarded with a blend of salty, acidic, and even a bit of spicy goodness.  It is almost salsa-esque and goes perfectly alongside the subtle lemon and garlic of the salmon.  I do, however, use about half the salt called for in the recipe.  Nigella must be an even bigger salt freak than me if she uses as much as she says she does. 

Getting Organized and Having Dinner Guests

This week I adopted two more tips from Laurie David's Family Dinner book.  I took a small step toward organization and I (eeek!) invited a guest over for dinner. 

To make my pantry more navigable, I had to do something to get rid of the various bags and boxes scattered about.  I was embarrassed to realize I had 4 different boxes of whole wheat organic couscous ranging from 3/4 full to a handful of grains barely covering the bottom of the box.  Couscous was not the anomaly.  Lentils, rice, quinoa - multiple packages haphazardly strewn about the pantry in varying degrees of fullness.  How does this happen?  Easily, actually.  If I see couscous on a recipe list, I put it on my grocery list and purchase it.  I may or may not actually check the pantry first to see if I already have it (if I end up with extra, I'll use it, right?).  And if I check for it, I may or may not actually see that I have it (my pantry is dark, cavernous, and completely disorganized).   Before you know it - a pantry full of multiple packages of the same ingredient.

I needed to consolidate my dry goods in containers.  A couple months ago, I probably would have gone to Target and purchased a bunch of pretty glass containersat $10 a pop.  Fortunately, I have now read Laurie David's book and she sings the praises of mason jars.  I got a pack of 12 quart-sized jars at my local grocery store for about $10.  I took a Sharpie and wrote the name of the ingredient on each jar.  I suppose if you were being really good, you could put a sticker with the date on the jar too so you know your couscous hasn't gone bad.  I'm taking baby steps so I skipped that part.  Dry goods go fast enough in my house that I'm not particularly concerned.  I ended up with pretty jars of rice, couscous, steel-cut oatmeal, lentils (I just put them all in one jar, so my jar is a pretty rainbow mix of red, green, and brown lentils), wheat berries, quinoa, buckwheat groats, almonds, and a few other items.  Instantly more beautiful and more organized.  Another advantage is that I can now shop in the bulk section without having a pantry full of white plastic bags of unidentifiable contents.  If I see I'm running low on lentils, I can just pick up a scoop or two on my next trip to Whole Foods and dump it in the jar when I come home.  It is much less expensive to buy from the bulk section than buying prepackaged goods.  And let's not forget that less packaging is better for the environment. 

Laurie David also encourages dinner guests to keep conversation lively and family members on their best behavior.  Having guests opens your cooking up for judgment, though.  I have some seriously "foodie" friends and did not want to fall flat, so I employed a two-pronged strategy.  First, I invited my friend Amy who I knew I could count on to be non-judgmental and gracious even if dinner was mediocre.  Second, I went with tried and true recipes.  No experimenting with new food when I have dinner guests.  My "go to" dishes were spinach and rice soup (Peter Berley) and tarragon chicken (Nigella Lawson). 

I can't easily find a link to the soup recipe.  But it is so good I'll re-type it here.  This is my slightly-modified version.  First puree 12 oz of organic baby spinach with 1 cup of water.  Then heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large saucepan.  Saute about a cup of chopped onions (I buy them pre-chopped at the grocery store) until soft.  Then add about a cup of chopped organic carrots, 1/3 cup of rice, 1 teaspoon of cumin seeds, 3 minced garlic cloves, 1 teaspoon of salt, and saute for another minute or two.  Add the pureed spinach and 3 cups of water and simmer covered for about 15 minutes.   Add 1/4 cup chopped dill and simmer for another 5 minutes.  Finish it off with the juice of one lemon.  It is so yummy!  The hint of dill and lemon really make a mouth-watering tangy soup that tastes nothing like spinach.  The rice and carrots add a nice chewy texture.  The pureed spinach results in an inviting green color.  It is loaded with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants, but you wouldn't know it from the taste. 

The tarragon chicken is actually the reason I bought Nigella's cook book in the first place.  You can find the recipe here:  http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/nigella-lawson/tarragon-chicken-recipe/index.html.  I initially heard about it on NPR and ordered the book from Amazon that same day.  The book did not disappoint and neither did this recipe.  I'm sad that I never cooked with vermouth before getting Nigella's book.  It adds a wonderfully dry flavor that stands out more than adding white wine.  Even better, unlike white wine, the bottle will keep in the pantry for quite some time.  (The drawback of course, is that you don't have the left over bottle white wine to drink as you cook.)  The combination of garlic infused olive oil, scallions, vermouth, tarragon, and heavy cream makes a sinfully delicious sauce that I could eat by itself with a spoon.  It is delightfully creamy, salty, and rich.  Because it is made of heavy cream, however, it is best to restrain yourself and just spoon it over the chicken breasts (I actually use chicken tenders - organic and free range, of course). 

At 6:15, Annika, Swede, my mother in law, and I sat down to dinner with our first family dinner guest.  Just as Laurie David promised, Amy's presence made the dinner conversation lively and kept everyone on their best behavior.  Annika was in rare form, even giving a detailed answer to Amy about what she did in school that day.  When I ask, I usually get a blank stare and shrug followed by "nothing."  Amy, on the other hand, got a five minute speech about the various works she does at school (Montessori students do "works"), some being challenging, some being fun, none of them working if you don't put them away with all their pieces.  Poor Amy didn't get a word in edgewise after opening the door for Annika to talk about herself.  And Annika was too distracted being the center of attention to find something she didn't like about the food.  Even Astrid tried to join in the conversation, happily shrieking and squealing from her bouncer a couple feet away.  I believed Amy when she told me she liked the food. 

By the time we finished eating, Annika had decided that she would put on special show for Amy.  Her "sea creature" show consisted of her prancing across the TV room doing various things with her hands to represent different animals.  For instance, as a whale she held her hands out beside her at her waist and slowly ambled across the floor.  Then as a shark she clasped her hands behind her back and shimmied across the same area.  We witnessed all forms of sea creatures and then Annika moved on to a gymnastics show.  It took all of 30 seconds for her gymnastics show to turn into a tearful scene when she fell on her knee while trying to do something that looked like the running man. 

Annika grabbed an ice pack and retreated to her bedroom to watch a DVD before bed.  Amy and I poured ourselves some wine and watched The Biggest Loser.  About an hour later, Swede showed off his own culinary skills by making us a bowl of popcorn (popped in a bit of oil on the stove, not in the microwave).  All in all a good start to entertaining dinner guests.