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.
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