My Theory On Recipes and Charlotte's Chicken Salad

As I see it, recipe ownership is good for one generation.  For example: let's say I pass on to you my personal recipe for Quinoa Salad.

It's a recipe I created myself, based on a recipe from the back of the EBLY Zartweissen package.  Martina and I had this incredibly wonderful salad while visiting her relatives in Hamburg in 2005 (Right, Martina?) and promptly went out and bought boxes of EBLY for ourselves.  My family loved it so much that I packed twenty boxes back to American when we left Germany.  When that was gone, I started looking for a replacement.  I'll save you the details of painful trial-and-error (including telling my friend DeAnn to make it with barley for a huge Fourth of July cookout.Yuck. Sorry, DeAnn!), and wrap it up by saying that after much trial-and-error, I discovered Quinoa to be the perfect substitute.

So.  Let's say I pass on to you my personal recipe for Quinoa Salad.  Let's say you love it.  Let's say you make it for a potluck at church and someone else loves it and asks for the recipe.  You happily pass it on, rightfully calling it "Karen's Quinoa Salad."

Get it?

So now your friend has this recipe and she makes it for, say, a baby shower.  Let's say the mother-to-be loves it (Duh. It's amazing. Of course she loves it.) and asks your friend for the recipe.  If she handles herself properly, your friend will not pass on "Karen's Quinoa Salad," but rather, "Your Quinoa Salad."

Got it?

That is, of course, unless all these friends know me.  Or unless we're talking about Judie's Lasagna, which will always and forever honor the name of Judie.  In all other cases (except where bound by some weird recipe law), I hereby declare that the duration of recipe ownership does not extend beyond one generation.  Karen has declared it, and it is

Good.

With that in mind, allow me to present to you....

Charlotte's Chicken Salad
Which Charlotte got from a major women's magazine, but following the one-generation rule, I pass to you as being Charlotte's very own.

1 (14 1/2 oz) can of low-sodium chicken broth
1 (6 oz) package long grain and wild rice (Uncle Ben's traditional)
2 C shredded cooked chicken
2 celery ribs, thinly sliced
1 green pepper, chopped
1 small purple onion, or to taste
Lemon-Mustard Dressing

Bring chicken broth to a boil, stir in rice and seasonings.  Return to boil, cover, reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes or until rice is tender.  Cool.  Stir together rice, chicken and remaining ingredients.  Chill at least 30 minutes.

Lemon-Mustard Dressing

1/4 C olive oil
1/3 C lemon juice, fresh
1 1/2 tsp dry mustard
1/2 tsp pepper

Whisk together and toss with salad.

*Charlotte likes to add Craisins and chopped pecans.

Karen's notes:
I have never made this without having everyone ask for the recipe.
I always add Craisins and chopped pecans (or slivered almonds)
I have made the rice with water and a couple of bouillon cubes.
I have used bottled lemon juice.  DON'T.
I have use fresh lime juice.
I have used red bell pepper.  Green was better.
I have (accidentally) used the 5-minute rice.  DON'T.
I have tossed the salad with the dressing the night before serving.  DON'T.

Now go forth, make Charlotte's Chicken Salad and prosper!


 

Why I'm Not A Food Blogger, Part 6,654

So.  Summer swim team begins right after Memorial Day.  For some reason generally related to tourism, our public schools do not finish until the middle of June.  June!  That gives us three weeks of afternoon/evening swim practice before the summer schedule kicks in.  That is to say...

Children come home from school and eat until I make them stop eating.
Children eat a healthy meal-sized snack before biking to 6:30pm swim practice.
Children come home from swim practice ravenous and eat the combined total of their previous two feedings.
That is to say...

They eat a lot of food.

I needed you to know.

(I don't know why.)

On Thursday of last week, I decided to make the boys a pre-swim pizza.

• I topped Ree's crust (the one I make every week of my life), with jarred sauce and pepperoni.  
• Using my pizza paddle, I slid parchment paper and pizza onto the lowest rack of the 500 degree oven, just like Mel taught me.
• I set the timer for 10 minutes and settled in to chat with Jennifer, who had stopped for a visit.
• Boys in bathing suits hovered in the general vicinity of the oven.
• Life was good.

Exactly nine minutes later, all heck broke loose.

• The phone rang at exactly the moment the fire alarm went off.
• I answered what turned out to be a business call, tucked the phone between ear and shoulder and waved my oven mitt wildly at the screaming alarm.  
• The oven timer went off mid-explanation, adding to the cacophony.  
• I opened the oven to find that the remnants of my last baking escapade had (once again) caught fire, igniting the parchment paper (which Mel says cannot happen, but which I have proven time and time again, can.). 
• With phone still tucked and alarm still screaming, I removed pizza with pizza paddle, tossed oven mitt to Bubba, and raced out the door to the relative quiet of the backyard.

By the time I returned, the pizza was gone, the children were gone, Jennifer was heading out, and I got on with my life.  I forgot all about the incident until I was downloading Molly's most recent photo shoot and saw these...

By all accounts, it was excellent (and apparently reminiscent of a wood-fired pizza, go figure.).

I have requests for a repeat performance.

Which is all well and good, but the point (here it is!) is this:

My (now favorite) child recognized that this was a blog-worthy event and acted accordingly.  His response when I thanked him for taking the pictures?

"I knew you would want them. I figured I could either wait for you to get off the phone or take them myself and eat the pizza."

The Best Laid Plans....or Baking with Karen

My men were power-washing the deck on Saturday while I was busy making myself look too busy to power-wash the deck.  After all the laundry was folded (Like, seriously, all the laundry on earth.  Like so much laundry that it took the entire showing of Road House, complete with commercial breaks, to finish.), I decided to bake.  I had baked on Friday--a double batch of Sue's Famous Banana Bread--and we were running precariously low on baked goods.

I had been thinking about this recipe.  I actually dreamed about it, so when I couldn't find anything else to make myself look busy, I decided to give it a go.  It looked simple, and so yummy, and I thought it would be a nice finish for the pulled-pork sandwiches/corn-on-the-cob/baked beans/Greek salad I had planned for dinner.

I made it with the apples, like Ree did.  I was excited and hungry from working so hard at looking busy.  While it was baking, something bright caught my eye and I looked over to see a small fire burning on the bottom of my oven.  It went out.  It caught again.  It went out.  And caught again.  I stood there like a dummy.  I came to my senses and placed a baking sheet under the Springform pan (that Judie bought me!) and kicked myself for not remembering that the butter would get hot and melty and leak right out.

After the timer went off, they sat on the counter just a wee bit too long, probably because I was standing under the smoke alarm, waving my oven mitt (seriously, that Judie bought me) until Bubba stepped in and took over.  When I got around to flipping the Springform over, this is what it came out:

Sigh.

This is what Ree's looked like:

Photo by Ree Drummond

Sigh.

And this is what mine looked like:

It's not quite as aesthetically pleasing as Ree's.  This is why, I'm convinced, God gave me boys.  Boys don't care about aesthetics.  Boys care about being fed.  I care about aesthetics, but at this point I'm pretty used to my cooking and wasn't at all surprised with the outcome.

Fortunately, for every bumbled dessert there is a silver lining.  For this one it was:

Bubba and I dug in and polished it off in a flash.  Then we started in on the biscuits, which we ate straight off the plate with our fingers, and then again later with ice cream.

I'll definitely make this again, but here is what I'll do differently:  I'll spray the pan (duh).  I'll cut the apples (or pears, I want to try it with pears) a little bigger.  I'll put a baking sheet under it, not start a fire(s) in the oven, not set off the fire alarm, and flip it onto a plate in a timely manner.

The End.

The Problem With Being Me

Late last night, weary and sore from a solid day of yard work, I went to write the Judie's Lasagna post for you.  Because I love you that much.  Months ago, I spent hours on the external hard drive, looking for pictures of Judie for this post.  After strolling down memory lane for the better part of an afternoon, I finally found the above photo, which I saved to the desktop for handy access.  I'm certain you'll be shocked to know that last night I couldn't find it.  Anywhere.

Well, except for on the hard drive, which was down in the basement.  I knew it was there.  The problem was that my behind simply refused to get off the couch to go look for it.  I just.couldn't.do it.  Not even for you.

So.  Fast-forward to this morning, just past smoothie-making and kicking kids out the door.  Hot coffee waiting, I ran down and grabbed the hard drive.  I ran out and started the sprinkler.  Having only 30 minutes to write the post, I set the timer for 15 (both for the sprinkler and to keep myself on track).  I settled in and found the Christmas'04 file, where I just knew this photo resided.  And then...

1. I found a sweet, sweet photo of the Wonder Hub and Bubba at Heidelberg Castle and emailed it to the WH to make his day.
2. I found photos of the Monkey wearing a big cheesy grin and the Steelers-colored Christmas hat Ms. Wendy had sewn for him.  I emailed them to make her day.
3. I looked through all of the Christmas Day photos and mourned the loss of the Lego Years, which have been replaced by the Ridiculously Expensive Electronics Years, and, because the boys are weird, the Shoe Years.
4. I found a great photo of the boys being silly on a bridge, Heidelberg Castle in the background.  I set it as the desktop background, replacing one of them being silly at Neuschwanstein Castle.
5. The timer went off. I moved the sprinkler and set the timer for another 15 minutes.
6. I found a photo of me decorating a Sponge Bob cake for Moose's 12th birthday, and posted it on Patty's FB page, because she helped me make that cake (taking over when it was clear that I was operating faaar beyond my own abilities) which absolutely, totally made his day.
7. I looked through photos of the birthday party, which entailed taking nine boys in shin guards to the racquetball courts on base and letting them go for broke in some 12-year-old version of Jungle Soccer.
8. The timer went off again.  I ignored it.
9. I found fourteen ridiculously over (under?) exposed photos of the Monkey at school wearing his pajamas, that enormous cheesy grin, and a hat that said, "Mr. Apple."  
10. I promised myself (once again) to take some photography lessons.
11. I found a photo of Martina and Annika at the Heidelberger Weihnachtsmarkt (Heidelberg Christmas Market), and then one of Annika and Moose, faces grinning through cutouts of Frau and Santa Klaus.  Of course I had to email that to Martina.

And now, dear sweet patient friends, I am out of time.

You still don't know the recipe for Judie's lasagna, but the good news is that now you understand the problem with being me.

How To Feed A Family Of Five On Seventy Bucks

First: Rebel and refuse to go to the commissary on Mother's Day.

Second: Use all the eggs, cheese, peppers, and onions to make breakfast burritos, and give them to your people three minutes before you walk out the door to small group Monday night.

Hope that whomever brought snacks to small group was divinely inspired to bring much, many, mucho snacks.

Third: Make the Spicy Grilled Fish Tacos that you didn't make last week.  Watch the children turn their noses up at grilled fish, avocado spread, and Southwest Slaw.  Force-feed them one taco each (plus seconds for the most skeptical) before letting them fill themselves on tortilla chips and salsa.

Fourth: Break down on Wednesday and head to the commissary, with $72 and a challenge.  Buy:

• The ingredients for Judie's Lasagne (this is the week I reveal her recipe!)
• Three Red Baron pizzas (with coupons) and one box of Pepperidge Farms Texas Toast (to go with the head of Romaine sitting at home in the crisper).
• A big arse package of boneless, skinless chicken breasts, with which to make:
• Ree's salad, also not made last week, additional ingredients also in crisper.
• More chicken pesto pasta, which was a huge hit last week.
• Baked beans to go with the bbq chicken and asparagus the WH will grill tonight (also not cooked last week).
• No, I have no idea what we actually ate last week.  Don't even ask.
• Almond milk, bananas, and a pineapple for morning smoothies.
• Shredded cheese and refried beans and tortillas for after-school snacks.
• Eggs, because you can only borrow so many from the neighbors.
• Bread, because someone is about to grow and is taking two sandwiches each day in his lunch.
• Q-tips, because, seriously.  I can't live without q-tips, and some people around here single-handedly produce more earwax than all the ears in China.
• One Sweet and Salty Peanut Balance bar, because I thought I was going to drop dead while shopping.

Grand total: $72.52
Not breaking the budget: Priceless

What I'm Cooking: Birthday Week

Come Tuesday, I will be living:

a) in a house with four males
b) in a house where three out of four males are teenagers
c) in a house with one other female

That female will not stop asking me for walks on the beach.

Those males will not stop asking me for food.

Therefore, this week I will be cooking (in no particular order and with the possible exception of a birthday dinner at a restaurant of the birthday boy's choosing (I'm guessing IHOP)):

Spicy grilled fish tacos.  I was looking for an interesting recipe for bbq grilled chicken and found this instead.  I will not use nasty, bottom-feeding Tilapia, but otherwise I plan to follow the recipe exactly.
Some kind of bbq chicken.  Somewhere back in the dark recesses of my mind (way back, way dark) there is a great bbq chicken recipe.  I think it involves marinating the chicken in Dr. Pepper.  Or maybe not.  I'll get back to you on that.  Whatever it ends up being, it will go great with baked beans and gloriously grilled cilantro and lime sweet potato fries.  I could tell you that I'll make a green salad to round things out, but chances are, I won't.
Chili.  Not because it's chili season, but because my friend Tamara came for a visit and brought me a packet of Cincinnati Chili mix, and because I can serve it over spaghetti ("Two Way"), or over spaghetti and topped with grated cheese ("Three Way") and it will fill cavernous stomachs and hollow limbs.

 

Tam and I made this last night.

And this.  

And then one more that I forgot to photograph.

A PW salad.  Last week was a doozy of a week.  I returned from the beach on Sunday, took the in-laws to the airport on Monday, laid like broccoli on Tuesday, taught sixth and eighth graders on Wednesday and second graders on Thursday, house-hunted with Tam on Friday and Saturday and died on Sunday.  I did not make a menu and I did not go to the commissary.  With the exception of this, I don't even remember what we ate.  Fortunately, it was so good and so well received that Tam and I made it again on Friday night.  When I went back to peruse the recipe, I noticed that Ree had posted another salad, which I will make at some point this week.

I'm not sure why I felt the need to tell you all of that, but I did.

Pasta.  With pesto and some form of protein.  I probably shouldn't tell you that it will be chicken, because this is becoming a(nother) chicken-heavy week, but truly, it will likely be chicken.

That's how I roll.

To shake things up, I will serve this will roasted vegetables (zucchini/yellow squash/red onion/asparagus) and a big, crusty loaf of bread.
Nachos. Back in high school, my friend Gina made the most spectacular nachos.  We, with our hummingbird metabolisms, would regularly chow down on enormous plates smothered with every delicious thing imaginable, never once pausing to wonder if our jeans would fit in the morning.  I once told her via Facebook that I had attempted to recreate them and was surprised to see the number of responses indicating she is remembered by many for her nachos.

All this time I thought she made them just for me.


That, dear friends, is it.  I realize that another day is wedged into the week somewhere, but things happen, and I rarely need seven meals in a seven day period.

I hope your week is as lovely as mine is going to be!

What I'm Cooking: This Week...and Next

We're T-minus six days 'til I have to get to put on a bathing suit.  There are, obviously, both good and bad things about this.  In honor of the Wonder Hub (King of the List), let me list them for you:

Good
My in-laws are coming!
We're going to the beach!
I've asked God to be merciful and warm it up for us

Bad
The ten million things I need to do before their arrival
The ten million things I need to do before their arrival
God, while undoubtedly pleased with my input, can do whatever He likes with the weather

And foremost in my mind:
What on earth am I going to feed everyone?

First things first.  What am I going to feed them this week?

(In no particular order and subject to change according to how tight my jeans are feeling.):

BLTs.  Yeah.  Bathing suits and too-tight jeans aside, I have two pounds of bacon and a loaf of whole grain white bread sitting around.

For the record: I am anti-white bread, whole grain or otherwise. BLTs are the sole exception to this rule.

Also for the record: It will take the whole loaf and all two pounds of bacon to fill these people.  Who am I kidding?  It will take more.  I will make a huge, mandatory salad.  I will have the bacon cooking in the background.  They will devour their salads without complaint.  There will be peace on earth.

Also, avocado.  Avocado on a BLT makes it a BLAT, which tastes much better than it sounds.

Quesadillas made from the Dr. Pepper pork roast, which I cooked alllll day long on Saturday, and which we haven't actually found the time to eat.  The boys did have a little as a late-evening snack last night, and declared it good.

More of this soup, which was most excellent.  I really want you to make this.  Unless you hate curry, then I really don't.  If you make it, I recommend that you:
a) don't get all proud of yourself for making a vegetarian meal and then realize that you used chicken broth instead of vegetable broth and then realize that "pride (indeed) goeth before a fall."
b) don't leave it simmering on 4 instead of on low when you leave the house to take a boy to meet his friends at the movies, inadvertently cooking the tar out of the sweet potatoes and turning them to mush.
c) do use fresh ginger, and consider exceeding what the recipe calls for.
d) do sub fresh summer squash (the yellow stuff) for green beans.
e) do add the zucchini and summer squash right before eating so that they retain a little crunch.

BBQ Chicken Pizza.  Perfect Friday night food.  Perfect for knocking my father-in-law's sock off.  I think.  I hope.  I'll get back to you on that.

Raisin Bread French Toast with Maple Butter Apples from the 80 Breakfasts blog.  Of course I'll double, triple, or even quadruple the recipe.  The bacon will be gone, so I will serve this with Morningstar Farms meatless sausage patties, and fourteen gallons of milk.

Side note: the best french toast I ever made was with Challah bread.  If that opportunity presents itself, I highly recommend you jump on it.

Spaghetti with meat sauce.  Mostly because I can't think of anything else, but also because I can make the sauce with my eyes closed, let it simmer all day, and be confident that it will be a huge hit.  Spicy sausage guarantees rave reviews.  I'll serve it with more Mandatory Salad and two loaves of Costco's freshly baked whole grain bread.

And next week?  What will I feed them at the beach?  Please tell me, because I have no earthly idea.

What I'm Cooking: April 3-9

Every week is an adventure at my house.  Whether it be vegetarian adventures or feeding people with no groceries adventures, life is never boring.

This week is an adventure because, as I type, two of the people most dear to me in this world are driving up the I-95, pointed in the direction of my humble (read: paint job still not finished) house.

I'm giddy!

In the oven, this very minute, is cooking a German (red raspberry) streusel, which we will have for dessert after a dinner of...

Greek salad, homemade hummus, tzatziki (not homemade, give me a break), and large quantities of some kind of bread which the WH will go get when he is done killing zombies in the basement.

For the record: Zombies must be killed.  At least that's what they tell me.

Also on the menu (in no particular order and subject to change according to Moose's ability to suck down carbs in a single bound, the number of times I need to wear my cool new rainboots to sporting events this week, and the level of crabbiness I may or may not exhibit at any given moment.):

Lacrosse moms in the wind, rain, sun and hail on Saturday

The soup I didn't make last week but for which I am now the proud owner of all necessary ingredients, due to a desperate, early-morning commissary run.
Ree's Dr. Pepper Shredded Pork, which I also didn't make last week but for which I am now the proud owner of all necessary ingredients...  I'm happy to report that sometime over the course of the last week I have been relieved of that nagging bit of resentment I once felt concerning this recipe. So.  Shredded pork, sweet potato fries and coleslaw.  I bought a 7 pound pork roast and am hoping against hope for leftovers.
My Favorite Pizza.  For Pastor and Fran.  Because I want to impress them with my cooking skills.  Pastor and Fran were among the dubious recipients of my very first Thanksgiving meal, waaaay back in 2003.  They'll tell you it was wonderful, but they're like that.  I want to knock their socks off, and this recipe (for which I hold absolutely no resentment) is just the ticket.
Tacos.  The basic kind, make with beef and seasoned with this.  At the Wonder Hub's request.
Tonja's Infamous Chix Penne.  Tonja and I went to Rapid City Christian School together, you know, a couple of years ago.  When she posted something about this recipe on Facebook, I begged her for it.  Seriously.  A recipe with infamous in its title?  I'm IN.

And that, my friends, is it.  That's all.  I won't cook another thing, even if they cry like little girls.

The Dang Chicken Report (post-edited at 4:36am)*

So....last week, at the time I made the menu, I had not yet gone to the commissary.  As of this moment I still have not gone to the commissary, nor have I gone to any other grocery establishment.  This, as you may well imagine, has made for an interesting week.

Although interesting is not the word the children might use.

The week began with the Dang Chicken, which Charlotte recommended I stuff with garlic, slather with olive oil, sprinkle with rosemary, and sear in the Dutch oven (work with me, people. I'm going for alliteration here).  This would have been lovely, had there been any garlic in the house.  Additionally, I ran into one little problem.

The Dang Chicken had stuff stuffed into its nether regions.

For the record people: I can't.do.it.  I have never done it.  Every Thanksgiving it is the Wonder Hub's sworn duty to (cringe, shudder) stick his hand into the nether regions of the turkey while I hide in the other room.  

When I realized that there was stuff, I did the only thing I could possibly do.  I begged for mercy.

Charlotte stepped in without batting an eye and dealt with the Dang Chicken.  I did not leave the room.  Actually, I did not leave her side.  I stood there making gagging noises while she...did it.

So.  No garlic.  No burning desire to drive to the nearest store, be irritated by the fact that I can never find anything, be irritated by the fact that there are never actual checkers, only self-check lanes, be irritated by the fact that I can never get through the dang self-check lane without messing something up and needing help (thus eliminating all value of self-check and irritating the people lined up behind me), and finally, be irritated that although I have purchased one solitary item, my receipt is two feet long.

(Yes, I have grocery store issues.  I have commissary issues.  If I were Ma Ingalls, I would likely have issues with killing chickens and slaughtering pigs.  It is the plight of the woman who is solely responsible for the feeding of her people.)

After mentally running through the irritating scenario above, I Googled something like "whole baked chicken" and came up with this:

http://whatscookingamerica.net/Poultry/RoastedChickenVegetables.htm

(Insert drum roll......)

I am thrilled to report that it was a hit!  I used the last of the root vegetables in the crisper and served it all alongside a salad.  Some of us had it on our salad.  One of us had three plates of chicken salad.  The Least Likely to be Impressed among us offered his sincere compliments.

In the end, stuff and grocery deficits aside, you just can't write a better ending than that.

*except that you can, but only when you can't sleep because of the way you wrote it the first time.

What am I Cooking?

I have no idea.

The end.













If only it worked that way.  I went on strike last night.  I looked two separate family members straight in the eye and said, "I'm not cooking.  You can't make me."  I wish I had recorded the looks of bewilderment.  The pathetic looks of bewilderment.  The pathetic, terrified looks of bewilderment.  So pathetic were they that I almost caved.  Instead, I held my ground, poured myself a bowl of cereal, and hid in the corner away from their pathetic, terrified, bewildered stares.

Okay, so two out of four could have cared less.  They overheard, rejoiced silently, and proceeded to stuff their hollow legs with every form of carbohydrate known to man.

Seeing how I am officially out of carbohydrates, I must shop.  In order to shop, I must make a list.  In order to make a list, my brain must wake up and start working.

I can't do it.

The end.

Big fat siiiiiiiiighhhhhhh...

(In no particular order and subject to change based on the barometric pressure, my hormones, and the price of tea in China):

That dang Whole Chicken.  Remember him?  I was perfectly happy to let him sit in the freezer 'til Jesus comes, but he's taking up valuable space.  Rocky told me what to do with him awhile back.  I'll be needing her to walk me through that again...

Whatever you do with the leftovers of the Dang Chicken.  I'll make stock, or broth, or whichever you make with a chicken carcass.  I will not make chicken and noodles, because I made it last week and it was (quite possibly) the worst chicken soup in the history of the world, which meant that I spent the entire week foisting it on (upon?) my unwilling family.  Why was it so bad, you ask?  I know.  I knew as soon as I took the first bite.  It was such a rookie mistake that I'm not willing to publicly own it.  For the record: I think the recipe is lovely and perfect.  You should try it.  Just don't do what I did.

Curried Sweet Potato and Lentil Soup.  I found this recipe in my Prevention magazine.  They had me at curry.  They had me at sweet potato.  They had me at coconut milk.  They had me at soup.  The fact that it is garnished with cilantro is seriously the sweetest topping on the best (cup)cake ever. 

The quiche recipe from Veg Week that I have yet to make.  I can picture it, hot and bubbly and blog-worthy in my Polish pottery ramekins.  I can picture me, steel-faced and unyielding, assuring my people that yes, this is dinner.  I can picture them, too well-trained to complain, yet sullen and silent.  I can picture late-evening kitchen crashing, by people who did not eat enough dinner to get them through the night.  Fun.  The only possible remedy to this is the following (and listen up, because this might be the most wisdom I can ever offer you): I will starve them.  There will be no after-sports snacks.  There will be no post-run pantry free-for-all.  I will make sure they are so desperate for sustenance that my cute little ramekins appear to be turkey legs, or juicy hamburgers, to their pre-and teenaged minds.  Then, they will eat them so fast and so furiously and so thankfully that complaints will not have time to enter their hunger-addled brains.

And I will sit back and laugh silently and revel at my genius.

Homemade pizza.  Topped with whatever inspires me at the moment of creation.  Last week it was pepperoni for the man-children and pesto, mozz and tomatoes for the WH and me.  Salad always goes with pizza, and ours always have fun additions like feta, and Craisins, and pecans to encourage the salad-haters among us.

My BFF's Spicy Dr. Pepper Shredded Pork, with only a little resentment at not having come up with it first.  I'll whip up some coleslaw (from a bag, I'm not Superwoman) and maybe some sweet potato fries to go along with it.

That should be enough, but I can whip up breakfast in a pinch.  I also have the ingredients (minus tomatoes) for a pasta salad, always a hit (since Charlotte told me to use Ken's Steakhouse Lite Northern Italian with Basil and Romano dressing).  This is one where I can throw in broccoli and not get too much flak from the child who thinks he can give me flak just because his grandfather hates broccoli.

When he was six or so, I told him that when he is a grandfather, he won't have to eat broccoli.  He gave an exuberant fist-pump and cried out, "Yessss!"

It was awesome.

The end.

What I'm Cooking: Garbanzo Week

Just kidding.  It's not really Garbanzo Week.  It could be, though.  My lovely neighbors gave me this:

Maybe it's their way of saying, "Quit borrowing eggs, lady!"

I should really share the love with the egg-borrowing.  It's only fair.

They always give me eggs.  I should bake them cookies.
Or give them these:

which almost made me pass out.  When they said, "Whole Cut Up Chicken,"  I guess they weren't kidding.

So.  What I'm cooking...  I was exhausted last night, both from watching the Wonder Hub paint trim and from two workouts designed to, if not create a calorie deficit, at least help make up for eating like a teenager over the weekend.  I struggled mightily with the menu.  My synapses were refusing to fire and I could not think of anything but soup.

I love soup.  I could totally do Soup Week, but then you'd have to send out a search party to find my remains.  It would not go over well here.  However, since there was no soup last week, I am feeling free to have Soup Night twice this week.

So.  What I'm cooking...  Did I tell you that I skipped The Dreaded Commissary yesterday?  It was hanging over my head all the livelong day, making me cranky, but I just couldn't make myself go.  I almost skipped it again today, but since there was leftover Vegetable Green Curry and approximately two tablespoons of hummus left in the house, I had no choice.  I did what any reasonable girl would do: I procrastinated.  Then, I procrastinated some more.  Then, I went.

So.  What I'm cooking...
(In no particular order and subject to time, space and my emotional state.)

PW's Homemade Chicken and Noodles
Chicken Noodle Soup was already on the menu, along with open-faced toasted cheese sandwiches on crusty multigrain bread, but I came across this while procrastinating and decided to give it a go.  The chicken parts are simmering, and I have already sauteed and set aside the mirepoix (which I prefer to have sauteed, rather than just chucked in later).  About 20 minutes before the sportsters roll on in, I'll slice the bread and toast it.  Then I will put the toasted pieces on a cookie sheet, cover them with provolone and sharp cheddar, and broil them 'til they're bubbly (or charred, depending on time, space, and my emotional state).

Veggie Pizza, as I'm still trying to squeeze in the last of Mary's recipes from last week.  I will make her crust, and top it with pesto, fresh mozzarella, and tomatoes.  Then, I will make another one with turkey pepperoni, so the youngsters don't touch my pizza.  Okay, so they'll still touch it, but this will hold them off long enough for me to eat my fill.

Mary's Quiche.  Again, wanting to make all the recipes she gave us last week.  Quiche for dinner is fairly common here, but I generally do a Mexican-themed quiche so that the sausage, cheese and salsa detract from the presence of either spinach or broccoli.  I'll let you know how undisguised broccoli goes over.

Chicken enchiladas, to which I will add Mexican rice (like I made it last week) and a salad.  Hopefully, there will be leftovers so that the next night, when I make...

Ms. Wendy's Mexican Chicken Corn Chowder, the leftovers can serve as filler.  Making Ms. Wendy's Chowder will make me a hero.  The boys love Ms. Wendy, and they love her chowder.

I realize that's not really enough meals to get me through the week, but inevitably something like the Five Guys incident, or desperately thrown together waffles, will happen.  I did buy the ingredients for another round of green curry, because the curry paste I bought at the ethnic grocery store apparently seared the taste-buds right off of someone's mouth (more leftovers for me).

In the end, things always work out.

Veg Week: That Korean Dish I can't Pronounce

Bibimbap.

I don't know how to pronounce it, but the Wonder Hub assures me I can tell you I've conquered it.

(Pause for deafening applause.)

Really, we conquered it.  While I chopped and sliced and sauteed like a madwoman, he put together the bulgogi.

I think he drew the short end of that stick, except that he harangued and harassed me throughout the process, which:

made it all worthwhile (for him).
worked toward his ongoing goal of never being asked to help in the kitchen.

I know that sounds harsh, but someday I'll tell you about his infamous Tuna Melts.  Then you'll understand.  You'll sympathize.  You'll give me knowing looks and shake your heads in his direction.  You will.

In the meantime, Bibimap.  Here's what I did:

I watched this video three times.

• I chopped and sliced and julienned.

• I sauteed big batches of yellow squash, baby bok choy, bean sprouts, baby spinach and portabella mushrooms (prepared the way you told me to, Teri, but still not successfully disguised.  Bubba, when told it was the meat of the meal, said, "Yeah. That's a mushroom," and passed it by.) in small quantities of sesame oil and soy sauce.

• I made an enormous mess.

• I drooled over the wonderful smells.

• I put it all together on a plate:

Next time (there will be a next time!) I will:

• Not be out of peanut oil.
• Not put the sauteed bok choy next to the sauteed spinach (My people have aesthetic issues.  No they don't.  I do.)
• Try new and more veggies.
• Find fresh bean sprouts, because I suspect that using canned bean sprouts is shameful.

I had one little coup d'état in this effort.  I found it at the World Market, or whatever that fishy and fascinating all-ethnicities grocery store is.  It was this:

Gochuchang Paste, which added a delicious kick of spice to the sweet, garlic-and-ginger undertones of the WH's bulgogi.

Score!

Greek: 5
Eggplant: 2
Enchiladas: 3.5, or 4
Bibimbap: 4

Veg Week: CONFESSION

I'm afraid there is no easy way to say it.  I spent 50 (eye-poking) minutes on the elliptical trying to dress it up, this thing I need to tell you. 

I spent the day running around Northern Virginia with girlfriends, arriving home in the late afternoon.  I was starving, which was funny, because I had eaten a huge Greek salad at my favorite restaurant for lunch, along with some bruschetta, and then a big latte from an overpriced coffee empire.  I joined the teens mid snack-fest and helped myself to a leftover enchilada.  I sat around and chatted with the boys, the sun shining gloriously through the open windows and lulling me into thinking there were many hours of daylight remaining.  When the WH walked in, we were relaxed and reclining, having nothing but some dirty dishes and a couple of Trader Joe's bags to show for our day.  All was well with the world.  It was the most gorgeous day of the year to date, so when the boys went out to the trampoline, I decided to take Molly on the two-mile loop (Molly Sue, Molly Sue...what are they feeding you?), which turned into the 2.5-mile loop, which would have been fine,

Except that the love of my life had run a 10k over lunch.

The Wonder Hub is much like a cranky toddler when he's hungry.  And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Well, except that he's bigger than a cranky toddler.  And crankier.

I had been thinking about dinner all day.  I was intimidated by the prep required.  I wasn't sure of the cooking sequence.  I was confused about the use of bulgogi in a vegetarian dish. On our walkabout, I had purchased some ingredients for the adventure, including portabella mushrooms, baby bok choy, fresh baby spinach, and yellow squash, but when the Cranky One growled, "When's dinner?" I choked.  After frantically looking the recipe through again, I decided to flip the Bibimbap night for the Green Curry (which I can make in my sleep) night.  I started prepping, but about three minutes in the WH (crankily) declared, "We're going out to eat."

I'm weak.  It's true.  I caved.

Knowing him as I do (and realizing that we were all dressed in some version of exercise gear), my gut told me where we were headed.  I knew.  I didn't breath a word against it.  Truthfully, my heart was welling up inside of me, filled with hope.

As he pulled into the parking lot, my mind began composing this post.  It's true.  I started listing my excuses before I'd even committed the crime.  In the end (when my belly was full and my soul was satisfied), I decided to lay out for you the plain truth:

I am a weak, weak woman.

So there.  Here it is, in black and white:  I have failed Veg Week.

 

 And, yes.  It was totally.worth.it.

Veg Week: Enchiladas

He hadn't even put his hiney in the chair when Moose declared, "Dude, those look amazing!"

Dude is my name, fyi.

After the Wonder Hub prayed (including the ritual "God bless the chef," which really means, "Sweet Lord, please let this food be edible!"), I halted everything to grab the camera.

Unfortunately, the teenagers had come in from track practice and proceeded to devour
Yogurt
Tortilla chips with melted cheese
Cold pizza
Chicken sandwiches
Milk

and were not all that hungry when dinner was ready 30 minutes later.  Go figure.  As a result, it was hard to get a read on their acceptance level of this meal.  They both said they like my chicken enchiladas better, but that they would eat this again.

The Monkey came in from back-to-back wrestling and lacrosse practices and would have happily devoured his brother's foot.  Needless to say, he loved them.

The WH liked them, but is still talking about Monday's Greek meal.  He knows it's Veg Week, and I'm afraid that for all of eternity every vegetarian meal will be compared against Greek salad, hummus and tzatziki.  On a scale of five, he rated:
Greek: 5
Eggplant: 2
Enchiladas: 3.5, or 4

I, for one, thought they were awesome.  This is what I did:

• Misread the recipe and put both teaspoons of cumin in the sauce, instead of one in the sauce and one in the filling.  I wish I had added one to the filling, for a total of three.  It would have been great.  Also, in regard to the spinach.  Frozen spinach is a crime against humanity, so I sauteed a bag of baby spinach in a little olive oil and added that to the filling, along with a can of corn instead of frozen.  
• I smashed an avocado on a plate and then squeezed a little lemon juice over it, the way my favorite Guatemalan taught me to do.  Then, I put the avocado plate on my side of the table and shared it only with the WH, the way living with teens has taught me to do.
• I used a can of mild Rotel in the rice, along with a 4oz can of diced green chiles.  Good stuff.
• I dumped the tortilla chips in a bowl (Polish, Rachel!) and said, "Have at it," which is exactly what Moose the Carb Addict wanted to hear.
• We scraped the last couple ounces of salsa out of a jar, because that's all we had.

I give them a FIVE.  They were wonderful.  Because of all the pre-meal snacking, there are actually leftovers for me today.  It just doesn't get any better than that, people.  It's the best of all possible worlds.

In other news, I wrote a blog post yesterday for the women's ministry at my church.  If you like, you can read it here.

Veg Week: Day Two, or They're on to me

This is Martha's photo, not mine.

Two out of three boys commented on the lack of meat in last night's meal.

Nobody called for a "Do Over."  However,

there were ZERO leftovers.

I used smaller, Italian eggplant, in hopes of sweeter flavor (thanks, Char!).

I burned the tar out of some of it, which meant my layers were a bit lacking.  (Cut the eggplant on the generous side of 1/2" thick, trust me.)

I used about a cup of cheese, instead of 1/2 cup, thinking, "You can never have too much cheese."  I was wrong.

The bechamel sauce was wonderful.  Beyond wonderful.  What else can you do with bechamel sauce?

We had another loaf of multi-grain bread and a large green salad with our Eggplant Parmesan.  Man, was it green.  I have yet to go to the commissary this week (picture Calvin making a gagging face), and all I had in the crisper was hearts of Romaine, broccoli, and a green bell pepper.  I added some feta and Craisins, but still, it was pretty lacking aesthetically.  I'm sure the men in my household were greatly bothered.

• The youngest gobbled up eggplant but tarried over his salad.  At age eight he prayed, "Dear Lord Jesus. Thank you for this day and please help them to discover that salad is really bad for you. Amen." The broccoli was the last to go, which I blame on his grandfather.  I half suspect that Molly Sue ate the broccoli, but I'll never know.

Scratch that.  He'll tell me tonight.  He takes after his Auntie Shari, who was nicknamed NBC (for good reason) when we were children.

• The middle ate two helpings but admitted sheepishly that he wasn't all that excited about it.  He never wants to hurt my feelings, sweet boy.  Truthfully, nine times out of ten he's the one I'm cooking for.  His earnest appreciation is all the thanks my (middle child's) heart requires.

• The eldest was pretty frank in his assessment.  "It's got no meat."  However, his mouth was crammed full at the moment he said this, so clearly it wasn't a deal-breaker.

So, yes.  They might be on to the whole Veg Week theme.  And, no.  They were not thrilled with Eggplant Parmesan.  But, heck.  They ate it all and nobody complained.  Sometimes, that's all a girl can hope for.

Next up!: Vegetable Enchiladas.

Veg Week: Day One

 

Let's get the confession out of the way first, okay?  First, this is not the Greek salad we ate last night.  This is a Greek salad I made in August of 2008.  The one I made last night (with the WH's help), on the fly, between a wrestling match and a track meeting, was dumped unceremoniously into a large Tupperware bowl.  It resembled this one, with the exception of the feta, which was plentiful and crumbled.

Second, I feel the need to confess that while I (we) planned and prepared a vegetarian meal, I had a non-veg second-string back-up plan waiting in the wings.  I really didn't believe that the meal, as Mary designed it, would be sufficient to fill post-track and  -wrestling bellies.

So there.  

Now, on to the meal.  

Greek salad, which according to my Greek friend Tinsie, is made from peeled cucumber slices, red onions, green bell pepper, kalamata olives, tomatoes wedges, and sliced (not crumbled) Feta cheese, sprinkled with oregano and drizzled with olive oil. (That was a grammatically weird sentence.)  In Greece, obviously, this is not known as a "Greek salad."  Rather, it is a Rustic Salad (xorˈjatiki saˈlata).

The hummus Mary linked to was seasoned with parsley and lemon juice. I decided to switch it to cilantro and lemon juice, cilantro being the most glorious of all the herbs and perpetually residing in my crisper drawer.  When I went to throw the garbanzos in the food processor, there were no garbanzos to be found in all of creation.  Instead, I dug up a Jillian Michaels recipe I've been wanting to try and made that instead.  FYI: I added an extra clove of garlic and a good bunch of cilantro to the food processor.  Do it.

The Tzatziki was Costco's finest.  I had planned to make it myself, but Monday is our craziest day and I have recently become The Kind of Girl Who Knows Her Limitations.  It's a fine kind of girl to be.

Add to this gourmet spread one loaf of crusty multigrain bread (also from Costco) and you've got a feast, my friends.

A feast which magically, mysteriously, marvelously filled two out of three* young stomachs, and which happily filled those of two adults.  The Wonder Hub declared it a "Do Over," which loosely translated means, "Yeah, I would eat this again."

So there you have it.  Veg Week: Day One.  Success!!

*The third young stomach was nowhere to be found at dinner and probably filled himself on taquitos, chips and salsa at home group.

What I'm Cooking: Menu by Guest Blogger Mary Dene

I can't stop smiling.  And laughing.  This is going to be awesome.  I asked my incredibly cool friend, Mary Dene, to be my guest blogger.  She's an amazing cook, and she's become a vegetarian since we were stationed together in Germany.  I asked her to tell us how she arrived at such a monumental decision, and then to make this week's menu for my family.  The Wonder Hub is, thankfully (in addition to being a good sport), the kind of man who really just wants to be fed.  The boys have the palates of full-grown world-travelers, and will eat darn near anything.  Just the same, I think I'll let the menu play itself out without cluing them in on its theme.  

It should be fun, come along for the ride!

 “Are you, really? Oh wow, I could never do that. I could never give up meat. You’re a better person than I am.”   I hear that E-V-E-R-Y week – every single week.  So why did I give up meat after 45 years? Two very simple reasons and 1 scapegoat: 1) It started out as a continuous case of painful acid reflux and an outbreak of hives every day. 2) I became brave enough to own what I was eating. Where did the animal come from? How was it raised? What was it fed? Is it leaving a HUGE carbon footprint? So now my philosophy is, “If I eat it, I will own it.”  The scapegoat was that I had always been looking for a reason to become a vegetarian. In my heart of hearts, it never felt right eating the muscle tissue of another animal.

Reason #1: My sister, the nurse, kept pushing me to go to the doc and get a prescription for acid reflux. She said, “I’m on Nexium, Dad’s on it, Mom was on it. It’s just hereditary. You’ll feel so much better.” My crunchy granola mind said, “Try a natural approach first.” Plus, I didn’t want to take medication everyday for the rest of my life. I thought I was too young for that, plus the image of Mom and Dad’s 28 slot pill box was too vivid. So, the first to go was dairy. Not hard. I’d given it up for Lent before. Presto – acid reflux GONE. Now I know why my parents said I was such a crier as a baby. Lactose intolerant. Case closed, sort of. (I now eat dairy is small quantities and not every day from organically AND humanely raised cows only.)

Here’s the scapegoat: Hives still haunted me. All around my middle and covering my thighs, every single night those hives would pop up. I would take a Benadryl, fall asleep scratching, only to wake up with an antihistamine hangover. No way to live. OK Mary, enter scapegoat. Finally, a reason to try and eliminate meat. Why meat? It was as good as any. During this period of abstaining from dairy and meat, my husband was deployed to Qatar. One night after I’d put the children to bed, I stumbled upon “Watch it Now” on Netflix. Enter Reason #2. One of the choices was Food Inc. I watched and was appalled and sickened. That did it. Total convert.

Is it hard sometimes? Yes. Have I faltered? Yes. Thanksgiving turkey and NC barbeque are the biggest temptresses. My remedy is akin to AA when I feel extremely weak. Instead of regular meetings, I re-watch the videos/movies on why I made my choice, and that’s enough of a moral kick in the pants to set me straight.  Also, my mantra at times of weakness is, “I’m eating the misery and suffering of others.” In my heart of hearts, I know it’s the right thing and I can live with myself again.  And the final nail in the coffin is, ‘According to a 2006 report by the Livestock, Environment And Development Initiative, the livestock industry is one of the largest contributors to environmental degradation worldwide, and modern practices of raising animals for food contributes on a "massive scale" to air and water pollution, land degradation, climate change, and loss of biodiversity.’  -Livestock's Long Shadow - Environmental Issues and Options is a United Nations report, released by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations on 29 November 2006. Do I want to have a finger in that pie? No.

The result of all of this is peace of mind. I feel good inside and out. Can you do it? Yes.

I cook a lot of ethnic foods. Italian, Greek, Korean, etc. If I have a theme, it’s easiest for me. Here’s a typical week’s menu:

MONDAY:  Greek – Hummus (Moosewood Cookbook), Tzatziki (Barefoot Contessa), Greek Salad and Pita Bread. http://www.invinciblemuffin.org/recipes/condiments/hummus_moosewood.html

http://www.barefootcontessa.com/recipes.aspx?RecipeID=597&S=0

TUESDAY: Italian – Eggplant Parmesan (Martha Stewart), Herb Mix Salad with Gorgonzola and homemade balsamic vinaigrette, baguette (http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/lighter-eggplant-parmesan?backto=true&backtourl=/photogallery/quick-meatless-recipes#slide_1)

WEDNESDAY: Mexican – Vegetable Enchiladas (Martha Stewart), Spanish Rice (Zatarain’s brand), homemade Guacamole and Salsa. (http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/vegetable-enchiladas)

THURSDAY: Korean – Bibimbap and side dishes called Banchan (http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/boy-meets-grill/bibimbap-recipe/index.html) We live in Korea, so the access to ingredients for this dish is unlimited. However, make it your own.

FRIDAY: Thai - Kitchen Sink Vegetable Green Curry over a mixture of brown and Jasmine Rice http://www.atasteofthai.com/index.php?page=recipe&id=380

This is when I empty my vegetable drawer at the end of the week and throw in a can of drained garbanzo beans. I do not add the fish sauce, of course.

SATURDAY It’s Family Movie Night: Homemade Veggie Pizza.  I top our pizzas with Smart Sausages® Italian Style by Lightlife

(http://familyfun.go.com/recipes/processor-pizza-dough-684623/) I’ve used this recipe for years. It’s absolutely foolproof.

SUNDAY: Quiche (I usually add whatever vegetables I’m in the mood for), Salad and Baguette  (http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/crustless-broccoli-cheddar-quiches?backto=true&backtourl=/photogallery/quick-meatless-recipes#slide_12) I use soy milk instead of half and half.

This is just a small fraction of the things I cook, but it is imperative that our family sit down every night together and eat. 95% of the time it happens.  I also discovered this weekly download on Huffington Post. It’s really fun to pick a topic and hear what everyone has to say. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/11/05/huffpost-family-dinner-do_n_779622.html

What I'm cooking: Paint Week

We found our Virginia home during a one-week, spring break trip from our home in Alabama.  We rolled back into the VA the last week of June, boarded Molly with a local vet, set up camp for ourselves at a local military base, signed (four thousand times) on the dotted line, and painted for a week straight.

Let me be clear on this, because it's important: The Wonder Hub did not paint.  My amazing, self-sacrificing, endlessly hilarious, bad-ass Russian missionary friend, Kim (dubbed Kim Possible by the Monkey), and I painted.  We painted until we were delirious and then we painted some more.  We painted the entire house, save the upstairs hallway and three bathrooms.

Did I mention this is my first house?

Since that time, which is approximately 2.5 years, the Wonder Hub and I have painted two bathrooms, and re-painted one small family room and kitchen.  The Wonder Hub himself has painted parts of the basement.  Grudgingly.  The Wonder Hub is not a fan of painting.

So.  This week we are re-painting the front entry, the living and dining rooms, and the upper stairway.  We are painting for the first time the upstairs hallway (glory, hallelujah).  The WH has taken a week of leave in which to make this magic happen.

It should be really, really fun.

So, what does this have to do with this week's menu?  Seriously, if you have to ask that question, you are not in charge of cooking for your household.  My house is already turned upside-down, crabby words have already been spoken, mud is being applied to nail holes as I type.

As such, I have made this week's menu as simple as possible.  It looks like this (in no particular order):

• Judie's Lasagna, already put together and waiting in the fridge, with frozen garlic bread and a salad.
• Simple Sesame Noodles, made with whole wheat (thin) spaghetti, chicken and nothing else.  I will make a double batch and call the scallions and cilantro vegetables.
• Rani's Spicy Sausage Potato Soup, made with healthy(er) chicken sausage and kale.  The first run-through with this recipe was a HUGE hit.  I'll ask Rani if I can share it with you.
• Potato Leek Soup, because, a) I bought four pounds of bacon on Saturday and, b) my sister-in-law mentioned on Facebook that she had cooked with leeks for the first time, and now I can't stop thinking of them.  We loooooooove leeks.  
• Spicy Pulled Pork, from Ree Drummond's cookbook.  Always a hit.  On tortillas with whatever fixins I can manage.

Ree and me!

 Happy week, all!  Your prayers for the peace of my household are greatly appreciated.  Your showing up at my door, paintbrush in hand, might be appreciated even more!

Judie's Lasanga

I'm supposed to be at physical therapy right now.  I think I'm going to play my 72 hours late card..

So, in order to write a proper Judie's Lasagna post, I needed to stroll down memory lane via 5,000 old photos on the hard drive.  The things I do for you people.

I found this:

That's my Aged P (also known as Mel), me, and my mommy at Bernkastel, Germany.  I miss her so.

I found this, which I think was the kindergarten dental hygiene play.

 

Yay!  Dental hygiene!

After I laughed for half an hour, I found this:

Partnach-Klamm, Garmisch, Germany



..and this

London, baby! (trip with Martina in March, 2003)

The London photo (which I think I scanned from one of Martina's) made me step away from the hard drive and look through a photo album Martina made me.  Martina is that amazingly wonderful kind of friend that every girl should have.  The photo album is a record of every time our families got together during the three years we lived in Germany.  It also has one of the photos of Judy that I was looking for...

But for the life of me, I cannot find a picture of Judy on the hard drive.  We lived across the hall from each other for two years.  We ate together regularly.  We rarely closed our doors.  We spent a week together in Mallorca...

Clearly, I cannot write this post until I find those photos. 

What I'm cooking, and big news for next week

I made the mistake of eating lunch before sitting down to make this week's menu.  I chopped a big romaine salad with green pepper, red cabbage, toasted cashews and feta.  It was great.  Then I ate two pieces of leftover caramelized onion and prosciutto pizza.  Now I want a nap.

Because I'm full, and my jeans are tight, I'm browsing through old Cooking Light mags given to me by my sweet friend Becca back in 2006.  I rotate them by season and manage to find something new each time I dig in.  Thanks, Becca!

So.  The menu.  In no particular order:


The breakfast we didn't have last week.  I want breakfast on Monday because the WH and I are going to make smoothies for everyone at home group (small group?) and the two together just work for me.  Plus, Mondays are crazy with two ravenous track kids and one ravenous wrestling kid all walking in approximately 30 minutes before we need to walk out.  I can have the waffle iron hot and the bacon and eggs cooked and waiting...and then I WILL RULE THE WORLD!!!!

White Bean and Turkey Chili. I do believe we'll have this over baked potatoes, because we didn't eat them last week.  When you bake potatoes, whether you have a convection oven or not, please use this recipe.  And please do the olive oil rub with sea salt.  They'll rock your world.

Pulled Pork Sammies with Coleslaw.  Using my easy-breezy crock-potted-with-a-can-of-Coke pork loin and piled high on potato rolls.  Perfect for a multiple-sports-plus-youth-group night.

Posole (or Pozole).  I have a great recipe somewhere, will have to dig it up.  Served with Boy Cheese Sandwiches.


Spaghetti and Meatballs.  When Mel is here, we make Grandma Maroni's meatballs, but when he's not, I buy meatballs at Ikea.  The secret, should you choose to do this, is to enter through the exit doors, grab a bag of frozen Swedish meatballs in the cooler by the checkout, and get the heck out.  When we lived in Germany, Ikea was a grand adventure, but here in America it's nothing more than a giant, annoying maze. (Unless you're a teenager. Then it's a great place to play Manhunt.)  I always, always make my own sauce, using the Cooking Light Basic Pizza Sauce recipe as a starting place, and sometimes subbing red wine for the white.

Thai Chopped Chicken Salad, because I didn't make it last week, and for the life of me, I cannot come up with anything else.

There will be much baking this week.  First, my Mom's Lard-Arse Brownies (I swear that's the title) to go with an unopened container of ice cream found languishing in the back of the freezer.  Also, chocolate chip cookies for lunches, because a dude at Costco tried to sell me some cardboard thing dotted with chocolate chips, and I told him I would bring him a real cookie.  Last (term used loosely), whatever the birthday boy wants for the party he's having this weekend.  My award-winning (seriously!) cheesecake is usually his first choice, but I'll have to let you know.

So.  The big news for next week is that my fabulously witty and artistic and well-traveled and adventurous and vegetarian friend Mary Dene is sitting in her apartment in Korea, making next week's menu.  I asked her to be my guest-blogger, and promised to cook whatever she puts on the menu.  I foresee a grand adventure, for two reasons.  First, her cooking skills faaaar outreach my own.  Second, when I asked the Wonder Hub if he was game for a week of veg meals, he said, "Sure, as long as you add meat."