As promised, though a day late

First off, I have to say it's well worth it to invest in a good spice cabinet.  And I do mean invest.  They're expensive, but have say, a little curry, on hand will be just the thing to kick-up your chicken salad.  Or cumin for your meatloaf (go ahead and throw in some cheddar cheese, black beans, and a dash of salt while you're at it.*) A few new spices can make your bland grand.

With that in mind, here are couple recipes so you can try out those new spices I'm sure you'll dash off to buy.

Beer-braised pork and black bean soup.  Don't you dare open a can of Pace for this. If you don't want to buy the fresh stuff, make your own.

Serve with cornbread.



And, a new one I intend to try this weekend:
Chicken with Curry Sour Cream Sauce.

Heat some oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven.  Brown  4 breast halves (or 2 1/2-3lbs cut up boiler-fryer chicken).  Drain fat.  Sprinkle chicken with salt, add some chopped onion and a couple tablespoons of water.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover and simmer until juices run clear.  Remove chicken, keep warm.  Add 1/4c. water to the skillet,  2 tsp. curry, pinch of ginger and a pinch of cumin.  Bring to a boil.  Be sure to scrape up all those little brown bits from the bottom of the pan.  Reduce heat, stir in 1c.sour cream until it's hot.  Pour sauce over chicken and rice.  Serve with chutney.

You can also put dry-roasted peanuts, shredded coconut, mandarin orange segments, and chopped green onions out to sprinkle on top of the chicken.

Vegetable options: Well here I'm no good. I'm not knowledgeable enough with Indian cuisine to know what would be good.  You decide.


As with the last one, if you have a great idea for a non-American salt-and-pepper-spiced meal, let me know.

*I ought to give credit to my Sister-in-Law for this idea.  I threw in the beans myself, but the cumin and cheese was all her.

The Great Recipe Exchange (or What would you do with a freezer like this?)

I'm in need of new recipes.  I've been poring over my forgotten and little-used cookbooks hoping that something will jump out and say "I won't taste like anything you've been making for the last four years!"  I've gleaned from them what I can, and I'm still desperate for something different. So I propose an exchange.  I'll give you a couple of my best recipes (I promise not to mess with the proportions or leave key ingredients out), if you'll do the same for me.  I'll try just about anything.  Teriyaki chicken, Indonesian Peanut Chicken, and Tandoori chicken show up on my menus as often as enchiladas and broccoli-cheddar soup.

Rules:

1. Your recipe must be frugal.  As much as I would love to cook up a standing crown roast or leg of lamb, I refuse to buy one.  Same goes for most steaks.  I can't justify spending $7.00 on a pound of meat. Meatless meals are fair-game.

2.  Tell me what else you serve with it.  I don't have to have  the recipes for all those- I just need some ideas.

3. It cannot contain tuna.  (As much as I like it, my husband won't eat it. Sigh.)



Old Standby 1: Cheddar Chicken

Shred 6oz of cheddar cheese (or cheese of you choice) into a medium bowl.  Add 16-20 crushed buttery cracker (like Ritz).  Add a teaspoon or two of your favorite herb (I've done dill, thyme, rosemary), and 1 tsp. pepper. Mix well.  Melt 4 Tbsp. of butter in a medium bowl.  Dip 6 4 oz. boneless, skinless chicken breasts in the butter, then into the cheese mixture. Place on a foil-lined baking sheet (don't skip the foil unless you like scratching baked-on crusties off your dishes).  Bake at 400 degrees for 30-45 minutes, or until internal temperature reaches 165 degrees.

I serve it with rice and green beans.  Broccoli would be great, too.


Old Standby 2: Pork Chop Dinner

Disclaimer: I know condensed cream soup isn't the healthiest thing out there, but this is super easy to make, and it's a one-pot meal, so it finds it's way to the table fairly often.  I figure if I buy the low-sodium stuff, I'll be okay.  It's not like we eat fast food every day.


In a large skillet (and make it large, you'll be cramming in quite a few veggies) brown 4 pork chops  (bone-in or boneless, it won't matter) in a bit of oil and some chopped onion.  Top with  4-5 small cubed potatoes (your choice of varieties), few handfuls of sliced carrots (I've used fresh, I've used frozen), and some mushrooms if you'd like (I'm partial to fresh, though you can use canned.)  Dump a can of condensed cream soup on top (chicken or mushroom or celery- low-sodium will taste fine), and add 2 cups of milk.  Bring it to a boil, reduce heat to simmer, cover and forget about it for 25-30 minutes, or longer if you'd like.  Just make sure the veggies are tender before you serve it.

Serve with a salad.


Tune in tomorrow for my Ethnic-inspired recipes.

The tedious little hobby I've aquired

I was finally brave enough to try out my idea on the brocade I bought for my husband's stole.  And no, it's not done yet!  I still have to fill in the spaces, and whip-stitch the outline.  There's also the task of adding four lilies...

Best of all, this is just practice.  I don't have much goldenrod thread left, so I doubt I'll be able to make a match, if I'm even able to fill the spaces...

Gotta love embroidery.  It's addicting.

How the 60s failed us

When Karen Owen first appeared in the news, I decided not to take up the debate.  Rather, I would leave it to the people who were more gifted in wisdom and words.  My wait was worthwhile.  From Caitlin Flanagan in the most recent Atlantic:

 "As I read the woman's report, and imagined the tones of outrage and hurt and violation in which it was surely given, and as I lingered on her account of how drunk she'd been, a very old-fashioned phrase suddenly floated through my mind.  It was a phrase I hadn't thought of in years, a simple formulation that carried within it a world of assumptions and beliefs, 'She's angry,' I thought to myself, 'because he took advantage of her.'

. . . In those days, we relied on our own good judgment to keep us safe, but also--and this is the terrible, unchanging fact about being female--on the mercy of the men around us."

While I may have used a word other than "terrible" to describe the truth of women relying upon the mercy of men, I believe Flanagan has hit upon a truth we have ignored.

"We've made a culture for our college women in which they have been liberated from the curfews and parietals that were once the bane of co-eds, but one in which they have also shaken off the general suspicion of male sexuality. . . "

And not just our college women, but our young daughters as well, as evidenced by the alarming fashions available in the "girls" section of any clothing store.  We have not taught our women and girls to guard themselves, but encouraged them to be seductive in the name of beauty, and therefore have left them vulnerable to the pain only a man can bring upon a woman.

God grant us wisdom as we teach our daughters what is good: to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.

Flanagan's full article here.

Arise, shine

One of the biggest challenges a mother will face is being privy to the demons that daily arise in her children. The nights her child refuses to sleep and keeps the family awake from one until four; the scream fest that initiates the moment he is set upon a chair so she can prepare dinner. The whining and complaining that commences when she reveals she has to stop reading for a moment to use the restroom; the throwing of toys that occurs when the Thomas train falls off the track again and the frustrated child cannot verbalize his emotions.  The refusals to nap when she is deliriously tired; the demands that she hold him while loading the dishwasher or washing machine.

Each event wears upon her until she feels she is about to break open and lash out.  Whereupon she enters church, and her demon-child becomes angelic, charming the crowds with his smile as he toddles down the aisle to his father at the end of the service.  "What a sweetheart!" "What a well-behaved child!" "What a doll!" the crowds gush.

And she must be stoic in her response of thanks.  "Come visit," she longs to say, "moments after I've plopped him in his crib for pulling the dog's tail and listen to him scream obscenities at me that, I assure you, are not part of our family's vocabulary."

It's difficult to acknowledge that children, even the tiniest of infants, and the toddliest of toddlers, are indeed, sinners, too. It's difficult to acknowledge that the most angelic of children sometimes throw their blocks at their mothers and keep them up all night.  And it's difficult for a mother to watch another woman's children without feeling that she is somehow, someway, doing something wrong, because her own children don't behave as they ought.

And while this too, shall pass, she cannot help but allow that this set of demons will only be replaced with another, and the cycle will continue until all things are created anew.  So she begins each morning, thankful for the rising sun that sheds new light upon the earth, and reminds her that she, too, can arise and shine, for her light has come.  She will see and be radiant, her heart shall thrill and exult.  Her sons will come to her from afar, and her daughters will be carried on her hip.

The IQ is dropping by the minute around here.

Yesterday, I opened the dishwasher in an attempt to get the milk.

I used "meaned" as the past tense of "mean" instead of "meant."  (And I'm picky about grammar.  Really picky.)

I misplaced my glasses around noon, and my husband finally found them this morning.

I had superb idea for a blog post, but since I can't recall the brilliant idea, you get this one.

So I'm buying one of these, and hopefully my brain will get back on track.  Thanks to The Happy Housewife, you can get a coupon code here.

Jealousy strikes again

While sitting through the Christmas Eve service, I noticed I was becoming increasingly skeptical of the hymns we were singing, and rather jealous of the Holy Mother.  In most every song, the Baby Jesus is portrayed as the perfect sleeper. Mary sings a lullaby as he rocks on her lap, puts him down on a pile of hay in a manger, and they all sleep in heavenly peace. Sure, the cattle and their lowing wake the poor kid, but he doesn't cry.  He doesn't wake his mother and make her hold him or insist on sleeping in her bed.  He puts himself back to sleep.

Maybe you have a kid like that.  I am not so fortunate.  In fact, while I was attending this late service, my son was at home with a babysitter watching Cars. He was supposed to be sleeping.

Perhaps when he leaves for college, I'll finally get a good night's sleep. Until then, you can probably find me rolling my eyes at all those sentimental Christmas melodies, and secretly wishing I knew what Mary knew about putting kids to sleep.