This is why we can't have nice stuff

I can't blame this on my kid.  It's all the fault of the adults.

Seriously, who goes through this many meat
thermometers, and keeps them?

Here's what you shouldn't do with meat thermometers.

You shouldn't put them close to the burners when they're on.  It melts the plastic cover, and makes the numbers difficult to read. (My fault.)

You shouldn't put the meat back in the oven with the thermometer still in it.  The plastic cover pops off, and the sensor is forever ruined. (My husband's fault.)

You shouldn't put them in the garbage disposal.  They break. (Both our faults.)

How I've spent my summer vacation

If everything at the store came in such pretty jars as these, I'd be tempted to buy more canned foods.  Alas, since they insist on covering the beauty with ugly screaming labels, I'll just have to keep making my own!

 

 

From left: peach jam, kosher dills, chunky applesauce,
spaghetti sauce, plums, pear halves, pickled beets

More seeds

In a moment of self-doubt, I planted more seeds.  Figuring I had killed off my germinating tomato seeds after forgetting to water them for a day or two, I decided I better plant some back-ups.  Exactly two days after I planted the second batch, the first batch started sprouting.  

I started twelve more tomatoes, and four more ground cherries. For those of you doing the math, that's twenty-eight tomatoes and eight ground cherries all together. If I'm doing my math correctly, that's about eighteen more tomato plants and four more ground cherry plants than I'll need.


Hopefully mason jars go on sale soon, because I'm going to need quite a few more for all the tomatoes I could be canning this summer.  Provided, of course, that the little plants do as well in the garden as they have on my kitchen floor.

Sounds like an idea for a 1960's horror flick. 

Seed catalogues make me drool

In an effort to ignore all the snow I've seen in the last two weeks, I've planted seeds.  132 of them, to be exact.  One seed for each pod of an egg carton.  Mostly marigolds, but also several tomatoes, and a few ground cherries. 

I've also planned my garden plots, ordered (more) seeds, and started thinking about gathering all the recipes for all the canning I'll be doing this summer. 

Next week, I'll be building a trellis for peas, and sowing carrots.  Loads of carrots.

X is for Xantham Gum?

I won my husband through pie. Buttery crust stuffed with thickly sliced apples, cinnamon warmth and a touch of nutmeg.  I suppose the pork roasts, mustard chicken, and meatloaves played some roll in all this, too, but I'm certain it was the pie that finally won him over.  Even now, I can win him over with some culinary delight- handbreaded fried chicken, the perfect taco seasoning, a winning rib rub, a steak sandwich with goat cheese, a pecan pie. 

I'm not about to claim I'm the next Iron Chef, or Pioneer Woman, or Martha Stewart, (though I have been called two of those on several occasions).   I just like to cook.  I know enough about the ingredients that I rarely follow a recipe as it's printed, but subsititute and modify with abandon, even creating new dishes according to my whims.  I've subscribed to a magazine simply for the five or six new recipes I would get each month, and stuffed a binder full of my favorites.

However, I've recently been paralyzed when dinner rolls around.  I find myself longing for a muffin, but too nervous to mix anything up.  Suddenly, everything I knew about baking has become null and void.  Things that would have been simple- casseroles, meatloaf, cookies- are suddenly overwhelming.  I'm scared to make a pie. 

I found out I have a gluten intolerance.  No wheat, no barley, no rye.  No breadcrumbs, no croutons, no pizza crust, no cans of cream soup, no spaghetti, no tortillas, no pie crust.  While I'm usually up for a good challenge, in many ways I feel like someone has handed a cookbook written in Ænglisc.  I'm suddenly looking for products whose names I've only seen on the ingredient list of dressings or packages of birdseed, and following directions that feel so backwards and wrong.  So flop after flop (think cranberry-orange muffins with an uncooked garbanzo bean aftertaste, and cookies gritty enough to have come out of the Dust Bowl), I'm slowly figuring it out.  I think.  I'm nowhere ready for pie crust.




Why must you be so disagreeable?



A Pie is Worth a Thousand Words

When it comes to meeting new people, I can rock it for all of ten minutes.  I'm good with names, and can come up with a few good questions to get some key details and information out of someone.  But put me with a stranger for any longer than ten minutes, and I'll start wishing I had a Smartphone, a magazine, or anything to draw the attention away from my inability to gab.

So with Call Day two weeks away, I've come to realize that I'll soon be thrust into a congregation full of strangers, and expected to talk to them.  I figure I'll be set for the first few Sundays.  Those early Narthex chats will be all about basic information, and I'll rock.  After that, my plan is to hand out pie.*  They'll forgive my speechlessness if I'm passing out homemade confections, right?

Mmmmmm, boy! Pie Heaven!

*You may be wondering why I would pick pie.  After all, it has a reputation of being finicky, and Pillsbury seems to be making a killing off everyone's fear of crusts.   I don't mean to brag, but merely state the facts.  I always rock at pie.  Always.

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.

Herky Jerky Turkey Lurkey

There's something to be said for the inane, humdrum tasks of housewifery when done in solitude.  Think sweeping, washing dishes, or in tonight's case, de-boning a turkey (Betty Crocker herself claims "Turkey  isn't just for Thanksgiving.  It's an any-meal, any-day, any-time-of-the-year kind of bird!"  And for 88 cents a pound, I'll take her up on the offer!).  Boring and annoying as these tasks may be, when done in solitude, they offer the woman a chance to ruminate.  A chance she doesn't get much any other time of the day, as she's constantly plagued by the desire (or demand) to meet the needs of those around her.  Mindless tasks give her the opportunity to fulfill both the needs of others--we all need clean floors and dishes, and someone's got to pick those little savory pieces of meat off the bones--and her need for peace.  Perhaps this opinion stems from my own introversion, but I do believe that everyone at sometime needs a chance to chew the cud.  So women, put the children to bed, let your husband watch the game, and get to picking.  After all, those morsels of meat are highly versatile and nutritious.

My, my, won't you be tasty in a sandwich!

Of Family Dinner

Writes Caitlin Flanagan (told you I loved her!):

"Their [writers of family dinner advice] notions about the meal and its importance in family life are rooted in middle-class American assumptions about how and when parents and children ought to interact.  What they are loath to admit is that the great missing element of that kind of existence is not dinner gongs or lists of conversations starters.  It's a kind of family life in which expectations have not been raised, but radically lowered.

"It requires a mother who considers putting dinner on the table neither an exalted nor a menial task, and also a collection of family members whose worldly ambitions are low enough that they all happen to be hanging around the house at six-thirty.  For family life to mimic the postwar ideal that is our current fixation, we would need to revive the cultural traditions that created it: the one-income family, the middle-class tendency toward frugality, and the understanding that one's children's prospects won't include elite private colleges and stratospheric professional success, both of which may hinge on tremendous achievements in the world of extracurricular activities.

"If children are to have unstructured time, they need a mother at home; no one would advocate a new generation of latchkey children.  But she must be a certain kind of mother--one willing to divest her sense of purpose from her children's achievement.  She must be a woman willing to forgo the prestige of professional life in order to sit at home while her kids dream up new games out in the tree house and wait for her to call them in for a nourishing dinner.  She must be willing to endure the humiliation of forgoing a career and of raising tots bound for state college."


Taken from To Hell with All That: Loving and Loathing our Inner Housewife, "The Executive Child."

Of Home and Housework

I'm rather amazed at everything I can accomplish in one day, and still have some energy left by the time my son goes to bed.  Besides general cleaning and dinner preparation, I can go to the grocery store, walk to the post office, make bread or cookies, and do a load of laundry.  (I realize some of you may be thinking, "Well sure, she's only got one!"  Rest assured, for every ounce of cuteness in my son, there is a pound of "Hold Me!"  Most of my day is spent one-armed singing Yankee Doodle and various nursery rhymes.)

Granted, I am squeezing a lot of work into the glorious 40 minute nap, and I do a lot of kitchen clean-up after dinner, when my husband can baby-wrangle for me; but still, the possibilities are endless.  I can do my dishes!  I can scrub and vacuum the floors weekly!  I can read a book! I can clean the windows! I can shine my silver! I can make dessert!

Look out home, I'm apron-clad, wielding a spatula and broom!

After I retrieve them from my son.