Day Nineteen: Dinner on the Run

Tonight I taught all day and night, and Mike was still out of town.  Jack spent the evening with my mom, where he enjoyed a lovely meal of Spaghetti-Os and raspberries.  My mom actually had to hide the raspberries because he was eating them so fast she couldn't even get them rinsed off first.  She proudly told me that she even got him to eat a few green beans.  He caught on pretty quickly, however, and that was the end of that!

By the time I got Jack home and in bed, I was exhausted myself.  I had lots more work to do before I could turn in, though, so I had to rustle up something warm and satisfying. I had nowhere near enough energy to cook something.  After a long time looking in the cupboard, I finally found the right meal.

Oatmeal!  I used to think oatmeal was only for breakfast, and for old people.  After college, though, I worked as a graduate assistant at Drury.  My boss worked so hard every day, she only spent about 5 minutes eating lunch.  I worried about her a lot (this was before I became a teacher and a speed eater).  Starting at noon, I used to pop in her office every five or ten minutes and remind her that it was lunchtime.  After a few reminders she would finally acquiesce.  She would get up, walk across her office to the microwave, and make a bowl of oatmeal.  This did not allay my worries, since oatmeal was clearly a breakfast meal for old people, and not sufficient to sustain a working adult. 

She seemed to thrive on this thin fare, and I began to wonder if oatmeal might deserve another glance.  Soon after, I began eating it, and loving it, on cold winter mornings.  Bare cupboards gave me
the opportunity to break oatmeal out of its breakfast confines and invite it to the dinner table.

My oatmeal was a great dinner tonight.  Plus, I got to eat while I worked.

Day Eighteen: Dinner with Elmo

Wednesdays are always busy, busy.  I don't get home from teaching Spanish classes until about 7:45.  Usually, this means Jack is waiting to be bathed and put to bed, after having had dinner with Mike.  Tonight, though, Mike is travelling.  Jack had a lovely homecooked meal with his GaGa (Mike's mom).  I picked him up there and drove him home.  Since Jack asked so nicely (six times) I sang the Elmo theme song the entire way home.  It's a short song.  Every time it finished I heard his sweet little "more?" coming from the backseat, and I couldn't help but sing out with gusto once more.

By the time we got home Jack nearly fell over himself running to his spot on the couch to watch Elmo's World.  This is part of our nighttime routine, developed by yours truly.  I am normally anti-television, especially for Jack.  However, after his bath I have to grease him down in Eucerin.  Eucerin is extremely thick and laggy, and smearing it all over a baby is neither fun nor easy.  The only way I can do it is if Jack is distracted by his 15 minute Elmo show. 

My requirements for my own dinner tonight were as follows: I needed to be able to prepare it, eat it, and clean it up by the time Elmo's World was over.  Since I am a teacher, I am also a speed eater.  Really, tonight's challenge posed no problem to me at all.  I grabbed some leftovers from the fridge, warmed them up, and two minutes later dinner was over. 

Some of you are thinking how sad and banal this sounds, but guess what?  I like it!  This is one of the perks to Mike travelling: I don't have to worry about cooking some tasty, balanced meal.  I will eat anything old thing that's sitting around, and Jack is always pleased to get to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

Guess what else?  I don't have to clean up the kitchen!  Ha! 

Let's all please turn our attention to Mike.  Right now he is probably lounging in his hotel room in Mississippi, watching ESPN with the volume turned as loud as he pleases, eating... what?  Eating what?  I will tell you, it is not homecooked.  We have our first violation.

Mike claims exemption during travel.  I'm not so kind to give him full exemption, but I'm also not motivated enough to have packed him a cooler full of homecooked meals for his trip.   Therefore, I will have to think of a proper punishment for this violation.  Any suggestions are appreciated.

Day Seventeen: Lots of hard work

After yesterday's easy supper, I wanted to redeem myself with something a little healthier and more involved.  Of course, this means cooking fish.  I still had a few Sockeye salmon filets in the freezer, so that would be the main course.  I have a great recipe from Texas Ties (remember this cookbook, I used it for chicken noodle soup?) for glazed salmon.  I love the recipe for two equally important reasons.  First, it is yummy.  Second, all the ingredients are things that you already have in the kitchen.  I'm sold!

Now... for the vegetable.  I wanted to do broccoli, and I wanted to do more than just steam it.  I normally always steam broccoli.  And, normally, it is not a crowd pleaser.  My aunt Louise makes a mean roasted broccoli with gremolata, so I asked her for the recipe.  Louise is an amazing cook.  She makes things that normal Ozarks folks can't pronounce, like gremolata and tabouli.  Mike has a natural aversion to any food that is difficult to pronounce and polysyllabic.  However, when Louise cooks Mike cleans his plate.  I was hoping for the same luck with the roasted broccoli.

First, I had to get out some bread and let it sit out on the counter to get stale.  Jack found my stash and made a little snack of it.

Meanwhile, I took Jack with me to visit our friend Jane.  Jane is another great cook.  We used to make homemade jelly together.  This was before Jack came along and put an end to my free time.  Jane has been reading the blog, and noticed how much I liked bread.  She felt sorry for me eating crescent rolls all the time.  She has been on a bread making kick, and offered to give me half the dough she had made the previous day.  She even offered to loan me her cookbook.

Being the breadhead that I am, I got in the car and put the pedal down.  Jane gave me two loaves of rising bread and three jars of jelly.

As soon as I got home I put the bread in the oven to bake.  It makes you feel good to have bread baking in the oven, even if you didn't it yourself.  The house becomes warmer and cozier.  You start to use words like home, hearth, and artisan.  You smile dreamily over your toddler as he plays on the kitchen floor.  For a moment, you feel like a better you.

Jack was busy during this time, too.  He began playing one of his favorite games: use the Swiffer to knock all the keys off the key-holder. 

This game leads to the slow demise of the paint job on our walls, but I like to watch Jack play.  I'm proud of him for using tools to accomplish tricky tasks. 

When Mike groans, I point out that the use of tools is what separates humans from animals... and thumbs, of course. What an exceptional human Jack must be, since he is using tools to solve problems already!

While Jack destroyed the hallway, I happily worked on Louise's gremolata.  My bread wasn't quite stale enough, so I toasted it in the oven.  Then I put it in the Cuisinart and chopped it to smithereens.

All I had left to do was sautee a diced shallot, throw in the bread crumbs, and mix in some lemon zest.  I would sprinkle this mixture over the roasted broccoli.  Perhaps I was excited because I would get to eat bread with my broccoli, but I just knew Mike would love this.  Louise had cautioned that I wouldn't be able to hide the broccoli, but I had assured her it didn't matter.  Mike would acknowledge the vegetable, eat said vegetable, and applaud the cook.

It turned out fantastic.  Our dinner was so nice I even lit the candles. 

The bread was amazing.  Everyone loved it, including Jack.  Once we broke out Jane's homemade strawberry jelly, we couldn't get Jack to eat anything but the bread and jelly.  Thus we have learned not to serve jelly at dinner. 

Sad news.  Mike didn't like the broccoli.  He devoured his salmon, though.  I ate so much bread and broccoli that I wasn't even hungry by the time I got around to the salmon. 

I was happy that tonight had been such a healthy, happy meal.  Things are going to get difficult this week, since Mike will be travelling for work and I'll be teaching at night.  I'm not sure how this is going to work...  

Day Sixteen: Everyday Ordinary

Tonight was my night to cook, but thanks to a busy day teaching and playing with Jack, I didn't think much about dinner until dinner was here.  I had planned to make chili, but it was 60 degrees today.  We spent the afternoon at the park in our jackets, drove with the windows down, and left the doors to the house open to let in the fresh air.  It just didn't seem right to make chili.

So at the last minute I changed my plans.  I found a can of sloppy joe sauce in the cupboard and I threw together some sloppy joes. 

I hardly ever make sloppy joes, but every time I do I'm reminded how good they are.  I could have eaten eight of these sandwiches!

Put some green beans and peaches on the plate and you've got yourself a nice little meal. 

Jack loved his dinner tonight.  His hamburger bun was gone in no time.  He didn't like the meat or the green beans, of course.  Ah well, he ate 50% of the meal, and that is a success. 

Mike and Jack had a good time at dinner giving high fives and knuckles.

Of course this led to some tickling.

We loved our simple meal tonight.  It was easy.  It was yummy.  And, it left us plenty of time to play under the table.

Day Fifteen: Ice Storm Remembrance Dinner

This week marks the five year anniversary of the ice storm.  For those of you not living in Springfield at the time, let me tell you, the ice storm was big.  It was huge.  It was terrible and awful. 

The ice storm started on a weekend evening.  My parents, being the socialites they are, were out having dinner with friends.  Mike and I were at my parents house, where I was living at the time, watching a movie.  Above the sound of the t.v. we started to hear eerie pops and snaps.  They got louder and louder.  Eventually we decided to investigate, and discovered that the branches were breaking off all the trees in the yard.  Seconds later entire limbs starting coming down, and we called my parents. 

Mom and Dad hurried home just in time for the electricity to go off.  Their car wasn't in the garage five minutes before an enormous limb fell across the driveway, making it impassible. 

There wasn't much to do that night besides feel sick to your stomach, knowing that all the beautiful old trees weren't going to make it through the night.  If you walked outside, it seemed like you were on a battlefield.  The quiet was puncuated by cracks and booms, unseen trees breaking and falling.  We sat in the dark, listening to the trees die, groaning at each new crash.

That night Mike spent the night on the couch downstairs.  At first it was hard to sleep through the booms and crashes, but eventually we all got accustomed and fell into a deep, tired sleep.  It got colder and colder in the house without the heating, but Mike started to feel especially cold in the early morning.  Finally the cold was too much for him, and he got up to investigate.  He followed the draft to the next room over, and discovered a 20 foot limb which had crashed through the skylight and now lay on the floor. 

We spent the next two weeks without power, working hard every minute we were awake.  Mike stayed with us the whole time.  While it was a terrible, sad time, the ice storm was also sort of fun.  Each day presented new and different challenges, and we worked hard every day and accomplished things we normally would not dream of doing.  We used chainsaws.  We shovelled ice.  We patched a skylight.  We learned to wire a generator.  We checked on neighbors, family, friends, and animals.  We spent lots of time at the fireside, no t.v. or phone to distract us, playing games and talking.

  *     *     *

The five year anniversary of the ice storm brought back all these memories, and Mike and I thought of all the fun nights we had had at my parents' house cooking by candlelight over the gas stove.  Mike had the great idea of doing an ice storm remembrance dinner, in which we had to turn off the electricity and reenact an ice storm dinner.  Aunt Jan came for dinner, since she spent most of the ice storm living at our house.

One of our first ice storm dinners was spaghetti.  This was quick and easy to cook, and since we had been working hard all day and didn't have any time for cooking, it was perfect.  We used my Mom's recipe.

The sauce and spaghetti cooked on the gas stove, which was the only functioning appliance in the kitchen.

Dad and Mike worked on making a salad in the dark.  Dad goes to great lengths to make salad dressing.

Warming the bread posed a bit of a problem, since the oven used electricity and therefore was against the rules for tonight.  Dad and Mike popped the bread in a grill pan and warmed that on the stove.

Our dinner was delicious, and we ate like famished laborers. 

Something about the camaraderie of cooking by candlelight and remembering difficult times that have past made us all feel fat and happy.

We loved tonight, and promised to do it again every year.  We knew that the trees we had planted to replace those that were lost were growing bigger and stronger each year, and that soon all traces of the ice storm would be erased.  We felt safe.  We felt lucky.  Most of all, we felt blessed to be in the candlit quiet together.

Day Fourteen: Pizza Night

 This was our second Saturday night of home cook challenge, and we would normally have gone out to dinner somewhere fun.  The beat the doldrums, we had some friends come over for dinner.  Tricia, Mike, and their son Trip recently moved into our neighborhood.  I grew up going to church with Tricia, but we haven't seen each other much since leaving for college years ago.  Their son is four months younger than ours, and we were eager to see if the boys would play together.

Since we were going to be herding toddlers all night, we figured it would be best to keep the cooking easy and family-friendly.  Pizza it is!
I was excited about this because it would be a lot less expensive than Mike's usual plans that involve copious amounts of steak.  I was so happy I even agreed to let Mike do the grocery shopping.  Things were going well.

Then Mike got home from the store.  I suspected trouble when I saw him toting eight grocery bags.  When I unpacked the bags, I was shocked.  I shouldn't have been shocked.  He does this every time.  This is the reason I don't allow him to do the grocery shopping.  Mike had bought enough groceries for us to open our own pizza store.  Why buy a bag of cheese, when you can buy three jumbo bags? Why buy one can of pizza sauce, when you can buy four!?  Argh!
Despite the overload on supplies, we ended up having a great night.  We got all the toppings ready in advance.

I made the pizza dough using the Pronto Pizza Dough recipe from Sassafras.  This was my first try at making pizza dough, and I was surprised how fun and easy it was.  Mike showed me a recipe from one of his grilling cookbooks that required the dough to be made 10 hours in advance.  Ha!  My quick Sassafras recipe only required 45 minutes to rise, and making the dough took about 5 minutes.  I'll definitely be doing this one again!

Plus, I love it when I get to use my rolling pin.  Jack liked playing with the rolling pin, too.
We made two pizza crusts, and it took us a while to decide how to decorate the pizzas.  Ultimately, we decided it would work best if we made a pizza for the girls and kids, and one for the men.  Jack and Trip liked putting the cheese on top.

As you no doubt already guessed, the men loaded their pizza with every meat they could find.

Mike and Mike (yep... it made things confusing), stepped on the deck to grill the pizzas.  Tricia and I stayed inside and played with the boys, who were more taken with their mothers than with each other.

When dinner was ready we were able to all sit down together and enjoy pizza and salad.  Jack is a big fan of the salad serving pieces.  He doesn't like lettuce or spinach, but he associates salad with good things (croutons, Craisins, almonds). 

Trip did a good job banging on the high chair, which inspired a little dinner-time drum recital from Jack, too.

After dinner the men did their best to be bridge the gap between football-watchers and attentive daddies.  Here they are hovering in the doorway between the hearth room, where football was on t.v., and the living room, where the boys were playing with their toys.

Tricia brought these amazing chocolate cupcakes that were the perfect ending to our meal.  These are another Sassafras recipe, and proof that everything in that cookbook is good!

We had a fun, laid back night.  This is about as exciting as our Saturday nights get, and we're good with that.  Kids playing on the floor, football on t.v., beer in hand, pizza on the grill, and great company.  We call that a good night!

Day Thirteen: Mikey No Likey

I was excited all day today because I couldn't wait to eat the creamy avocado pasta I was going to make for dinner.  I discovered this recipe one day at the neighbor's house.  We had been having a little playdate, and the kids got hungry.  We went downstairs and she pulled this pasta out of her fridge.  She had found the recipe on Pinterest and made it the night before.  Maybe it was the peer pressure of eating with other children, maybe it was the refreshing taste of another Mommy's cooking, either way Jack attacked that pasta like the cat attacks a can of tuna fish. This was the first time he ate pasta that wasn't macaroni shaped.  I was shocked, then I was thrilled, because it had avocado in it.  Avocado is a vegetable!

Here's the recipe.

The next day I made the same pasta, carefully evading questions from Mike as to the contents.  I sat down to eat, willing my smile to stay hidden, and watched as Jack and Mike dug in.  He liked it, hey Mikey!  It was a miracle.  My husband was eating avocado pasta.  I made it again a few weeks later and again Mike enjoyed it. 

Here comes the first mistake. 

The next day I was talking to my sister and suggested she try the avocado pasta I had made.  Mike turned, cocked his head, and asked "when did you make that?" 

"Last night," I replied, "that's the pasta you like so much." 

"Oh..." I could see Mike's mind running through his list of acceptable and unacceptable foods.  Bacon: acceptable.  Carrots: unacceptable.  Steak: acceptable.  Broccoli: unacceptable.   Sausage: acceptable.  Avocado... what was an avocado?  Did it come from an animal?  Could it be purchased at the butcher counter at Harter House?  Would it taste good wrapped in bacon?  No, no, and no.  Avocado: unacceptable.

I knew then that my short run with avocado pasta was probably over.  I hoped that if I waited a while and snuck it in again he wouldn't remember. 

*****

Today was the big day.  Mike and Jack played while I made dinner.  They had a good game of Basket-Head.

This recipe is really easy, and you get to use your Cuisinart to blend up the sauce.  I had loaded the contents and started blending when a friend called.  I just couldn't blend and talk on the phone, so Mike took over for a minute while I stepped into the other room. 

This was my second mistake.  When presenting a mystery dish, it is best to keep the guest away from the kitchen during the preparation of said dish.  Unfortunately, Mike was right there, blending away, watching the avocado splatter against the sides of the blender.  This was undeniably a vegetable, getting pureed and hidden into his food.  The jig was up.

Dinner was ready quickly and we all sat down to eat.  Jack was buoyant.  He got to eat three things he loved: crescent rolls, avocado pasta, and blueberries.  I was happy, too.  Not only did I love all three foods, but I love when I get to eat a vegetarian meal.

I looked across at Mike and saw him frowning at the blueberries.  How could I forget?  Mike doesn't eat blueberries!  This marks my third and final mistake.

I hoped that when Mike tried the pasta he would like it, and he could forget all about the hidden vegetable.  The pasta just didn't taste as good this time, though, and I wasn't so lucky.  Mike's only comment was "This is really green." 

And... curtain. 

I knew it was over.  He politely tried to eat his roll and his green pasta.  He appreciated the chicken I had added to his pasta (I would be out on the street if I served him a vegetarian meal). 

After an awkward silence, I apologized.  "I'm sorry for being selfish and making a meal that only I like," I told him. 

Being the good sport that he is, he graciously admitted to doing the same thing many times.  He pointed out several examples.  Caught up in the spirit of confession, I admitted that I didn't like pork chops, which was last night's dinner.  Last night he had asked if I didn't like the dinner, and I had told him that I wasn't hungry.  Nope... I just didn't like the dinner.

Hey, not every night is a winner.  Sometimes you have to take one for the team.