Day Twenty-One: A Little Cheating

Let's revisit the origin of Home Cook Challenge.   Mike wanted to try eating only homemade meals for 30 days, thinking of all the mouth-watering bacon he could grill in 30 days.  I agreed, thinking of how much money we could save in 30 days.  I also had the secret objective of gradually and sneakily transfering more of the family cooking responsibility to Mike's broad shoulders. 

We are 21 days into this challenge, and we are fatigued.  We've had some unexpected obstacles, such as Mike leaving town for a few days, my suddenly very busy work schedule, and some parties.  There have been a few transgressions.

While Mike was out of town we all know he relished in fast food and barbeque.  In the meantime I held true to the challenge, but was later derailed at my dad's retirement party.  I didn't want to be rude, and who has the iron will to turn down a free meal at Metropolitan Grill when the 30 other guests are chowing down?  Since I had cooked a homemade dinner and eaten it already, I didn't feel that the infraction was grave.

We attended a benefit party for Springfield Little Theatre tonight, which was catered by Ocean Zen, Flo, and 5 SPice.  Again, what was the sense in being rude?  The open bar weakened our resolve and we weren't an hour in before we were hitting the buffet lines.  We love all three of those restaurants, so we ate like starved hyenas. 

Honestly, we weren't even hungry.  We had made a homemade meal, which we enjoyed as a family, before the party.  Tonight we made my very favorite meal in the world: pork tenderloin sandwiches.  All you need to start this meals is a warm loaf of french bread.

I used the second loaf of homemade bread our friend Jane gave us.  It smelled glorious as it warmed in the oven. 

Next step, thinly slice a red onion.  Add the onion, warmed leftover pork, and some lettuce to the bread.

Here comes the most important step, so read carefully.  You must pour on a boatload of Newman's Own dressing.

If you have done it properly, the dressing will run down your arms and drip off your elbows as you eat. 

Now you have the perfect sandwich.  Mmm... I want another right now!

In the interest of full disclosure, you now know about our indescretions. Our cards are on the table.  We know we're not perfect.  After 21 days, though, it would silly to give in.  We are resolved to venture forth with contrite hearts, making the final 9 days of Home Cook Challenge the best yet. 

Day Twenty: Back to Normal

Finally this week is over, and we are back to normal... mostly. 

Mike got home this afternoon, leaving me just enough time to run to the grocery store and pick something for dinner.  I chose on of our old standbys, pork tenderloin.  Mike loves to grill pork tenderloin and eating way too much for dinner.  I love making sandwiches with the leftovers the next day.

It's a win-win.  I wanted to try something different and fun, so I googled a recipe for baked apples.  I cored the apples, filled them with cinnamon, raisins, and brown sugar, and popped them in the oven.   I wanted everything to be ready at the same time.  I tried to pin Mike down to an answer on when the pork would be finished.  His answer?  15-45 minutes.  Helpful, Mike, very helpful!

The apples were supposed to bake for 40 minutes, so I popped them in the oven.  Not surprisingly, they ended up being finished before the pork.  This means they sat on the counter and got cool and saggy while we waited on the rest of dinner. 

I nuked some baked potatoes and they were ready right on time.

By the time we got everyone's plate filled and sat down, we had forgotten all about the apples.  It had only been a few days since we'd been sat down at the table together, but it already felt foreign.  We all commented on how long it seemed since we'd sat at the table together, except for Jack, who repeatedly demanded that we "watch this!" as he stabbed various items with his fork.

We lingered at dinner, unwilling to leave our cozy table.  When we started to clean up, I noticed the apples.  They could be salvaged for dessert, surely.  I sliced one open and scooped some ice-cream on top.  Mike and I both had a few bites.  The apple was too firm, and too cold, and so we just tossed it out.

Even though the apples didn't turn out, we loved our dinner.  It was so nice to be back to normal!

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.