Year end round-up

A lot has happened in the last year. I got a house and a cat, in that order. I love them both. One is furrier. I started composting and flossing regularly. I started working on some new stuff at work that promises to keep me challenged. I went to many baseball games and hosted friends and family from across the country. Sometimes I even took them to baseball games or made them pet the cat. Everything is connected.


All was not well in 2009, though. That new house? Robbers liked it, too. And April ended at my agency in the worst way: layoffs. I was lucky to be spared, but morale was damaged and the mood around the office is still not great. There were two family deaths, one especially heartbreaking.


In the end? I'm looking forward to carrying over all the good stuff from 2009 into the new year, and leaving the rest behind.

I've come up with just a few resolutions, and I think they're vague enough that I might actually do them. I've also got some other lifestyle changes in the works, but I want my resolutions to all be somewhat fun, positive changes or improvements.

1. Pay better attention to my finances. I'm not saying anything needs to change, but I've been really bad about being aware of expenses.

2. Cook one new recipe a week. We have so many cookbooks and some of them have barely been cracked. Jacques Pepin, I'm looking at you.


3. Do something to the yard. Anything. There is a small lump of herbs courtesy of a loving sister-in-law but that's it.

4. Dine out at mostly new-to-me places. I'm not saying there will never be a trip to Honeypie ever again. But if I'm so uninterested in doing something new, I should probably just eat at home (this will also positively affect items 1 & 2).

5. Read two books a month. I'm already about 1/3 into Sense & Sensibility and I'm going to let that count toward January.

Thanksgiving Eve

Preparations are underway already. The bread is cubed and drying for stuffing. The pumpkin cheesecake bars are baking. The wine is being sipped. I even have something resembling table decor. I know, I think I must have hit my head on something.

My favorite Thanksgiving food, to eat and to cook, is stuffing. When I was wee my maternal grandmother's stuffing was the best. I made it once as an adult; it is not actually the best. It is kinda gross, in fact, a mixture of finely ground hamburger buns, hard boiled egg, celery and oregano, it was clearly a product of the 60s. I wished that stuffing was nearly as good as I remember it to be, since it would be nice to have a family recipe to turn to.

Instead I usually look up a couple different recipes and end up improvising. This year I'm using a mix of white and wheat bread, though in years past I've used challah or a baguette. The flavorings are dried apricots, cherries and pecans, along with the traditional celery and onions. Herbs are mostly from the garden (that's how mild the weather has been, I've still got herbs growning!). I decided on fruit and nut because it turns out that all my recipes this year have nuts in them. Look at all the bags of stuff from Trader Joe's!

Tracking Thanksgiving

OK, this week I'm going to write about my Thanksgiving preparations, since this will be our first year hosting family for the big day. Thanks to Craig and Carrie for being our guinea pigs in years past. My family isn't demanding, but being responsible for the official family fete does add some pressure. What to cook? When to cook it? What should my tablescape be?!

Yesterday we purchased the majority of the groceries. Which involved two grocery stores. By the end of all the shopping I imagine we'll have hit at least four distinct. Also, word to the wise: Discount Liquor closes at 2 pm on Sundays. Also, there are no plums to be had in November, no matter how warm it is. So no plum tart. We'll have to get by on my dad's two pies. Are two pies enough for six people? We'll see.

Cheating on SACFTB

I've started writing some posts for the Women's Fund of Greater Milwaukee. Wish I had as clear a POV for this blog as we do for that one. I've been volunteering for the Women's Fund for over 4 years and this by far my favorite task. Check out my latest post.

My love-hate relationship with The Barefoot Contessa

Barefoot Contessa used to be one of my favorite cooking shows. Ina Garten makes tasty food, everything from simple roasted vegetables to rich pastries. Lately, though, she's been tarting up her tarts with contrived plots about the meals she's preparing. It's not enough to make lobster bisque, it's got to be for her dear friends Steve and Roy who are returning from a long trip and need her to whip up a homecoming dinner, and oh, did I mention the fresh flowers and simple yet elegant table setting?

Sometimes it's just something vague about her husband, Jeffery, joining her for dinner. That I can handle. But the last show I watched was ridiculous. Her dear friend's daughter had just finished med school exams in New York, so Ina decided to make a celebratory dinner for her and her friends. And then there was some subplot about Genevieve (of course her name is Genevieve) shopping for wine and flowers for her little dinner party. This included a super uncomfortable phone call between the two women. Then at the end Ina received a thank you via text message. How modern!

I don't really give a shit about some birthday breakfast BBQ in The Hamptons. Just give me the recipe for scramble eggs with goat cheese.

Tonight I made a plum tart from that med student's awkward dinner party, and you know what? It was awesome! Ina, chill out and just make good food, please.

Plum Tart

2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup finely chopped walnuts
3/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
12 tablespoons cold unsalted butter (1 1/2 sticks), diced
1 egg yolk
4-6 firm, ripe black plums, pitted and quartered lengthwise

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Combine the flour, walnuts, and sugar in a large bowl. Add the butter and the egg yolk. Mix until crumbly.

Press 2 cups of the crumb mixture in an even layer into the bottom of a 9 1/2-inch springform or tart pan. Arrange the plums in the pan, skin side down, to form a flower pattern; begin at the outside and work your way in.

Sprinkle the rest of the crumb mixture evenly over the plums. Bake the tart for 45 minutes, or until it's lightly browned and the plum juices are bubbling. Remove from the oven and cool for 10 minutes. Remove from the pan and transfer the tart to a flat plate. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Best leftovers ever.

The first time I had chilaquiles was for breakfast, served with huevos divorciados. Basically just stale tortillas cooked in sauce. Nothing fancy, but just. so. good.

I've gotten chilaquiles at restaurants a few times, but this weekend I finally made the dish myself. Out came my Rick Bayless cookbook and away I went, with some additions. I put leftover cooked chicken into the mix, along with peppers from the garden. I don't know what kind of peppers they are, probably Anaheim.

Ingredients

12 corn tortillas, cut into sixths and baked until crispy
1 (28 ounce) can whole canned tomatoes, drained
3 chipotle chiles in adobo
1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 chopped medium onion
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 1/2 cups chicken broth (vegetable broth can be used if you prefer)
salt
1 1/2 cups cooked chicken, coarsely shredded
1/4 cup queso fresco
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped

Directions

Pour the drained tomatoes and the chipotles (seeds and all) into a blender. Puree the mixture.

In a large Dutch oven with a lid, heat the vegetable oil and cook about the onion, stirring regularly, for about 7 minutes or until golden. I also added my homegrown peppers at this point.


Add the garlic and cook for another minute, stirring so garlic doesn't burn.

Increase heat to medium-high and add tomato/chipotle puree. Stir until the mixture thickens up a bit, about 4 or 5 minutes. Although Bayless' recipe called for the chicken to be served more like a garnish, this is where I added my chicken. I wanted it heated and seasoned through.


Stir in the broth, and salt to taste. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Add the chips and stir to coat. Bring sauce and chips to a rolling boil again. Cover the pan, turn off the heat and allow to stand for 5 minutes (no longer, because the chips should be a bit chewy and not mushy). Serve with cilantro and cheese sprinkled on top.



This would be super easy to cut down to smaller portions, and next time I have a few leftover corn tortillas I'll definitely make chilaquiles again.

Love Me Tender Tartlets

On Wednesday I attended a "Top Chef" viewing party. Just sitting around watching "Top Chef" isn't much of a party, so we all made a dish inspired by Las Vegas, the location for this season. Bridget, our hostess, made it clear that our food could be either "classy or trashy." Limitless possibilities.

I've never been to Vegas. Everyone yells at me when I say that, but I'm not into gambling or strip clubs, so that removes 75% of the draw right there. When I think Vegas, I think Elvis. And no food says Elvis like a peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich. Just slapping together a PBB&B doesn't really count as cooking in my book. So I decided to fancy it up a bit. I wanted appetizer-size portions, as this was going to be served at a party. Maybe this would be the time to put my mini-muffin pan to use.

Jim deserves the credit for this dish, really. He came up with making a shell out of peanut butter cookie and filling it with banana pudding. Inspired! And listen, I know just moments ago I complained that making a sandwich isn't cooking, so using store-bought cookie dough is kinda hypocritical. It is, I fully admit that. But I have a job and stuff, and I can't just be making cookies from scratch all the time. I know how to make peanut butter cookies. There is no challenge for me there. So I cheated. I used a tube of cookie dough. So shoot me. This was the first of many, eh, challenges. Because cookie dough rises. A lot. A lot more than you think it will when you smoosh it down into a mini-muffin tin.

I melon-ballered my way out of ruin. The cookie crusts weren't exactly what I had in mind, but they were peanut-buttery, and that was their purpose in life.


Next, the filling. Pudding is a common vehicle for banana, and it would dollop into my crusts nicely. Plus, I had a ton of eggs on hand. So I made banana pudding. From scratch. I'm not super into banana, but this was good. Panic did set in for a moment, that moment when you think, I've been whisking an awfully long time, and the recipe said this was going to start thickening. Why isn't it thickening?! Why can't I even make stupid pudding? I am a failur.... Oh, wait, now it's getting thick. Phew. Nevermind.


And for the final touch: BACON! So, this is sorta weird, I know, and I was kinda nervous. I didn't know who would be at this party, maybe they would think I was nuts. Maybe they wouldn't be the kind of people to try chocolate-covered bacon on a stick or a Maple Bacon Latte. But then I thought, do I really want to be associating with people like that? No, I do not. So I fried up my bacon and sprinkled it on top of those innocent little tartlets and they were transformed into Something Different.


Did my Love Me Tender Tartlets jettison to the top of my go-to party food list? No. But they'll go down as one of the more interesting dishes I've made. And I think it's safe to say they definitely fit the bill of a "Top Chef," Vegas inspired dish.

Beeting: The Habit

I have a compulsive personality, which manifests in many ways. Perhaps the least damaging, though, is the fact that I bought MORE BEETS when I went to the farmers market on Saturday. Seriously, guys, what am I going to do with all these beets? I still have some from the week before in the fridge.

It could be worse, I guess. Beets don't make you loot American Indian burial grounds.

Waste Not

The farmers market is in full swing, and one of my favorite purchases are beets. I'm obsessed. Usually I just roast the and eat them plain, with maybe a bit of salt and pepper. Or make a simple salad, like this one. There's just something about these earthy root vegetables, their abundance (all the vendors have them) and the act of roasting a whole mess of them at once. Beets encapsulate everything I love about the farmers market.

The one pea in my mattress is what to do with the beet greens. The leaves are usually discarded, and since I haven't set up a composting system yet (soon, soon) they've always gone to waste. But no more! Beet greens are slightly bitter, slightly beety and super easy to cook up. They don't require the long cooking time of collard or mustard greens, so there's no excuse not to make them.


I started with a tiny red onion sauteed in a bit of olive oil. While that was going, I chopped the tops off my beets (red and golden) and rinsed the greens, letting them soak for a while because they were going limp. Then I sliced them into half inch ribbons and threw them in the pan with some salt and a chopped up clove of garlic. After they started to wilt in went a few generous shakes of red wine vinegar. After five more minutes, they were done. That's it. Seriously. I made some sort of Morningstar Farms veggie cake thingy and that was dinner.


Next time I'll experiment with flavorings (because you know there will be beets in my future). Red pepper flakes, ginger, etc.

Everything Grows

When I was seven or eight, I danced to Everything Grows, a Raffi song, in ballet class. "Everything grows, anyone knows, that's how it goes."

But not for me. I have a black thumb. I can usually keep aloe alive, but that's just because it doesn't need much watering. I've never tried very hard, and have a habit of forgetting my plants completely until they're shriveled up and brown. But I've always wanted to give it a go, and have fantasies about home grown vegetables, lush flowering bushes and rich brown soil.

In the new house, I've made very little effort in the garden, but it's something. I've got some tomatoes going, a pepper plant and some lovely herbs that were a gift from my garden-goddess sister-in-law. Still, the tomatoes don't have cages around them and there are weeds that are healthier than the basil. Every time I muster the effort to totter around in garden, I can sense Jim rolling his eyes. "Sure honey, I bet you'll plant zinnias along the side of the garage. Sure."


Despite the doubt of my darling husband (and myself, let's be honest here) I keep hoping one day I'll turn into the kind of person who can reasonably care for another living thing. The cat hasn't died yet, so that's progress. And I have a pepper growing. I don't remember what kind of pepper plant I bought, so I'm not sure how big it's supposed to get. But it's definitely a pepper. If I can manage to keep this pepper going a little while longer, maybe I'll try to get those zinnias going next. That's how it goes, I guess.

Gentle Readers,

I love reading advice columns. I don't know what it is about them that gets me, the satisfaction of knowing that other people are so dense they can't figure out if they should stop winking at their naked neighbor, or the fun of yelling at the Sunday paper, "No, Carolyn Hax, some feelings aren't OK to have!" (If you're an advice column junkie like me, you'd get it.)

Every column has a different vibe. Abby writes to the masses, covering topics from disrespectful grandkids to the importance of thanking our veterans to cheating spouses to getting out kidneys checked out during National Kidney Month. Carolyn is more self-helpy, very into discovering the reason you've been willing to put up with your mother-in-law mopping your floor when she comes over, not just telling you to hide the mop. There's a chick named Amy in the Chicago Trib. who usually prints way too much of the letter, which always makes it sound sad and rambling.

Prudence on slate.com is my favorite, she's witty and snarky and the questions are sometimes genuinely difficult issues. Not without faults, though, she's definitely got a pro-monogomy streak which sometimes comes off as slut-shaming. I used to read Dan Savage, but the shock factor is just irritating at this point, plus I have a vagina so he probably hates me. And of course there's good ole Miss Manners. I kind of consider her in a separate class, because she's just advising on rules of etiquette, most of which are already established.

So you can imagine my delight when I discovered the same letter printed by two different columnists. It's interesting to see how the letter is edited slightly differently, I definitely think it subtly affects the tone of the response. What does it say about the pre-conceived notions of the advisor? I think columnist #1 is predisposed to hating men. I mean, if you're putting quotation marks around things, you're being sarcastic. And version #2 specifically mentions that the writer knows the boyfriend isn't cheating. That's kinda an important part of the question, don't you think?

The great part is that the answers are very different. Who do you think is right? Columnist #2's was printed a while ago, and I remember reading it and agreeing, but now that I see answer #1, I'm wavering. Based on my descriptions above, can you tell who wrote which answer?


Advice Columnist #1: My boyfriend, "Beau," and I moved in together and already we have trust issues. He doesn't trust me around his computer. He said he has things on it that are part of his past, and it's none of my business.

One of the things he doesn't want me to see is "The List." He keeps a list of all the girls he has slept with - including one-night stands. I have asked Beau how many there have been, but he doesn't want to tell me "because it will hurt me." He has revealed that it's a number between 10 and 50.

I have asked him to delete the list, but he said that if he gets a weird disease in the future, he can always refer back to it. I have nightmares about this.

Should I drop the matter? - Unlisted Number in Texas

DEAR UNLISTED: No, honey. You should drop him.

If Beau was simply afraid you would see how many women he has slept with and was trying to protect your feelings, he would print out the list and stash it in a safety deposit box.

What he's afraid of is that you'll see the list is growing.

I don't blame you for having nightmares. A man who is seriously worried that he'll get a weird disease in the future is exposing himself and you to them now.

So pack your bags, get out of there and schedule an appointment with your gynecologist ASAP.

Advice Columnist #2: My boyfriend and I recently moved in together. One day we had a fight about the fact that he doesn't trust me around his computer because he has things on it that are part of his past that he doesn't want me to see. One of those things is "the List" of all the girls he has slept with, including one-night stands. I have asked him the number of people he's had sex with (he knows mine is two), but he tells me that I don't want to know and gives me a number between 10 and 50. I have asked him to delete that list, but he says he won't because if he gets a weird disease in the future and has to tell everyone he's slept with, he won't remember all of them without the list. He claims I don't have anything to be worried about and that everybody has a past, but he doesn't want to hurt me, and it's best that I not know some things—just as he doesn't want to know some things about my past. Am I being too concerned about a stupid list? I know he is not cheating on me, but should I know his number?

—Concerned

Dear Concerned,
The magic number is … 37! There, do you feel better? No, I bet you don't. You actually know as much as you need to right now, and that is that your boyfriend has had tons more sexual encounters than you. You say that despite his hound-dog history, you are confident in his fidelity, so you don't have the obvious concern that "the List" is more than just an archive. That being the case, he doesn't need to invent some puritanical disease of the future that retroactively infects one's former lovers in order to justify keeping an electronic equivalent of notches on his bedpost. If you are to have a solid relationship, you both should agree that you each are entitled to privacy and a past, and that you promise not to intrude on his personal files. But given that your boyfriend has probably had sexual encounters with dozens of people, including a number of one-night stands, you need to be concerned about diseases he's already contracted. I hope he's had a complete STD screen so that you can be confident that your reformed Casanova isn't jeopardizing your health and fertility.

Busy times call for wimpy posts

I've been so busy with fixing up the new house and preparing for the movers to come (where are those guys, they were supposed to be here by now) that I haven't had time to document all this stuff that I really would like to keep track of.

So here are some pictures of stuff, it's faster than writing.


Shiny refinished hardwood floors. I am afraid to stand on them.

























Our old apartment is...rustic. We were cleaning up killer dust bunnies last night when we discovered that the bedroom floor has been held up all these years by a pickle jar. I hoped it was filled with moonshine, but alas, it must just be for support. Thank you, pickle jar, for being there even when we didn't know you existed. It's kinda like the Footprints in the Sand poem, right?

















Do you all recognize this cow-on-a-stick? It's been with me since college. There's a longish story attached, but the point is, the cow's going away. Cows-on-sticks don't belong in grown-up houses. It's sad, but true. Enjoy that great big pasture-on-a-stick in the sky, cow-on-a-stick.


















Movers are here now, gotta go. One of them is a guy I went to college with. Dave Rudnik, anyone? Small world.

Unclosed

I'm supposed to own a house right now, but I don't. The bank fucked up. You know how I know they fucked up? They offered to pay the difference in what the sellers owe at closing, since they already wrote their check. And they've offered to let us write a personal check instead of getting a cashier's check. Banks don't do that sort of thing unless they were the ones who fucked up.

There's nothing to do but wait and hope everything works out. We've lost a weekend of wallpaper removing and painting, but as somebody pointed out, in a few years we won't even remember that the closing was delayed.

In the meantime, here are some pictures of the house.


This is the kitchen. So big! I am already fantasizing about where to keep the Pyrex and other sundry. The wallpaper is going far, far away, to a wallpaper farm where it can play with all the other wallpapers. We've been happy with our red kitchen so that's the color we'll use again.



This very clever desk is built-in in the kitchen. It will be nice to have a proper place to put the internet machine while cooking. I always felt nervous with it placed precariously on the baker's rack. Oh, and: I am so sad that the baker's rack won't have a place in our new kitchen! I have a secret desire to find a place for it at 625 E. Morgan, but sadly it will probably be obsolete.



Somehow I have talked my darling husband into letting me use the second bedroom as a crafty room. I hope that means this blog will see a lot more action, as one of the major issues keeping me from creating was lack of access to my supplies. For the last five years, everything's been squished in the corner of the living room. I had to literally move furniture to get to it. Lame.

I'll take plenty more "before" pictures once we actually have the house.

Wild Brews for Wild Women

Last night I attended the latest installment of the Tasting Women Series at Sugar Maple. These tasting events are for ladies who want to learn about beer in a Beer Snob Free Zone. This month Janine, one of the bartenders, spoke about spontaneously fermented beers like lambics and gueuzes, which are sour, funky tasting brews. I happen to love them, so I was all about this tasting.

We learned a ton, and I loved that Janine dropped some major science without being dry. She even made diagrams!

Here's the diagram of how you introduce wild yeast into the wort (the pre-beer juice):

See that first step, the Cool Ship? Basically the brewer leaves the wort out in these wide, shallow vats, exposed to wild yeasts and bacteria that come in from the slatted roof. That's right, the cardinal sin of brewing, contamination, is encouraged. So weird. I kinda knew about that step in the process, but what I didn't know was that each barrel has its own little ecosystem growing in it, hence the need for blending, sometimes over and over again to create a consistent final product. That's why these beers can be so expensive, they could take up to years in production.

Anyway, back to the yeast and bacteria. Janine had this diagram about the differences between wild and classic strains:

See how the Brettanomyces yeast is all hippie-looking? That's because he imparts a flavor known in the beer-tasting world as "horse blanket." Yum! I love how this tasting terminology is so gross. Like, Scotch is often referred to as having the taste of wet band-aids. And that's not a bad thing.

Anywho, the tasting was fun. Adrienne, the owner of the bar, put together some awesome cheese and fruit pairnings, and Janine was a great teacher. Here's a list of what we tasted with some short commentary.

O'So Dopplebock (Plover, WI)
Janine couldn't confirm that this was wild, but you could totally taste the Lactic Acid flavor associated with Flemish Sours. Dark color, sour taste with a malty, caramely finish.

New Glarus Berliner Weiss (New Glarus, WI)
This beer is delicious, super crisp and sour, it's brewed with grapes and is very bubbly. Very light and tart.

Lakefront Rosie Kriek (Milwaukee, WI)
I love this beer, apparently it gets its name not from its rosy color, but from the blend of yeast used, which is from the Flemish town of Roeselare. That's where Rodenbach is brewed, and you can totally taste the connection. It's like sour cherries in a glass. Lakefront has really been stepping it up, this beer is a prime example.


Jolly Pumpkin Weizen Bam Saison (Dexter, MI)
Saisons aren't usually wild, but it still works. You get the piney, hoppy flavor at the front end and a sour kick after. It's got the really thick head I associate with Saisons, too.

Cantillon Iris (Brussels, Belgium)
This is a tasty, tasty beer. Pricy enough to be considered a special occasion beer, Iris is very earthy and sour. I always thought it was a gueuze, but I guess technically under Belgian law it isn't because they break a bunch of rules in the brewing process.

Cooking is Back!

I haven't cooked in ages. Which is sad, because I pride myself on being a fairly decent home cook. I don't think I've actually cooked anything in over a month. Pathetic. But I was actually home alone this Saturday night, so I decided to go for it.

Here's the article that finally got me cooking again. The Nigella Lawson recipe particularly appealed to me since I love Moroccan spices.

Root Vegetable Couscous

3 T olive oil
2 med. onions, quartered & sliced thickly
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 t each ground cinnamon, cumin & coriander
1/2 t paprika
generous pinch of saffron (if you have it around)
3 med. carrots, peeled & cut into a 1 inch dice
2 med. parsnips, peeled & cut into 1 inch dice
2 medium turnips, peeled & cut into a 1 inch dice
1 small kabocha or butternut squash, peeled & cut into a 1 inch dice
1/2 med. rutabaga, peeled & cut into a 1 inch dice
3 zucchini sliced 1/2 inch thick (you can peel if you like)
4 1/2 cut chicken, beef or vegetable stock
1/2 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with liquid
2/3 c sultanas
1 1/2 c (14 oz each) chickpeas
salt
few drops chili oil or 1 t harissa if you have it

1/2 c pine nuts
4 c quick-cooking couscous
2 T butter

1. Heat the olive oil in a big, deep pot & turn the onions in it for a few minutes.

2. Add the garlic, cinnamon, cumin, coriander, paprika and saffron, and stir over low to medium heat for 5 minutes.

3. Add the carrots, parsnips, turnips, squash, rutabaga and zucchini and turn briskly.

4.After about 5 minutes add the stock, tomatoes, orange zest, sultanas and chickpeas. Turn again & try to get everything at least partially covered by the stock. Add more stock or water if needed. Season with salt.

5. Cook for 20-30 minutes, until the vegetables are tender but not mushy (at least not all of them - some will be beginning to fray around the edges, and that is good) and the liquid has formed a thin but not watery sauce.

6.Taste and add chili oil or the harissa if you want it to have more punch. Serve with couscous, pine nuts.




I doctored it up quite a bit. Trader Joe's had a pre-cut medley of squash, turnips and yams, so I just used that plus a couple carrots and turnips. I attempted to buy parsnips, but was in a hurry and accidentally ended up with daikon. Oops. They'll make a tasty snack tomorrow, I guess!



I couldn't get the effing tin of paprika open (seriously, you need like tin snips to get in that thing) so I used a pinch of cayenne to add heat. Plus Melinda's XX hot sauce instead of harissa. I skipped the pine nuts, I was going to use almonds instead but totally forgot and didn't miss them at all.

Do you know what sultanas are? Me either, until this recipe. They're just white grapes, easy-peasy. British people use such fancy words! Aubergines, brown sauce, etc. I happened to be watching Jacques Pepin today, and he referred to golden raisins as sultanas, so I used raisins instead of actual grapes. We may never know Nigella's actual intended ingredient, but it turned out just fine.

And one last swap, I used Israeli couscous instead of regular, the box had been been sitting lonely and unused in the pantry for months. It's bigger than regular couscous and I love the texture. Think round orzo.



I'm so glad I finally washed some dishes and cooked something. It reminded me of what I love about cooking: being creative with a recipe, that sense of accomplishment when you ladle up your dinner and of course a delicious meal.

Co-sleeping isn't evil

This recent article about a "co-sleeping" infant death in Milwaukee got me really riled up.

Unsafe sleep practice suspected in baby death

I put co-sleeping in quotation marks because co-sleeping was not the cause of the death. An unsafe environment and a drunk parent caused the death. From the article:

"Prescott told police she had gone to a party and gotten drunk Saturday night. She did not remember when she picked up the children or even coming home. She told police it was possible she slept on the couch with the two children."

That's not co-sleeping. That's negligence.

Co-sleeping is defined as infant and guardian sleeping in the same room and I think most proponents these days would not recommend sharing a bed. I was raised in a co-sleeping household. While I certainly understand that it's not for everyone, it definitely has some benefits. I don't get why people put such and emphasis on putting their baby in a separate room. What's the point? I learned to sleep through my father's robust snoring, and that ability has served me well in my adulthood.

I don't want to do everything like my parents did (thanks for the non-weening that turned into an oral fixation, Mom). But they did a rocking job raising two happy, healthy daughters, and I know that of the many things I do want to replicate as a future parent, one of them is co-sleeping. There's definitely a stigma attached to it, and I'm pissed that I've been made to feel ashamed of my upbringing and my intended parenting style.

So, Journal Sentinel, thanks for perpetrating the stereotype that co-sleeping is unsafe, you've managed to vilify something completely natural and benign. Great work.

Plays well with stouts

I've been cooking less often than usual, but what does get made has been pretty tasty, if I do say so myself. Now's the time of year for hearty comfort food, which I usually don't feel like taking the time to make. Here's the last few months of standout cooking.

For Thanksgiving I was planning some fancy pies, but when a six-year-old requests a classic pumpkin you can't say no. So I made pumpkin and pecan. Lucky for me I married a man who loves to make pie crust, so he did the heavy lifting.



A while back I made Sunday pot roast. I didn't get the chance to take a picture of the final product, but here's the meat looking all delicious:



And here are the other ingredients:


Notice the Founder's Breakfast Stout, an inspired suggestion from my beer- and meat-loving brother-in-law. The roast turned out so well Jim gave me permission to make it again, which is really something since he usually despises hunks of meat like this.

And finally, tonight we had $5 foot-longs from Subway, which is not the most satisfying dinner in all the land. So I did a mental inventory of our cupboard and realized we had all the fixins for bread pudding. Here is the rough recipe:

2 cups milk
hunk of butter
3 eggs
2/3 cup brown sugar
vanilla
cinnamon
nutmeg
3 cups of torn up pieces of French bread

Heat up the milk and butter until sightly warm and the butter is melted. Whisk in the eggs, sugar and seasonings. Pour over the bread pieces in an 8x8 buttered pan. Sprinkle in some pecans and chocolate chips. Bake for 45 minutes. Eat that shit!

See, I clearly got the last bit of the instructions right:

The Art of Oatmeal

Check out these great oatmeal faces. I only wish they weren't photoshopped.

When I was little, my mom used to make us "Surprise Faces." Basically just snacky foods arranged to look like faces on a plate. There are few things more thrilling for a six year old than realizing that an orange slice can be transformed into a smile, or raisins into eyebrows.

At some point my mother's food art became less appealing to me, at the time I thought she had run out of ideas. Grapes halves as eyes again? But really I think I just got too old to appreciate it anymore.

In which I attempt assent to Maslow's next level.

Well, that's unfair, really. I mean, I have a place to stay. So shelter is sort of covered. But really, home ownership would fall under the category of Self-actualization if you ask me. I mean, then I know I've arrived.

I've looked at countless houses online, 12 in person. We've got an offer in at one house that is like, for real, dude, totally sweet. I must devolve my language skills to convey how awesome this house is. It should be totally out of our price range. But it isn't. So we went for it. 

But somebody else went for it first. This is like dating, or job hunting. You get yourself all worked up, talk yourself into it, and then it turns out something completely out of your control (like having no real job skills or not enough money) has kept you from realizing your dreams. 

We haven't given up hope quite yet on the Perfect House. But we're going to continue to look at less perfect houses in the meantime.

Also, if one more person tells me it's a "buyer's market" I will spit. It's a buyer's market for houses that nobody actually wants.