a good american wife

Pudding Of The Bread Variety: Chocolate & Coconut

2009-12-05T10:33:00.000-08:00

This is my entry for Bon Appetit's Blog Envy Bake-Off contest. So let me take this opportunity to urge you to vote (for me.) your favorite entry (mine) and be sure to get all your friends and family to vote (for me) as well. It's great holiday fun (for me!)

Let's say the final gingersnap has been iced. The entire batch of sandies are sandwiched with jam. The last snowfall of powdered sugar has landed upon your lemon squares. Your holiday baking, while zen like and tingly with the spirit of the season, is gratefully finished. Except. Oh, except!

There's that one dinner party someone's having at the last minute. Or that forgotten potluck. Or worse, that office "cutting back" holiday bash that has everyone standing awkwardly around the boardroom conference table making jokes about Xeroxing their asses. (It. Never. Dies.) You aren't ready to give up your cookie bounty, not just yet. And while there was something warrior-like about staying up -til the wee AM hours last week, you haven't got it in you for another night of multiple pans and bowls. What to do?

A normal, well adjusted human will probably go the fancy bakery and buy something. But you are not normal. You are dedicated home cook, honest and more than a little insane. You must, must, must bring something homemade! Your self esteem demands it!

Why not consider bread pudding? It can be mixed the night before, then thrown in the oven later. Done. Everyone loves it and there's even a Christmas tune that nods to it. Well, that's figgy pudding but close enough.

And if you really want to pull out the stops, add some coconut and chocolate to the mix. It brings it up to a more festive level and isn't too difficult.

This idea for this recipe came to me when we had Violet and her boyfriend Patrick to dinner a few weeks ago. Patrick brought several loaves of his homemade bread. We gave our best efforts yet couldn't finish the bunch. We had to save room for desert-coconut sorbet with dark chocolate sauce. Divine, by the way.

The next day I was slicing the bread into cubes for croutons and it hit me like a coconut from a tree.

Why not turn it into a desert? One nicely reminiscent of the one I had before?

So I mixed it all up in one bowl because you can do that with bread pudding. I poured it into a baking dish and let it puff and meld, and when it was baked, I topped it with a rich chocolate sauce made in less than 10 minutes on my stove. The result....

A Jackson Pollack! And a very delicious desert. Something that is best served warm but is easily delicious at room temperature. It is nontraditionally traditional and very satisfying, both for frazzled hosts and guests. Best yet, no one has to touch your precious cookies.

Chocolate & Coconut Bread Pudding
by Anne Stesney, A Good American Wife

For Bread Pudding:
3 TBL melted butter, plus more to grease pan
1 cup sugar
5 eggs
1 15 oz can of coconut milk
1 small can (about 8.75 oz) of cream of coconut
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon of ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon of grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of vanilla
3 cups flaked coconut, with 1 cup set aside
1 lb of stale bread, preferably French or Artisan loaf, cut into 1 inch cubes.

For chocolate sauce:
1/4 cup of milk
1 TBL butter
1 TBL sugar
1 3.5 oz bar of dark chocolate, less than 64% cacao

TO MAKE:

Grease a 9 X 13 inch pan with butter, then dust with 1/2 cup of coconut flakes.

In a large bowl, combine butter, sugar, eggs, coconut milk, coconut cream, spices, salt and vanilla. Stir in 2 cups of coconut flakes. Add bread cubes and stir to coat them eventing. Pour into a dish.

Set aside for 30 minutes, or leave in the fridge for up to 24 hours.

Bake at 325 for 30 minutes, then remove from the oven and top with the remaining 1/2 cup of coconut. Continue baking for another 30 minutes or until center is firm and coconut is browned.

Drizzle chocolate sauce on the top like you're an alcoholic artistic genius. Or just a hungry dessert maker.

Chocolate Sauce
In a small saucepan, combine milk, butter and sugar. Bring to a slight boil, then remove from the heat. Add chocolate and stir until melted.

Meat Off! And Meat, Oof!

2009-11-17T08:41:00.001-08:00

I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you want to trick people into thinking you're a well adjusted member of society, have them over for dinner. They will think you're gracious and people loving, when in reality you are a borderline agoraphobic scrounge of the Earth who thinks humanity is doomed.

Okay. I'm not really that dismal. But I do like the fact that when people come to our home, I can socialize without having to put on shoes or breath fresh air.

A dinner party is even better if you have a theme. Yes, a theme. It doesn't have to be an all-out, everyone dress up kind of deal ala, "Murder At the Copa Cabana!", although that would make me want to be your best friend. No, I'm thinking something simpler, such as a taste test between organic and non-organic supermarket meat.

See, Greenbury Market sent me a gorgeous and generous package of organic rib eye steaks and boneless chicken breasts. It made me wonder, would I be able to taste the difference? Would my husband? Would my friends? And so the invites went out. Soon Jim, Leslie and little Nicholas showed up at our door.

The key to choosing good friends is making sure they're as dorky as you.

The purpose of this taste test dinner party has to do with just that: taste. I realize that there are many, many socially beneficial reasons for buying organic meat, and they make sense. But this only has to do with TASTE right now. Any more of a full discussion will take too much research and ignite way too much debate for my simple homecooking blog. Read: I'm lazy.

Contestant #1: A beautiful Greensbury Market rib eye. Look at that marbling!

We don't have a grill and that's a shame. When it comes to cooking rib eye steak I believe grilling is best. The second best way is to pan sear, so I fumigated our apartment with carcinogenic steak fumes in the interest of yummy.

Contestant #2: Supermarket rib eye. About 1 lb @ $11.43. Them's New York City prices, cowboy.

Since cooking the steaks kept me in the kitchen and away from my guests, I kept the rest of the meal simple. I threw the chicken breasts in a glass Pyrex, coated them with BBQ sauce and baked them at 425 for 15 minutes.

For sides I made potato salad the night before. I lifted a recipe from Julie at Kitchenography and did most of the prep for Laurie Colwin's creamed spinach earlier in the day. I also made a big green salad that we ended up not really needing but it was amazingly good. (The secret is toasted fresh pecans and this vinaigrette.)

I should note here that I made way, way too much food. I didn't make enough food for a dinner party once. ONCE. The Italian American police demanded I give back my DNA. We convinced them to give me another chance but it has scarred me for life. Never again!

We loaded up our plates, sat down, and dug into some very serious eating.

It probably will come as no surprise that the Greensbury Market steak had more flavor and a much nicer texture than the supermarket meat. It was a unanimous winner. I could even tell the difference in flavor with the fat. (Yes, I'm a fat eater when it comes to beef. It's mine and my future heart donor's favorite part.) The organic meat just sang with beef flavor on many levels, getting better and better in my mouth with each chew. The supermarket meat just kinda sat there and actually got blander with every bite.

The chicken was a different story. The texture and juiciness of the supermarket chicken was better, but I have to take the blame for this. I cooked the organic and the supermarket chicken together. Because organic chicken isn't pumped with stuff to keep it large and juicy, it is smaller and therefore turned out dry. My bad. I should've cooked them separately. Organic chicken doesn't need to be in the oven for as long.

Notice the tiny chicken breasts to the left. Those are organic. And later, overcooked by yours truly.

Even so, we all agreed the organic chicken tasted more like, well, chicken. But the texture awards went to the supermarket brand.

Our conclusion. Better beef is worth the price. And considering Greensbury Market rib eye is $13.99 (plus shipping) to my supermarket's $11.99 steak, there's not even that much of a cost difference.

Organic chicken, however is a toss up. Check your values, your taste buds, your recipe and your pocketbook to decide if it's worth it. I'll leave it up to you.

A thanks to Greensbury Market for the opportunity to sample their delectable goodies.

A thanks to Jim, Leslie and Nicholas for lending us their palettes.

A thanks to the Italian American police for letting me keep my DNA.

And a special thanks to anyone who has read this incredibly long winded post. You are a trouper and I love you. (Mom!)

A Mockery Of Apple Pie by Guest Blogger Fred

2009-11-12T11:04:00.000-08:00

While I'm working on my Organic Vs. Supermarket meat post, enjoy this one by A Good American Husband, Fred. - Anne

A mock apple pie using Ritz crackers instead of apples, it's not right. But I wanted to create something worse, something wrong, not a mock apple pie but a mockery of apple pie.

My burlesque begins with a box or Ritz crackers bought at Target at the height of apple season. Sorry local farmers, my money went to Nabisco, a big-agra company dedicated to making the world obese, diabetic and in love with US Weekly.

I printed a recipe from the Kraft Korporate website and headed for the Park Slope Food Co-op, snickering as I selected the organic butter and free-trade cinnamon that I would later defile with crackers that lists soy lecithin as an ingredient. Of course I made the crust myself. Oh, the farce!

It didn't take long before I had my travesty ready for the oven. While it baked, I drew moustaches on pictures of Julia Child. When it emerged, it looked exactly like an apple pie, but I knew the rude lampoon that lurked beneath a light and flaky crust.

The best thing to do with a culinary grotesquery such as this is to smash it in the face of a starving Ethiopian. Lacking anyone fitting that description, I decided to feed it to dinner guests. By coincidence, Jim, Leslie and little Nicholas arrived at our place with a Sara Lee apple pie. The Good American Wife planned the evening as a side-by-side taste test for organic versus supermarket meat and poultry so I took the opportunity to add a dessert course.

Maybe I got the recipe wrong, but it didn't taste like apple pie. It was super sweet and kind of lemony. Not bad in it own way, but a complete failure as an apple pie. Let me put it this way - the leftover Sara Lee pie was all gone by the next day. Mine is still in the refrigerator.

You can find out more about the orgins of Mock Apple Pie here.

Mock Apple Pie from the Kraft Foods website

pastry for 2-crust 9-inch pie

36 RITZ Crackers, coarsely broken (about 1-3/4 cups crumbs)

2 cups sugar

2 tsp. cream of tartar

Grated peel of 1 lemon

2 Tbsp. lemon juice

2 Tbsp. butter or margarine

1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

PREHEAT oven to 425. Roll out pie pastry and place in a 9-inch pie plate. Place cracker crumbs in crust, set aside.

MIX sugar and cream of tartar in medium saucepan. Gradually stir in 1-3/4 cups water until well blended. Bring to boil on high heat. Reduce heat to low; simmer 15 minutes. Add lemon peel and juice; cool. Pour syrup over cracker crumbs. Dot with butter; sprinkle with cinnamon. Roll out remaining pastry; place over pie. Trim; seal and flute edges. Slit top crust to allow steam to escape.

BAKE 30 to 35 minutes or until crust is crisp and golden. Cool completely.

A Flash In The Pan

2009-11-04T08:18:00.000-08:00

Hello. Have you met my son? His name is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Weekend.

From Monday through Friday, you will never meet a nicer kid. He transitions from one activity to the next in a blink of his big baby blues. He laughs, he plays, he says the cutest things. We get a little grief when it comes to getting him dressed. (No s-irt! No pant! Mine! Mine! OW! OOOOWWWW!) (I assure you we are gentle and his clothes don't hurt. This is pure toddler drama.) But other than that, no problems at all from our smiley, active little boy.

Then comes the weekend.

He asks for things he knows he can't have then throws Code Red tantrums. If we try to distract him, sometimes it works, sometimes he gets angrier. Same goes for ignoring him and walking away. Toys are thrown. Tiny fists are furled. It takes two of us to get on one sock, then he pulls it off. He's demanding, agitated, prickly.

We figured there are a few reasons behind this behavior.

1. During the week, he has a pretty structured routine. While the weekend isn't excessively different, it's different enough to throw him off the beam.

2. During the week he's usually just with one of us, usually Fred. So he gets the undivided attention of one parent. But when both of us are around, he has to share attention with the other parent. And a 2-year-old and sharing? Not a winning combo.

3. He's TWO. It's what they do.

When I was pregnant my friend Shelly told me to get used to saying, "it's just a phase." So here we are. I'm sure with time and maturity he'll outgrow it and we'll find the right combination of giving him attention/ignoring bad behavior. And if that doesn't work, there's always my favorite parenting tool, Skittles.

There's also this Pan Baked Lemon Almond Tart recipe from Mark Bittman. Lemony sweet, billowy with a light crunch, its loveliness helps dull the piercing whines of 2-year-old who isn't allowed to pour his milk over our laptop.

Yes, it's that easy. Unlike parenting.

If you're looking for an Atkins friendly treat, here you go. Though I don't think I'd like it for anything other than a breakfast pastry. It's quite eggy, for one. And it doesn't hold it shape very well, which is fine first thing in the morning, but I want my deserts to work a little harder.

Pull yourself together, man! (OK, I should've let it cool longer. Still!)

Speaking of work, there is very little to do here. The most strenuous part for me was pulling my mini Cuisinart down from the cupboard to grind the almonds. Other than that, this is eyes-closed, one-arm-behind-the-back easy.

Ta-da!

It goes great with a black, roasty coffee cut with a splash of milk. It was the only thing on our dish, but a nice sage sausage or perhaps some glazed bacon would've rounded out the meal nicely.

Best of all, it's quick. So you can enjoy a warm, filling breakfast before rushing your little one outside, where distractions keep eruptions at bay. At least until nap time.

Mark Bittman's Pan-Baked Lemon-Almond Tart
The New York Times, October 7, 2009

4 eggs

1/2 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

1/2 cup ground almonds

1/2 cup cream

1/2 cup sliced almonds, more for garnish

1 lemon, zest and juice

2 tablespoons butter

Powdered sugar, for garnish.

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. In a bowl, combine eggs, sugar, salt, ground almonds, cream, sliced almonds, lemon zest and juice.

2. Melt butter in an 8-inch ovenproof skillet over low heat; when foam has subsided, add almond mixture to pan, tilting pan to distribute batter evenly. Continue to cook tart on stovetop until edges just begin to set, then put pan in oven and finish cooking, about 10 to 15 minutes more.

3. When tart is done, put it in broiler for about a minute or until just golden on top. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and sliced almonds. Serve.

Yield: 4 servings.

Served Up With A Side Of Ignorance

2009-10-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

I wanted to do something cute with the title of this post and entwine it with the name of my featured recipe, an Asian noodle dish. I took the name of the recipe into Yeweng, my coworker who's from Malaysia by way of China. Here's our conversation:

ME: Do you speak Chinese?

YEWENG: Yes!

ME: (showing him the recipe) Can you tell me which of these words means spicy?

YEWENG: Um, that's Thai.

Hurrah! I'm an Asian bigot! It's called living the dream, folks.

Luckily Yeweng was a good sport about my blunder. Now I just need to cross my fingers in hope that the Park Slope Food Coop doesn't get wind of this and revoke my membership.

So. The dish. It came to me via CHOW and it's called Pad Kee Mao, also known as Drunken Noodles or Spicy Ground Chicken with Noodles. It's touted as a great weeknight dinner because it's quick. OK, I'm gonna pull the breaks on this one.

While most Asian stir fry dishes are quick when it comes to actually cooking them, the amount of chopping takes a lot of time for those of us with homecooking knife skills. In fact, a lot of "30 minute meals" work under the assumption that I have loads of diced onions, minced garlic, and julienned carrots just sitting around, waiting to be doused with homemade chicken broth. It's annoying because the chopping adds at least 15 extra minutes, depending on the dish. It's worth it and all but QUIT TRYING TO FOOL ME. I may be Asian insensitive but I know how long it takes me to thinly slice a shallot.

Ok. Calm down. Let's talk about this dish. DELICIOUS! There are so many layers of flavor, from sour lime juice and salty fish sauce to juicy meat and vivid red peppers. I had to sub ground turkey for the chicken which didn't make a difference. Leaving out the spicy jalapenos, however, did make a difference. This dish had a pull of sweetness that would've gone beautifully against some heat.

I left off the hot 'n spicy because I wanted Walt to try it, thinking he'd love the noodles. But see, the noodles had MEAT touching them and my son only eats meat in the most over-processed form of hot dog. My mistake for trying to serve him Food Coop organic grain-fed chicken that practiced Tantric sex while fighting the oppressive government of a small South American country. Next time I'll spray it with nitrates and cigarettes to make it more to his liking.

Ah, kids. You can't make them eat what they don't like, but you can continue to put new foods in front of them and end up eating two dinners. In that case I hope your dinner is this yummy Not Chinese dish of Pad Kee Mao.

Pad Kee Mao
from CHOW

INGREDIENTS

1 (14-ounce) package wide rice noodles
1/4 cup oyster sauce
1/4 cup fish sauce
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice (from about 2 limes)
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 medium shallots, peeled and thinly sliced
3 medium garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 pound ground chicken
2 medium red peppers, thinly sliced
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 medium jalapeno peppers thinly sliced
1 cup loosely packed Thai basil leaves
NOTE: I used regular basil

INSTRUCTIONS

Place noodles in a large bowl and cover with boiling water. Soak for about 15 minutes, until loose and pliable but not soft; drain. Combine oyster and fish sauce and lime juice in a medium bowl, mix well, and set aside.
Heat oil in a large (12-inch) frying pan over medium-high heat. Once heated, add shallots and garlic and cook for 2 minutes or until softened but not brown. Add ground chicken and break into small pieces. Cook until chicken is white and almost cooked through, about 3 minutes. Add bell peppers and stir-fry just until they begin to soften, about 5 minutes.
Push chicken mixture to one side of the pan and add eggs to the center. Scramble with a spatula until eggs are set and don’t run, about 1 minute. Push eggs to the side and add reserved sauce ingredients. Once the sauce is boiling, add the drained noodles and toss to coat. Remove from heat, add jalapeños and basil and toss to combine; serve immediately.

The Pot Roast With The Most

2009-10-23T17:18:00.000-07:00

Co-dependent herbs

The Barefoot Contessa has yet to let me down.

If the woman told me to add a stick of butter to a salad, I wouldn't hesitate. If she told me to do the Chicken Dance before putting a bird in the oven, I'd start jiving. I'd even use Miracle Whip if she asked, despite the fact that this condiment is a spit in the face to my beloved mayonnaise.

Fortunately, she doesn't ask any of those things. But she did does suggest that I add a ridiculous amount of chopped vegetables to pot roast for her Company Pot Roast recipe.

It doesn't look like much now, but I had a sore wrist and a mound of chopping to do.

Then she had me throw in a 28 oz. can of tomatoes on top of that. An entire can, juices and all! Followed by chicken stock, yes, CHICKEN stock. In a beef dish. Weird. But I did it.

Just when you think nothing will fit, you add more vegetables. But they do cook down.

Then you throw in a 4 lb chuck roast after all that. Somehow it all fits. Later, after hours and hours in a low oven, she had me puree these vegetables with some butter (YAY!) and flour.

The pot roast pre-puree. After puree it looks like a chunky tomato soup and well, it kinda is one. It's heaven over pot roast and mashed potatoes.

The result is that this is the best pot roast gravy I ever had. To die for and easy enough to do with an immersion blender. My only mistake was that the roast ended up in the oven about an hour longer than it needed. It was a tad on the dry side. Just a bit, though.

Now all I need is a butter drenched salad as a side dish.

Here's the recipe, courtesy of The Food Network

Happiest Of Happiest

2009-10-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday! I love my birthday. Getting older isn't always fun but hell, it's inevitable so I might as well get a cupcake out of it, no? Plus I get presents and special meals and lots of posts on my Facebook profile. Then I get to write posts like this on my blog and fish for even more birthday wishes. I am shameless.

My food today is as follows: Yeweng is taking me to lunch at one of my favorite places on the planet:

The Oyster Bar lunch counter, Grand Central Station, NYC

And tonight, Fred and I will try out our fork-skills at Brooklyn favorite A Di La. Can't wait!

Dinner Guest File 10-11-09

2009-10-09T07:15:00.000-07:00

NAMES:
Amanda and Pete

OCCUPATIONS:
We'd tell you, but we'd have to kill you

LAST SEEN:
3 1/2 years ago at the Stesney dinner table

NEXT APPEARANCE
This Sunday at the Stesney dinner table.

SERVING
Probably The Barefoot Contessa's Company Pot Roast, but I'm not 100%. Any other good dinner party suggestions?

How To Stop Feeling Crappy

2009-10-06T09:52:00.001-07:00

Oh honey, I know. I've been there. There is something wrong. You're a little sad and discontent. People are being assholes without even trying. This is normally par for the course, but really? Can't they stop assholing around for just one sweet minute? And there's not enough money. Or attention. And where the hell are the accolades? When you were having (pre-Bobby) Whitney Houston dreams in your puffy bedroom, this was not what you imagined. "What happened?", you think, "How did I end up this way?"

This is not the time for The Secret. Please, please, step away from the Oprah. She is your friend, just not now. The Artists Way is a nice idea but it's not what's needed. It's time to stop thinking about your life and get the hell out of your head. During my own personal journey with this brand of self-centered angst, I've found the things to do are pen out a gratitude list. If that makes you want to puke, then forget it because there's even a better thing to do. A quick, easy and effective way to get out of your personal crapfest is to help someone else.

It's corny, yes. They make pocket books out of this sort of belief. There is certainly some version of this sentiment on a Precious Moments statuette laying around a Hallmark store. But like any cliche or stereotype, it's around because it's true. Take it from me, an emotional Italian. So why not throw a little money at someone who needs it? Or buy a Venti for the guy standing behind you in line? Or volunteer to read or tutor or hold a lonely cat? It helps. Trust me.

Everyone has her charity soft spot. For my BFF Sarah it's animals, especially cats. Tell her a cat needs money and she'll whip out her wallet with the speed of a Real Housewife throwing yet another party for herself. I get someone loving cats, but with Sarah it was a little harder for me to understand because of her cat Maxine. Girl was one cold cat-bitch. You know the type. The "Don't Touch Me You Insipid Human" type. In all fairness Max did snuggle up with me one time, but I was missing some jewelry afterward.

An ex of mine sympathized a lot with the elderly. Probably because he's going to die alone and lonely with cold piles of money giving him no comfort. What, me bitter? Yes.

My charity soft spot is kids. It always has been, even before I had Walt. Even so, I'll admit that being a mom has intensified the heartwrench factor of kids in need for me. For the past 2 years I've watched a little human grow and develop. His complete trust and dependence on me drives home how much kids need adults to help them along. They also need money. And school supplies.

This is why I'm asking...can you please give some money to help poor NYC kids buy some school stuff? We're talking about kids who get free lunch. You know if their parents can't afford lunch, then the chances of them showing up with notebooks and pens are unlikely. Even $20 will help them buy some stuff. That's less than the co-pay for Paxil!

Eliza describes it better than I, so please check out her post, Dream Maker, Wish Granter and make a contribution.

If you don't feel better afterward, try a little Tom Kha Gai soup with a chunk of sticky rice thrown in. If that doesn't help, I've got nothin'.

Forgive My Immodesty

2009-09-27T11:13:00.027-07:00

I'm quick to self-deprecate. Mainly because it's funny, but it's also a good way for me to not take my flaws so seriously. It's rare when I'll say I'm proud of myself, or brag on my blog about anything I do. Even when I make a good meal, I feel more comfortable giving credit to the ingredients and the authors of the recipes rather than my mad skillz because honestly, my skillz are modest.

But today I'm making an exception. Because I've been doing this sketch writing thing all month, and it's been really tough. I haven't been as inspired or impressed by my work. I haven't been really proud of my dialogue. But gosh darnnit, I kept writing. I ignored the DARK FORCE OF CREATIVIY that tells me I suck, I should give up, and what's the use. And I wrote and wrote and wrote anyway.

So far I have written 27 brilliant, awful, inspired, tired, dreadful, wonderful, hilarious and hilariously horrible sketches.

A big THANKS to Michelle for dreaming and organizing this whole shebang.

Only 3 more to go. Wheeeee!

Hunting For Trouble

2009-09-24T13:29:00.000-07:00

Hey...remember September last year? How it totally sucked because of Wall Street and banks and junk? Eh, those jerks. But we survived in tact, right? Not to say that everything's rosy, but for most the pressure has eased a little. And if it hasn't, please make yourself some Hunter Stew, culled from a recipe we found in a slow cooker booklette. Yes, at times I buy those little books at the grocery store checkout lines. Next stop: ordering clothes from QVC.

So, this Hunter Stew. It's part Chicken Cacciatorre, part Chicken Stew and 100% Will Do You Good.

But.

It's my understanding that "Hunter's Stew" is supposed to reflect the bounty of a hunter's outing, meaning it has a lot of gamey meats and hearty vegetables. The recipe I have calls for boneless chicken and yellow squash. This, to me, disqualifies the entire "Hunter" portion of this recipe. Because I don't think anyone actually hunts chickens. Well, maybe someone does but he can't have any of my stew because anyone who'd hunt an animal who can barely run is clearly an asshole.

Fred cooked this up in our slow cooker and scooped it out over a tangle of chewy fettuccine. Then he got all fancy and sprinkled fresh basil on top. Fresh herbs are key to making anything seem Alice Waters-like. Even nacho cheese dispensed from a spigot will take on an air of straight-from-the-farmers-market when it has tiny chopped green leaves on top.

It's another one of our good transitional meals, helping nudge us from summer to autumn, and including good things from both seasons. You can braise it in a stew pot if you don't have a slow cooker and I'm sure it will be just as good, if not better because sometimes that's the case. In any case, it's delightful on the palette, easy on the stomach and if you're still rolling from last year's financial crisis, gentle on the wallet.

HUNTER STEW

2 lbs boneless chicken thighs
1 medium onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
3 carrots, peeled and sliced into rounds
1 large can of plum tomatoes
1 cup chicken broth or white wine
1/2 teaspoon of salt and pepper
1 teaspoon dried oregano or 1 TBL fresh
1 lb yellow summer squash, sliced into rounds
Parmesan
fresh basil leaves
fettucine

Throw the chicken, onion, garlic and carrots into a slow cooker. Pour the tomatoes and their juices in and crush the tomatoes in your hands like you're destroying other worlds. Add the salt, pepper and oregano and chicken broth or white wine. Stir all ingredients to mix. Cook on low for 6 hours. During the last hour, lay the squash slices on top. Stir before serving.

Serve over fettuccine. Sprinkle grated Parmesan and basil leaves on top.

Posting While Postal

2009-09-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

I think you can learn a lot more from when people do stupid things than when they make intelligent decisions. The stupid things tend to be dramatic and have much more cursing. All great for mental recall. Intelligent decisions lean more towards being orderly, dull, and even sterile. Boo!

So with that said, please learn from a pretty dumb thing I did.

Here's how it played out...

My mindset:
I want you to know how I was feeling because bad decisions are usually made in frazzled states, and maybe, in the future, if you're at your wit's end, you will remember the beginning of this story. Plus I am not above playing on your heart stings for bucket-loads of sympathy. I may make dumbass decisions at times, but I'm not a complete dumbass.

So. My mindset. Fred hasn't been well. He had a 4-day stay in the hospital, was beginning to recover, then got sick again on the Wednesday before Labor Day. I had been doing all of the toddler care, working full time and taking care of the house. All while watching my husband suffer and slowly disappear from excessive weight loss, and he was a slim guy before this started. Walt is sensing something is wrong with Daddy and acting up a bit, though I must say overall he is being so sweet and good it makes me want to cry.

What happened
Around 3AM on the Sunday night before Labor Day, a parade marched by the main street closest to our apartment. The parade ended up in a plaza across from where we live. There were steel drums, other drums and screams and shouts. All of this was topped off by a full-fledged marching band-we're talking brass, snare drums, the works-playing Michael Jackson's "Human Nature" for over an hour.

We couldn't believe what we were hearing. We called 311, an NYC public service for noise complaints. We were told that there was a West Indian Day parade scheduled for 11AM to 6PM for Monday, but no middle-of-the-night parade permits.

The bands and music and noise died down around 6AM. Right when Walter woke up and needed me to take care of him. I was running on about 4 hours of sleep.

7AM and Pissed. Let's Post!
Exhausted, stressed and running on fumes, I decided to complain about this noise disturbance on a parental message board called Prospect Height Parents. It's a great resource for parents in the neighborhood.

This was my first mistake. Readers, it is never a good idea to post angry. Never, ever. When you throw out anger on message boards, you will likely get anger back.

Here is my post, written hastily around 7AM:

OK, I'm all for cultural celebrations and I'm not one to er, rain on anyone's parade. However, when they're held at extremely ridiculous hours, I start wanting to throw buckets of water out of my window. There were banging steel drums and snares, whistles and horns, and a marching band playing Michael Jackson's "Human Nature" incessantly. All pouring into Grand Army Plaza starting around 3, yes THREE AM on Sunday. And not letting up until 6AM.

My husband called 311 and the West Indian Day parade was scheduled from 11AM to 6PM. Was there a typo on the permit form? Did the West Indian community read 11PM to 6AM? Luckily my son slept through it. Unfortunately for us, he gets up at 5:30AM, so we're pretty loopy right now. And mad. And ready to do everything in our power to vote out the entire Community Affairs Unit if they did indeed approve this. Who is responsible for this horrible, noisy decision? Was it not the West Indian Day parade after all? Anyone have any idea of why this happened? -Anne Stesney, grouchy mother of Walt, 2

Kinda pissy, huh? But even reading it now, I don't think it was terrible. It's pretty obvious that I'm sleep deprived and prickly.

The results
Most people responded kindly, sending me personal emails welcoming me to the neighborhood and explaining that this was an annual celebration called j'ouvert. It's a neighborhood tradition and has been going on for decades. Everyone accepts it, and the best things to do are either block my apartment from the noise, leave town or join in the festivities. OK, fine, I thought.

Some people thought they had to sell me on the idea and this annoyed me. Others were patronizing, assuming I was some rich yuppie who lived in the Richard Meier building, a sore thumb piece of architecture most old-time neighborhood people resent. That annoyed me. I only live on the same block as the Richard Meier building! More importantly, I am not a rich yuppie! I am a middle class yuppie! I let them know it.

Mistake #2. Don't respond to annoying emails. They will make you more annoyed.

Then there were the other responses. The ones telling me I was implying that West Indians couldn't read. Wait, what? Are you freakin' serious? I was making a joke about a typo. A "people make silly mistakes" sort of thing. It never, ever, for a second crossed my mind that this was the context. I just don't think that way. Funny how people who claim to be the most open-minded often do.

Then there were the ones accusing me of hating West Indian culture. One parent even wondered if I would complain about the noise if it was the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade instead of the West Indian parade.

PUL-EASE.

Really. Look around. I live in Prospect Heights, BROOKLYN. In one of the most liberal, white-guilt vortexes in the country, if not the world. You practically have to prove you owned a pair of Birkenstocks in order to move here in the first place. I don't think you're even allowed to vote for a Republican mayor.

I was complaining about unexplained NOISE. I would complain this in any situation, whether it be the West Indian J'ouvert Parade, the Hasidim Hoo-Ha or the White Americans Who Are Mostly Italian and Cuban and Partly Irish, Scottish and German Cultural Celebration. (My peeps!)

Lesson Learned

In retrospect, and yeah, it's always in retrospect, I realize that I should have waited to talk to my neighbors instead of throwing out an ornery post.

I should not have responded to any of the pissy emails I got. I truly regret that. I needed to calm down and I did not. Again, NEVER type when angry.

I should only use parental message boards for information about benign things like nanny shares, preschool recommendations and clothing swaps.

I should be super conscious of my jokes, lest the super conscious start calling me to task with ridiculous assumptions.

Actually, I shouldn't ever joke at all with that crowd.

Still, you will never, ever convince me that Michael Jackson's "Human Nature" is a West Indian song.

September Sketch Month

2009-09-01T13:12:00.000-07:00

I'm doing it again. Writing 30 comedy sketches in 30 days. It's all part of this sadistic group I joined called September is National Sketch Writing Month.

I'm doing this for the following reasons:

1. I don't run marathons and this is the closest thing I can do that seems never ending, torturous and yet so, so satisfying when it's over.

2. Due to the late nights and often huge time commitments, I can't be a part of the NYC comedy world like I was in the past. I miss everyone terribly, and this keeps me connected.

3. It's great for my brain and my psyche..forcing myself to view the world more closely, to see the humor in everything.

4. Most importantly, it keeps me from thinking too much. I just write, write, write and don't worry about who will think it's stupid, or whether anyone but me gets it. If my sketch sucks today, I have a chance to write a better one tomorrow. It can be quite liberating.

Wish me luck.
You can read my sketches here.

Alone In The Kitchen Frying Eggplant

2009-08-18T17:44:00.001-07:00

I get most of my reading from the mammoth Brooklyn library across the way, but once in a while I'll find myself owning a hardback. What a person reads says a lot about her, and unfortunately these hard covers inform others that I am definitely up-to-date on the Shopaholic series, that I'm a sucker for anything with "bride" in the title and that I'm a great admirer of Jane Green.

I don't think there's anything wrong with chick lit. In fact, it's one of my favorite genres. But I live in Brooklyn. It's a very literary here. We have Pulitzer Prize winning authors hanging around the Tea Lounge, for goodness sake. This gives me an urgent need to get my "Oooh! Shoes!" books out of my apartment as soon as I can. Because you never know when Nicole Krauss and Paul Auster will pop in for a round of Proust Jeopardy.

Thank goodness for the laundry room bookshelf.

It's an old rickety thing that has molded itself to the corner of over-painted cinder blocks in the laundry room in our building's basement. The other tenants and I shove our discarded books here in hopes that someone else will get a kick out of them. All of my former comfort reads end up here to get adopted, hopefully by someone possessing a little more self acceptance about their book choices.

I could go on and on about some of the titles left on this shelf, and I will in another post. But today I'd like to talk about the night Fred perused our communal library and brought this book up to me.

At first I was like, ugh. Food writing. I'm not, not, not in the mood. I'd been in a rut, with no time or desire to cook or even eat particularly well. More often than not I could be spotted with florescent-orange stained fingertips, if you catch my drift. The last thing I wanted to read was someone's account of handcrafted cheese or fresh-from-the garden tomatoes. But it was Sunday night. I had no other books. We'd seen all of our Netflix DVDS and since we hate society and culture we don't have cable and therefore, no television reception. (Actually we just hate Cablevision's ridiculous rates.) So I begrudgingly opened the book, thinking at the very least it would lull me to sleep.

You know what happens, right? I read one story, then another. Then another. The concept is fantastic...writers waxing about what we eat when alone. Some eat poorly, others indulge. And I enjoyed just about every story as I remembered why I love food writing so much. It got me thinking. It made me hungry. And most importantly, it turned me on to Laurie Colwin, a favorite of many a blogger.

Her short story is the title of the book. I won't summarize but you can probably guess that she writes about eggplant a lot, and she writes very well, in a voice that's chummy and smart and funny. And she inspires. Because as soon as I finished her story, I knew what I was making for dinner.

Eggplant parmesan takes a long time to make, mainly because I have to fry the eggplant in batches. I've learned to do the first part during Walt's nap, then put everything together about an hour before we want dinner. The oven and stove get hot. Combined with the labor it makes me sweat. Yet it feels good and summery to me, especially with fresh basil leaves sprinkled on top.

Sometimes I use Panko, sometimes I make my own breadcrumbs, sometimes I resort to the crumbs from the canister. Sometimes I make my own marinara from fresh tomatoes, sometimes I make my own from a can, other times I pop the lid on a jar of Paul Newman's best. But I never skimp on the fresh basil.

So if you're in a cooking rut, I highly suggest a good food writing read. And if you're very comfortable in that rut, I say stay there. Sophie Kinsella has a new book out.

Haphazard Eggplant Parm Recipe
by Anne Stesney

I have a more thought out version here

1 large eggplant
1/2 cup of flour
1/2 cup of parmesan reggiano
2 large eggs, beaten
2 cups of breadcrumbs
marinara sauce
1 cup shredded mozzarella
fresh basil leaves

Cut the eggplant into thick, 1" rounds. Put them in a colander and sprinkle liberally with table salt. Let them sit and dry out for an hour or so.

Rinse off the salt from the eggplant. Take out three bowls or plates, anything that will fit a round of eggplant. Beat the eggs in one. Mix the flour with 2 TBL of shredded parm in the other, and put the bread crumbs in a third. Dip one round in the flour, then the egg, then the crumbs. Set it on a plate. Do this to the rest of the eggplant.

Heat about an inch of olive oil in a large fry pan until shimmering. Add the rounds and dry until golden brown, about 4-5 minutes on each side. You will probably have to do this in batches. Let the finished eggplant sit on paper towels.

Heat a oven to 375 degrees.

Cover a 9 X 13 glass Pyrex with a layer of marinara. Add the eggplant rounds, overlapping if you have to. Cover with marinara, then the mozzarella, then the rest of the Parmesan. Bake for about 25 minutes or until the cheese is brown and the sauce is bubbly.

When you pull it out of the oven, add torn fresh basil leaves immediately.

Serve with a side of spaghetti and extra marinara.

Fred is Fine

2009-08-14T08:27:00.000-07:00

It's the end of a very tough couple of weeks for the Stesney family. Fred has been very sick and it landed him in the hospital for a few days. I had to take off work to look after Walt, who was a VERY good boy but he missed his daddy. My mom came to save the day, flying up from Georgia to look after Walt so I could go to work.

My husband is now home and on the mend. Mom is still around to help, and a godsend, I tell you. Just like our network of friends and neighbors who have been absolutely wonderful in helping us out.

Fred called this "the most stressful time in our marriage." I think he forgot about the time I squeezed out a human, went into hormonal overdrive, and cried constantly over not being able to breastfeed. This went on for at least a month, with neither of us getting more than 2 hours of continuous sleep. Compared to all that, this is a freakin' Hamptons charity event. Annoying, but totally survivable.

Not to mention that in 2 weeks we'll be hosting a birthday party for 10 toddlers. If we survive that, our marriage is set in stone.

Unstoppable Bacon, Egg & Cheese Muffins

2009-07-28T08:48:00.000-07:00

I am super mom. I am the Goddess of All Things Possible. I am woman, hear me belch with such ferocity, you will be deaf for days. Before I bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan, I chase down the pig, slay it with a sharpened stick and create my own mesquite wood with which to cure the sucker. But most importantly, after hours of toiling over the perfect way to sell body moisturizer, I am the maker of Bacon, Egg and Cheese Muffins for the Underhill Playground monthly Breakfast and Singalong.

At the risk of pulling back the curtain and revealing my mere mortality, I will let you in on a little secret. These were supposed to be mini-quiches. As in, I was going to make pate brissee and roll it out and form it into tiny little pies, then fill them up with incredible flavors like Florentine Gruyere and Lobster Bisque. But the truth is that I'm more Diana Prince than Wonder Woman. At the end of a long day, even the act of pulling my Cuisinart down from the shelf seems too heavy and exhausting.

A brief visit to All Recipes.com yielded a recipe for mini quiches that required no rolling, filling nor lifting. I printed it out right away. I also paid note to the comments section. The reviews were mixed, but one thing that came up more than once was to cut the amount of baking mix in half and up the amount of eggs. Also, these are not quiches, they're muffins. But why do I care about semantics when I have to bring something to a potluck? And so it was done.

All it took was a quick mix of several ingredients in one bowl, then a few minutes of dropping small spoonfuls of mixture into greased muffin cups. Everything into an oven and WOOSH! Out come little golden cups of delight, soaked with cheese and nips of bacon, with a little bite of onion to make you wonder about the wonderfulness of it all.

There's no much beauty to this recipe. First, it's easy and only requires a few dirty dishes. Secondly, if you need to sneak in some vegetables, you can. In fact, you can pretty much add any omelet filling, except jelly, 'cause that's just wrong. And thirdly, KIDS LOVE THEM. Love, love, love them. As in, every time I make them I get requests for the recipe. These are super portable too, so you can throw them in a lunchbox. They also work well for a light brunch, a bridal/baby shower, or that morning you wake up and decide that no, you don't work with a bunch of bastards and yes, you'll bring your coworkers a morning treat.

They are ideal for impressing the masses. And when people marvel at your baking prowess, you can turn to the camera with a wink and a smile, knowing that when armed with a box of Bisquick, the power to fill bellies is at your fingertips.

Bacon, Egg and Cheese Muffins, inspired by Recipes.com

NOTE 1: If using Bisquick gets your Underoos in a bunch, you can naturally concoct your own mix of flour, salt and baking powder. But I'm not going to tell you how. Mainly because I don't know how.

NOTE 2: These are the fillings I usually use. But I've used ham, sauteed onions, spinach and mushrooms before. All are good..

NOTE 3: Don't ever, ever skimp on the cheese.

INGREDIENTS

6 eggs
1/4 cup plus 2 TBL Bisquick (I use the healthy, non trans fat kind)
2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese (or any other kind you have)
5 slices of bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
3 finely chopped scallions

INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease two muffin pans. In a medium bowl, crack the eggs and beat them lightly. Add baking mix, cheddar, bacon and scallions. Mix well, until baking mix is incorporated. It should be chunky, but not dry. If it seems dry, add a little milk. (No more than 1 TBL)

Place 2 tablespoons in each muffin cups. Bake for 12-15 minutes, until tops are golden brown. Let cool for 5 minutes and remove with a knife onto a rack. Cool completely. They can be made ahead and stored in an airtight plastic container overnight, but be sure to bring them to room temperature before serving.

Unstoppable Bacon, Egg & Cheese Muffins

2009-07-27T17:34:00.001-07:00

So Many Reasons, Pie, I Love You.

2009-07-21T12:03:00.000-07:00

Every time you eat plain fresh fruit and call it dessert, a fruit pie cries.

Thank-you, Powers That Be, for our friends. They love us, advise us, listen to us complain about everything from a hangnail to Ann Coulter. And an extra special thank you, Great Universal Force, for those of our dear, dear friends who own stunningly beautiful property in the country. Friends like Lorna and John and their 14-month-old son August, who invited us up to join them and others at their annual Sticky Wicket party.

This party gave us 2 things we really needed...a quick weekend getaway and an excuse to make Strawberry Rhubarb pie. Though I should mention that due to horrific traffic management, getting over the Whitestone Bridge was anything but quick. As in, bumper-to-bumper for 10 miles Not. Quick.

(Shaking it off) Okay. The pie. It's a simple enough recipe that I've done so many times I can't quite remember where I originally got the recipe. The Joy Of Cooking? Fanny Farmer? Only the Pie Fairy knows for sure. I do know that the pie dough is from Martha Stewart's pate brisee recipe. And I know that I use about a half a stick of butter just to dot the top of the pie.

There's dotting a pie with butter, then there's smothering it to the point of ridiculousness.

I also know that the synapses of my brain hit a brick wall when it comes to decorative pie making skills.

Notice the chunk missing on the upper right corner. I was hungry.

But as my friend Elizabeth says, "It's all good." Especially because it's pie, people! And I do say, this pie was very delicious, mangled crust and all. It had a flakey crumb with a gooey sweet-tart filling. The crust didn't hold together as well as I like, but it kept in place fine.

It was a lovely, lovely day. We chatted with old friends and feasted on grilled tri-tip, juicy chicken, fresh mint cucumber rice salad and in Walt's case, ear after ear of grilled corn. Between that and August's gravel pit, the boy was in heaven.

Not resting until every last piece of gravel in eradicated from the face of this pit.

Then we pulled him away to take some family photos. Have you ever tried to take a picture with a toddler? It's like giving a ferret several lines of cocaine and then trying to put him in your pocket. And the poses you get are about as charming as getting kicked in the face with a blue Ked.

There's the "I'd rather be sitting in a car seat with a diaper full o' poop expression....

And the "If I have to, I will physically stop myself from smiling" look...

And my all-time favorite, "...but I don't WANT you to love me!"

No wonder the photo essay of Walt's life looks like he's being raised alone.

Well, at least we all had a good time in real life, if not pictorially. Thanks, John, Lorna and August. And thanks to you, strawberries and rhubarb, for working so well together.

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

1 recipe for Martha Stewart's pate brisee
1 to 1 1/2 pounds of rhubarb, sliced about a half an inch thick.
1 quart of strawberries, hulled and cut in half
1 cup of vanilla sugar * or plain sugar
1/4 cup of cornstarch or tapioca
4 TBL of butter, cut into small pieces

*Vanilla sugar is just plain sugar with a vanilla bean stalk broken into it.

Prepare pate brisee. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Then combine rhubarb, strawberries, sugar and cornstarch in large bowl. Let it sit on the counter for at least 15 minutes.

Roll out half of the pie dough and place in pie pan. Add fruit filling and dot with butter. Add pie top. At this point you can do an egg wash, a milk wash and/or sprinkle with a little sugar. I do none of these things.

Put in oven on middle rack, slide a cookie sheet under it on the lower rack and bake for 30 minutes. Then reduce oven heat to 350 and bake for another 30 minutes. If your oven runs hot, you may want to reduce this time.

Pimentón de la Vera, Vera Good

2009-07-15T14:18:00.000-07:00

Spanish paprika (Pimentón de la Vera) is my favorite ingredient these days. If I chartered a boat centuries ago and discovered a New World, one that used this spice frequently, I don't think I'd turn around and go home. I'd be too afraid that I'd be back in my homeland making my favorite chicken recipe, reach for the last can of Pimentón de la Vera that I had carried back across the sea, only to find that my fellow citizens had used it all up. Then I'd have to load up the boat and spend another decade trudging across the seas to get more. And nothing ruins dinner more than having to stop cooking for 10 years to go fetch a crucial ingredient.

It sparkles a burnished, deep red and gives off an aggressive, smokiness. Yet if used sparingly, (you only need a teaspoon or less), it actually brings out the flavors of meat, fish, and beans. Melissa Clark recommends it for deviled eggs.

We use it for our favorite Red Beans and Rice dish, a pretty standard family favorite that we make a few times a month. Even Walt likes it in his beans and rice, except for the rice part. Yeah, my kid doesn't like rice. I think it may be a texture thing, because C'MON! Rice! It's delicious!

Ah, I can't complain. The kid recognizes the value of nuanced bite in his bean dishes. I'm sure he'd highly recommend Spanish paprika as well. It's goodness will propel me across the ocean, but more importantly, it gets my toddler to walk to his high chair.

Links

A Good Appetite: A Deviled Egg Is In The Details by Melissa Clark, NYT

Red Beans and Rice-Bon Appétit (NOTE: We use 1/2 of the rice)

Everything But The Beer: Rachel Ray's Can O' Beer Chicken by A Good American Wife

A Mish Mash Weekend Update

2009-06-29T10:44:00.000-07:00

This weekend in NYC a collective "FINALLY!" exhaled from its citizens as the sun decided to push aside the clouds for some much needed stage time. Ta-Da! Our first days of real summer! Sure, it scattered some rain early Saturday evening, but Sunday was simply sublime. Not that I mind a little rain here and there, but this spring and early summer has been way too soggy on my hot dog buns. And no, that's not a euphemism, you dirty-dirt.

We were especially happy about the weather because our our building BBQ was Saturday night. The turnout exemplified reason number a million of why I Love Brooklyn So Damn Much. More than half of the building's residents were on hand, laughing, drinking and taking a satisfying bites of crisp, grilled kielbasa. I just adore living in a place that's so community-minded and friendly.

I only wish I'd been photography-minded because now I have no pictures of the world's most incredible potato salad. It was a kitchen disaster turned into a delicious explosion of texture and flavor. I promise to tell you (and photograph) all about it next week after I make a batch for the 4th of July.

But the absoulute best thing to come out of the BBQ was the knowledge that former NYC mayor Abe Beame used to live in our very apartment! Not just our building, folks, OUR ACTUAL APARTMENT! Pretty cool, huh? We're seriously considering getting a plaque.

I had the added bonus of Sarah being in town. Sarah is my insanely talented BFF who just got her paintings picked up by the Jan Gallery in DUMBO. The Bigelow sign above is one of my favorite pieces. Whoever snags this beauty will be the object of many, many jealous vibes from yours truly. I'd buy it, but apparently Sarah won't accept a chourus of "You're Pretty!" as payment. Ah, the complicated mind of a talented genius.

I could go on and on about her work, but why not see for yourself?

If you're interested in accumulating one of these, contact Jan at JLA Studios.
If you'd like to see more, go to Sarah's Art Blog.

Viva La Ensalada

2009-06-13T14:39:00.000-07:00

Isn't family wonderful? Sure, they can drive you bonkers, but if they didn't there wouldn't be any therapists. And if there weren't any therapists, who would buy cottages in Martha's Vineyard? No one, that's who. It may not seem like this would upset the delicate economic structure of our great nation, but it oh, it could.

I mention family because Fred, Walt and I spent a week down in Hilton Head, SC with my parents, my brothers and their wives, their kids and his mother. What's the saying...two's company but your entire family is being buried alive in a shoe box? Something like that. Actually, we all managed to squeeze in a good time and no one ended up throwing drinks in someone's face or driving off in a rage. There weren't even any slammed doors! (There were also no teenagers, so that may explain why.)

My 8-year-old-niece lets Walt supervise her on the Digging To China '09 Project

The best part is that there were 3 grandparents, 2 sets of uncles and aunts and 3 cousins who were ready and willing to look after Walt. It seemed like there was always someone to watch the little bugger. Fred and I took advantage by taking many swims (me), working on our latest book (Fred), and stuffing our mouths full of chocolate (both) with toddler-free abandon. The stuffing wasn't limited to chocolate and more than frequently involved some sort of grilled meat. Or roasted meat. Or deli meat. Hell, we ate a lot of meat.

I think this was taken after I consumed 14 hot dogs.

Once we arrived home, we proclaimed that we would have vegetarian meals for a week. Our colons gurgled in relief.

The only problem with eating vegetarian in our case is boredom fueled by laziness. We eat pretty much 3 types of vegetarian meals because they're easy: pasta dishes, Asian dishes and salads. Once in a while we'll throw in a beans and rice dish but that's pretty much it.

So when we decided to have a big salad one night, I decided to try and get a little fancy. I reached into the recesses of our recipe bin to see what I could find. Even though a recipe for salad strikes me as odd. I mean, it's salad! Just mix and eat, right? Well color me converted. Because the recipe I picked opened my eyes to a whole new world of chipotle spiked dressings and lots and lots of corn.

It's a Southwestern Caesar and it's anything but boring. If you're looking for a good summer salad, look above. The dressing is equal parts heat and fat and is so very, very good tossed among cool diced Romaine and flecks of corn. We kept it simple, but it can totally be dressed up with beans, grilled shrimp, chicken or the 6 cow's worth of beef Fred and I consumed on our vacation.

I initially wanted to serve it with warmed flour tortillas but instead opted for some wonderfully doughy potato rolls. Not very authentic, but delish nonetheless. And a lot easier on our digestive systems than animals and in-laws.

Southwestern Caesar with Chipotle Dressing.

Bon Appétit | March 1997

Hyatt Regency at Gainy Ranch, Scottsdale AZ

Ingredients:

1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 tablespoon canned low-salt chicken broth
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoon minced canned chipotle chilies (in adobo sauce)
1 teaspoon brown sugar

1 large head romaine lettuce, cut into bite-size pieces
2 medium tomatoes, seeded, diced
1/2 cup frozen corn kernels, thawed, drained
4 tablespoon freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Preparation

Whisk mayonnaise, chicken broth, soy sauce, lemon juice, chipotles and brown sugar in medium bowl to blend. Season dressing to taste with salt and pepper. (Dressing can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

Mix lettuce, tomatoes and corn in large bowl. Add dressing and 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese and toss to coat. Sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese and serve.

Typical Writer Stuff

2009-05-25T15:07:00.000-07:00

Hey other bloggers and writers! Do you ever think of your blog with dread, complete and utter dread? Do you think about hitting the DELETE ALL button and wiping out your days, months and years of musings just to escape the terror of having to write another post? Do you wonder why the hell you ever started this godforsaken thing in the first place when thoughts of it cause you to grind down your molars and breathe funny?

Yeah, me too.

And yet I can't pack it in. I made a whopping $.003 from Google last month, and you just don't say no to that kind of bling. I'm also too proud to give up and too attached to the community. And once I start writing, it's actually kind of fun. I amuse myself immensely, I admit. If I could only perform stand-up to a room full of me, I'd kill.

Moreover, I've learned over the years that doing certain productive things, whether it's writing, cooking something new or buying new underwear, can be quite rewarding.

And yet I haven't managed to write in about a month. I've cooked absolutely no new recipes, and I have to walk a certain way today because the elastic in my underwear just snapped. My "good" underwear.

I'm hoping a week away will do me right. We're heading down to a beach house to spend a week with family. Either I'll be so relaxed I'll actually come back with the wherewithal to tackle baking bread, or I'll be so neurotic after a week with relatives I'll be funnier than ever. Either way, I'll certainly have something to write about so I win.

I hope.

My New 'Things To Get To In Life" List

2009-05-05T08:05:00.001-07:00

So good, yet so impossible for me.
Picture from Kaeppelis Fresh Baked Bread

So far I've got 20 things. And there's nary an errand in sight.

-Overcome fear of baking bread/working with yeast
-Go on a chartered boat to Galapagos
-Perform musical improv regularly and in front of good-sized crowds
-Go back to Hawaii with Fred
-Take Walt and Fred to Tokyo, revisit my old neighborhood and school
-Relearn Spanish
-Host a dinner party for 6
-Spend a summer vacation in Maine
-Enter a fiction writing contest
-Learn how to cut up a chicken
-Enter a recipe contest
-Make another short film
-Make up a series of bedtime stories for Walt, ones I don't write down
-Get a Creative Director title
-Overcome fear of small dress shops/boutiques
-Perform in a Moth Story Slam (thanks, Dave)
-Organize a blogger event
-Become more politically active, know my area representatives and make sure they know me
-Go through the steps again
-Get drivers license
-Find a way to offer a spiritual connection to Walt, perhaps a church, maybe just a practice.

Fred Turns Up The Heat.

2009-04-23T09:14:00.000-07:00

I can be a terribly jealous little girl. Or is it envious? Those words are like the Kardashians. I can never tell them apart, they're emotionally draining and I often wonder why they exist.

So. Yeah. I'm jealous (or envious)(or both) of a lot of people. Skinny moms. Independently wealthies. Anyone born in the mid-eighties. Meryl Streep. And lately, I've been jealous of my dear beloved Fred. Because he has done something I thought impossible.

He's surpassed me in the kitchen. This is bad.

It began with Apple Chicken with Cous-Cous, a simple Family Circle recipe. He made it and it was a testament to mixing fruit with meat, something I'm not always sold on. Rich but not overly heavy, with salty, fatty chicken thighs to cut through the sweetness of the apple glaze. It was so good, in fact, I decided to make it for my mom when she visited.

Unlike Fred, I'm not one for following a recipe exactly. I'm a seasoned home cook, after all. I mean, it's cute and all, the way Fred measures out things. But I'm a maverick. A brilliant scientist. A dare devil!

A moron.

By throwing caution to the wind and not following the recipe, I ended up throwing out about a pound of undercooked chicken thighs. My sauce was overly sweet. The cous cous was dry and the spinach didn't wilt.

How did this happen? This is a guy who owned ONE POT before we got married and we put (I snuck) lots of lovely All-Clad on our Williams Sonoma registry. Maybe his body chemistry is stimulated by a $205 saute pan or something.

Then I had a glimmer of hope. One morning Fred announces he's going to try a stuffed chicken breast recipe. Finally! I think. A chance for him to fail! Stuffed chicken breasts are almost legally required to be dry, tasteless, and leave a shard of toothpick stuck to the roof of your mouth. He's so gonna bomb on this one.

Wrong again.

The dinner was beautiful. The chicken was juicy and the stuffing creamy. Almonds gave a perfect crunch to the texture. He steamed some fresh, crunchy green beans and made a side of buttered basmati rice with peas. I secured my Black Card membership in the Clean Plate Club. And left the table with that little green monster nipping at my psyche.

My jealousy is compounded by the fact that I've cooked up a lot of misses lately. There was this Squash Au Gratin that sounded amazing, but I didn't feel the need to use real cream in it so we ended up with a dry squash casserole. Then there was a "chili" I made with our leftover ham hock from Easter, one I decided to improvise and therefore, ended up with a watery bean soup.

I'm starting to think I should try Fred's little "following the recipe" tactic.

Even a maverick needs a little direction, right?

If you're so inclined, you can find the recipe for Stuffed Chicken with Almonds here.
Yes, it's a Cooking Light recipe.
Yes, we've had a lot of luck with Cooking Light lately.
No, I don't think it's just because of Fred.

Grandma's Lemon Cake

2009-04-14T08:22:00.000-07:00

Every Easter, my grandma made her "famous" lemon cake. It's comprised mostly of premade mixes and it's incredibly delicious. Fred couldn't stop himself from going back for more and more.

My grandma passed away earlier this year after having lived a long, accomplished life that included 5 children, 13 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. I would make some sort of metaphoric comparison between Grandma and the cake, using words like "uncomplicated" and "tart and sweet at the same time", but I'd rather not make her roll her eyes in heaven.

This Easter, my mom made the cake. This is what I love about family favorites. Grandma Scally may not have been physically present this Easter, but she was still at our table.

Agnes Rohe Scally's Lemon Cake

For Cake
1 Box of Lemon Cake Mix
1 Box of Instant Lemon Pudding

For Glaze
1 cup of confectioner's sugar
1 TBL milk
1 lemon, juiced

EQUIPMENT: 1 bundt cake pan, wire cooling rack

Directions
Make cake according to package directions for a bundt cake, mixing in the box of lemon pudding. Pour into a bundt pan. Once it's done baking and completely cooled, make the glaze. Simply mix the glaze ingredients together and drizzle over cake.