Umm, About That Meal Planning Stuff ....

I don't seem to be doing such a great job of it this week. 

~~~~~

I'm doing better with the fun stuff. 

Ramona recently spotted owl-shaped baking pans at the store (I had totally passed them by, but she's not one to miss a tool that will make baking more fun.) So, we made pumpkin muffins. 

Tomorrow we're planning on some flower-shaped cookies in honor of St. Therese of Lisieux. 

But since pumpkin muffins and sugar cookies aren't exactly dinner, anyone have favorite, go-to, EASY autumn dinner ideas to share? 

I'm Back!

Yes, I dropped off the face of the earth for a bit. I was in the final days before a manuscript deadline, so I was ignoring the outside world (although I did throw the occasional dinner at my family.) But now, the big work is done and when the time is right, I can't wait to tell you more about the upcoming book!

~~~~~

Besides finishing a book, I've been adjusting to the fact that Atticus returned to work on August 10th. Umm, excuse me, school system, but next time I'm writing a book do you think you could time the beginning of school to coincide with my deadline? Because losing my dinner chef three weeks before I turn in a book is not cool.

Now that I'm cooking (I use the term loosely) again, we are having lots of quinoa, black bean, and tomato salad.

My culinary point of view remains, as it has always been, "How to cook using the fewest possible pots, pans and utensils." Yes, it's true: if I had a show on Food Network, it would be called, "Lazy Food."

~~~~~

Sometime in the blur of late summer, I finished reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix to Ramona and we are now 500+ pages into Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I love these books. I love that we have been able to keep significant plot twists from Ramona. I love the way my college girls watch Ramona for her reaction when something big happens. I love everything about the way Harry has been part of our family, including the fact that Ramona was Dobby (for a book release party) long before (how many years ago was this??) she knew who Dobby was: 

(Next up: must dig up the best pictures of Anne-with-an-e as Professor Trelawney and Betsy as Luna Lovegood.) 

Ramona's Gingerbread Version of the Ditto House

Yesterday, Ramona decorated a graham cracker duo. She came up with this design:

If you haven't seen her inspiration for it, it was this:

See this link for original photo

Thought I was gonna die. 

Despite all my grousing, we of course had a fun afternoon with our homeschooling friends, and the result was this beautiful gingerbread-and-graham-cracker-village: 

Photo thanks to Johnna, because I forgot my camera again. 

Next year: no complaining. I promise. When my kids say, "Building gingerbread houses is great!" I'll just say, "Ditto." 

Did I Really Say, "I Can't Find My Candy Cane Cookie Cutter!"?

I did.

There was a time in my life when, had you even hinted I'd one day own a candy cane cookie cutter, I would have snapped, "Is your brain made of candy canes? This is me."

But me is a mom, and moms metamorphose into all manner of things they pledged they'd never be. Like bakers of gingerbread for homemade houses.

Two years ago, I made homemade gingerbread houses for the first time ever in my entirely long life. (I think I have Magical Mrs. M. to thank for this new tradition though I use the concept of "thanks" loosely.) I got Gingerbread Back, remember? That year, I used paper templates like these and cut the pieces out by hand, thereby mangling them upon transfer to the cookie sheet until they mutated into something like this:

(Photo of the Krzywy Domek, thanks to Wikipedia.)

Then I got smart  and bought this cookie cutter set and at the same time, due to some perfect alignment of the planets, discovered parchment paper. (Previously, I must've labored under some delusion that parchment paper was something only the Alton Browns of the universe could afford. Or perhaps it was willful ignorance. Who knew it was parked next to the foil?) Thank you cookie cutter people, and thank you parchment paper, and thank you red wine (note to self: have Atticus pick up wine on the way home tonight.)

Moving on to 2011:  I can honestly say this is actually getting easy ... or, um, -er, anyway. Easier. Time consuming, yes, but no longer excruciating. (I'm sorry, beloved daughters-o-mine, it's true -- the first year was excruciating. Excruciating but fun? Yeah, that works.)

Last week we baked two houses and froze the pieces, and this week we baked one more, along with a couple of pans of gingerbread men (but no candy canes ... I cannot find my candy cane cookie cutter. There. I said it again.)

Ramona originally agreed to to do a graham cracker house, along with several of the other younger kids in our homeschool group. But then she asked if she could do a gingerbread church to add to our gingerbread village, and how could I say no to a church? It seemed like something I'd have to go to confession for. ("So then, Father, I told her no to the church, and she started to cry ... ")

So we baked a church. And more gingerbread men. And a noticeable lack of gingerbread candy canes. (But if anyone mutters so much as a word I'm going to resign my post.)

Other helpful links I should mention:

Here's a great photo-filled how-to for constructing graham cracker houses. (Scroll down for photos of completed projects ... I love the four-year-old's house. Perfectly cute and gloppy.)

Royal icing (aka sweet cement) recipe.

Alton Brown (nothing to do with gingerbread houses, just long-standing obsession with admiration for the man with whom I share a scorn for unitaskers.)

Overcooked and Underappreciated

Yesterday I:

Roasted a chicken (Granted, I did tweet this, but we won't go there right now....)
Roasted the last of Atticus' homegrown potatoes
Baked a double batch of pumpkin bread
Made an apple crisp
And there were still some chocolate chip cookies lolling around from the day before.

In the evening, Ramona surveyed the kitchen and pronounced, "All this baking, and not a homemade granola bar in sight."

(Photo thanks to Stock.xchng)

Stretching Myself As a Mom

You know how in my last post I talked about following the Church because I love and follow Jesus? Well, in a similar vein, I embrace certain Mom-ish behaviors, such as trying to decorate birthday cakes, purely because I love my children so dearly, not because I dream at night of finding the perfect cake decorating tip.

Ramona wanted a Webkinz cake. The Rainbow Armadillo Webkinz. On her cake. Uh-huh. That's right.

So, I tried:

If you're a legitimate cake-decorating-type, please excuse me. Don't examine the saggy borders and the crooked smile and the less-than-perfect consistency of the other accents.

You see, I thought "Mommy, I want chocolate cake with chocolate icing" meant, "Mommy, I want chocolate cake with chocolate icing" not, "Mommy, I'm going to ask at the last minute that you also furnish yellow, pink, purple and a dab of red icing for the mouth." But she was so earnest that I couldn't say no. Would you?

Happy birthday, Ramona!

I've always thought of cooking as an art

... and over at Faith & Family Live today their guest blogger -- Jeff Young, The Catholic Foodie -- mentions that chefs are artists.

I completely agree. My husband is a culinary artist. He dabbles, he experiments, he creates and delights. Alton Brown is a modern day da Vinci -- the perfect blend of science and art. I have friends, too, who conjure beauty in their kitchens in ways that take my breath away.

I have enormous respect for kitchen art. I love to experience it, much as I love seeing a Van Gogh face-to-paint. Take note: I said, "I love to experience it." Drink it in, so to speak. But not necessarily to create it.

My artistic abilities, you see,  lie elsewhere. So, why didn't it ever occur to me to ask a simple question:

"May I please be excused from art class? Cuz I need to go to the writing lab. Pen and paper and keyboards await me, and I do so much better with those than I do with a spatula."

Oh, wait. I forgot: As a mom, my life is a liberal arts education, not an opportunity to pursue advanced training in a specialized field.  I am therefore forced to take Kitchen Art even though I don't want to and will spend the rest of my life moaning, "Wheeeen will I ever uuuuuse this stuff?"  (Please don't point out that I use it every day to feed my family.  I'm trying to prolong a weak metaphor here. Cuz I'm in the writing lab. And that's what we do.)

In all seriousness (I am serious in all of the above, by the way, but I am also pathetic, so I'm trying to change the subject), I loved Jeff's piece today, and especially loved this:

Cooking is work. But it is also an art. You have to practice. And when you practice an art, you are really just playing intentionally.

This is quite apt, because I always feel that I'm merely playing when it comes to my time in the kitchen. Playing at being a cook, playing at being a grown-up, playing at being a mom. But I play intentionally, as Jeff says, and intentional play leads to improvement in one's endeavors, so much so that sometimes I feel like a real cook, a real grown-up, a real mom, a real artist.

And on those days, I'm glad I took the class.

Just grade me on a curve. 

What's Been Working Around Here, Re: Food

Hmmm. I see -- from this post, at this time last year -- that I often get a handle on meal plans and cooking this time of year. It's all the planning that goes into kicking off another school year, I guess. My organizational skills spill over into the kitchen, at least for awhile. I'm sure I'll fall off the food wagon again, as I always do, but in the meantime, I'm happy in my autumn kitchen. Isn't this one of the loveliest times of the year to cook and bake?

Stuff we're enjoying:

Oven Candied Summer Tomatoes -- Atticus found this recipe.  If you've been overrun with tomatoes and are tired of them, this recipe will revive your love. Delicious. I roasted some yesterday and will be roasting more, and more, and more ....

No Bake Oat Peanutty Oat Treats -- Who doesn't love a no-bake cookie?

Shrimp Pasta  -- I use about half the olive oil and twice the shrimp. Everyone but Ramona (who is a vocal non-fan of shellfish) loves this dish.

Southwestern White Chili -- I leave out the green chiles and throw in a (drained) can of red kidney beans in addition to the white. Atticus and I have loved this for years and now the girls love it, too. (Except Ramona ... are you sensing a pattern?)

Hot and Cold Sesame Noodles -- Thanks to Rachael Ray and my friend Bridget, who gave me the recipe. (Ramona doesn't like this, either. Did I say this is the list of stuff that's working? Well, for four out of five of us.)

And, one more Rachael Ray recipe I love: That's Shallotta Flavor Spaghetti.

Inspire Me in the Kitchen

Because I need inspiration.

You know I do.

In an effort to reignite a spark, I've added a couple of new cookbooks to my kitchen counter. Let's hope they don't just sit there:

Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day (I already bake bread, and I already take a lot of shortcuts, but I want some confirmation and new ideas about the shortcuts from the pros.)

From a Monastery Kitchen

Twelve Months of Monastery Soups

If you have any extraordinarily inpsirational ideas, I'd love to hear them.

You might start with, "Karen, open the cookbooks."

To which I'll smugly reply, "That's how much you know. There just happens to be a huge batch of bread dough in my fridge right this very minute. So there."

I'll keep you posted. And I'll try to stop talking like a third grader.

How to Teach Your Cat to Wake You Up at 6 a.m.

1. Get a dog.

2. Be sure to get the kind of dog that favors cat food.

3. Fail to grasp any connection between step 2 and every step thereafter.

4. Get annoyed at cat for chewing on a box in your room at 6 a.m. Get up.

5. Notice cat's bowl is empty. Feed cat.

6. Repeat steps 4 and 5 for several days, substituting electrical cord, book, sandal, and dresser for box.

7. Tell sweet dog No when she begins to eat cat's food. Look at her hangdog expression with affection.

8. Think about how poor cat's bowl is empty all the time and that he must wake you up in order to get a satisfying meal. 

9. Realize that you have successfully trained a cat to be your alarm clock.

10. Wonder how cat will feel about a leash.

The Hogwarts Scarf

I have requests from three daughters for three of these scarves:

 

We chose the yarn awhile back but I just finished this yesterday. After I finished, I found this example of a Hogwarts scarf online (thinking I might post it when I first mentioned the scarf, but then decided to take a picture of ours.) I'm relatively pleased by how much this looks like the fake-real thing.  (Or is that the real-fake thing?) Of course, my knitting is much sloppier than the example, but my girls aren't critical fashionistas. They are simply brave and chivalrous Gryffindors who want to stay warm. 

But, Lord, It's Not Even Lent Yet

Yesterday my dryer died.  (Be careful what you wish for.)

Today we shall find out if this elderly friend still has any life left in her, or if she has permanently left us for the greener pastures of Appliance Heaven.  I may be shopping for a new and expensive thing on this Fat Tuesday.

Not the way I'd choose to celebrate Mardi Gras, but, hey, we take what we're handed, eh?

A Mother's Wish List, (or, In Which I Eventually Ponder Heaven)

• That laundry would creep away into a deep, dark hole and die.  For a week -- or, ... oh, dare I dream? -- ten days.
  

• That no one will ask me, "What's for dinner?"  Just for a day.  One day.
  

• That I could eat take-out every night for seven -- oh, dare I imagine it? Ten? -- days. In a row. On paper plates.

• That while I'm consuming decadent, indulgent take-out food and wearing clothes that never get dirty, the cat will announce that he's permanently ceased throwing up.  Also, he would kindly like to point out that his allergies are gone, so he will stop breaking out in those unsightly sores. 

• That the bathroom door would automatically lock behind me. Because I forget to lock it, y'know? Which translates into, "Hey, everyone, come on in and tell me about your day! It's a party in here, despite the drab decor! And hey, cat, wouldn't you like to come in, too? And throw up?" 

• That when I'm sick I could just. Be. Sick. (I'm not sick today, so don't worry about me. I'm just dreaming.) You know? Sick? As in, all day long/in bed/don't touch me/don't talk to me/I'm going to sleep for seventeen hours/I won't cook/I won't tidy/I won't talk to you about math/sick. 

Enough complaining wishing.

The reality -- I know, I know -- is that I love these people. It gobsmacks me, really, how much I love them.

And I even love that cat (Most of the time. Except when he's biting one of my offspring. And throwing up. And chewing on my nightstand at 4 a.m.)

And I love that I have a washing machine (I did the laundromat thing when we were young and poor and I'll take daily laundry anytime), and I love that Atticus has a job and the means to provide the meals I hate to cook. I love that we homeschool, and I love that my husband and kids love me, too (in spite of my pathetic meals.) 

And yesterday, when we were reading The Long Winter, and we came to the passage I quoted earlier this morning, I thought, "Yes. That's what home is. It's a little taste of the divine.  It's Heaven under a roof.  Refuge from the cold world."

And that is the message I try to remind myself of when I get caught up in my wish lists.

That heaven is right in front of my eyes.

Yesterday, Ramona said, "Mommy, there's a place where you can go outside when it's snowing and you don't even have to wear a coat. And you can eat ice cream and drink hot chocolate at the same time, and then go swimming. And there's cake.  And we're going."

"We are?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said, impatient with my thickness.  "It's Heaven!"

Lord willing, we're on the road.

That's my real wish list. That we're doing what we need to do, and that we'll keep looking for those doors He opens to draw us further in, and that we will walk through them -- that this tiny  taste of Heaven under a roof will be our path, someday, to the real thing.

My Work Here is Done

When Atticus got home from work tonight, he walked into the living room and said:

"Is there something different in here? Why does it look different to me?"

I replied, "Ummm ... I cleaned it?"

And About Those Gingerbread Houses ...

... here are the results of the Gingerbread House Decorating Party (minus three houses, as that family left before we got a picture taken):

Help! I Have Gingerbread Back!

Because I spent the day  hunched over the kitchen counter making and baking homemade (for the first time ever ... please pat me on my aching back) gingerbread for our first-ever homemade gingerbread houses.  Who knew it would be so time consuming?

I got six houses put together:

and after tomorrow they will be beautifully decked out for the holidays.

And for eating.

In the past, Santa has always left gingerbread house kits for the kids on Christmas morning. We then put them together sometime during the Twelve Days of Christmas.  This has always worked well because Santa shops the after-Christmas clearance sales, picks up three kits, and squirrels them away for the following year. Santa never wants the girls to eat those gingerbread houses though, because -- yuck -- how good could they be after sitting in my Santa's closet for a year?

But, last year, Santa struck out on the after Christmas clearance sales and there was nothing in the closet.  So this year, Santa got creative and domestic.  I suggested to Ramona that we try making delicious, edible ("We can really eat them?") homemade houses.  Then, I told her, we can just suggest to Santa that he skip the kits this year. She was all for it.

So today I baked. And assembled. And called my friend for frosting advice.  And asked Atticus, when he arrived home from work, if he came bearing wine. He hadn't.

"I thought you had some wine," he said.

"Not enough," I replied. And then made more royal frosting. Do you know how much of that stuff it takes to keep a roof on?

Tomorrow we'll add candy and other accoutrements and I'll soon report back on our progress. But for now I'm off to give my back a rest and enjoy a glass of something dry and red.

Things that make me go, "Huh?"

Martha Stewart telling me how to host a cookie swap.

I've never hosted a cookie swap. I don't think I'll ever host a cookie swap.

Just give me your cookies and no one will get hurt.

*****

People who don't like chocolate.

My friend Andrea still laughs at me for the time I served two kinds of cookies (this was not a swap, I'd just been baking): "These are chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, and these are just regular chocolate chip cookies, for people who don't like chocolate."  (That is how Andrea tells the story. I maintain that I said, "... for people who don't like chocolate as much.") She roared. She pointed out that people who don't like chocolate might actually prefer a cookie without chocolate.  I blinked stupidly. Uncomprehendingly. Huh?

*****

Why is everyone so interested in Tiger Woods?

*****

When people say, "I don't read much."

Huh?

*****

Nebraska weather.

*****

Morning people.
People who say, "I just never use email."
Yelling at a football game on TV.

*****

Being asked, "What's your five year plan?"

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

Last week we visited the local pumpkin patch. It was bittersweet for me. When we first discovered this place, it made for a very sweet family outing. Yes, other people knew about it, but the place wasn't overly commericalized. Visiting meant leisurely strolls, participating in a few simple activities, and buying our pumpkins for jack-o-lanterns. It was pastoral. Over the years, the place has grown up and become more commercially savvy and as "attractions" have increased, my enjoyment has decreased. It doesn't feel quite like the same place for Ramona as it was for Anne and Betsy. We still had a fun day, but overall, the experience made me want to escape to the woods we visited last summer:
















*****

My friend, J., who would deny the label "Super Mom" but who will be thus labeled by me anyway, has started a new 4-H group for us.

Yes, yes, I know. Last summer, I was prepared to bribe my children to keep them away from the (as another friend calls it) cult of 4-H. But this year will be different.

You may now imagine that my eyes are glazed over, in perfect Stepford Wife Style, and that I'm chanting, "This year will be different ... this year will be different ... this year will be different ...."

But, it will. Really. Uh-huh.

Because we're focusing on food, and I can do food. I'm no Next Food Network Star, but I have faith that my deep and lasting interest in food will carry me through this cult year. Hey, I even have a food label on this blog, proving that I know how to eat. Plenty, mister.

And some things, I actually do pretty well (which continues to surprise me to this day) and sometimes my passion in the kitchen even results in poetry.  Not that I'll be serving an addictive substance to the 4-H group, but I'll definitely have a few cups before we meet. And that always helps.

*****

I was sick yesterday. Down-for-the-count-couldn't-go-to-Mass-stayed-in-pajamas-didn't-go-to-the-free-dinner-at-church sick. But, I feel amazingly better today.

And the Yankees won. So, Atticus is a very happy man.

What's Been Working Around Here, re: Food

* Some recipes from Just Tell Me What to Cook, such as Orange Rosemary Chicken, which was a hit with the whole family. Ramona didn't even ask for a peanut butter sandwich.  I liked the Chicken with Lime-Ginger Sauce, but the kids found it a little heavy on the lime, so I'll cut back next time.

* Crock Pot Lasagna:  A friend mentioned this recently, so I Googled for a recipe. Yes, you really throw uncooked pasta in the crock pot. I didn't have lasagna noodles, so I used spiral pasta, and I left out the ricotta. The recipe says one hour on high, and five hours on low, but I think I could have cut that back to about three hours on low (however, we were out for the afternoon, so I wasn't home to check on it.)  It was overdone, but the kids still loved it.

* Melissa's Roasted Broccoli  with Parmesan:  so simple, so good

* Couscous:  everyone loves it. Except Ramona.

* Meal planning:  As much as I hate to admit it (and do it), life is immeasurably easier when I plan meals. My tortured relationship with meal planning has been chronicled:

Meal Planning, Schmeal Planning
An Update to Meal Planning, Schmeal Planning
Another Reason to Love My Husband

And I expect the tortured relationship to continue. And so goes life in the fallen nature and fallen kitchen of Karen.

That's my girl

Atticus made his famous homemade spaghetti sauce today. As we cleaned up after dinner, I mentioned that I still remembered the first time I tasted the Edmisten recipe at his parents' house. I thought, "Wow ... that woman makes a mean sauce."

Anne-with-an-e came in and asked what we were talking about. I explained that Dad had gotten his spaghetti sauce recipe from his mother.

Anne then said, "Dad, when I get married ... " and I thought she was going to ask if she could have his recipe, but she said:

"... will you give your recipe to my husband?"