A New Dream: Winter Squash Stuffed with Sausage, Mushrooms, and Cranberries Perhaps?

Rapunzel: I’ve been looking out of a window for eighteen years, dreaming about what I might feel like when those lights rise in the sky. What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?
Flynn Rider: It will be.
Rapunzel: And what if it is? What do I do then?
Flynn Rider: Well,that’s the good part I guess. You get to go find a new dream.

After more than a year of dissertation writing I’ve picked up some odd habits, including (but certainly not limited to) reading too much Harry Potter, drinking gin on a regular basis, neglecting my blog for over a year, the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, and a regular diet of watching Tangled with my daughter.  Perhaps I’ve been reading a bit too much philosophy (actually, most probably), but there are certain moments from the movie that appear to me at the most random times, over and over again, like the scene above.  What happens when all your expectations of an event, of your dream in life, are fulfilled?  What then?  The answer, I find, to be somewhat terrifyingly exciting…well, you go out and find a new dream.

This is a difficult prospect for me as two whopper dreams have come to fruition in the last few years:  motherhood and a PhD.  In the midst of my own looming questions (What the hell do I do now?  What does my life look like without being in graduate school?  Was it worth it?  What does this mean for my family?) I’m attempting to embrace an outlook focused on possibilities.  Those possibilities (a “real” job, a decent income, publication, another move) are quite often pretty overwhelming for my still addled spirit, pushing me to find dream aperitifs, if you will:  quick shots of daily dreams that provide instant gratification, and hopefully stiffen my resolve to continue pursuing the bigger, insomnia-inducing dreams that will eventually be my life’s tasty main course.  Thus, over the past week I’ve peppered my days with extended conversations with friends, a little too much late-night popcorn, an overdose of football, and a menu of new crockpot recipes.

On today’s docket is a recipe out of my favorite slow cooker book, Not Your Mother’s Slow Cooker Family Favorites.  I have yet to be disappointed by this book.  As we’ve just finished our first week of Fall-ish weather, I find myself dreaming of warm, and comforting dishes…especially if they contain Italian sausage.  I never really realized until recently that I have a thing for Italian sausage.  It is just chock-full of meaty, salty, spicy goodness that goes well in pastas, pizzas, stuffings, and hopefully acorn squash.  As a meal, this definitely fronts as a one-pot deal; it has meat, whole grain bread, vegetables, and fruit…and a butt-load of butt-er, the unsung food group…in my house…or at least for me.

Winter Squash Stuffed with Sausage, Mushrooms, and Cranberries

The beginning's of today's dream with remnants of my breakfast and last evening's night cap on the side.

I had everything laid out, ready to go.  My daily dream was a go for launch.  The prep looked beautiful (dried cranberries soaking in hot apple juice, chopped onions and mushrooms sizzling on 6 tablespoons of butter, and fresh honey wheat bread crumbs from Seward Co-op).  The first indication that this might not be the dream dish I had hoped came when I combined all the ingredients in the skillet and the mixture was supposed to be “moist but not sticky and able to be clumped into a ball.”  Yeah, pretty much just wet, so I added probably another half cup of bread crumbs to at least get to sticky stage.

The second wobble came when I went to put my pretty little stuffed acorn squash halves “in a single layer in the crock.”  Could not even get two of them in a single layer, let alone four.  So, I cut a little bit from the side of two of the halves to fit them in two layers in the crock.

By this point, I was having some serious doubts about seeing my expectations of this dream of squash and sausage come to being, so I improvised.  I had a healthy helping of the stuffing mixture leftover that I threw in a cake pan and in the oven at 350 degrees for 15 minutes for lunch.  Sometimes you need a little taste of what’s to come to bring some hope back into what seems might be a dismal failure.  Delicious!  Cranberry, buttery, spicy goodness.  Hope restored!

And some finger nail painting for an extra dollop of joy, helped along by the increasingly yummy smells lazily drifting out of my kitchen and filling the house.

The meal itself was a bit anti-climactic…especially after writing the first part of this blog.  Was the squash stuffed with sausage a dream?  No, but it was nonetheless an intriguing (though not popular with my daughter) meal.  I served it with brown rice, and it turned out to be an essentially addition as the dish needed some taming.  The meal was incredibly rich, delicious and complex for about half of it, then almost overwhelming for the rest.  It was awful pretty, though.

Unfortunately, my ability to ponder the dreamlike qualities of the meal was quickly overshadowed by a post-dinner power outage that lasted about 18 hours, leaving 4 pounds of pork and a couple gallons of milk in its wake.  Thus, my dream of squash is tainted now by the absolute anguish of throwing out the pork.  It’s interesting the relatively close proximity of hope and despair, dreams and nightmares, one inevitably and often thankfully summoning the ghost of the other.  Luckily, the excitement of a house full of candles for our kids, and the total inability to do anything useful except watch movies on my laptop and sleep was a dream in itself.  Now to purchase some more pork for my first attempt and slow cooker ribs, and a tasty garlic onion pork tenderloin.

Collage and Taco Soup

My mom was an avid tea drinker.  I say avid rather than prolific because she really only liked one kind:  Lipton Tea.  That’s right, just Lipton Tea; not black tea, or green tea, or iced tea.  In her last few months, when her usual Diet Pepsi was no longer an option, we did manage to get her to broaden her tea horizons.  However, the adventure was often short lived.  She’d try a few bags of Earl Grey or Chamomile, then go back to her old standard (though she did take a shine to English Breakfast Tea).  As my dad has worked to bit-by-bit clean out their house, which he affectionately calls “the mausoleum” I inherited Mom’s tea collection.  My dad, a coffee addict, bought me my first coffee maker at sixteen (to help get me to my 6am student council meetings) and I have been both an avid AND prolific coffee drinker ever since.  Then sometime last week I ran out of Caribou coffee and there was this pile of tea sitting in my cabinet…

I’ve always been a big fan of collage.  It is the style of choice when you don’t have the time, the materials, or perhaps the talent to create a painting, a sculpture, or, for me, pottery.  It’s this fabulous, simple way to express oneself by piecing together bits of anything and making a whole.  Lately, collage has been my philosophy of living, a life that seems at times to be a patchwork quilt of trial and error.  With the loss of one life and the addition of two lives into my existence in a relatively short amount of time, I’ve been putting together lots of different pieces in an effort to construct some kind of whole way of living.  So far the collage is eclectic (bordering on tacky), definitely colorful, and often surprisingly fulfilling and beautiful (like right now as my toddler tries to put her arms around my sitting infant and rock him).  In this space drinking my mom’s tea, itself a collection of multi-colored randomness, has come to be a centering ritual throughout my day.

Perhaps this philosophy of collage is what makes Paula Deen’s Taco Soup such a comforting dish.

Taco Soup

• 2 pounds ground beef
• 2 cups diced onions
• 2 (15 1/2-ounce) cans pinto beans
• 1 (15 1/2-ounce) can pink kidney beans
• 1 (15 1/4-ounce) can whole kernel corn, drained
• 1 (14 1/2-ounce) can Mexican-style stewed tomatoes
• 1 (14 1/2-ounce) can diced tomatoes
• 1 (14 1/2-ounce) can tomatoes with chiles
• 2 (4 1/2-ounce) cans diced green chiles
• 1 (4.6-ounce) can black olives, drained and sliced, optional
• 1/2 cup green olives, sliced, optional
• 1 (1 1/4-ounce) package taco seasoning mix
• 1 (1-ounce) package ranch salad dressing mix
• Corn chips, for serving
• Sour cream, for garnish
• Grated cheese, for garnish
• Chopped green onions, for garnish
• Pickled jalapenos, for garnish

1.  Brown the ground beef and onions in a large skillet; drain the excess fat, then transfer the browned beef and onions to a large slow cooker or a stockpot. Add the beans, corn, tomatoes, green chiles, black olives, green olives, taco seasoning, and ranch dressing mix, and cook in a slow cooker on low for 6 to 8 hours or simmer over low heat for about 1 hour in a pot on the stove. To serve, place a few corn chips in each bowl and ladle soup over them. Top with sour cream, cheese, green onions and jalapenos.

The best part of this recipe (and crock pot recipes in general now that I’m gaining confidence) is that I get to add my own bits and pieces as I go.  Knowing my love affair with Picadillo (see first blog entry) I knew the “soup” part of this recipe wasn’t to my taste, so I tried to reduce the liquid factor as much as possible. That’s where the collage part came in.  I drained the liquid and rinsed everything in cans with the exception of the tomatoes which went in liquid and all.  Pretty colorful, eh?

Collage has quickly and of necessity become my method of writing my dissertation as well.  I discovered it while writing my prospectus with a one-year old at my side.  I compose what Anne Lamott calls a “shitty rough draft” (usually contains topic sentences for each paragraph and some general idea of where I’m headed thought-wise) and print in out, warts and all.  Then I cut up all the paragraphs, literally; I take a pair of scissors and cut it to shreds.  Then I rearrange the paragraphs if need be, and then I paste each paragraph into a notebook with an empty page facing the typed page.  Then, I start writing the thing all over again.  The notebook usually ends up scrawled on with arrows, notes, and directions to go to different pages.  When I put the whole thing back together it’s usually complete and much more complex than what I get typing it out.  This makes is easy to take my writing with me wherever I go (the kitchen table, the backyard, the living room floor, next to the bathtub).  It’s less conspicuous than the computer so the toddler is less likely to take an interest in it or become jealous because it’s taking up too much of mommy’s attention.  Kids have forced me to get more creative about writing, which in turn, has made my writing more creative.

This collage writing method has leaped off the page and into my living space as well.  I’ve had to come up with interesting ways of holding onto thoughts and mapping ideas.  This is a picture of yesterday’s efforts: my toddler’s and my interpretations of women’s role in eugenics.  Somehow Crayola markers make writing into a game. Working this way also helps me hold onto thoughts through myriad interruptions of temper tantrums, accidents, feedings, nursings, headaches, and spontaneous sleep episodes.  I’ve found that, like crock pot meals, some thought-trains are much more appetizing after simmering for a day, permeating my living space with the delicious smells of what’s to come at the end of the cooking process.

I must admit I’ve cooked this Taco Soup recipe at least twice now (yes, I’ve been procrastinating, see previous post).  Draining all the juices was by far the more successful and tasty of the two.  Like the picadillo recipe, it is really dynamic: makes wonderful taco filling, goes well over rice, or as part of a taco salad.  The second time I made this I didn’t drain the cans and it was not nearly as flavorful as the first time.  Though we managed to pound this in about a week, I’m sure it works well frozen.  An additional note:  Paula says this recipe serves 6…I think in her house each serving really counts as two.  We had copious leftovers.  It’s super easy and super cheap for those on a budget, and, like most ground beef crock pot meals, my toddler cannot get enough of it.  It’s varied and tasty, as well as colorful; the perfect collage of ingredients.

For now my whole way of living is best summarized by my living space and rituals: random training potties in various places, bits of deflated balloons, pennies, playing cards, Cheerios and dolls strewn across the floor, horribly scratched Pixar DVD’s skipping on the TV screen, a quote about the size of the female pelvis and its relation to “racial betterment” stewing in my head, the smell of Martha Stewart’s pulled pork wafting in from the kitchen, the baby asleep, my toddler’s head resting on my arm, and a cup of Earl Grey with a bit of milk and sugar in my hand.  Maybe not bliss, but definitely fulfilling.

Savory Garbanzo Beans and a Healthy Dose of Irony

Ironic:  : incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result.  But really, thanks to Alanis, it’s all about that ridiculous song.  You know the one I’m talking about.  The one you were obsessed with when it came out because it perfectly described your life.  You sang it with abandon feeling witty and adroit while sipping chardonnay…or pretending to because you weren’t old enough to drink.  Then you grew up and realized it was cheesy and cliched, but, most unfortunately, still described your life to a tee.  Now, for those of us who came of age in the 90s, any time anyone one says, “Isn’t it ironic?” we hear that little voice in our heads add, “Dontcha think?”  Curse you, Alanis!

As I sit here and ponder ten thousand spoons when I need a knife, a traffic jam when I’m already late (which is most of the time), and a free ride when I’ve already paid, I can now add “the blog I’m going to write about procrastination that I started weeks ago when I made Savory Garbanzo Beans” to my list of lines that Alanis left out of her song.

Ironically, (last time, I promise) this dish is also perfect for those procrastinators out there.  It’s simple at the front end, involved enough at the back end to make you feel like you had something to do with how good it tastes, doesn’t take long, and is super tasty.

Savory Garbanzo Beans with Vegetables

• 1 lb. dried garbanzo beans (2 cups), sorted and rinsed
• 5.5 cups water
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1/2 tsp. pepper
• 2 tbsps. olive oil
• 2 cups sliced mushrooms
• 1 cup shredded carrots
• 4 green onions, thinly sliced (use chives!)
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 2 tbsps. lemon juice
• 1-2 tbsps. prepared horseradish (use 2!)
• 2 tsps. mustard (use dijon or honey mustard)

1.  Place beans, water, salt, and pepper in 3.5 to 6 quart slows cooker.

2  Cover and cook on high for 4 to 5 hours or until beans are tender.

3.  Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat.  Cook mushrooms, carrots, onions, and garlic in oil about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are tender.  Stir vegetables into beans.  Stir in remaining ingredients.

4. Cover and cook on high heat 15 minutes to blend flavors.

I’ve made this dish three times at this point (seen here served with brown rice) and it’s a solid, cheap, and tasty meat-free meal.  It’s so easy to find beef meals for the crock pot, but less easy to find yummy chicken or vegetarian meals.  When you’re looking for something light, but filling this dish is a good choice.

A note about garbanzo beans:  I “heart” garbanzo beans.  They saved my carbo-loving ass when I did the South Beach diet.  They’re one of those fabulous foods that fronts as a carb while actually containing lots of fabulously nutritious things like protein.  I will wax more garbanzo poetry in an addendum blog entry with my favorite recipe for hummus!

My original post expounded on the effects of children on my procrastination problem.  I still hold to my original ideas on this.  Children radically alter your sense of time.  Some random article I got on Facebook the other day put it simply, but effectively:  ”It’s needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15 minutes.”  I’d like to add to this that it’s the 45 minute prep for what will be a 15 minute outing that is often the most infuriating.  Hence, for my daughter’s 6pm swimming lessons we start preparing to leave at 4:45pm for a 15 minute drive and a 10 minute walk to the pool.  No joke.  And twice we’ve been late anyway.  This time problem is why crock potting rules in my house.  I need 8 hours to get dinner ready, just in case something intervenes at dinner time…and it usually does.

Hence, because of all the unexpected events in my day I’ve learned that I can no longer afford to procrastinate on my work whether it be class prep, conference papers, or a dissertation.  For instance, a conference paper (8-9 pages) I could reasonably finish in a few days, under much strain and stress, because I’d have to stay up till all hours and wake up early in the morning to finish it.  No more.  I have to start my first draft weeks ahead of time…which is really how you’re supposed to do it anyway. Ironically, (had to sneak it in again!) I can always count on unanticipated events: my infant struggling against sleep until 1am, my toddler drawing on the cupboards with a Sharpie, forgetting to turn on the crock pot and having to throw a meal together last minute, realizing at 11pm we have no food for the next day.

HOWEVER, I’ve actually realized that I’m just more selective about what I can procrastinate on, like this blog, for example.  I love writing this blog.  I’m constantly coming up with entries to write, ideas to explore.  It’s risky, though.  When do I stop being witty?  What if I’m boring?  Not that I don’t have these worries about conference papers and the dissertation, but if I don’t write a blog my family’s future stability will not be threatened…I hope not anyway.

It’s kinda the same with the crock pot.  If I don’t start a meal in that crucial 10-11am window (almost all recipes require somewhere between 6-8 hours of cooking on low) it isn’t the end of the world.  We can always order pizza.

BUT, I planned to use this recipe way ahead of time for our neighborhood’s National Night Out.  It’s the perfect, light fare for a pot luck and unique enough to make total strangers curious.  Plus, it’s super easy.  I highly recommend replacing the green onions with chives (I used some from my garden) and using the full 2 tbsps. of horseradish.  It makes it super savory.  I made a little tent for the dish with a list of all the ingredients and was the first to place my addition to the pot luck on the table.  Visions of people asking who made the delicious garbanzo dish floated through my head.  Those questions may have surfaced, but I was too caught up in toddler chasing, random baby oogling that occurs in all public places, multiple embarrassing conversations where for the fifth year in a row I ask the names of almost all the people I’ve met time and time again, a slight buzz brought on by the one beer in 90 degree heat (nursing and pregnancy have made me such a lightweight), and the courage (probably gained through said beer) to sing “Puff the Magic Dragon” on the karaoke machine as my voice trembles through the neighborhood but miss the embarrassment because my toddler was holding my hand and dancing through the whole thing, to notice if anyone said anything about the garbanzos.

Battle of the Kitchen Divas vs. the BigGirlBed III: Rachael Ray’s Honey Lemon Chicken with Potatoes

Don’t call it a come back.

Ah, Rachael.  Your witty repartee, your winning smile, and sometimes disconcertingly childish sexiness could not save you today.  Your Honey Lemon Chicken went down with a TKO from the BigGirlBed before it even entered the ring.  (Note:  The following entry is not for those with a weak stomach.)

Honey- Lemon Chicken with Potatoes

• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (EVOO)
• 8 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
• Salt and ground black pepper
• 1 1/2 pounds baby potatoes
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 2-3 cloves garlic, finely chopped or grated
• 4-5 sprigs thyme, leaves picked and chopped
• 2 lemons, thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1/4 cup chicken stockor water

To finish:

• Zest of 1 lemon, cut into strips
• 1/2 cup flat leaf parsley, chopped
• 1/2 cup pine nuts, toasted
• Balsamic Drizzle

1.  In a skillet, heat the EVOO over medium-high heat. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and brown on both sides.

2.  Scatter the potatoes, onion, garlic, thyme and lemon slices in the bowl of a crock pot. Season with salt and pepper. Lay the browned chicken over the veggies and drizzle with honey. Add the stock or water, cover and cook, undisturbed, for 4 hours on high or 6-8 hours on low.

3.  Serve each portion topped with a combination of the lemon zest, parsley, toasted nuts and balsamic drizzle.

Balsamic Drizzle

• 1 cup balsamic vinegar
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar

1.  Combine the vinegar and sugar in a small pot over medium-high heat and bring up to a bubble. Reduce the heat to medium and cook the liquids until they’ve reduced by about half and are thick and syrupy, about 10 minutes.

I had my doubts about this recipe before I even started it.  First, how many directions are there above?  In my opinion, way too many for a crock pot recipe.  However, I thought I’d spread my wings a bit and go out on a limb.  I was skeptical of the chicken.  I’m not the biggest fan of dark meat chicken, but the recipes I’ve tried for white meat have all ended with hopelessly dry meat.  I also thought perhaps my laziness was speaking louder than it ought to, and so dove right into this more labor intensive and therefore, hopefully, tastier dish.  Second, do you have any idea how flippin expensive pine nuts are?  Really, Rachael, for someone who advocates economic purchasing practices and family friendly food, $8 for a 1/2 cup of pine nuts is a bit much.  Needless to say, this recipe was already in the red before I even broke out the chicken, which, if you all recall from previous posts, is close to touching a bucket full of slugs in my opinion.

The BigGirlBed was coming out of a fairly tame evening.  The toddler had gone to bed relatively early and hence we were both working on a full night’s sleep.  Despite my doubts, I went into the dinner prep feeling fairly confident that this meal would finally put the BGB down for the count, even though it was clearly the weakest of the triad already.

Then, naptime hit.  The toddler has always been a good napper.  For some time when she was really little naptime was infinitely more successful than bedtime, a habit her little brother is now also practicing.  Often, after the usual 15 minutes to half an hour, my husband and I will notice that the toddler is still awake.  Odd.  Most often in these instances we will go into the room to find that she’s gone number 2 in her diaper.  We promptly change her diaper and she usually then falls immediately to sleep.

Today fell into this pattern.  However, I was unable, due to dinner prep and infant maintenance, to go in and check on her in a timely fashion.  I also suspected that perhaps the BGB was preventing her, rather than a poopy diaper, from falling to sleep.

As I soon discovered, these two scenarios had actually combined forces to ensure the ultimate downfall of the day.

With the infant soothed into contentment in the exersaucer and the meal simmering in the pot, I finally got around to checking on the toddler.  I opened the door to discover her standing in front of me buck-naked and smiling with the pride of someone who’d just found the cure for cancer.  I took a deep breath and rounded the corner of her bed.  There on the floor lay her diaper.  Next to the BGB, almost as a sign of its ultimate triumph, lay a huge pile of poop.  I swear I heard the bed boards creaking with evil laughter.  My toddler then began talking to me in perfectly clear jibberish as if explaining the symbolic significance of her work and its impact on the broader culture of toddler and BigGirlBed collaborations.  I calmly patted her on the head, turned on my heel, and left the room.  I picked up the phone and called my husband at work.  ”I just need someone else to hear and know what I just walked into,” I said.  With his support via cell phone, I closed my eyes and visualized my “happy place.”  With LL Cool J in my head, I opened the door once more and took care of the battlefield that was my toddler’s bedroom.

The Honey Lemon Chicken with Potatoes did not even have a chance at this point.

It was a real purdy dish.  The pine nuts made it edible and at times yummy, but overall it was just not comforting enough for the poop my day had piled on me.  Honestly, it tasted healthy.  The whole point of good healthy food is that it doesn’t taste healthy.  It should be indistinguishable from deliciously bad-for-you food.  It’s cache lie in its deliciousness, despite it’s good-for-you-ness (can I italicize any more?).  The potatoes were bland and the honey and lemon combo worked well for the chicken, but clashed in everything else.  The chicken was still dry, a problem of the crock pot in general, not this dish in particular.  The pine nuts, though crucial, were not worth the EIGHT FREAKING DOLLARS I PAID FOR THEM!!!

Perhaps I’m allowing my dissertation research seep into my blog here, but what the hell, right?  To me this whole battle demonstrates a lot about connections between healthy food and class.  Healthy food, demonstrated by the healthiest dish of the bunch in Ray’s chicken, is not only the most expensive, but also the most time consuming.  It assumes a certain amount of disposable income and spare time that, quite honestly, I don’t have.  No offense here to Rachael Ray, this is a general observation.  This thought is supported by my experience with the South Beach diet, too.  While I found it wildly successful for me, it worked when I could afford to spend $200 a week on food and entire days fixing food for two people as opposed to the four that now occupy my living space.  Paula Deen’s recipe, on the other hand, was by far the least “healthy,” but was much easier to make, much more satisfying to eat, and lasted happily for several meals.  In fact, since this day (I will confess here to writing a blog as if it happened today when it honestly happened weeks ago) I’ve now made the Paula Deen Spaghetti and Cheese Stuffed Meatballs three times.  It rules.

Though Rachael Ray left the ring bleeding and broken in her tussle with the BGB, Paula Deen’s recipe made up the slack, and the BGB was ultimately defeated in this battle against the kitchen divas.  It took about a week for the toddler to transition successfully to her bed.  We had to remove everything but stuffed animals and books and install a light-eating curtain, but she is quite happily at ease in her new room with her new bed.  She and her brother (and perhaps most importantly her parents!) have their own spaces.  Wa.  Hoo.

Next stop, pacifier weaning and potty training.  Any recipes for these milestones?  I think at some point I’ll have to rely on something more than the Spaghetti and Cheese-Stuffed Meatballs.

Battle of the Kitchen Divas vs. The BigGirlBed II: Paula Deen’s Cheese Stuffed Meatballs and Sauce

The Divas had a huge advantage going into today’s match.  After two hellish nights battling the BigGirlBed (BGB) — the first night the toddler went to sleep around midnight, the second night she finally bit it somewhere between 1-2am — we headed into today up on the BGB because the third night the toddler almost magically put herself to sleep around 10pm.  Then, the infant, after a profusion of boob-juice, actually kept his pacifier in his mouth and fell asleep in the crib.  It is in this spirit of prosperity that I began my day.  Hence, a leisurely digression.  I know.  So unlike me.  I hope, dear readers, you will follow my meanderings here.

I’m discovering that building things from the ground up — be it a functioning household or a cheese-stuffed meatball — is a deeply satisfying process.  For the past two years of my life it has been difficult to build anything.  When I say “build” I mean those longer projects where you put in a whole lot of effort up front, knowing it hurts a lot right now, but it will pay off big time down the road.  Since I got pregnant with my daughter, our house, routines, yard, sanity, have all been thrust into the “just-get-by” mode of living.  In order to make room for the baby the remnants of our child-free life (small loveseat, delicate planters, anything white) had to be put away.  Then came breastfeeding, doctoral exams, the prospectus, another pregnancy, my mother’s terminal illness, a new baby, breastfeeding, my mother’s death, and a dissertation.  After two years I have just begun to delve into the depths of those spaces where we “put away” things — closets, the basement, the garage, the porch — on order to build functioning spaces in which my family can live and I can work.  In the process I have made amazing discoveries: a long lost chess set, my passport, strange spiders, long forgotten seductively unopened books, and The Best of Saturday Night Live: Will Ferrell.  In clearing out all these spaces I hope to usher in what is beginning to look like the “Summer of Building.”

We built my daughter’s BigGirlBed with the hope that it would not only give her a space separate from us and her brother in which to begin crafting herself as a person, but also would grow with her (it turns into a loft) and possibly be a space she can share later with her brother (a stretch, I know).  And today I built mozzarella cheese-stuffed meatballs for dinner.  Thankfully, building them will pay off in just five short hours.  Huzzah!

Slow Cooker Cheese Stuffed Meatballs and Sauce

• 1 lb. ground beef
• 1 lb. ground pork
• 4 tablespoons fresh parmesan cheese, grated
• 1 to 1 1/2 cups Italian dry bread crumbs
• 3 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• 2 cloves garlic, finely minced
• 1 tablespoon fresh basil, finely chopped
• 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 4 oz. fresh mozzarella, divided into 12 pieces
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 jars of your favorite red sauce
• 2 pounds spaghetti, cooked al dente

1.  In a large mixing bowl combine ground beef, ground pork, parmesan, eggs, salt, pepper, garlic, basil, parsley and dried oregano. Add bread crumbs 1/2 cup at a time until mixture is not to wet and can be formed into balls easily. Form mixture into 12 balls using your thumb to press a hole in the center. Insert a piece of the fresh mozzarella into the hole and close the hole by pushing the meatball mixture around it to secure the mozzarella inside each ball.

2.  Heat a large saute pan over medium heat and drizzle olive oil into it. Add meatballs and cook until just browned. Using a slotted spoon, transfer meatballs into a slow cooker. Pour red sauce over the meatballs and cook on LOW for approximately 5 hours. Serve the stuffed meatballs and sauce over spaghetti.  Serves 6.

I fell in love with Paula Deen after I heard her on “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” on NPR.  She was so funny and her laughter infectious.  She made me just want to come over to her house and pig out.  Southern hospitality just seeps out of the woman’s pores.  And, I think she might secretly be Tara Reid’s mother.  It’s okay, Paula, I wouldn’t want people to know I was related to her either.  Seriously, isn’t it a bit freaky?

Anyway, Ms. Deen is well-known for making some crazy dishes.  I was looking for comforting not necessarily healthy food, but her Krispy Kreme Donut Burger was a bit much.  As were the pickled beef sandwiches which warned the would-be chef to leave the house while it was cooking because it smelled so bad.  I felt rather tame choosing the cheese-stuffed meatballs.

That said, there’s something suspicious about meatballs, right?  It seems there is always confusion about what exactly is in them.  Building your own meatballs from scratch solves that ambiguity right away.  I dove into the prep here with unusual zeal.  Still reveling in the first decent night of sleep I’ve had in awhile, I decided to take extra care with the meatballs.  (CONTENT WARNING:  My vegetarian friends might want to skip this next part).  I find smushing ground meat, pork, eggs, garlic, and all other meatball ingredients together with my hands oddly enjoyable.  Strange considering my aversion to poultry.  To me it’s somehow similar to kneading clay or dough.  You are molding all these separate pieces into one, helping them join together to make a whole.  The lesson, of course, is that cliched saying that the sum of the whole is worth more than each of the separate parts.  This idea is the “good” at the root of building anything.  By combining all these different pieces the outcome, once everyone works together, will be more fulfilling.  This is why I do theatre, a collaborative art, and why I love teaching, also a collaboration between you and the students.

As I waited for my little mountains of meat to cook, I put the toddler down for her first nap in the BGB.  Because she’s been getting so little sleep, we’ve been putting her in the crib during the day to nap.  Today, I felt, was a good day to try the BGB for nap.  It worked.  A few hours later as I cleaned up around the house, I heard her stirring.  Then I heard her bare little feet hit the hardwood floor and pad over to the door.  ”Mama?”  I opened the door to find my sweetheart wrapped in her blanket.  She came out and proceeded to play with her toys.  For a lot of parents the transition to the “big bed” is tough.  It signals the end of infancy, really.  It is the establishment of a space separate from you; a little place where the seeds of individuality are sown.  Many grieve this loss of the baby.  Perhaps because I have another baby, my daughter’s blossoming ability to get up and go down on her own, to negotiate her own space, to assert her personhood by often screaming in my face and throwing herself, kicking, onto the floor is really exciting.  The building of the BGB is already paying off, as is the self-building that my daughter works in each day.  We’ll see if this still holds true if (when) she regresses and doesn’t go to sleep till 3am the next few nights.

As for the meatballs…they were stupid good, ya’ll.  No freaking joke.  My husband and I literally gorged ourselves on them.  I used whole wheat thin spaghetti and Classico’s Traditional Sweet Basil sauce (quickly becoming the household staple).  It was really the best possible spaghetti and meatballs I’ve ever had.  The meatballs were a perfect blend of spices, savory without being too spicy (which makes them more kid-friendly).  The pork meat made them lighter than most meatballs I’ve had before.  In other words, they didn’t drop like a rock to the pit of my stomach after dinner.  I’m usually not a huge cheese fan, but I loved the mozzarella in the middle of the meatball.  Yummy!  However, I’m unsure how Paula Deen thinks that 2 lbs. of meatballs, 2 lbs. of pasta, and 2 jars of spaghetti sauce serve just six people.  The picture shows how much we had left over after serving all three of us for dinner AND then my toddler and me for lunch the next day.  I’d say you could easily serve 8-10 people with this recipe.  Wahoo, Paula Deen!

So, the Divas are definitely up after that feast:  Kitchen Divas (headed up by Paula Deen), 30; BGB, 20.  Hopefully, the ladies can ride this wave of good luck through Rachael Ray’s Honey and Lemon Chicken dish tomorrow.

Battle of the Kitchen Divas vs. the BigGirlBed I: Martha Stewart’s Slow Cooker Sweet-and-Sour Country Ribs

This week’s entries mark the beginning of a three-recipe cycle that was originally just going to be, “The Battle of the Kitchen Divas.”  Tired of using the tried-and-true Betty Crocker book on my shelf, bored with the online recipes I’ve already tried, and looking for a driving force to my blog I decided to pull slow cooker recipes from Martha Stewart, Rachael Ray, and Paula Deen.  I envisioned them slugging it out over my old-school crock pot, hair flying, mascara streaking, and pearls popping.  Why these three?  Martha Stewart because she’s, well, Martha.  I chose Rachael Ray because (all apologies to my sister and brother-in-law) I find her adorable, smart, funny, and she’s always making food that looks really yummy.  I chose Paula Deen because she doesn’t give a hoot about calories, whole grains, or organic anything, she just makes what tastes good and makes people feel good which scratches my Minnesota State Fair itch. Our new addition, the BigGirlBed (BGB) forced me to put the ladies’ cooking skills to use against a more formidable foe.  I think the whole family will be needing some serious comfort food.  Here are highlights of today’s battle:

1:30 pm  I’m making Martha Stewart’s Sweet-and-Sour Country Ribs.  It marks the first time I’ve cooked ribs in the crock pot.  It also marks the first full day after the installation of the BGB.  This presence must be capitalized and acronymed because it signals (already!) an epoch in the short history of our relatively new family and a tectonic shift in the landscape of our small house.  Of the four people in our house, the infant got the most sleep last night.  As a result both the toddler and I are short on patience with one another and in that paradoxical place where we’d like to cuddle one minute then kick each other to the curb the next.  It’s a strange sort of game…one which she is currently winning as I sit here typing upstairs in the nursery with the door closed, — my suddenly chatty infant reciting some fabulously epic poem in jibberish as he rolls around on the floor– listening to the toddler bang on every square inch of the new bed’s squeaky pine beams and praying she’ll take a nap before I have to pee.  Good thing I have such a kid-friendly dish in the works for dinner.

Slow Cooker Sweet-and-Sour Country Ribs

Serves 8

• 1/2 cup ketchup
• 1/2 cup packed light-brown sugar
• 1/2 cup cider vinegar
• 1 tablespoon mustard powder
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• Coarse salt and ground pepper
• 4 pounds country-style pork ribs, separated into single ribs
• Barbecue sauce, for serving (optional)

1. In slow cooker, whisk together ketchup, sugar, vinegar, mustard powder, cayenne, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper.
2. Add ribs to slow cooker, and toss with sauce. Arrange ribs, bone side up, in a single row. Cover; cook on high, 6 hours (or on low, 10 hours).
3. Serve ribs drizzled with pan juices and, if desired, barbecue sauce.

I do hope you caught the irony in that last statement above.  At least in our house, ribs have never been the most popular meal with the toddler.  Bear in mind the girl is a Hoover.  She will eat just about anything you put in front of her.  However, she cannot figure out ribs.  First, she isn’t sure about where or how to bite them.  We’ve tried cutting the meat off, but that tends to bore her.  She is fiercely independent and can figure out how to consume her food on her own, thank you very much.  Cutting up her food is the worst possible kind of insult.  Second, it makes her fingers sticky.  The girl will stomp in puddles till mud is dripping in clumps down her legs, but as soon as her fingers get sticky she’s done.  Ah, the bi-polar reality of a two year-old.

2:30pm  Lost the nap battle with the BGB.  Had to pee and the baby was bored playing with his feet.  So, the toddler is (unhappily because she’s exhausted) in her crib.  Happily, the ribs smell DELICIOUS!  Put my infant down for a nap and prepare to take my house by storm.  Look out laundry!  Here I come!  Sadly, the infant naps only half an hour.  No laundry today.

3:30pm  Infant rolling around on the floor playing with the remnants of the BGB assembly from the previous night.  He still will not go to sleep.  The smell of the cooking ribs fills my house.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  What would Martha do?  Visions of Martha Stewart walking into my house and crying and/or vomiting fill my head in answer.  Motivated by such imaginings I bring the infant into the empty BGB, nurse him into a stupor, and try to nap.

4:00pm   Nap is a failure.  Inspired by the smell that fills my house — a smell that says I’ve slaved over a hot stove all day even though I haven’t (crock pots rule!) — the six-hour old coffee I just consumed, and my now peacefully sleeping infant, I attack my living room with vigor anticipating Martha’s arrival.  Worry that there may have been something more potent than just caffeine in the coffee.

5:00pm  Husband comes home and is overcome by the amazing smell wafting from the kitchen.  Speechless, he promptly falls unconscious, clearly from my cooking and not from last night’s battle with toddler’s BGB.  The full effects of the caffeine, exhaustion, and roasting pork have taken effect.  The door bell rings (amazing! we don’t even have a doorbell!).  It’s someone claiming to be Martha Stewart.  I slam the door in the imposter’s face!  I AM Martha Stewart, bitches!  I open all the windows in my house so that everyone on the block can bask in the sweet-smelling glory of my BBQed Ribs!

6:00 pm  Recovered from that exhaustion/caffeine-induced euphoria I come back to the reality of getting dinner on the table.  I open up the pot and start to pull out the ribs.  You know your crock pot has done its job when the meat falls away from the bone as you’re pulling it out.  I had to get a slotted spoon to get out the last hunks of pork.  I put it on the table.  We always get the toddler’s meal first.  Then, I sit and wait for my husband to take a bite.  Waiting for this accomplishes two things: 1)  I can tell by his reaction if it’s good and how much he likes it.  As I’ve said before, it’s deeply satisfying (especially on days like today) to know my family likes what I’ve made.  2)  If it totally sucks I’ll know before it gets to my mouth.

Tonight it was for sure the first.  Unfortunately, the rib rule with the toddler stands, even though it wasn’t sticky at all.  I have to say it was so delicious I wasn’t all that upset that she didn’t like it because my husband and I scarfed it.  I served it with brown rice, steamed asparagus, and Jack Daniels Hickory Smoked BBQ Sauce.  The asparagus was disappointing.  This meal would definitely go better with corn-on-the-cob.  I might also suggest some kind of citrus something somewhere, whether it’s lemonade or, for us, oranges for dessert.  The meat itself was so amazingly tender.  I cut it up, poured on some BBQ sauce, and mixed it together with the rice.  It was also nice and tangy.  In fact, it would have been delicious even without the sauce.  The sign of a really good meal:  as I was putting it in the Tupperware afterwards I kept sneaking pieces of it into my mouth.  So comforting and so yummy.

The score after day one of the battle:  Kitchen Divas (led today by Martha Stewart), 10;  BigGirlBed, 10.  Really, this is a huge victory for the Kitchen Divas.  They went into the day with a large deficit to begin with, so in this case, a tie is really a win.  Hopefully Paula Deen can make up some ground for the ladies tomorrow.

The Terrible Twos and Turkey and Brown Rice Chili

On a recent trip to IKEA my husband picked up a step stool for our house, but really for our toddler.  After a week in my house I’ve come to realize that it has wiggled its way into an oddly similar, conflicted emotional space as my two year-old.  Most of the time I really like the stool.  It’s incredibly useful and opens up a space for a whole new range of discoveries.  It’s changed the geographic landscape of the house.  It makes me see things from a different perspective.  Yay!  Joy!  But sometimes I want to pick it up and hurl it out the window.  A wise friend once told me (she was quoting some parenting book, but I really think it was her spin) that every parent wants to throw their kids out a window and you know you’re a good parent when you don’t.  Based on this criteria, I was a good parent this week…maybe not so much to the stool, but I’m proud to say my two year-old never did end up hoisted out into the flower beds.

Ground turkey also occupies this odd, conflicted emotional space (am I stretching for a connection here?  You betcha!).  I can really only do ground turkey when it’s so covered by other flavors that it tastes nothing like turkey.  Otherwise, my taste buds get confused and my brain gets conflicting messages.  ”Hmmm.  Tastes like Thanksgiving leftovers when I was hankering for a greasy burger.”  Honestly.  These two foods just occupy completely different emotional recall centers in my memory.  I love that ground turkey is better for me and my family than ground beef.  I’m not so happy when the look and texture tell me greasy, red meat and my taste buds get Thanksgiving leftovers (Note:  I am not knocking Thanksgiving leftovers by any means, but I usually like them covered in gravy and cranberry sauce.  Doesn’t quite work on a burger).  Hence, turkey chili and I tend to get along quite well because all the spices and tomatoes actually cover the turkey taste which is why I really liked this meal.

• 1 tbsp. vegetable oil (I used olive oil)
• 3/4 lb. ground turkey breast (I used 1 lb. of ground turkey, not necessarily breast)
• 1 large onion, chopped (1 cup)
• 2 cans (14.5 oz.) diced tomatoes, undrained
• 1 can (15 or 16 oz.) chili beans in sauce, undrained
• 1 can (4 oz.) chopped green chilies, drained
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 tbsp. sugar (I used Splenda)
• 2 tsps. chili powder
• 1 tsp. ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 2 cups cooked brown rice

1.  Heat oil in 12-inch skillet over medium heat.  Cook turkey and onion in oil, stirring frequently, until turkey is no longer pink; drain.

2.  Mix turkey mixture and remaining ingredients except rice in 3.5 to 6-quart slow cooker.

3.  Cover and cook on low for 8 tom10 hours (or on high for 4 to 5 hours).

4.  Stir in rice.

5.  Cover and cook on high about 15 minutes or until rice is hot.

(The sidebar on this recipe in the Betty Crocker Slow Cooker book says you can use ground beef if you prefer.  It also suggests you can add tortilla chips and/or cilantro.  Based on our experience I highly recommend the chips!)

As I was saying before the terribly contrived metaphorical connection to ground turkey, I’m now struggling with my daughter’s foray into the terrible twos.  I say “foray” because every morning I wake up and hope perhaps it’s something else; her teeth, her tummy, her baby brother, aliens from outer space.  Alas, I’m coming to terms with the fact the sweet, dependent, non-verbal baby I had is now only an image in photographs and videos.  Am I feeling nostalgic?  Yes, but only when she’s shouting, “No!” in my face  and arching her back to prevent me from buckling her into her carseat.  All right.  Maybe there are other times, too.  I definitely missed my baby girl when an angry two year-old hurled herself on the linoleum at the restaurant in IKEA while shrieking like a ring wraith because I took her away from the kids section in order to eat.  I have to admit, she’s training me well.  We now eat in the corner of the restaurant farthest from the kids’ section.  I’ve also learned you never get into any type of physical tug-o-war with a two year-old.  You may win the physical battle, but she will win the mental and emotional battle on that one hands down every time.  And, yes, many times this week after similar episodes I have wanted to chuck her out the window.

Enter:  the step stool.  This device enables my two year-old to access pretty much everything that the adults in the house can reach.  After a day with it positioned where she could get it on a whim and reach, say, knives on the counter, CDs on the high shelf, and Daddy’s iPod it was quickly banished to a kid-inaccessible room.  However, even now when we retrieve it as a reward or incentive in order to get her to brush her teeth or get things herself, the subsequent return of the stool to the inaccessible room tends to garner copious amounts of highly dramatic wailing as if we’ve stripped her of her soul mate.  Hence, the desire to chuck the stupid stool out the window.

Today, however, the stars aligned, I summoned my super hero powers (AKA my oft forgotten and untapped experience as a preschool teacher) to bring girl and step stool together, in harmonic unison to make Turkey and Brown Rice Chili.  The fierce, fierce, FIERCE independence that two year-olds wear on their sleeves (did I mention it’s fierce?) like a badge of horror…I mean honor, can be put to use in having them help with just about anything.  Over the last few days I’ve begun to tap my daughter’s desire to do all the things she sees adults do and her eagerness to help (please, Lord, let this last just a few weeks).  Today, we pulled in the step stool and I had her help me cook dinner.    I browned the meat and onions and put it in the pot.  Then I stood behind her and opened all the cans in front of her.  She poured the tomatoes and beans in the pot.  Then I measured out the spices and gave her the spoon and helped guide her hand over the pot to pour them in as well.  She had to use some serious concentration, but let me tell you, her focus was unwavering (though she may have been helped by the Indigo Girls’ sweet harmonies and soothing guitars in the background).  We followed this success with another.  I took both kids outside so I could put some finishing touches on my new vegetable garden and some recent plantings.  Again, summoning my super preschool powers I was reminded of the ridiculous success of the water table as an outside activity for my class.  As I watered my plants, I filled the two year-old’s sand buckets with water over and over again.  Granted, she ended up with soaked clothing, but I was given an hour’s peace where both mommy and girl contentedly enjoyed the beautiful weather, the singing birds, and the delicious smells of freshly turned earth.

This evening as we sat outside to eat, my husband began praising the meal.  Seriously, it was delicious, especially with the chips on top.  The rice is also a must.  It was not too spicy, which makes this a great dish if you have kids as it won’t upset their tummies.  The cumin and chili powder combined with the tomatoes fooled even my husband into thinking the turkey was ground beef.  This successful masking left me with the deep satisfaction that I think maybe all cooks must have at some point when they’ve made something that’s healthy, but dull and bland taste deliciously bad for you.  As we scarfed our meal I said to my daughter, “Did you tell Daddy what you did today?”  She looks at me, then at him.  (Of course, she isn’t old enough yet to be able to know what I’m talking about or what to say, but that never makes a difference).  I tell him how she helped with the meal.  She listens to me tell him.  He, in turn, praises her with multiple high fives and smiles.  I see her look at her food, look at him, and perhaps it’s just wishful thinking, but I swear I saw her put it together.  She took her next bite with more gusto than the previous ones.  A sure sign of a satisfied cook.

The Rhythm of Ratatouille

Today’s blog is brought to you by the freaking fantastic stylings of Rodrigo y Gabriela’s “Tamacun” which single-handedly (okay, the whole album really) got me through an immeasurable mountain of tasks and simultaneously kept my kids busy dancing, allowing me to make Slow Cooker Ratatouille.

• 3 cups cubed, peeled eggplant (1/2 to 3/4 of an eggplant)
• 1 cup coarsely chopped zucchini (1 medium zucchini)
• 1 cup coarsely chopped tomato (2 tomatoes)
• 1 8 oz. can tomato sauce
• 2/3 cup sweet green pepper
• 1/2 cup finely chopped onion (1 small onion)
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1/4 tsp. ground black pepper
• 2 cloves minced garlic
• 4 1/2 inch thick, sliced French bread
• 1 tsp. olive oil
• 3 tbsps. finely shredded Parmesan cheese
• 1 tbsp. snipped, fresh basil

1.  In 3-4 quart slow cooker combine eggplant, zucchini, chopped tomato, sauce, sweet pepper, onion, salt, black pepper, and garlic.

2.  Cover and cook on low 4.5 to 5 hours or on high for 2 to 2.5 hours.

3.  For Parmesan toast:  Preheat broiler.  Brush one side of bread slice with olive oil.  Place bread slices, oiled sides up, on a baking sheet.  Broil 3-4 inches from heat about 15 seconds or until toasted.  Sprinkle bread slices with 1 tbsp. of Parmesan cheese.  Broil 15 seconds until cheese is melted.

4.  Stir basil into mixture in cooker.  Serve in shallow bowls with toast.  Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.

I must admit that until today the closest I’ve come to this dish is its animated manifestation in the Disney movie of the same name. 

I wanted to change it up a bit this week by not only changing my recipe source (the next two recipes are from the Better Homes and Gardens website), but after chatting with some friends about the potential evils of eating meat, thought I might check out some meatless dishes.

Thursdays and Fridays tend to be jam-packed days for me.  Monday through Wednesday is full of lesson planning, appointments, office hours, and teaching.  Everything that I can’t manage to get to in the first part of the week (which includes probably 75% of the stuff of life) is piled into the end of the week.  Of course, by the time Thursday rolls around I have about as much energy as a banana slug trying to outrun a drunken college student trying to give it a kiss.  Today was exceptionally and obscenely full of tasks.  We have a slew of visitors coming to stay with us over the next six weeks and our toddler is about to transition to a bed while the infant shifts out of our bed and into a crib.  Our house is undergoing a massive tectonic shift easily pushing the upper end of the richter scale.  Hence, my bath tub, kitchen floor, rugs and children were all in serious need of cleaning.  Additionally, I’m working on an article for potential publication and a conference paper both due at the end of the month.  My usual penchant for over-commitment was in full swing symbolized by my choice of an all vegetable dish, which of course also required more than the usual bit of chopping and slicing.  Thankfully, Rodrigo y Gabriela had my back.

Honestly, can you even listen to this music without moving your body?  I think it might actually be impossible.  The moment I put their album (titled Rodrigo y Gabriela) in the good ol’ sound dock, my toddler and I rocked the holy heck out.  So, I spent my morning finishing up some class details and writing bits of my article.  As lunch approached I popped on the album and it was like a sound, energy, movement explosion in my kitchen (maybe I’m just over-caffeinated).  Seriously, the room got brighter, the vegetables chopped themselves, my toddler instantaneously started salsa dancing, and my infant stopped crying and began tapping out poly-rhythms with his rattle.  Okay, I’m exaggerating.  My infant didn’t stop crying.  It was just like that scene in Mary Poppins, you know, where they snap their fingers and everything goes magically back into place.  In the end I grabbed my toddler and slid up our banister to her bedroom and put her down for a nap.

The dish itself was not bad.  I served it over brown rice.  The toasted French bread and the Parmesan cheese was the key to making this recipe yummy.  It passed the toddler test and was enthusiastically scarfed into her messy mouth.  It had too much of a sour kick for me to really love it.  However, I never did find anything at my produce-impaired grocery store called a sweet green pepper.  The recipe also says you can use a red pepper.  Either of those choices may have made it a bit sweeter.  It did its job, though.  My family was satiated and I went to sleep with visions of sugared melodies and hot guitar rhythms dancing in my head.

Caramelized Onion Pot Roast, Part 3: Easy Vegetable Soup and Presence

Never underestimate the power of a sit-down meal.  You sit down around a table facing everyone, making eye contact necessary.  If you have kids, it’s one of the few times during the day when you are physically on their level.  The impetus to sit also makes it difficult to get up and move around frequently.  You are, so to speak, fully present in each other’s presence.  If there’s tension, this presence can be excruciatingly uncomfortable as the physical geography of the scene forces unspoken frustration and angst to be the elephant in the room.  But, if you’re ready for some togetherness this time is a memory-maker.  Sometimes it can even create magic.  Tonight, magic happened at our dinner table over bowls of Easy Vegetable Beef Soup.

• 1 container (2 cups) Caramelized Onion Pot Roast, thawed if frozen
• 2 cups frozen mixed vegetables
• 1/4 cup uncooked quick-cooking barley
• 3 cups beef broth
• 1 tsp. Dijon mustard

1.  Mix all ingredients in 3-quart saucepan.  Heat to boiling; reduce heat to low.

2.  Cover and simmer about 12 minutes or until barley is tender.

I honestly can’t tell you how many pictures of my toddler are taken at the dinner table.  We have the fewest meltdowns and the most laughs at the table.  We have pictures of her with pureed vegetables all over her face and hair when she was an infant, ridiculously indulgent videos of her spitting food all over the table and laughing hysterically as we tried to be serious enough to tell her to stop, all the while desperately attempting (and failing) to conceal our own laughter.  Some of my fondest memories of her two years have happened at our small table.

Tonight was no different.  The meal was so quick and easy that I took my toddler out in the backyard while it was warming up.  We came in and were on the verge of a meltdown (she had her heart set on driving her firetruck up and down our back walk at least 25 more times).  Fussing, we wrestled her into the chair, put the baby in the bouncy seat next to us, and gave her a spoon and her bowl.  It was hot, so she was soon engaged in the new and very serious task of blowing on it and telling us, “It’s hot,” making sure we were blowing on ours as well.

Again, this third incarnation lived up to its genealogy as prime comfort food.  I served it with the fresh hamburger buns from A Baker’s Wife (4200 28th Ave S) that we didn’t use for the grill the other day.  While, of the three versions, this was my least favorite it was still delicious.  Actually, “least favorite” doesn’t do it justice.  If I had to rank them, it would be number three.  It was wonderfully filling and balanced (I got the stew vegetable frozen pack which had carrots, onions, celery, and peas).  With the fresh and buttery bakery buns it turned into the kind of meal you want on a cold, drizzly day like today.

That aura of comfort truly enveloped my family tonight.  My son was brought to the table as he didn’t like being apart from the warmth that seemed to be emanating from our small birch IKEA pull-out table.  He sat on my husband’s lap in his new knit sweater and smiled with abandon at anyone who even glanced his way.  My husband and I chatted about our days and stared misty eyed at our kids.  Seriously, it was that disgustingly sweet.

The magic came at the end.  As my toddler polished off her second helping of soup, she looked at her dad (of course!) and quite clearly and succinctly said, “Cake.”  My husband looked at me.  I looked at him.  He raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly — the true sign of not only of a wicked sweet tooth, but also how tightly wrapped he is around my toddler’s finger.  Well, we have to eat it soon, or we’ll be throwing it out.  As I walked into the kitchen I passed the still boxed “2″ candle sitting on our counter top.  The wind had been so fierce the day of her party we never even attempted to light candles.  Out it came and took it’s place on top of her piece of cake.  We lit the candle, turned out the lights and brought it in singing “Happy Birthday.”  She waited patiently (please note the word “patient” is rarely used in relation to my toddler, so when I use it I mean it) for us to stop the song and, when prompted, blew out her very first birthday candle.  Then, in our zest to keep the moment alive, we lit it and did it all over again.

Thus ends the chronicles of the Caramelized Onion Pot Roast.  I highly recommend it as a dish.  It’s been my favorite crock pot recipe so far.  May it bring magic to your dinner table as well.

Caramelized Onion Pot Roast, Part 2: Quick Spaghetti Dinner and A Lesson in Perseverance

Over the past few days I’ve learned a lot about perseverance.  I’m not talking about the epic kind that wins marathons or pushes out babies, but the every day kind that reminds you gently that you are an adult despite internal and external forces which might argue the contrary.  This gentle reminder is sometimes accompanied by the depressing realization — especially if you have kids — that you carry a lot of responsibility and the world will never be as bright and shiny for you as it used to be.  But with this responsibility comes a whole host of positive side effects like pride, gratification, fulfillment, and if you’re lucky, sleep.  All of these great prizes can be yours when you play the game perseverance.

Despite my best efforts at failure, the pot roast turned out fantastically (even though I substituted 1/4 cup whiskey and 1/2 cup water for the 3/4 cup beer I didn’t have.  Deliciously sweet substitution with a nice kick).  (NOTE:  Crock pots are really made to cook things like roasts, so I think it’s difficult to ruin them).  However, it did come out looking like a piping hot meat frisbee.  I quickly covered it in piles of sweetly “caramelized” onions.  I served it with two comforting favorites, green beans and baked potatoes (both pictured with the roast in the Betty Crocker Slow Cooker Cookbook).  I knew this meal was a success when, as I was finishing the final kitchen clean-up and feeding my son for what felt the the fifteenth time of that day, silence enveloped the dinner table.  I looked to see my husband deftly mopping up the remainder of the juices on his plate with his last bite of baked potato and my daughter reaching across the table for her second potato.  You know it’s good when all other conversation fades in order to maximize the effort and attention paid to eating.  Indeed, as I finally sat down for my share I honestly almost melted into the floor on the first bite.  After the struggles of the morning, the constant temptation to throw in the towel and call out for pizza, I persevered (okay, the crock pot did most of the work…that’s why I love my crock pot) and put a home-cooked meal on the table.

Then, after the meal, I pushed through my post-dinner-pig-out lull and continued the prep suggested in the book which would turn this meal into not one, but two more different, quick meals for later.  The first:

• 1 container (2 cups) Caramelized Onion Pot Roast, thawed if frozen
• 1 jar (16 ozs.) spaghetti sauce (I used Classico’s Sweet Tomato Basil)
• 6 cups hoot cooked spaghetti, for serving
• grated parmesan cheese

1.  Chop the beef.  Place 2 cups chopped beef in each freezer bag or refrigerator container.  Add the onions and 1/4 cup of beef juices to each container.  Cover and and refrigerate or freeze.

2.  Heat roast mixture and spaghetti sauce in a 3-quart saucepan over medium heat about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally until hot.

3.  Serve sauce of spaghetti.  Sprinkle with cheese.

The trials of the day before seemed to disappear the next day with the knowledge that I didn’t need to do a thing for dinner until right before we were ready to eat.  I didn’t have as much sauce as I needed, but it was enough.  I steamed some zucchini to add to the sauce, as well.  For those of you who like your spaghetti bolognese, this quick meal is deeply satisfying and comforting.  My toddler could not get it in her face fast enough.  Pile on lots of parmesan cheese with this one.

The caramelized onion pot roast ordeal was really just a warm up for the rest of our week.  The lesson in perseverance came into full swing yesterday.  My sweet toddler turned two on Friday, and my husband and I spent the last couple weeks planning for her first birthday party at the park .  I put a lot of emotional investment into this event.  After the trials of the last few months, my toddler’s birthday was THE thing I had been looking forward to over the last few weeks (a mistake in hindsight).  Even though I knew the weather wasn’t looking promising that day, I still comforted myself in times of trouble with visions of sitting down with my friends and catching up in bright sunshine while we watched kids play with reckless abandon on the playground.  We would then convene to the picnic pavilion and chow some tasty grilled treats and watch my toddler dive into a birthday cake.  It was quite cheerfully sunny when we arrived at the park, but windy…windy, but bearable.  After about an hour the wind picked up to a steady 20 mph and increased to 30 mph soon after.  It finally stopped about 2 1/2 hours later when my daughter sat down to open presents.  While the kids certainly had a wonderful time, the adults were uncomfortable (nothing I could control, but I felt guilty nonetheless).  We had to scrap the grill as the wind was so fierce the coals would not heat the food properly and my husband had to run out to order pizza.  We did, however, manage to get in the cake scarfing.

Needless to say, at the end of this day we, my husband and I, were exhausted and disappointed.  ”Should we have pulled the plug?” we wondered.  No.  We would have sat at home and felt even more disappointed for not giving our girl the joyous day she deserved.  Her delighted smiles in the pictures which were hastily snapped during the day, let us know our perseverance was worth the trial of being beaten constantly and continuously by a brutal wind.

However, as I said at the beginning, my lesson in perseverance came in the form of the every day kind.  After the party and our hastily thrown-together dinner of taquitos, guacamole and salsa, a huge mess awaited us on our porch: the remnants of all the food and debris from the party.  My husband and I lay on our bed with our toddler in her crib in the next room and the baby asleep next to us.  Let me tell you, there is nothing in the world more restful and sleep-inducing than the quiet inhale and exhale of both of your children sleeping.  My head was playing a tape of the mountainous mess downstairs.  I looked over to see my husband’s eyes struggling to stay open.  Somehow we managed to drag ourselves downstairs, despite every fiber of our beings telling us to sleep.  We spent the next hour putting away all the food and cleaning the main part of our house.  With this effort we could finally put some closure on the day.

Perseverance is about doing the dishes after dinner or, in our house, at 11pm when all you want to do is sleep because you know that the extra effort now will be worth waking up to a clean kitchen the next morning.  Why leave the detritus of the previous day to be cleaned up the next morning?  It just makes the remains of the previous day linger into the next, marking that next, fresh day with the dirty fingerprints of the day before.  It’s about pushing through, even after a night of little sleep due to a perky infant, in order to write the blog you’ve been thinking about for a few days.  Why do this?  Because there is comfort in the knowledge that when the chips are down you can still accomplish the little things.  It’s the little things that keep my sanity afloat.  It’s perseverance that makes moments like last night’s hastily thrown together dinner enjoyable because it doesn’t happen every night.  As a result, it becomes a small indulgence like the rest of the caramelized onion pot roast sitting in my fridge today waiting to become Easy Vegetable-Beef Soup for dinner tonight.