Set Free

No Mo Mocha Update

As regular readers will recall, I decided in a moment of nearly incapacitating insanity to give up mochas for Lent.

So, it has been 8 days now, and I have both remembered the dispensation for Sundays, complete with a visual memory of Ruby with what must have been a giant bottle of Pepsi back in our high school days, and gotten back on the horse promptly the next day. And, no, I did not consume two liters of mocha on Sunday. And yes, it tasted really good. And yes, I do believe it had mood-altering effects, although I'm not sure it was responsible for my sermon being, as my music director put it, "a home run."

But in the meantime, on the weekdays, I have been seeking the appropriate coffee substitutes, because Songbird runs on coffee of whatever kind. I've been measuring half-and-half into my little Oxo measuring cup. I can live with 2 tablespoons in a cup of coffee and feel pretty darned satisfied (1 point, in case you're counting).  But the beauty of the mocha, or any latte, is that in the nonfat milk form it helps fulfill the daily requirement for milk or other dairy that is part of the Weight Watchers program, and it's really pushing it to count half-and-half in place of your lowfat or nonfat dairy products.

So I returned to my favorite coffee purveyor and amazingly found a new drink I like, although it's not quite the same as the "Grande Nonfat, No-Whip Mocha," the order that spools off the tongue so musically. In the Star$$ the other day with Pure Luck, I ordered my new drink.

"May I please have a Tall Skinny Vanilla Latte?"

It was as if I were hearing it for the first time. I turned to Pure Luck and said, "Yes, it's a Straight White Girl's drink."

He chuckled.

Tall
Skinny
Vanilla

Sigh. I somehow feel I'm capitulating to the patriarchy, but I couldn't exactly say why.

Baked Cheese Grits

It's one of those recipes that brings back people and places no longer part of my life. We usually have it on Christmas Day, but due to the dual household family arrangements, we're having it this morning instead, the famous Baked Cheese Garlic Grits. Over the years I've made adaptations to the recipe (more grits! butter instead of margarine! real garlic!), but this is my mother's version, written out by hand on a battered recipe card, given to me when it was fresh and I a young bride, and even more carefully penned into a volume called "Grandmother Remembers."

3 cups water*
3/4 cup Quaker Quick Grits, uncooked**
1/4 tsp. salt (optional)***
1 egg, beaten****
1 cup (4 oz.) shredded cheddar cheese*****
2 tablespoons margarine******
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder (optional)*******
Dark Red Pepper sauce or ground red pepper (optional)********

*I'm afraid this recipe is now about to become a narrative, as I've realized everything in the recipe needs an explanation except the water.

**Do not use the Instant variety.

***Mother, you have got to be kidding. You can't cook grits without salt. I just put some in the palm of my hand, I never measure.

****I used two eggs today, and when I double the recipe, I use three. I'm feeding teenagers, or their near neighbors.

*****We use Cracker Barrel's Extra Sharp White, although my mother used the orange version and that gave the dish a different shade, shall we say. When I couldn't find her recipe a few years ago and borrowed from Emeril (more butter!! a whole stick!! but that was for double the grits), we used a hunk of delicious cheddar someone had given us for Christmas, and that it was orange was okay.

******This gives you a sense of my mother's era (1925-1993). Butter is "in" again, and we always use it.

*******Again, dear Mother, how is this optional? Although I have used garlic salt in a pinch, and usually finely minced fresh garlic.

********Next thing you know, she'll say the grits are optional. I mean.

Back to my mother's instructions. I'll put them in italics, because her hand-writing was that pretty.

Heat oven to 350 degrees (F). Grease 1&1/2 quart casserole or baking dish. Prepare grits according to package directions. Add small amount of grits to beaten egg. Return grits/egg mixture to pan. Add remaining ingredients. Cook over low heat an additional minute or until cheese is melted. Pour into prepared casserole; bake 30-40 minutes or until top is set and lightly puffed. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.
4-6 serving.

Here is the doubled version, with my adaptations. You will note I am less precise. This may have been the source of some of the stress in the mother-daughter relationship. I'm just sayin'.

2 cups Quick Grits (never Instant!) prepared according to package instructions.
(That includes salt. And does it really matter if you add the salt before the water boils? I am curious about this. Really. Because I always seem to put it in first. I do remember to pour the grits slowly into the boiling water, because otherwise they clump, and that is catastrophic.)
3 eggs, beaten (Do that thing my mother suggests when you mix them together. I usually forget, but I'm sure it's sensible.)
1 stick of Cracker Barrel Extra Sharp White Cheddar (10 ounces, minus the slices you cut off the end for the dogs), shredded
1 stick butter (Oh, Emeril. You don't care about the Weight Watchers Flex system, do you?)
1 or 2 cloves garlic, minced, as you wish
Red pepper sauce to serve on the side

Assemble as above, using a bigger baking dish. Be sure to bake for 1 hour.

And don't forget to let it stand after, even though people are impatient to eat it.

Exhausted by comparing your technique to your mother's, leave the casserole for the boys and go out for a mother-daughter pedicure with your 12-year-old.

Happy Boxing Day, all!

Let All Things Now Living

I had my Thanksgiving dinner last night.

It was a funny little meal. Pure Luck requested a Festive Holiday Meat Loaf, which I provided and to which he and the boys tucked in with enthusiasm. For The Princess and for me, there was Festive Thanksgiving Turkey Meat Loaf (made with 99% fat free ground turkey and darned if it wasn't good! recipe below). Mashed potatoes, delicious Rosemary bread, a big salad and a store-bought apple pie finished off the menu.

But the most important ingredient was the company. I relished sitting around the table with my three children, who are so grown-up now, wondering if #1 Son will be with us next year (who knows where he might be living or what he might be doing?), marveling at how together Snowman seems, and enjoying the way The Princess holds up her end of the conversation now, pausing when the boys tease her but then plowing ahead to make her point instead of getting upset and flouncing away as she might have a year or two ago.

This year it's their dad's turn to have them for Thanksgiving, so they are moving about slowly, getting ready to join him this morning.

We've had a breach with a member of the extended family, to which I believe I have alluded, one that brought about the inevitable end to most of our joint celebrations, and I'm beginning to realize that this is better for everyone, though I did not like the way it happened. I came to the hard realization that you can't cling to the old and move on to the new without losing your momentum. Find some aspect of the old that you treasure and carry it along, surely, but do not cling.

I liked having the big family holidays, liked it for my kids, liked it that my former husband's family wanted me around, or seemed to want me. And some of them do. But it makes no sense, more than ten years after a divorce, to continue permitting the other side of the family the power to reject me one more time, whether actively or passively. How much was that dynamic a reflection of my desire to "win" my divorce? To be the best, most beloved ex-wife ever? I'm not sure exactly what I thought I might gain. In this matter my own agenda remains hidden even to me. I can only say, on this particular day in this particular year, that I know the way things are now feels healthier, if painful.

Pure Luck and I will be off to his great-aunt's house, over a river or two and down a long country road. We'll visit his mother's grave. We'll hear some family stories and wonder just how much bigger those young cousins can possibly grow! The relatives will invite him to watch the football game, and he will decline, and they all know this, but they ask anyway, because they are sweet people.

I'm thankful today for my new family, in all its configurations, for a second chance at love, for children who bore up through loss and change and have become reasonably whole human beings, for dogs and cats, for friends nearby and far away, for work I love, for a life partner who accepts my foibles and has enough of his own to keep things interesting.

I'm thankful for love.

Wherever you are today, I hope you are feeling thankful, too.

Festive Thanksgiving Turkey Meat Loaf

1 package 99% fat free ground turkey (about 20 ounces)
1.5 cups fresh whole wheat bread crumbs
1 large egg
1 cup skim milk
1/2 large onion
1 cup raw carrots
2 tsp dry sage (or use fresh if you have it)
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

Chop the onion and carrots into fine pieces, or process in food processor (I did this and it worked beautifully).

Mix all ingredients well in a large bowl.

Bake in 9X5 loaf pan in 350 degree oven for 1.5 hours.

Cut the meat loaf into 6 pieces, 3 points each. (I kid you not. I used the Weight Watchers online tools to do the calculations.)

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Ah, coffee

Herewith, a pictorial post:

Welcome to Songbird's kitchen, where we await Cup #4, the first drinkable cup from the adorable MukkaExpress. 

It works! Amazing!!

If you'll excuse me, I'll be busy drinking my cappuccino now.

EDITED TO CORRECT MY FANTASY MATH--

(3/4 cup skim milk--1,5 points; 1/2 tsp sugar, 0 points; espresso, also nada--and well worth the effort.)

Salsa Chicken

Tonight Snowman saw his dad and grandfather for a going away meal, so we had our last family dinner before his departure last night. For the occasion I invented Salsa Chicken, and it was a big enough hit that I want to share it with you.

Ingredients:
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, halved (3 points for each half breast)
1 jar Newman's Own Black Bean and Corn Medium Salsa (1/4 cup has 0 points!)
1 onion, chopped (0 points)
8 tsp. olive oil (optional if you want to use Pam, but I wanted a healthy oil serving with this, 1 point per teaspoon)

Sauté onion in the olive oil over medium heat in a large frying pan until wilted (or charred on the edges, in my case). Add chicken breast halves and brown lightly on both sides.

Pour salsa over chicken breasts and simmer on medium-low until chicken is cooked through.

The sauce thickened as it cooked and it worked really well in a tortilla. I bought white corn tortillas (small) that were 1 point each, and I enjoyed eating two filled with my portion of chicken (1/2 breast and about 1/4 cup of the sauce), for a total of 6 points. The whole family enjoyed this meal, and I had to go back to the kitchen and warm up more tortillas!

My family continues to be supportive of my efforts at activity and food-planning, and I am grateful to them. In ten days we'll enter a six week Girls Only Zone, as Pure Luck heads off to work, and I'll be interested to see how much cooking goes on versus how much sushi we pick up at the store!

Refried Beans

Tonight for dinner we had refried beans and rice, and I went to some trouble to work out the Weight Watchers points for this very satisfying meal. It's one thing to figure out how to make myself a measured portion, but I've been sort of enjoying working out how to cook something for everyone and know what my portion ought to be.

Refried Beans for 5 or so

2 cans (16 oz. each) Fat Free Vegetarian Refried Beans (I used Bearitos)
1/2 jar (8 oz.) chunky Fat Free Salsa (I used Newman's Own Medium All Natural Chunky Salsa)
1 onion, chopped
2 and 1/3 cups frozen corn kernels
7 tsp. (that's 2 tbsps + 1 tsp) oil (the healthy ones re: Weight Watchers; I used olive because we have it, but sunflower would have been great)
Chili powder (to taste)
Garlic powder (to taste)

Saute the onion in the  oil until wilted, then add the frozen corn, seasoning as desired. Add the salsa, then the beans, and heat through.

A scant cup will be 3 points (I know, unreal, isn't it? But beans are chock-a-block with fiber, don't you know.)

Serve over rice (2 points for a half cup).

I offered both regular cheese for skinny teenagers and 50% Cheddar for me (2 tbsps for 1 point)

That's a 6 point dinner, friends.

I had a big salad alongside and used my other teaspoon of healthy oil on that along with a few spritzes of Caesar flavored Salad Spritzer (flavorful in a slightly elusive way).

English Muffin Pizzas

I know I said I was going to use Weight Watcher's Core Plan, but since I was out of town last week, my old friend who works there suggested switching to Flex. It gave me a lesson in portion sizes, which I thought I already understood but clearly I needed a refresher. The Flex Plan feels much freer, despite the counting, so I'm going to stick with it.

In case anyone is interested, here's what I did last night for supper.

English Muffin Pizzas

2 Thomas' English Muffins 100 Calorie (2 points, which is to say 1 point each)
1/2 onion (0 points), cut in half-moon slivers
2 tsp. olive oil (2 points, healthy oils)
1/2 cup canned crushed tomatoes (1 point)
basil, oregano, garlic powder(o points)
1/2 cup Kraft Fat Free Mozzarella (2 points)
1 Tbsp. Kraft Parmesan Cheese (1 point)

Sauté the onion in the 2 tsps. olive oil and as the onion wilts, add seasonings, then canned crushed tomatoes.

You might want to lightly toast the English Muffins before assembling the pizzas.

Divide the tomato and onions on the four English Muffin halves and top with the Mozzarella Cheese. Broil in the oven on the second shelf from the top until cheese is melted.

If desired, add Parmesan Cheese. I wish I had been using really good Parmesan or Romano rather than canned stuff, although these were delicious.

This was an 8 point dinner, and I planned for it carefully. It was VERY filling, no chance of going to bed feeling hungry or deprived. My family looked longingly at my plate, as did Molly, but they know better than to ask for a bite! I would have been happy with one, I think, had there been a big salad on the side. Another option to bring down the points would be using PAM instead of oil, but I needed my two teaspoons. (And since I was cooking a small amount of food in a big pan with a relatively small amount of oil, I used a little PAM on the pan to avoid burning.) I used really good, organic canned tomatoes, but certainly you could do this with prepared tomato sauce as well, just check the points. The onions gave the whole thing a little extra heft and were yummy.

As I said last night, the great revelation was the Fat Free Mozzarella, which tasted delicious, much better than other Fat Free, or even Low Fat, cheeses I have tried thus far.

I'm trying as many ideas as possible while I'm on vacation, knowing I'll have to do quicker prep on work days and figuring out what groceries we need on hand to make it possible.

So far, so good.

Still Talking about Cake

This morning I had a piece in the local paper telling the story of the Grace Cake. I hope you'll go there and read it, as it belongs to the paper for 30 days before it can be reprinted elsewhere.

My e-mail is included at the end of the reflections column, and sometimes I do get mail from readers. This morning I got a request for the cake recipe! I linked to Quotidian Grace's original post the other day, but since I can't post the column here, I thought I might' post the recipe instead.

Meanwhile, there is one small piece remaining. When The Princess got ready to go to her father's house yesterday, she whined that it would likely be gone before she came back today. I told her to wrap it up and put it in the refrigerator in a place it would not likely be found. She did the former, but apparently did not succeed at the latter, since I had to snatch it nearly from the jaws of Pure Luck this morning. It's that good.

Grace Cake

AKA

Texas

Chocolate Sheet Cake

Bring to a boil in a pan:
1 stick margarine
1/2 cup solid butter-flavor shortening
4 tablespoons Hershey's cocoa

Set aside to cool.

Sift together in a large bowl:
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Pour chocolate mixture over the flour/sugar mixture

Add:
2 well-beaten eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup buttermilk that has 1 teaspoon baking soda dissolved in it.

Mix well and pour into greased 9x 13 pan.
Bake in preheated oven at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Do not overbake! The cake continues cooking after it is removed from the oven.
Ice the cake as soon as it comes out of the oven.

Icing:
Bring to a boil in a saucepan --
1 stick margarine
6 tablespoons milk
4 tablespoons Hershey's cocoa

1 tsp vanilla

1 box confectioner’s sugar

Stir continuously until mixture thickens. Then remove from heat and add 1 teaspoon vanilla, the box of powdered sugar and (1 1/2 cups chopped pecans—optional).

Pour hot icing over the cake and let it cool. This cake can be made ahead because it is actually better the next day! We love it with really good vanilla ice cream.

Texas Sheet Cake

  Texas Sheet Cake 
  Originally uploaded by msongbird.

It's more than a cake, really.

I got the recipe from my friend, Jody, at Quotidian Grace. And as I said I planned to do in the comments on her blog almost two years ago, I did make one to take to a Stewardship Dinner the following weekend. But the meaning changed when I read about St. Casserole's preparations for Hurricane Dennis. As she waited to see if the storm would really hit, I (and others) prayed for her in our far-flung churches, even though we didn't know her real name. Cassie and her family, I said to my congregation, we must pray for them today as they await the arrival of a hurricane. I felt a kinship, a sisterhood, I could not quite explain. That storm, though it would be nothing compared to the rage of Hurricane Katrina later in the summer, represents the first time I felt a deep, deep concern over a blogging friend, a person who existed for me only on the Internet, under an assumed name, in a general region of the United States.

Ten days later, St. Casserole asked a significant question, and suddenly a loosely connected group of bloggers coalesced and became RevGalBlogPals.

When The Princess asked for a Texas Sheet Cake for this birthday, I obliged happily.

Vermonty Python

I hope we can agree that some nights the only thing to do is eat a little ice cream right out of the carton.

Emergency Rations

or, what to fix for dinner when you decided to take a walk in the woods with husband, daughter and dogs instead of making lasagna...

Get out some pretzels to eat while thinking.

Consider making Bisquick Easy Cheeseburger Pie, ground turkey version. Read date on Ground turkey package. Reconsider. Wonder when in the world it was you bought that ground turkey? Wasn't it just the other day? Apparently not.

Regroup. Surf Internet for adaptable, easy recipes that will bake in time for son to leave for meeting at high school about next year's Junior Journey.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Ingredients:
12 eggs (easily acquired at 7-11 on the way home from the woods)
1 cup milk (still had enough in the fridge, but good thing you bought more at 7-11 anyway, since someone will surely want it at breakfast)
1 and 1/4 cups Bisquick (yes, I know, it's not exactly whole grains, but we're in trouble here)
a smidgen of salt, pepper, garlic powder
2 cups of shredded cheese (in this case a four cheese Mexican mix)

Beat eggs, then add milk and seasonings.
Whisk in Bisquick.
Wish you had sifted it, because it all looks frightfully lumpy.
Get out hand mixer, but hurry, because you're on a deadline.
Spread cheese in bottom of non-stick 9X13 pan.
Pour egg mixture over cheese.

Bake for 30-35 minutes or until set.

Serve with salsa or as is (or, if you must, get out the ketchup, but I wish you wouldn't, honey).

Realize you're not all that hungry yourself, because you ate those pretzels.

And there you have it: Easy Bisquick Pseudoffle!

If the kids don't like it, be not afraid. Your dogs will be eager to take care of it.

And now for something completely different...

On this Wednesday evening at the end of November, the Songbird family is gathered around the hearth eating what may only be called Rotmos Latkes.

Leftover rotmos, two eggs, 3/4 cup of flour
Butter in the pan
Ketchup on the side

Colbert on the tube.

Don't you wish you were here? We do.

At last, Squash Soup

At last we are making the roasted butternut squash soup.

My Wonderful s-i-l gave me a recipe over the phone. We're leaving out the Madeira she suggested because we don't have any.

Here's how it goes:

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

3 butternut squash, good-sized
3 small onions
2 apples
1 stick butter
chicken broth
1 tsp dried sage or fresh sage to taste
salt (just a smidgen)
olive oil (smattering)

Split the squash down the middle and scoop out the seeds. Brush the surface of the squash with olive oil. Roast at 375 degrees for approximately 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, chop onions and apples.
Melt butter slowly in pan, add onions and cook slowly until translucent, then add sage and apples, cooking until apples are soft. (I assume the Madeira would come in somewhere here.)

When squash is roasted and has had a chance to cool, scoop out the flesh, leaving the skin.

Puree the squash, apples and onions in food processor, using chicken broth to thin to the desired texture.

Heat through in soup pot.

(Do lots of dishes.)

Enjoy!

Things My Children Wish They Could Eat

(This post is rated PVG, for Potential Vegan/Vegetarian Grossout. Non meat-eaters strongly cautioned.)

This morning Pure Luck took the dogs out for a walk at the Posh Neighboring Town Nature Preserve. He reported that they were frisky right out of the car, running wildly through the woods as if someone *very* interesting had been there ahead of them.

They had been out and around on one of the trails and were heading back when all of them noticed movement along the fenceline bordering the preserve. Molly took off and Pure Luck barely managed to grab Sam as they all saw an impressive buck and his does running by.

Molly, who tires faster and was already well-exercised, came back.

Sam looked disappointed still when they returned home, and I could swear he was telling me, "Mom, I really tried to get my deer! I know I could have gotten one! I know it!"

Later, at dinner, we heard that one of the young cousins is going to her boyfriend's house tomorrow for a second Thanksgiving celebration, where they will be serving a Turducken. I had to ask what in the world that was?

Someone patiently explained.

When they were finished, #1 Son said, "I'm waiting for a HorsePigEn."

Thanksgiving Eve

What are you eating this Thanksgiving Eve?

On Saturday I went to the grocery store and bought an eggplant, three kinds of squash, red grapes, Pink Lady apples and other assorted fresh produce items to create an impressive cornucopia for the worship center at church. All through the fall, we've kept the Communion table at the foot of the chancel stairs. In the past it's been there only on Communion Sundays. It has an interesting cloth of various shades of green and two pillar candles, and each week I have put something on the table tied to the season or the day's theme.

This week I had a lot of vegetables to bring home.

This afternoon I picked up more butternut squash, with the idea of making roasted squash soup as our pre-Thanksgiving dinner.

Pure Luck said he would prefer pizza.

I considered the evening of other cooking ahead of me. We're not hosting a meal tomorrow. But we're making another batch of rotmos to take with us to Pure Luck's people. And we're bringing cookies, too. Neither preparation has begun yet, and it's 5 p.m.

Snowman reminded me that it's traditional to call City By the Sea Pie Company on #1 Son's first night home from college.

We'll have soup on Friday.

Old-Fashioned Favorite

Snowman's school is having a multi-cultural Thanksgiving potluck at school tomorrow, and each student was asked to bring a dish their family eats at the holiday.

His contribution will be something we don't know how to spell, for which we have no recipe, but which is the defining "old-fashioned favorite" holiday dish in his dad's family.

In my mind it has always been spelled "rutmousse," but it turns out there is no such word. It is a fabulous confluence of mashed rutabaga and potatoes, with so much butter and half-and-half added it could bring on a heart attack at ten paces.

I decided to go hunting for its origin and finally found something.

My late mother-in-law was the daughter of Swedish immigrants.  Her older sister picked out her name, Virginia, because it sounded American. Their parents pronounced it "Veer-yin-yuh!" She was determinedly American, rejecting all things Swedish. But when she grew up, she began to see the charm of her heritage. The lovely painted horses were an important decoration in her home, paper Swedish flags adorned the Christmas tree, and with her husband she adapted some of the recipes of childhood.

My former father-in-law loves to cook. When they lived in the New York suburbs, he took cooking classes with James Beard. For many years they owned a gourmet shop in New Jersey, and he would return from his job at IBM to teach classes of his own in the evening.

Together they created the dish I first ate early on in my relationship with their son, The Father of My Children. It involved the peeling of frighteningly large and alarmingly waxed rutabagas. There were times early in our marriage that I looked for other ways to dress up holiday mashed potatoes, but the rutmousse always returned.

Now it is an expectation. It's not Thanksgiving without rutmousse.

Which is really rotmos.

Which, omigosh, is something you can buy in a box. Appalling!

When I read the recipe to my sister-in-law, she first asked, "No cream?" and then exclaimed, "They Frenchified it!!" We laughed and laughed. They had taken the humble pork knuckle with mashed swedes and potatoes and added the elements that, to them, connoted sophistication.

Tonight the kitchen is full of the tart fragrance of very fresh rutabagas from the fancy healthy grocery store and the cheerful sound of potatoes at a rolling boil. A carton of half-and-half and a stick of butter await their sacrificial duty.  This dish, however you spell it, speaks to us of comfort and home and the way things have always been, even if they never really were that way at all.

Red Cup

  red cup 
  Originally uploaded by msongbird.

I really don't like the overly early Christmas decorations and displays in stores, but if it brings me the Starbucks Eggnog Latte on November 15th, I'll find a way to cope with it.

(Did you follow the Red Cup last year? I didn't know anything about it. They have a peculiar little website here.)

What annoyingly early holiday displays have you seen?

Slow Food

Snowman's school follows each of the first two trimesters with a week of Intensives, classes that are designed to spark the kinds of interests not necessarily met in the regular school program. This fall one of those subjects will be Slow Food. I'm helping arrange for the students to prepare a meal at the soup kitchen downtown. But just talking about Slow Food is affecting our lives at home, too. The past two evenings, Snowman and I have cooked dinner with as little packaged material involved as possible.

Now, the dirty truth is that I am not an enthusiastic cook. If I have a grand expanse of time, I can do pretty well, but on the average busy day, I would just as soon get something out of the freezer or -- gasp! -- might even suggest Evil Fast Food. But my children are becoming fond of real food, cooked at home, and they nudge me in that direction.

Part of the Slow Food idea is that you should know what is in your food and where it was prepared, or at least that is what Snowman tells me. Last night we made home fries and cheesey scrambled eggs, and tonight it was tuna casserole. We did not resort to Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup as an aid, nor did we give up entirely when we burned the roux the first time around. (Yes, I know some cooking words.)

These meals took a long, long time to prepare, for one reason or another.  They were not thrown together. We really enjoyed eating them. They were simple but delicious. It felt good to eat them. They were authentic.

And all this authenticity got me thinking about something that may seem unrelated: the page scandal in Washington and the notion that it is possible to "take the responsibility" for something without actually taking any blame or making any kind of recompense, without being changed in any way. You see, I could say, "I'm cooking a real meal for my family tonight," yet get out a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese with the powdered orange stuff that doesn't seem like cheese at all. Or I can melt a little butter and stir in some flour, add warm milk and whisk it while it thickens, then stir in grated cheddar and pour it over multigrain pasta and tuna. Both of these things are fixing dinner, but only one is a real meal in which all the components are readily identifiable, and in only one of these cases am I making any kind of effort. And the effort is changing my attitude about what I will cook tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

When Dennis Hastert says he is taking responsibility, it is the Kraft version. He does not intend to sacrifice anything to show that he cares or to actually suffer any loss of time or prestige or power due to his participation in covering up the actions of Mark Foley.

I don't think he understands that Fast Food apologies are about as good for us as a Big Mac. They get a response from the public taste buds, but all they do in the end is clog the public arteries.

The Unlovely Bones

(This post is rated PVG, for Potential Vegan/Vegetarian Grossout. Non meat-eaters strongly cautioned.)

I had a brilliant idea.
Since we weren't cooking Thanksgiving dinner here, and would have no meaningful (i.e. turkey) leftovers, I would go to the store and buy one of the sure-to-be-unpurchased fresh turkeys and cook it today.
I went to the store.
I asked for the fresh turkeys.
I was directed to the chicken case.
There were two.
Both appeared to be, let's just say, FROZEN!!!
I asked the nice gal who was rearranging packages of chicken breasts, "Aren't these supposed to be fresh?
She nodded. "They just came off the truck this morning."
"They seem to be covered with, oh, ice!"
"Well, they keep the truck pretty cold."
Sigh.

I brought one home anyway and gave it a tepid bath. Eventually I was able to liberate the bag of giblets from the neck cavity.
The neckbone, however, will not come out. It doesn't seem to have been cut.

While I was wrestling with the unrepentant neckbone, Pure Luck came in from walking the dogs, looking rather, well, displeased.
"What's wrong?" I asked cheerfully, despite having my hand inside a semi-frozen turkey.
"They were bad."
"Both of them?" That's a surprise. Molly is always naughty, but Sam is usually a good boy.
"Yes. First, Molly wanted to leave us and go meet some strangers. Then Sam ran off into the woods."
"Did he find something awful?" (They have been known to discover deer carcasses. Bleh. And want to nosh on them. Double bleh.)

Pure Luck nodded gravely, then hesitated, like a person who is wondering whether to describe the terrible scene he's witnessed. "Sam came running out of the woods with the foreleg of a deer in his mouth."
Ick.
"Then Molly tried to take it from him."
Oh. Not a pretty sight.
"They proceeded to wrestle around trying to get it from each other. When we got to the car I had to take it away from Molly forcibly."

He went into the bathroom to wash his hands. When he came out I asked, "Did you use soap?"
He went back into the bathroom.

To conclude:
The neckbone is in the turkey.
The turkey is in the oven.
The dogs are in the yard.
The legbone is still in the woods.

RevGal Friday Five: Pies

We have a bag of organic Gala apples on the counter, and the collective mind of the Songbird family is turning to pie. So for this Friday, which is a holiday for us, I invite you to reflect on some kinds of pie: love them? hate them? neutral? Share a story about a special pie in your life.

1) Apple Pie--The men in my life all love apple pie. I prefer a crumb topping, but they like piecrust all the way, baby. Best apple pie story is this: when I was quite pregnant with #2 Son, his dad and I did a lot of cooking and filled the freezer for those hectic days to come. This included some extremely nice apple pies. When the baby was about a month old, my in-laws were over for dinner, and I suggested we get a pie out of the freezer. My father-in-law, who is a bit of a food snob, seemed to be resistant to eating the pie, but politely took a piece. After the first bite, his face lit up. "This is surprisingly good," he remarked. "Thanks a lot!" I replied. Turns out he thought since it came out of the freezer it was a Mrs. Smith's.

2) Cherry Pie--bleh. I'm just not that into cherries.

3) Pumpkin Pie--Aren't they wonderful? The first pumpkin pie I made was a revelation. I couldn't believe that mess of ingredients would actually come together to be a pie.

4) Chocolate Cream Pie--At the last church supper, one of the ladies sent in her famous chocolate cream pie, the kind that isn't just sloppy pudding with Cool Whip on top, but a real pie with a homemade crust and decorative whipped topping of a substantial nature. Sadly, it was delivered late and never sliced. Happily, it was still around the next day and someone said, "Reverend Songbird, don't you want to take the pie home?" Yum yum!!

5) Pecan Pie--Served at every Christmas dinner of my life until I moved away from my home state of Virginia. I never appreciated it as a child, but now I enjoy a very small piece.

Bonus Question: Do you have a favorite kind of pie not on this admittedly short list?
I love Key Lime Pies.

It's all about the Meet-Up

This afternoon I had a visit from the delightful Scribbler family. They are wonderful. This was our third meeting, and I hope you are all duly covetous, despite the warnings in this week's lectionary reading from Exodus. I do not own them, so we should have no theological troubles.

We ladies enjoyed some chocolate cake from a recipe I discovered one day at the Commenting Pixie Party. I wish to share it with you, since it is both easy and beyond fabulous.

If you give a piece to your children, they will persistently beg for the cake to be made again. 

If you leave it at home while you go to work and your children are at school, do not expect your spouse/partner to leave it, shall we say, unattended.

I'll be having another piece as soon as I post this.

Hat tip to Camera Obscura, by the way.

Apocalypse Chocolate Cake (or, The Cake to make you Forget all about the Avian Flu Pandemic that is surely about to come among us according to Phantom and others more knowledgable than I)

One Chocolate Fudge box cake mix
One 4-serving instant chocolate fudge pudding
8 oz sour cream
4 eggs
1/2 c. vegetable oil
1/2 c. water
1 1/2 c. chocolate chips

Grease and flour a Bundt or tube pan. Yeah, the spray w/ flour works. (It really does, and believe me, I wasn’t easy to convince.)

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Mix everything but the chocolate chips on low for one minute or until completely mixed. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Mix on medium for 2 to 3 minutes until very smooth, scraping as necessary. Batter will be very thick. Fold in chocolate chips by hand.

Pour (shovel) into the pan and bake for 45 - 50 minutes, or until top springs back when touched lightly and sides are starting to pull away from the pan. Cool in pan on wire rack for 10 minutes.

Run a sharp knife around the edges of the pan and either turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely, or turn out onto a cake plate and slice yourself a warm hunk to go w/ a big glass of milk.

Coffee Paws

Early morning, it's quiet.

The dogs are in the yard, chewing on sticks or each other.

The children are still asleep.

I sit down at the kitchen table with a big cup of coffee and turn on my laptop.

I can't wait to see who has blogged overnight, because I am, how you say, obsessive?

I am at peace (despite the above).

And here comes Nicky, a long grey shadow of 13 years who has never been the same since dogs moved into his domain. He leaps past my shoulder onto the table, but he misses, and I reach out to catch him.

He doesn't fall, but his paw comes down in my tall coffee mug.

Coffee goes everywhere as he springs across the table.

I suppose it's good that half-and-half is one of my other obsessions and that the coffee is not terribly hot.

The Muffin of My Dreams

I've been watching what I eat and buying fat free things like pretzels and doing my utmost not to overeat. It's going fairly well, although stressful days make it harder.

Yesterday I went into The Udder Place, my usual coffee stop on the way to church, to order my usual Cafe Mocha (okay, they call it a Mocha Moo, but I rarely say that, usually just ask for a Mocha). While standing there, I allow my gaze to wander to the baked goods, my first mistake. I spy an unfamiliar muffin, not the usual (horrible) cranberry nut or blueberry, but something that looks like I might actually like it. I ask, "What kind of muffin is that."

Ah, the muffin of my dreams: banana chocolate chip. I buy one. I save it all morning and take it along to a lunch meeting, where it *is* my lunch. I break off one little piece at a time. Even without being warmed up it is moist and delicious, the chocolate chips large and milk, just soft enough to be, mmm, perfect!

Now here I sit monitoring Sam, lying on the futon-on-the-floor beside him, still in my flannel snowman pajamas, and I have no muffin.

::sniffle::

The cupboard is full of Miso Noodles and the freezer holds Gardenburger entrees, but there is no muffin.

::snurfle::

The snack drawer holds oat bran pretzels, and there is roasted red pepper hummus in the fridge, but there is no muffin.

::sob::

But there are dogs, and they are loving. And I will rise up and make the best of it, crumbling a graham cracker into fat-free vanilla yogurt. I will go in search of my copy of The Divine Hours and pray my mid-day prayers, and I will eat a lunch I enjoy, with vegetables and everything, and I will live without the muffin of my dreams.

You Can Go Home Again

Yesterday I drove to Non-Contiguous New England State to pick up #1 Son and his friend, Mr. Know-It-All, to come home for Fall Break. They have been friends since they were toddlers. It's very odd to think back to solid little Mr. Know-It-All, who moved like a bulldozer, and teeny little #1 Son, who always seemed to have his head in the clouds, playing at age 2; the way they would circle the backyard at age 4 conversing intently about Chip'n Dale's Rescue Rangers; the two of them at 7 playing the "Coachmen's Protectors" in a production of Pinocchio at the Children's Theatre of Maine; their modern dance duets, at age 11 and later 14, with a big red ball. Now I look at Mr. K-I-A with a full beard and #1 Son, well, at least with hair on his face, and I know they are well on their way to grown up. Last weekend we saw them in the play, No Sex Please, We're British. It's a long way from Pinocchio.

Our converation on the many hours drive home ranged from church history and hymnody to how geeky Formerly Methodist Currently Hiptastic University students are to the state of the relationships between young people, especially young men and young women. I wondered how our hypersexualized culture influences their day to day interactions. Mr. Know-It-All said he thinks overexposure demystifies things. I refered to an earlier part of our conversation, in which I described the Methodist minister at the church my family attended when I was in high school. He was very intellectual in his approach to scripture, with a high content of historical criticism and rational explanations. I remember feeling that he was missing the point of faith--it's not that we need to swallow things as written or believe in them literally; it's that we crave the mystery and the wonder, or we wouldn't have religion at all. Mr. Know-It-All, who is Jewish, nodded. So what does that tell us about demystifying things?

Last night we had just a splendid evening with the three children. We went out to a favorite brick-oven pizza place, and when they asked how many, before I could answer, #1 Son spoke out happily, "Five!" We had a game of "The Dog" version of Monopoly, and after the Little Princess went to bed, the two boys and I watched our tape of the new ABC show "Lost." It's just the sort of quirky thing the three of us appreciate so much, and #2 Son and I wanted to share it with #1 Son. He loved it, too.

Today the boys and I took the dogs out to the new park, then went to Observation Day at the Little Princess' swimming class. This afternoon we made an apple pie from scratch, and just now it is coming to fruition, filling the house with its autumn fragrance.

It's good to have him home.