Hello all!
I intend to be back to blogging for real this time. We'll see how long it lasts, but I have decided that writing posts makes me happy, and happiness is important, no?
So! There are many new things to discuss. As of tomorrow, I will have been married for a full year! And what a year it has been... through everything, though, Sze has been amazing. I am so spectacularly fortunate to be able to share my life with my soul mate and my best friend. He's been supportive, he's made me laugh, and he's been the best husband and father anyone could ever ask for.
Among the many things he's supported me in is a new business venture! I've decided to take The Funky Gourmet on the road. I'm going to begin teaching in-home cooking classes for a fee, with menus and curricula tailored to each client I take on. It's really exciting for me, and soon I'll have a snazzy website, thanks to Andrea and Scott at Corgibytes. So, keep your eyes open for more details on that, coming soon!
Kaylee is now five months old, which is astonishing, considering I can't even keep plants alive for that long. She's smiling, babbling, cuting all over creation, and.... learning to crawl. Currently, her mobility consists of a combination of scooting and rolling. It's really cute, but she often ends up under pieces of furniture with no idea of how to get out. That leads to much crying and frustration, but I always come to the rescue and I know she'll get the hang of it soon enough. She has also started eating real food! I'm making her baby food - not really out of any hippie sensibilities. I just like doing it and I have the time. Besides, it really is cheaper. It's good, because she'll eat just about anything. We've given her bananas, pears, peaches, squash, zucchini, sweet potatoes, carrots, avocados and green beans, and she's eaten all of them with no issues or real complaints. The first feeding of zucchini was a bit of a disaster - I had zucchini in my hair by the time it was all over - but since then, she's settled down and will eat happily, making catastrophic messes with glee.
Other than that, things are sailing rather smoothly. It's summertime, so it's hot and we're very busy, but we've finally settled into a routine that doesn't involve major life changes every two months or so. It's nice. I feel like I'm bored for the first time in a year and a half, and I can't get enough of it.
I had every intention of leaving a recipe, but now I've forgotten what I was going to post, so I suppose that will have to come next time.
Buon Appetito!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Ideas
Hey, all.
This will just be a quick post, but I've been tossing around the idea of writing a short-story compilation revolving around stories in the kitchen. No matter where you go, or what kind of party it is, people gravitate toward the kitchen. Food is currency and a sign of love, and I want to express that. That said, if you have any stories, be they funny, poignant, ridiculous, or tragic, that happened in or around your kitchen, please email them to me at rebeccahui1783@gmail.com. I will fictionalize them, of course, and probably elaborate beyond recognition. If you know Sze or I personally, stories involving one of us would be preferable, simply so I have a focal point, but it's not mandatory.
Thanks! I promise I'll put a recipe up here soon.
This will just be a quick post, but I've been tossing around the idea of writing a short-story compilation revolving around stories in the kitchen. No matter where you go, or what kind of party it is, people gravitate toward the kitchen. Food is currency and a sign of love, and I want to express that. That said, if you have any stories, be they funny, poignant, ridiculous, or tragic, that happened in or around your kitchen, please email them to me at rebeccahui1783@gmail.com. I will fictionalize them, of course, and probably elaborate beyond recognition. If you know Sze or I personally, stories involving one of us would be preferable, simply so I have a focal point, but it's not mandatory.
Thanks! I promise I'll put a recipe up here soon.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Adventures!
I know it's been a while since I blogged, but this story is entirely too much of a comedy of errors not to share.
So last week, from Thursday to Sunday, Sze, Kaylee, and I converged with my entire immediate and most of my extended family upon Alabama. We three Huis were driving, so we spent most of Thursday in the car, winding through the mountains of Tennessee and Virginia along I-81. Kaylee, I would like to note, is a total trooper and didn't really even fuss until we were maybe an hour from our destination.
We spent the remaining three days in a WHIRLWIND of family and friends I've known since birth. It was wonderful to be with everyone and to share Kaylee's first Easter with this group of amazing people. We were incredibly sad to leave on Sunday when we began our journey home.
As I was saying our goodbyes to my church family and trying to get Kaylee loaded back up into our old '94 Taurus, I overheard Sze asking my grandfather for directions to I-20. I-20? I thought. Doesn't that take us through Atlanta? I hate Atlanta! Sure enough, Sze had decided to bet on the NCAA championship and the fact that it was Easter to give us a clear path through one of the largest cities in the country. Strangely enough, his gamble was a good one, in many more ways than one.
Despite our fairly late start, we were making very good time. My brother, Matt, was riding with us on the way home, so we had three drivers to rotate through instead of two. We cruised along until it was my turn to drive, between somewhere in South Carolina and Charlotte, NC. After a couple of hours, I started getting really tired, and Matt recommended we pull off to trade shifts. I stopped at the red light at the end of the ramp and noticed the car starting to roll backward.
Automatics don't roll backward.
I threw it into park and back into drive, thinking I had somehow slipped the car into neutral inadvertently. No dice. The light turned green and I lurched away from the line, only the have the engine stall out.
Automatics don't stall out. This is BAD.
We limp into the parking lot of the BP station right off the interchange. Matt shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"Uh, sis? You're smoking big time." Sure enough, smoke was billowing from beneath the hood of the car. OhnoIbrokeitOhnoIbrokeitOhnoIbrokeit I mutter in a panic. We pop the hood and Sze busies himself with trying to determine the problem. It seems we're low on transmission fluid, so I go inside to buy a quart from the convenience store. That's odd.I think. We just had the car inspected Sunday. Don't they usually top off the fluids? I come back outside and notice a huge puddle of something dark and kind of nasty looking under our car.
"Szeeeeeeeeeee? I think we have a leak."
At this point, all three of us are uttering unprintable obscenities. Good thing Kaylee was asleep!
Enter the strangers, stage right. He is of medium height, with cracked glasses held together with scotch tape and shoulder length dreads, wearing the universal uniform of a waiter. She is short and round, with a frizzy shock of dyed orange hair pulled haphazardly away from her face.
"Y'all need some help?" he drawls. "I know a thing or two 'bout these old Fords." Sze runs through the problem, and the guy, coincidentally named Lucky, of all things, offers a flashlight so we can get a better look. Matt gets partially under the car as Sze starts pouring in the transmission fluid I bought.
"You better just stop, Sze. It's pouring straight through."
I think it was at about this point when Sze realized that, due to our taking a different route home, we were a little over an hour from his parents' house. Talk about some luck, huh? He calls the, and they start of the road to rescue. We were not about to give up, though! We shall prevail!
Optimism's so cute, isn't it?
Enter stranger number two. He more stumbles than swaggers, his features dominated by a green baseball cap and enormous, crooked teeth.
"Whatchy'all got goin' awn hee-urr? Imma fawurd mechanic when I ain't wurkin' at the applebees rite down ovah thur." He poured his words out without stopping for breath.
"The car's leaking transmission fluid something awful," Sze volunteers.
"Now whatchy'all need ta do is ta git yew some lukus. Ell-yoo-kay-yoo-ess LUKUS. It'll cost yew 'bought 7.99 or 8.23 with tax and it'll stop that thur leak right up real fast. Now yew jist go down to the Wal-Mart and git you some Lukus! Ell-yoo-kay-yoo-ess. And you wanna put it in while the car's runnin', now, and it'll fix that thur leak up real quick. Now, y'all's gonna want to git the car fixed within 'bout a week, but it'll git you home, that's for sure. Now make sure you git you some LUKUS." He stopped for a ponderous breath. "And a funnel, while you're at it."
Lucky and Jenn, who are still around helping us, pipe up. "We can take you to the Wal Mart. It's just down the street." Matt, Sze, and I look at each other with no small amount of trepidation. I mean, these people had been nothing but friendly and helpful, but man, that's how you end up on the 6:00 news, you know? Besides, someone had to stay with Kaylee, who was still sleeping peacefully through the mayhem. Matt straightens his spine and says, "I'll go."
While we waited for Matt's return and the elder Hui's rescue mission, a third set of strangers arrived in a positively monstrous pick up. He swings down with a classic cowboy swagger, his sidekick and waifish arm candy in tow.
"You havin' car trouble?" Why no, sir. We're just sitting here with the roof of our car open and hemorrhaging transmission fluid for fun. We'll be up and running in no time. My inner harpy thought. I nod and smile. "Y'all got a flashlight? I'm a Ford mechanic."
What IS this? The twilight zone of car guys? Not to all readers: If you ever decide to break down in an American car, do it in Concord, NC.
Back to the action. I realize that Matt has left with the flashlight, and so I go about antagonizing every single person at the gas station for one. No dice. How is this possible! Everyone carries a flashlight in their car! Seriously? Mr. Cowboy struts off to get his Marlboros and Natty Light as we wait for the return of Matt with the LUKUS. After a while, I get nervous and call him.
"Matt, the well meaning but kind of odd strangers didn't cut you up and eat you, did they?" I ask.
"No, we're actually within sight of the BP. The Lukus cost more than 7.99. I thought I had the wrong thing at first. We'll be there in a minute."
As promised. he emerged victorious with his bounty, and we go about trying to fix the car. Ready.... steady.... and it totally didn't work. Blast. The good news is, we had a flashlight now that another kind stranger had given us! Hurray! Mr. Cowboy and company emerge and he offers to take another look.
"Y'all've got a cracked seal. There ain't no way you can fix that here, and it ain't gonna get you to High Point neither. You're gonna have to get that towed."
You have GOT to be kidding me. We are completely defeated. Then Sze's eyes get really wide.
"Oh crap, guys."
"What?" We say.
"We could have broken down on 81." And with that, our troubles are put into major perspective.
After a rather frantic search for a phone book (What kind of gas station doesn't have a phone book, funnel, or flashlight? Tell me this!) we call a transmission shop with free towing and arrange to have the car pulled away. Sze's parents arrive and we load all of our stuff, including the still blissfully snoring Kaylee, into their van to head to High Point.
There's only one problem. It's Sunday. Sze has to work Monday. We're still 5 hours from Richmond, and it's almost 11:00. Oh boy. We take Sze's parents home, thank them profusely for their help, and pile into the borrowed minivan to head back to our house.
The thing is, the electronics on the van don't quite work. This is all well and good, except that the dashboard lights don't work. So, every few minutes or so, Matt, who was driving, would say, in his best World Series of Poker voice, "Light me" and Sze would use our newly acquired flashlight to illuminate the speedometer so Matt could make sure he wasn't speeding. Trust me, at 2:00 in the morning, this is the funniest thing in the WORLD.
We finally stumble into our apartment at about 3:45, all completely ready to fall down from exhaustion. And thus ended the longest, most ridiculous night ever.
So last week, from Thursday to Sunday, Sze, Kaylee, and I converged with my entire immediate and most of my extended family upon Alabama. We three Huis were driving, so we spent most of Thursday in the car, winding through the mountains of Tennessee and Virginia along I-81. Kaylee, I would like to note, is a total trooper and didn't really even fuss until we were maybe an hour from our destination.
We spent the remaining three days in a WHIRLWIND of family and friends I've known since birth. It was wonderful to be with everyone and to share Kaylee's first Easter with this group of amazing people. We were incredibly sad to leave on Sunday when we began our journey home.
As I was saying our goodbyes to my church family and trying to get Kaylee loaded back up into our old '94 Taurus, I overheard Sze asking my grandfather for directions to I-20. I-20? I thought. Doesn't that take us through Atlanta? I hate Atlanta! Sure enough, Sze had decided to bet on the NCAA championship and the fact that it was Easter to give us a clear path through one of the largest cities in the country. Strangely enough, his gamble was a good one, in many more ways than one.
Despite our fairly late start, we were making very good time. My brother, Matt, was riding with us on the way home, so we had three drivers to rotate through instead of two. We cruised along until it was my turn to drive, between somewhere in South Carolina and Charlotte, NC. After a couple of hours, I started getting really tired, and Matt recommended we pull off to trade shifts. I stopped at the red light at the end of the ramp and noticed the car starting to roll backward.
Automatics don't roll backward.
I threw it into park and back into drive, thinking I had somehow slipped the car into neutral inadvertently. No dice. The light turned green and I lurched away from the line, only the have the engine stall out.
Automatics don't stall out. This is BAD.
We limp into the parking lot of the BP station right off the interchange. Matt shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"Uh, sis? You're smoking big time." Sure enough, smoke was billowing from beneath the hood of the car. OhnoIbrokeitOhnoIbrokeitOhnoIbrokeit I mutter in a panic. We pop the hood and Sze busies himself with trying to determine the problem. It seems we're low on transmission fluid, so I go inside to buy a quart from the convenience store. That's odd.I think. We just had the car inspected Sunday. Don't they usually top off the fluids? I come back outside and notice a huge puddle of something dark and kind of nasty looking under our car.
"Szeeeeeeeeeee? I think we have a leak."
At this point, all three of us are uttering unprintable obscenities. Good thing Kaylee was asleep!
Enter the strangers, stage right. He is of medium height, with cracked glasses held together with scotch tape and shoulder length dreads, wearing the universal uniform of a waiter. She is short and round, with a frizzy shock of dyed orange hair pulled haphazardly away from her face.
"Y'all need some help?" he drawls. "I know a thing or two 'bout these old Fords." Sze runs through the problem, and the guy, coincidentally named Lucky, of all things, offers a flashlight so we can get a better look. Matt gets partially under the car as Sze starts pouring in the transmission fluid I bought.
"You better just stop, Sze. It's pouring straight through."
I think it was at about this point when Sze realized that, due to our taking a different route home, we were a little over an hour from his parents' house. Talk about some luck, huh? He calls the, and they start of the road to rescue. We were not about to give up, though! We shall prevail!
Optimism's so cute, isn't it?
Enter stranger number two. He more stumbles than swaggers, his features dominated by a green baseball cap and enormous, crooked teeth.
"Whatchy'all got goin' awn hee-urr? Imma fawurd mechanic when I ain't wurkin' at the applebees rite down ovah thur." He poured his words out without stopping for breath.
"The car's leaking transmission fluid something awful," Sze volunteers.
"Now whatchy'all need ta do is ta git yew some lukus. Ell-yoo-kay-yoo-ess LUKUS. It'll cost yew 'bought 7.99 or 8.23 with tax and it'll stop that thur leak right up real fast. Now yew jist go down to the Wal-Mart and git you some Lukus! Ell-yoo-kay-yoo-ess. And you wanna put it in while the car's runnin', now, and it'll fix that thur leak up real quick. Now, y'all's gonna want to git the car fixed within 'bout a week, but it'll git you home, that's for sure. Now make sure you git you some LUKUS." He stopped for a ponderous breath. "And a funnel, while you're at it."
Lucky and Jenn, who are still around helping us, pipe up. "We can take you to the Wal Mart. It's just down the street." Matt, Sze, and I look at each other with no small amount of trepidation. I mean, these people had been nothing but friendly and helpful, but man, that's how you end up on the 6:00 news, you know? Besides, someone had to stay with Kaylee, who was still sleeping peacefully through the mayhem. Matt straightens his spine and says, "I'll go."
While we waited for Matt's return and the elder Hui's rescue mission, a third set of strangers arrived in a positively monstrous pick up. He swings down with a classic cowboy swagger, his sidekick and waifish arm candy in tow.
"You havin' car trouble?" Why no, sir. We're just sitting here with the roof of our car open and hemorrhaging transmission fluid for fun. We'll be up and running in no time. My inner harpy thought. I nod and smile. "Y'all got a flashlight? I'm a Ford mechanic."
What IS this? The twilight zone of car guys? Not to all readers: If you ever decide to break down in an American car, do it in Concord, NC.
Back to the action. I realize that Matt has left with the flashlight, and so I go about antagonizing every single person at the gas station for one. No dice. How is this possible! Everyone carries a flashlight in their car! Seriously? Mr. Cowboy struts off to get his Marlboros and Natty Light as we wait for the return of Matt with the LUKUS. After a while, I get nervous and call him.
"Matt, the well meaning but kind of odd strangers didn't cut you up and eat you, did they?" I ask.
"No, we're actually within sight of the BP. The Lukus cost more than 7.99. I thought I had the wrong thing at first. We'll be there in a minute."
As promised. he emerged victorious with his bounty, and we go about trying to fix the car. Ready.... steady.... and it totally didn't work. Blast. The good news is, we had a flashlight now that another kind stranger had given us! Hurray! Mr. Cowboy and company emerge and he offers to take another look.
"Y'all've got a cracked seal. There ain't no way you can fix that here, and it ain't gonna get you to High Point neither. You're gonna have to get that towed."
You have GOT to be kidding me. We are completely defeated. Then Sze's eyes get really wide.
"Oh crap, guys."
"What?" We say.
"We could have broken down on 81." And with that, our troubles are put into major perspective.
After a rather frantic search for a phone book (What kind of gas station doesn't have a phone book, funnel, or flashlight? Tell me this!) we call a transmission shop with free towing and arrange to have the car pulled away. Sze's parents arrive and we load all of our stuff, including the still blissfully snoring Kaylee, into their van to head to High Point.
There's only one problem. It's Sunday. Sze has to work Monday. We're still 5 hours from Richmond, and it's almost 11:00. Oh boy. We take Sze's parents home, thank them profusely for their help, and pile into the borrowed minivan to head back to our house.
The thing is, the electronics on the van don't quite work. This is all well and good, except that the dashboard lights don't work. So, every few minutes or so, Matt, who was driving, would say, in his best World Series of Poker voice, "Light me" and Sze would use our newly acquired flashlight to illuminate the speedometer so Matt could make sure he wasn't speeding. Trust me, at 2:00 in the morning, this is the funniest thing in the WORLD.
We finally stumble into our apartment at about 3:45, all completely ready to fall down from exhaustion. And thus ended the longest, most ridiculous night ever.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Treading Water
Sorry I got off the blogging schedule. First I was busy, then I was sick, then I was busy AND sick. So, unfortunately, my brain wasn't really working along the witty rejoinder lines.
I had intended to blog about the joys of traveling with an infant - we visited some friends and my brother in Northern Virginia this weekend, which went quite well but was an adventure - but there has been another reason I wasn't writing, and I wanted to air it.
The last couple of days - well, weeks, really - have been pretty hard on me. I know it's normal, I know it's post-partum and hormones and sleep deprivation, I know it will pass. But knowing these things doesn't stop the nagging feelings that I'm a bad mom, that I can't keep the pieces together, that I'm leeching, that I'm not pulling my weight at home, that I don't deserve to be unhappy because so many people are in such worse positions than I am. I can KNOW I'm being irrational and still be irrational. I can KNOW that what I'm feeling is unfounded and still feel it.
Yesterday, Kaylee screamed. For five hours. I wanted to put my head in a wall, but more than that I felt guilty for just wanting her to SHUT UP. For not knowing how to fix whatever was hurting her. I felt that, by not being able to comfort her, I wasn't doing my job, and therefore wasn't doing ANYTHING right. It was not a good day.
Through all this, I have three solaces: reading, cooking, and Sze. Today, I was doing laundry, and had put the clean clothes on the bed to attend to later. After Kaylee went to sleep, I got in the bathtub to read and decompress. When I got out, the clean clothes had been folded and put away. No overture, no fanfare, no "here, let me get that for you" solicitousness. Just a simple gesture of help with the little things, so we can both get on with the big things. When I opened my drawer and saw my clothes there, all my frustration melted away. The smallest things make the biggest difference.
Because it's been a week and a half, you get an awesome recipe tonight. This is what I made for dinner on Monday, which was a VERY good day and was capped with a VERY good meal.
As a preface, I am going to preen for a moment. If you didn't read the blog while I was in Taiwan, you probably don't know that I have had MAJOR problems with food resembling its living form. There was a notable incident with a still breathing fish at the open air market in Jhunan that my family still laughs about, and they weren't even there. So, when Sze suggested we start buying whole chickens because they're much cheaper than buying the pre-prepared parts, my response was, "you carve it, I'll cook it."
Well, whether it was a fit of pique, a general irritation with myself for being wimpy over something SO mundane, or the echo of my in-laws good natured laughter as they remind me that it's FRESHER that way, I decided to put on my big girl skivvies and get my OWN giblets out of the chicken and roast the blasted thing whole. And I did. And I didn't even throw up. So, without further ado, here's my roasted chicken with watercress and radicchio!
Herb Roasted Chicken with Watercress and Radicchio
1 4 lb chicken
1 package basil (I get my herb packages from Trader Joes. I think it ends up being about a half cup, chopped)
1 package chives
5-6 thyme sprigs
3 shallots
5 cloves garlic
A whopping boatload of olive oil
1 head radicchio, quartered
1 bunch watercress
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 tsp brown sugar
2-3 tsp lemon juice
salt and pepper galore
2 gallon sized ziplock bags
In a food processor, combine all herbs, 1 shallot, 3 cloves garlic, salt, pepper, and about 1/4 cup olive oil. Blend until smooth. Place 1 shallot, remaining garlic, and salt and pepper in cavity of chicken. Put the chicken in one of the zipper bags, and pour herb oil over it, working the oil into the skin. Let sit for at least four hours, and preferably overnight.
Combine balsamic vinegar, another 1/4 cup olive oil, brown sugar, lemon juice, and remaining shallot, and whisk until incorporated. Pour into second zipper bag, and add radicchio and watercress. Seal and shake, and marinate for three hours.
Heat oven to 450. Place chicken in rimmed baking dish, pouring remaining oil over it. Roast for 1 hour 15 minutes, basting with pan juices every 20 minutes or so.
Saute radicchio and watercress for 3 minutes, reserving marinade. Serve on platter around the chicken with marinade as a sauce. Bask in the compliments.
Buon Appetito!
I had intended to blog about the joys of traveling with an infant - we visited some friends and my brother in Northern Virginia this weekend, which went quite well but was an adventure - but there has been another reason I wasn't writing, and I wanted to air it.
The last couple of days - well, weeks, really - have been pretty hard on me. I know it's normal, I know it's post-partum and hormones and sleep deprivation, I know it will pass. But knowing these things doesn't stop the nagging feelings that I'm a bad mom, that I can't keep the pieces together, that I'm leeching, that I'm not pulling my weight at home, that I don't deserve to be unhappy because so many people are in such worse positions than I am. I can KNOW I'm being irrational and still be irrational. I can KNOW that what I'm feeling is unfounded and still feel it.
Yesterday, Kaylee screamed. For five hours. I wanted to put my head in a wall, but more than that I felt guilty for just wanting her to SHUT UP. For not knowing how to fix whatever was hurting her. I felt that, by not being able to comfort her, I wasn't doing my job, and therefore wasn't doing ANYTHING right. It was not a good day.
Through all this, I have three solaces: reading, cooking, and Sze. Today, I was doing laundry, and had put the clean clothes on the bed to attend to later. After Kaylee went to sleep, I got in the bathtub to read and decompress. When I got out, the clean clothes had been folded and put away. No overture, no fanfare, no "here, let me get that for you" solicitousness. Just a simple gesture of help with the little things, so we can both get on with the big things. When I opened my drawer and saw my clothes there, all my frustration melted away. The smallest things make the biggest difference.
Because it's been a week and a half, you get an awesome recipe tonight. This is what I made for dinner on Monday, which was a VERY good day and was capped with a VERY good meal.
As a preface, I am going to preen for a moment. If you didn't read the blog while I was in Taiwan, you probably don't know that I have had MAJOR problems with food resembling its living form. There was a notable incident with a still breathing fish at the open air market in Jhunan that my family still laughs about, and they weren't even there. So, when Sze suggested we start buying whole chickens because they're much cheaper than buying the pre-prepared parts, my response was, "you carve it, I'll cook it."
Well, whether it was a fit of pique, a general irritation with myself for being wimpy over something SO mundane, or the echo of my in-laws good natured laughter as they remind me that it's FRESHER that way, I decided to put on my big girl skivvies and get my OWN giblets out of the chicken and roast the blasted thing whole. And I did. And I didn't even throw up. So, without further ado, here's my roasted chicken with watercress and radicchio!
Herb Roasted Chicken with Watercress and Radicchio
1 4 lb chicken
1 package basil (I get my herb packages from Trader Joes. I think it ends up being about a half cup, chopped)
1 package chives
5-6 thyme sprigs
3 shallots
5 cloves garlic
A whopping boatload of olive oil
1 head radicchio, quartered
1 bunch watercress
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 tsp brown sugar
2-3 tsp lemon juice
salt and pepper galore
2 gallon sized ziplock bags
In a food processor, combine all herbs, 1 shallot, 3 cloves garlic, salt, pepper, and about 1/4 cup olive oil. Blend until smooth. Place 1 shallot, remaining garlic, and salt and pepper in cavity of chicken. Put the chicken in one of the zipper bags, and pour herb oil over it, working the oil into the skin. Let sit for at least four hours, and preferably overnight.
Combine balsamic vinegar, another 1/4 cup olive oil, brown sugar, lemon juice, and remaining shallot, and whisk until incorporated. Pour into second zipper bag, and add radicchio and watercress. Seal and shake, and marinate for three hours.
Heat oven to 450. Place chicken in rimmed baking dish, pouring remaining oil over it. Roast for 1 hour 15 minutes, basting with pan juices every 20 minutes or so.
Saute radicchio and watercress for 3 minutes, reserving marinade. Serve on platter around the chicken with marinade as a sauce. Bask in the compliments.
Buon Appetito!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Messy Things in Life
Disclaimer: If you are not the type of person who appreciates bathroom humor, today's blog post is not for you. For tonight, my friends, we are all about the Poo.
Still reading? Okay. Good.
Kaylee, it seems, loves Sze more than me. This is the only explanation I can come up with for why she saves all the really great poo stories for him. Take, for example, the very first diaper change she had after birth. Seeing how I was in bed, busted and traumatized, I wasn't exactly up for the challenge of getting up and changing a diaper. So Sze wheels over the little bassinet they had and starts taking care of the task.
Thing is, among the many factoids that escape the attention of the hospital staff as falling into the NEED to know category is this: the first time a baby poos, it's not a dainty little stripe on the diaper. They're emptying their body of amniotic fluid and all sorts of other joyous nasties. This takes a while. Like, QUITE a while. So, as I am gazing up adoringly at my husband for taking on this task since I can't, I hear this:
"OH more poo. Oh God, more poo! MORE POO!"
At least our child will know laughter.
The first time she "armed the poo canon" during a diaper change, Sze had the privilege of being on the receiving end. The first time she overflowed her diaper and ended up STRAIGHT in the bathtub, Sze survived the aftermath. All this time, while I have had a share of the... more spectacular pyrotechnic displays of the gastrointestinal kind, I was snickering into my sleeve because he got all the really funny ones.
Well, not anymore. On Friday, after a fairly spectacular poo, Kaylee and I went to the pediatrician (not for poo reasons... nevermind). While there, our fantastic doctor asked about the "frequency of her stools." I replied,
"Well, she hasn't been going that often, but she just had a complete Poo Apocalypse."
He stared at me, obviously trying a.) not to completely crack up and b.) to figure out how to guide this conversation.
"Well," he starts after a fairly long pause, "has she had a ... stool... apocalypse... before today?"
It took every fiber of my being not to laugh out loud.
And then, there was today.
If you don't know me in person, or don't know me well, I should tell you, I have a Temper. One close friend who has known me for most of my life calls it "Celtic Warrior Banshee Woman" mode. Another says I throw "word grenades" that explode all around me. Whatever your metaphor, when I get angry (legitimately angry, not just irritated or ticked off), it's usually forceful and loud.
For reasons that don't need to be detailed here, I had just finished losing my Temper. In a BIG way. Having reached a total impasse between myself and the wall I had been screaming at, I took a deep breath and went into the nursery to calm the crying Kaylee. I pick her up and she immediately silences. I am soothed. There is nothing like holding your baby to bring you back in touch with the Light Side of the Force. I stroke her little head and say, "Oh, baby, what is all this fuss?" in perfect mommy baby talk.
And she blows out her diaper.
There's nothing like the messy things in life to bring it all into perspective, is there?
You get no recipe tonight because, well, eww. That's just not appropriate. Enjoy your night, though!
Ciao!
Still reading? Okay. Good.
Kaylee, it seems, loves Sze more than me. This is the only explanation I can come up with for why she saves all the really great poo stories for him. Take, for example, the very first diaper change she had after birth. Seeing how I was in bed, busted and traumatized, I wasn't exactly up for the challenge of getting up and changing a diaper. So Sze wheels over the little bassinet they had and starts taking care of the task.
Thing is, among the many factoids that escape the attention of the hospital staff as falling into the NEED to know category is this: the first time a baby poos, it's not a dainty little stripe on the diaper. They're emptying their body of amniotic fluid and all sorts of other joyous nasties. This takes a while. Like, QUITE a while. So, as I am gazing up adoringly at my husband for taking on this task since I can't, I hear this:
"OH more poo. Oh God, more poo! MORE POO!"
At least our child will know laughter.
The first time she "armed the poo canon" during a diaper change, Sze had the privilege of being on the receiving end. The first time she overflowed her diaper and ended up STRAIGHT in the bathtub, Sze survived the aftermath. All this time, while I have had a share of the... more spectacular pyrotechnic displays of the gastrointestinal kind, I was snickering into my sleeve because he got all the really funny ones.
Well, not anymore. On Friday, after a fairly spectacular poo, Kaylee and I went to the pediatrician (not for poo reasons... nevermind). While there, our fantastic doctor asked about the "frequency of her stools." I replied,
"Well, she hasn't been going that often, but she just had a complete Poo Apocalypse."
He stared at me, obviously trying a.) not to completely crack up and b.) to figure out how to guide this conversation.
"Well," he starts after a fairly long pause, "has she had a ... stool... apocalypse... before today?"
It took every fiber of my being not to laugh out loud.
And then, there was today.
If you don't know me in person, or don't know me well, I should tell you, I have a Temper. One close friend who has known me for most of my life calls it "Celtic Warrior Banshee Woman" mode. Another says I throw "word grenades" that explode all around me. Whatever your metaphor, when I get angry (legitimately angry, not just irritated or ticked off), it's usually forceful and loud.
For reasons that don't need to be detailed here, I had just finished losing my Temper. In a BIG way. Having reached a total impasse between myself and the wall I had been screaming at, I took a deep breath and went into the nursery to calm the crying Kaylee. I pick her up and she immediately silences. I am soothed. There is nothing like holding your baby to bring you back in touch with the Light Side of the Force. I stroke her little head and say, "Oh, baby, what is all this fuss?" in perfect mommy baby talk.
And she blows out her diaper.
There's nothing like the messy things in life to bring it all into perspective, is there?
You get no recipe tonight because, well, eww. That's just not appropriate. Enjoy your night, though!
Ciao!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Score One for the Good Guys
Victory!
Last night, Kaylee spent her first night in the nursery! This is a momentous occasion.
You see, we had Andrea over for dinner last night. We'd already given Kaylee her bath (which is beginning to be less traumatic for all involved, by the way) and a bottle, and we had her in the swing next to the dinner table so she could hear our voices and not feel exiled and therefore scream. Well, she has a bit of a bad habit of getting very tired (read: fussy) while we're eating, so Sze put her in her crib to sleep for a bit, because it was closest to the dining room.
"Do we want to let her sleep in her crib tonight?" I asked.
We paused, considering the options. On the plus side, if she sleeps in the nursery, that means we can remove the dratted co-sleeper that is strapped to the side of our bed, mandating feats of acrobatics every time either one of us wants to get up, which, with an infant, is often. We can use the beautiful furniture that her grandparents bought her. We can reclaim our room!
"We can. Let's do that."
On the downside...
"Wait. What if she chokes? She's choked today." I say
"She won't choke." Sze replies.
"What if I don't wake up?"
"You always wake up. You're a light sleeper." He says
"I didn't wake up last night. What if it's important? What if we can't hear her?"
"We have a monitor for a 1200 square foot apartment. We'll hear her. She's only 40 feet away, honey."
"She's more than 40 feet away! I don't know if I can do this. What if she scoots under the blanket again?" I'm pretty worked up at this point.
"If she scoots under the blanket again, she'll cry again, like she always does. Relax. She'll be fine."
"But what if she's not???"
And so on. Despite my neurosis, we hooked up the monitor, moved the bottle warmer into her room, and let her sleep. By the time we went to bed, my spine was made out of a 2 x 4. Every peep on the monitor had me flying down the hall. I don't think I could have relaxed if you'd pumped me full of valium. What if? What if? What if? Somehow, I finally drifted off to sleep.
Because she's still in a growth spurt, we've gone back to the scheduled bottles, so when the alarm went off at midnight, Sze crawled out of bed and fed her. Everything was fine. At three, I wobbled down the hall for my turn. Everything was fine. At six, Sze got up to start his day.
"Where's the baby?" I murmured, 3/4 of the way asleep.
"She's in her crib, remember?"
"Still? Oh."
And so went the first night of Kaylee in her crib. Hopefully we'll be able to actually move her in there permanently, but we'll see how tonight goes. This is good, though! Hurray progress.
Speaking of progress, it looks like spring is FINALLY starting to show its face, so I think a trip the the park is in order for today. Kaylee is blowing bubbles and making toothless baby grins in my lap, so I guess she's in favor of that plan.
Today's recipe is full of fresh produce in honor of the turning seasons. It's also what we ate last night. Behold, oven roasted ratatouille! (No rats, please).
Oven Roasted Ratatouille
1 eggplant, cubed
2 zucchini, cubed
2 bell peppers, diced
1 onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can chickpeas, drained
1/4 cup red wine
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
Red pepper flakes
Herbes du Provence
Preheat oven to 400. Combine all ingredients in a casserole dish, seasoning to taste. I like a little more red pepper flakes to give it a bit of a kick, but that's just a personal preference. Bake in the oven for 40 minutes. Serve over pasta or quinoa. Enjoy!
Buon Appetito!
Last night, Kaylee spent her first night in the nursery! This is a momentous occasion.
You see, we had Andrea over for dinner last night. We'd already given Kaylee her bath (which is beginning to be less traumatic for all involved, by the way) and a bottle, and we had her in the swing next to the dinner table so she could hear our voices and not feel exiled and therefore scream. Well, she has a bit of a bad habit of getting very tired (read: fussy) while we're eating, so Sze put her in her crib to sleep for a bit, because it was closest to the dining room.
"Do we want to let her sleep in her crib tonight?" I asked.
We paused, considering the options. On the plus side, if she sleeps in the nursery, that means we can remove the dratted co-sleeper that is strapped to the side of our bed, mandating feats of acrobatics every time either one of us wants to get up, which, with an infant, is often. We can use the beautiful furniture that her grandparents bought her. We can reclaim our room!
"We can. Let's do that."
On the downside...
"Wait. What if she chokes? She's choked today." I say
"She won't choke." Sze replies.
"What if I don't wake up?"
"You always wake up. You're a light sleeper." He says
"I didn't wake up last night. What if it's important? What if we can't hear her?"
"We have a monitor for a 1200 square foot apartment. We'll hear her. She's only 40 feet away, honey."
"She's more than 40 feet away! I don't know if I can do this. What if she scoots under the blanket again?" I'm pretty worked up at this point.
"If she scoots under the blanket again, she'll cry again, like she always does. Relax. She'll be fine."
"But what if she's not???"
And so on. Despite my neurosis, we hooked up the monitor, moved the bottle warmer into her room, and let her sleep. By the time we went to bed, my spine was made out of a 2 x 4. Every peep on the monitor had me flying down the hall. I don't think I could have relaxed if you'd pumped me full of valium. What if? What if? What if? Somehow, I finally drifted off to sleep.
Because she's still in a growth spurt, we've gone back to the scheduled bottles, so when the alarm went off at midnight, Sze crawled out of bed and fed her. Everything was fine. At three, I wobbled down the hall for my turn. Everything was fine. At six, Sze got up to start his day.
"Where's the baby?" I murmured, 3/4 of the way asleep.
"She's in her crib, remember?"
"Still? Oh."
And so went the first night of Kaylee in her crib. Hopefully we'll be able to actually move her in there permanently, but we'll see how tonight goes. This is good, though! Hurray progress.
Speaking of progress, it looks like spring is FINALLY starting to show its face, so I think a trip the the park is in order for today. Kaylee is blowing bubbles and making toothless baby grins in my lap, so I guess she's in favor of that plan.
Today's recipe is full of fresh produce in honor of the turning seasons. It's also what we ate last night. Behold, oven roasted ratatouille! (No rats, please).
Oven Roasted Ratatouille
1 eggplant, cubed
2 zucchini, cubed
2 bell peppers, diced
1 onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can chickpeas, drained
1/4 cup red wine
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
Red pepper flakes
Herbes du Provence
Preheat oven to 400. Combine all ingredients in a casserole dish, seasoning to taste. I like a little more red pepper flakes to give it a bit of a kick, but that's just a personal preference. Bake in the oven for 40 minutes. Serve over pasta or quinoa. Enjoy!
Buon Appetito!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Growth Spurts are for the Birds
Kaylee is five weeks old today. Hurray! We can celebrate five whole weeks of Sze and I not going crazy, not pulling our hair out, not pulling each others' hair out, and not throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
As she hits this completely inauspicious and unassuming milestone, she has begun the first of many growth spurts. If today was any indication, I hate growth spurts.
She wakes up, screams like I'm eating her, downs a bottle in about 25 seconds, spits half of it up (usually all over my clothes), and passes out again. However, when she passes out, she still has to be held upright, or her reflux kicks and she wakes up all over again, shrieking like a little banshee. And she does this every two hours. That's two hours in baby time, also, which means from the start of one cycle to the start of the next, not two hours in real time.
It's been a very long day.
A friend of mine said to me today, "I don't know how you do it all! It seems like you'd have to be the Energizer Bunny." The truth is, I don't know how I am doing it either. I guess there is a cosmic and divine Mommy fuel that I absorb through my ears, because regular sources of energy like food and sleep are seriously lacking. Some days, it feels great. I am on top of the world and juggling the many hats of motherhood with style and ease. Other days, I feel more like I traded my MG self for a minivan and really, who wants to take THAT out for a spin?
Tonight's recipe is an easy one, for days where you just don't have the time or energy to get it all together. You can toss in chicken or shrimp to make it a meal, but it works best as a simple side for a busy weeknight dinner.
Arugula and Parmesan Salad
A few handfuls Arugula, with any tough stems removed
About 1/2 cup Parmesan
About 1/2 cup Almonds
1 Lemon, halved
Freshly cracked black pepper
Olive Oil to taste
Toss first three ingredients in a medium bowl. Juice the lemon over your salad, then add pepper and olive oil. Combine and serve.
Buon Appetito!
As she hits this completely inauspicious and unassuming milestone, she has begun the first of many growth spurts. If today was any indication, I hate growth spurts.
She wakes up, screams like I'm eating her, downs a bottle in about 25 seconds, spits half of it up (usually all over my clothes), and passes out again. However, when she passes out, she still has to be held upright, or her reflux kicks and she wakes up all over again, shrieking like a little banshee. And she does this every two hours. That's two hours in baby time, also, which means from the start of one cycle to the start of the next, not two hours in real time.
It's been a very long day.
A friend of mine said to me today, "I don't know how you do it all! It seems like you'd have to be the Energizer Bunny." The truth is, I don't know how I am doing it either. I guess there is a cosmic and divine Mommy fuel that I absorb through my ears, because regular sources of energy like food and sleep are seriously lacking. Some days, it feels great. I am on top of the world and juggling the many hats of motherhood with style and ease. Other days, I feel more like I traded my MG self for a minivan and really, who wants to take THAT out for a spin?
Tonight's recipe is an easy one, for days where you just don't have the time or energy to get it all together. You can toss in chicken or shrimp to make it a meal, but it works best as a simple side for a busy weeknight dinner.
Arugula and Parmesan Salad
A few handfuls Arugula, with any tough stems removed
About 1/2 cup Parmesan
About 1/2 cup Almonds
1 Lemon, halved
Freshly cracked black pepper
Olive Oil to taste
Toss first three ingredients in a medium bowl. Juice the lemon over your salad, then add pepper and olive oil. Combine and serve.
Buon Appetito!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Covering the Basics, Nicknames, and other ways in which we are very weird parents
When we first got home with Kaylee, and I mean this was maybe the second or third night home from the hospital, we hadn't learned about scheduling or feeding increments yet and were just feeding her whenever she cried at night. So this second or third night home, we were astonished when our brand new baby slept for nearly six hours. Six hours! We said. She's not sleeping through the night, but how nice is that!
And then we went to the pediatrician. He said that, because she had not established a weight-gain pattern, that it was potentially very bad for her to go that long without food. And thus, we started scheduling her feedings every 2-3 hours. During the day, this provided some much needed structure and sanity. At night, however, this means that I stay up until 9 or 9:30 and feed her. At 12, Sze gets up. At 3, it's my turn, and at 6 he starts his day, so he works a bottle into the morning routine. This boils down to a pretty good system, except when it's not, which is often. I wake up when the alarm goes off for either of us to get up. He wakes up if she cries for more than about 5 minutes, which is longer than it takes for me to get up, get the bottle, put it in the warmer, and find her pacifier so she won't wake up her daddy because he has to work in the morning! SHHHH!!!
Well, Friday we had another trip to the pediatrician. Kaylee has had some stomach issues which were leading to slower weight gain, so we were crossing our fingers for a good week. Hurray! She is up to 8.15 lbs! Since she has now established two consecutive weeks of really good gain, I asked the doctor about spacing out her night-time feedings.
"Oh, I wouldn't let her go more than about 6 hours between feedings at this point, but start gradually spacing them out."
I don't think I would have been happier if I'd actually heard angels singing. 6 hours??? That's like a full night's sleep! So, last night, we turned off the alarms, and, as life is circular, returned to plan A. We'll feed her when she wakes up hungry. And, while it didn't end up equaling 6 hours of uninterrupted rest, it did equal 4 - she woke up at 1 and 5, hurray! Progress! Now if we can only get her to sleep in the nursery...
The process of getting her to go to sleep is one in which we show our off-kilter stripes pretty clearly. Many of the forums recommend the four B's for bedtime: Bath, Bottle, Book, Bed. Bathtime I discussed before as a traumatic experience she'll have to tell her therapist ALL about when she's older. Bottles are pretty self explanatory, though difficult to administer when she shoves her hand or my elbow into her mouth as a source of nutrition. The books, however, are pretty far from your average nursery rhymes.
See, bedtime is kind of Sze's domain. As I have her all day, he attends to her most of the time in the evenings. So, when he sits down to read her a story, he picks up pretty much whatever the closest book is. This has included The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Good Omens, and Top Gear Magazine. And I thought I was warping her with Alice in Wonderland. When either one of us sings to lull her to sleep, it's rarely actual lullabies. I hum the violin solo from Sheherezade or sing Gershwin's Summertime. Sze is starting her early on classic rock, with variations on a theme of Hotel California and Simon and Garfunkle's Sound of Silence. We'll rock her, bounce her, and call her every name under the sun except the one we gave her. "Oh, what is this fuss, my little tadpole? Are you a little velociraptor? Of course you are. Oh look, honey, she's being a frog. Can you hold the progeny for a second? Thanks. Oh, aren't you the cutest bean on Earth!"
For such a small person, she's developed a fairly discerning taste in music. She conducts the orchestra by waving her little arms in tempo with the music when we listen to my Joshua Bell and Yo Yo Ma Pandora station. She does the happy baby dance in her swing, kicking her feet and wiggling, when we listen to Big Band on my Michael Buble station. And she likes the Beatles, but who doesn't like the Beatles?
This weekend has been a very busy one, and will continue to be so. Friday was an adventure in grocery shopping and a trip to see the doctor. Yesterday, we had friends come from Northern Virginia, and we took a walk to Cold Stone for fantastic ice cream. Kaylee had a poo apocalypse, hurray! Gross. And we had a vegetarian feast and watched Loony Toons. Today, we're going to Charlottesville with some friends to drink good wine, and then having dinner with my old roommate/hubby, Angela, and her fiance, Dave, I hope.
As part of the vegetarian feast, Jackie, Fran, and I made this fantastic chickpea salad. Chickpeas, or garbanzo beans, are a really great low calorie/high protein option for vegetarians and omnivores alike, and they have a fairly mild flavor that gives a good canvas to which you can add all kinds of other flavors. This is a slightly time consuming recipe, simply because there are a number of steps, but trust me, the end result is worth it. Don't skimp on fresh mint, and use fresh lemon juice if you can.
Greek Chickpea Salad
1 green bell pepper
1 red onion
1 tomato
1 cucumber
1 small can sliced black olives
1 can chickpeas
3-4 tbs fresh mint
Salt and Pepper
Ground Cumin
Ground Coriander
Crushed Red Pepper flakes
Lemon Juice
Olive Oil
Put the top shelf of the oven as close as you can to the broiler. Preheat the broiler to 500 or Hi, whichever your oven does, and cover a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Slice the pepper in half and place it on the sheet. Quarter the onion, removing the skin, and make a pouch of aluminum foil for it, covering the onion with olive oil. Also place on the baking sheet. Broil for about 10 minutes, watching carefully, until the skin of the pepper is blackened and charred. Remove the pepper and put it in a plastic zip bag for 15 minutes. Put the onions back in the broiler for 15 minutes as well.
Peel the cucumber, the chop the cucumber and the tomato into bite sized pieces. Put them in a large bowl and combine. Drain the olives and add them.
In a small skillet, heat about a tablespoon of olive oil. Saute the chickpeas, seasoning liberally with salt, pepper, cumin, and coriander. Add about a 1/4 tsp of red pepper flakes: they are very potent. Add about a tablespoon of lemon juice, and stir until it cooks off. Remove from heat, and combine with vegetables in the bowl.
Remove peppers from the bag and peel with your fingers, then deseed and chop into bite sized pieces. Add to bowl. Chop onion into smaller pieces and also add to the bowl. Stir in mint, salt, and pepper, and enough lemon juice and olive oil to coat like a dressing (maybe a 1/4 cup?). Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes to let the flavors combine.
Buon Appetito!
And then we went to the pediatrician. He said that, because she had not established a weight-gain pattern, that it was potentially very bad for her to go that long without food. And thus, we started scheduling her feedings every 2-3 hours. During the day, this provided some much needed structure and sanity. At night, however, this means that I stay up until 9 or 9:30 and feed her. At 12, Sze gets up. At 3, it's my turn, and at 6 he starts his day, so he works a bottle into the morning routine. This boils down to a pretty good system, except when it's not, which is often. I wake up when the alarm goes off for either of us to get up. He wakes up if she cries for more than about 5 minutes, which is longer than it takes for me to get up, get the bottle, put it in the warmer, and find her pacifier so she won't wake up her daddy because he has to work in the morning! SHHHH!!!
Well, Friday we had another trip to the pediatrician. Kaylee has had some stomach issues which were leading to slower weight gain, so we were crossing our fingers for a good week. Hurray! She is up to 8.15 lbs! Since she has now established two consecutive weeks of really good gain, I asked the doctor about spacing out her night-time feedings.
"Oh, I wouldn't let her go more than about 6 hours between feedings at this point, but start gradually spacing them out."
I don't think I would have been happier if I'd actually heard angels singing. 6 hours??? That's like a full night's sleep! So, last night, we turned off the alarms, and, as life is circular, returned to plan A. We'll feed her when she wakes up hungry. And, while it didn't end up equaling 6 hours of uninterrupted rest, it did equal 4 - she woke up at 1 and 5, hurray! Progress! Now if we can only get her to sleep in the nursery...
The process of getting her to go to sleep is one in which we show our off-kilter stripes pretty clearly. Many of the forums recommend the four B's for bedtime: Bath, Bottle, Book, Bed. Bathtime I discussed before as a traumatic experience she'll have to tell her therapist ALL about when she's older. Bottles are pretty self explanatory, though difficult to administer when she shoves her hand or my elbow into her mouth as a source of nutrition. The books, however, are pretty far from your average nursery rhymes.
See, bedtime is kind of Sze's domain. As I have her all day, he attends to her most of the time in the evenings. So, when he sits down to read her a story, he picks up pretty much whatever the closest book is. This has included The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Good Omens, and Top Gear Magazine. And I thought I was warping her with Alice in Wonderland. When either one of us sings to lull her to sleep, it's rarely actual lullabies. I hum the violin solo from Sheherezade or sing Gershwin's Summertime. Sze is starting her early on classic rock, with variations on a theme of Hotel California and Simon and Garfunkle's Sound of Silence. We'll rock her, bounce her, and call her every name under the sun except the one we gave her. "Oh, what is this fuss, my little tadpole? Are you a little velociraptor? Of course you are. Oh look, honey, she's being a frog. Can you hold the progeny for a second? Thanks. Oh, aren't you the cutest bean on Earth!"
For such a small person, she's developed a fairly discerning taste in music. She conducts the orchestra by waving her little arms in tempo with the music when we listen to my Joshua Bell and Yo Yo Ma Pandora station. She does the happy baby dance in her swing, kicking her feet and wiggling, when we listen to Big Band on my Michael Buble station. And she likes the Beatles, but who doesn't like the Beatles?
This weekend has been a very busy one, and will continue to be so. Friday was an adventure in grocery shopping and a trip to see the doctor. Yesterday, we had friends come from Northern Virginia, and we took a walk to Cold Stone for fantastic ice cream. Kaylee had a poo apocalypse, hurray! Gross. And we had a vegetarian feast and watched Loony Toons. Today, we're going to Charlottesville with some friends to drink good wine, and then having dinner with my old roommate/hubby, Angela, and her fiance, Dave, I hope.
As part of the vegetarian feast, Jackie, Fran, and I made this fantastic chickpea salad. Chickpeas, or garbanzo beans, are a really great low calorie/high protein option for vegetarians and omnivores alike, and they have a fairly mild flavor that gives a good canvas to which you can add all kinds of other flavors. This is a slightly time consuming recipe, simply because there are a number of steps, but trust me, the end result is worth it. Don't skimp on fresh mint, and use fresh lemon juice if you can.
Greek Chickpea Salad
1 green bell pepper
1 red onion
1 tomato
1 cucumber
1 small can sliced black olives
1 can chickpeas
3-4 tbs fresh mint
Salt and Pepper
Ground Cumin
Ground Coriander
Crushed Red Pepper flakes
Lemon Juice
Olive Oil
Put the top shelf of the oven as close as you can to the broiler. Preheat the broiler to 500 or Hi, whichever your oven does, and cover a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Slice the pepper in half and place it on the sheet. Quarter the onion, removing the skin, and make a pouch of aluminum foil for it, covering the onion with olive oil. Also place on the baking sheet. Broil for about 10 minutes, watching carefully, until the skin of the pepper is blackened and charred. Remove the pepper and put it in a plastic zip bag for 15 minutes. Put the onions back in the broiler for 15 minutes as well.
Peel the cucumber, the chop the cucumber and the tomato into bite sized pieces. Put them in a large bowl and combine. Drain the olives and add them.
In a small skillet, heat about a tablespoon of olive oil. Saute the chickpeas, seasoning liberally with salt, pepper, cumin, and coriander. Add about a 1/4 tsp of red pepper flakes: they are very potent. Add about a tablespoon of lemon juice, and stir until it cooks off. Remove from heat, and combine with vegetables in the bowl.
Remove peppers from the bag and peel with your fingers, then deseed and chop into bite sized pieces. Add to bowl. Chop onion into smaller pieces and also add to the bowl. Stir in mint, salt, and pepper, and enough lemon juice and olive oil to coat like a dressing (maybe a 1/4 cup?). Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes to let the flavors combine.
Buon Appetito!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Attack of the Mommy Brain, and Cooking School
My name is Rebecca, and I am here to tell you that Mommy Brain is not a myth. However, it's not quite what you would think, at least not for me.
Sure, I forget where my keys are, what I was going to make for dinner, and if it happened before Kaylee was born, there's a snowball's chance in a VERY hot place that I'll have any recollection of it whatsoever. That, though, can all be chalked up to physiology: sleep deprivation, hormones, and the myriad other physical challenges my body is facing. That part of Mommy Brain is temporary.
What I'm talking about when I talk about Mommy Brain is the complete compartmentalization of my thought processes: those of Rebecca, the adult, the wife, the cook, the functioning member of society, and then those of Rebecca, the mother. The Adult half of my brain makes grocery lists, addresses birth announcements, and efficiently deals with the day to day minutia of running a house. The Mommy half of my brain, however, is a cornucopia of the frantic, the exaggerated, and the completely absurd.
For example, last night we were giving the baby a bath. Kaylee HATES baths. She shrieks like a banshee and wails like we've skinned her and she's just waiting to be roasted over a fire. So, partially for my own sanity in the face of such fury and partially to soothe her screams, I sing while I'm scrubbing her belly. Last night, I was making up words to the tune of "On Top of Spaghetti." However, I'm REALLY, REALLY bad at it, so the song went something like this:
We're making clean baby
All covered with soap
But Baby hates bathtime
So she's going to mope
We wash her cute belly
And her little arms
But... something something jelly
And we mean no harm
See what I mean? Another gem is a rousing rendition of "Rock a Bye Kaylee," which has different words each time I sing it, and none of them make ANY sense at all. Diaper changes (another experience that makes her scream like the world is ending) have turned into narrated battles, with Kaylee ordering her minions to arm the Poo canon before the evil enemy, Mommy, can raise the defenses (the diaper, of course). When they fail, she has to pardon them to keep them from losing their lives. I mean, I've always been silly, but this is a whole new level of completely off the wall goofiness. And the worst is, this is only the beginning. My parents and I still have ridiculous jokes we tell each other from when I was a kid.
Fortunately, I do still get to exercise the part of my brain that hasn't been overtaken by babiness. When I troll the parenting forums, I always see posts from moms about how they almost immediately lost touch with their friends who were not parents. I LOVE my friends who aren't parents. I love my friends who are parents too, but it's the single girls, the unmarried couples, and my guy friends who will come over and keep Sze and I grounded in the world of people who don't have a newborn. Kaylee is a wonderful addition to my family, but I feel that it's pretty important that we don't lose touch with who we were before she burst onto the scene, and the friends without kids are invaluable for that.
Last night, my friend Ashley came over, as she does every other Wednesday, for our utterly informal cooking school. (This was after bath time, of course.) We've had cooking school since about mid October, and Ashley is an exceptional student and a natural cook, so at this point, I'm just offering starting points, guidance, and a kitchen in which to practice. This was the first "class" since Kaylee was born, though, and was a little more disorganized than usual. I had planned the side dishes- fettucini alfredo and a spinach, strawberry and goat cheese salad- and we'd purchased about a pound and a half of fresh turbot to prepare, but I completely and totally forgot what I'd planned to actually DO with the fish. So, I let Ashley make it up as she went along. She did really well! She concocted a sauce from ingredients I had around the kitchen and broiled the turbot to flaky perfection. We also timed the dishes pretty well, which is always the most challenging part of cooking to learn. It's so difficult to get everything on the table under normal circumstances, not to mention when you're learning and your teacher is juggling a baby and a spatula.
With her permission, I'm going to attempt to post Ashley's delicious sauce for Turbot. You could use any firm-flesh white fish you choose, but turbot is my favorite.
Broiled Turbot with Ashley's Special Sauce
2 turbot fillets
1/2 cup or so apricot preserves
1/4 cup red wine
2-3 tbs dijon mustard
ground ginger to taste
1 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
salt and pepper
Olive Oil
Preheat broiler. Set fillets on a baking dish and season with salt, pepper, and olive oil. In a medium bowl, mix together next 5 ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings. Coat fish with sauce and broil until flaky, about 10 minutes. Serve hot with pasta or couscous.
Buon Appetito!
Sure, I forget where my keys are, what I was going to make for dinner, and if it happened before Kaylee was born, there's a snowball's chance in a VERY hot place that I'll have any recollection of it whatsoever. That, though, can all be chalked up to physiology: sleep deprivation, hormones, and the myriad other physical challenges my body is facing. That part of Mommy Brain is temporary.
What I'm talking about when I talk about Mommy Brain is the complete compartmentalization of my thought processes: those of Rebecca, the adult, the wife, the cook, the functioning member of society, and then those of Rebecca, the mother. The Adult half of my brain makes grocery lists, addresses birth announcements, and efficiently deals with the day to day minutia of running a house. The Mommy half of my brain, however, is a cornucopia of the frantic, the exaggerated, and the completely absurd.
For example, last night we were giving the baby a bath. Kaylee HATES baths. She shrieks like a banshee and wails like we've skinned her and she's just waiting to be roasted over a fire. So, partially for my own sanity in the face of such fury and partially to soothe her screams, I sing while I'm scrubbing her belly. Last night, I was making up words to the tune of "On Top of Spaghetti." However, I'm REALLY, REALLY bad at it, so the song went something like this:
We're making clean baby
All covered with soap
But Baby hates bathtime
So she's going to mope
We wash her cute belly
And her little arms
But... something something jelly
And we mean no harm
See what I mean? Another gem is a rousing rendition of "Rock a Bye Kaylee," which has different words each time I sing it, and none of them make ANY sense at all. Diaper changes (another experience that makes her scream like the world is ending) have turned into narrated battles, with Kaylee ordering her minions to arm the Poo canon before the evil enemy, Mommy, can raise the defenses (the diaper, of course). When they fail, she has to pardon them to keep them from losing their lives. I mean, I've always been silly, but this is a whole new level of completely off the wall goofiness. And the worst is, this is only the beginning. My parents and I still have ridiculous jokes we tell each other from when I was a kid.
Fortunately, I do still get to exercise the part of my brain that hasn't been overtaken by babiness. When I troll the parenting forums, I always see posts from moms about how they almost immediately lost touch with their friends who were not parents. I LOVE my friends who aren't parents. I love my friends who are parents too, but it's the single girls, the unmarried couples, and my guy friends who will come over and keep Sze and I grounded in the world of people who don't have a newborn. Kaylee is a wonderful addition to my family, but I feel that it's pretty important that we don't lose touch with who we were before she burst onto the scene, and the friends without kids are invaluable for that.
Last night, my friend Ashley came over, as she does every other Wednesday, for our utterly informal cooking school. (This was after bath time, of course.) We've had cooking school since about mid October, and Ashley is an exceptional student and a natural cook, so at this point, I'm just offering starting points, guidance, and a kitchen in which to practice. This was the first "class" since Kaylee was born, though, and was a little more disorganized than usual. I had planned the side dishes- fettucini alfredo and a spinach, strawberry and goat cheese salad- and we'd purchased about a pound and a half of fresh turbot to prepare, but I completely and totally forgot what I'd planned to actually DO with the fish. So, I let Ashley make it up as she went along. She did really well! She concocted a sauce from ingredients I had around the kitchen and broiled the turbot to flaky perfection. We also timed the dishes pretty well, which is always the most challenging part of cooking to learn. It's so difficult to get everything on the table under normal circumstances, not to mention when you're learning and your teacher is juggling a baby and a spatula.
With her permission, I'm going to attempt to post Ashley's delicious sauce for Turbot. You could use any firm-flesh white fish you choose, but turbot is my favorite.
Broiled Turbot with Ashley's Special Sauce
2 turbot fillets
1/2 cup or so apricot preserves
1/4 cup red wine
2-3 tbs dijon mustard
ground ginger to taste
1 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
salt and pepper
Olive Oil
Preheat broiler. Set fillets on a baking dish and season with salt, pepper, and olive oil. In a medium bowl, mix together next 5 ingredients. Taste and adjust seasonings. Coat fish with sauce and broil until flaky, about 10 minutes. Serve hot with pasta or couscous.
Buon Appetito!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
New Beginnings, and a defense of the Full Time Mom
Welcome back, wonderful readers!
After nearly a year, I've decided to return to the blogosphere. This was kind of a difficult choice, as the last 14 or so months have been some of the most painful, thought provoking, tumultuous, rewarding, and ultimately life altering a person can have, and the idea of airing that laundry, dirty or otherwise, in such a public forum wasn't one in which I was interested. If you don't know the whole story, I can sum it up quickly: Since last January, I quit my job, moved to Taiwan, moved back from Taiwan, returned to Richmond, got pregnant, got married, moved, lost my grandmother, and had a baby. And the baby now is the biggest challenge of my entire life.
It is because of Kaylee that I decided to come back to blogging. While bringing her into this world was a cleansing and humbling experience, it brought with it a new set of adventures. And we all know how much I love adventures, and how I love sharing them, good and bad. The myriad discoveries of the four weeks since she was born, from the mundane (the inventor of the Crock Pot needs to be deified) to the scientific (did you know a newborn's stomach is only the size of her fist?) to the fantastically disgusting (if you've ever babysat, you have an idea of what I'm talking about), every day has been about growth and discovery, not just for Kaylee, but also for Sze and I. Everyone tells you that having a baby changes your life, but nothing ever prepares you for the magnitude of that change. This is about three million times harder than I thought it would be, and I knew it was going to be hard. And really, I have never, ever, not even when I was a hard-partying freshman in college, been this tired. Never.
During my pregnancy, Sze and I decided that I would stay home for a while to take care of Kaylee. While this decision is a strange one for a self-proclaimed feminist, I was already unemployed and the lack of expenses related to my working- daycare, gas, wardrobe, etc - nearly constitute a second income. So, I resigned myself to the life of a stay at home mom, prepared to rock my baby in peace.
Wow, I was completely delusional.
I am working harder now than I have ever worked in my life. My day starts at 7:30 in the morning and ends at roughly 10:30 at night. I get up at 3:00 to feed her. I am a full time household manager, executive chef, grocer, childcare provider, and delivery boy rolled into one. I soothe crying progeny, change diapers, administer bottles, do laundry, clean, cook, run errands, field phone calls, and maintain the family schedules every single day. I take Kaylee to story time. Next month, we start pilates. Oh yeah, and I still have a healthy relationship with my husband. AND I shower once in a while. This is not the life of a Wisteria Lane housewife, and anyone who says that a stay at home mom isn't working has obviously never met one. While I used to think that "housewives" had given up their independence, I now realize that there's a lot of power in being the one in charge of it all. You're the traffic director, the conductor of the orchestra. You're the person who has the answers. And when you're awake enough to realize that, it's pretty cool.
I have chosen not to rename the blog for one simple reason: I'm still a Funky Gourmet. While my roasts may come from a slow cooker instead of a painstakingly basted rack of lamb that spent all day in the oven, cooking is still my passion and my release, now more than ever. I want to instill the concept of food as an expression of love in Kaylee, and of cooking as an art form. And frankly, chopping onions at 3 in the morning after she's been screaming all night is just about the best stress relief on planet Earth. So expect recipes and culinary quips. They'll still come. But, like everything else in this new life of mine, they come balanced with a bombshell of a baby.
Thank you for coming back to me, sticking with me, or finding my page for the first time. And Buon Appetito!
After nearly a year, I've decided to return to the blogosphere. This was kind of a difficult choice, as the last 14 or so months have been some of the most painful, thought provoking, tumultuous, rewarding, and ultimately life altering a person can have, and the idea of airing that laundry, dirty or otherwise, in such a public forum wasn't one in which I was interested. If you don't know the whole story, I can sum it up quickly: Since last January, I quit my job, moved to Taiwan, moved back from Taiwan, returned to Richmond, got pregnant, got married, moved, lost my grandmother, and had a baby. And the baby now is the biggest challenge of my entire life.
It is because of Kaylee that I decided to come back to blogging. While bringing her into this world was a cleansing and humbling experience, it brought with it a new set of adventures. And we all know how much I love adventures, and how I love sharing them, good and bad. The myriad discoveries of the four weeks since she was born, from the mundane (the inventor of the Crock Pot needs to be deified) to the scientific (did you know a newborn's stomach is only the size of her fist?) to the fantastically disgusting (if you've ever babysat, you have an idea of what I'm talking about), every day has been about growth and discovery, not just for Kaylee, but also for Sze and I. Everyone tells you that having a baby changes your life, but nothing ever prepares you for the magnitude of that change. This is about three million times harder than I thought it would be, and I knew it was going to be hard. And really, I have never, ever, not even when I was a hard-partying freshman in college, been this tired. Never.
During my pregnancy, Sze and I decided that I would stay home for a while to take care of Kaylee. While this decision is a strange one for a self-proclaimed feminist, I was already unemployed and the lack of expenses related to my working- daycare, gas, wardrobe, etc - nearly constitute a second income. So, I resigned myself to the life of a stay at home mom, prepared to rock my baby in peace.
Wow, I was completely delusional.
I am working harder now than I have ever worked in my life. My day starts at 7:30 in the morning and ends at roughly 10:30 at night. I get up at 3:00 to feed her. I am a full time household manager, executive chef, grocer, childcare provider, and delivery boy rolled into one. I soothe crying progeny, change diapers, administer bottles, do laundry, clean, cook, run errands, field phone calls, and maintain the family schedules every single day. I take Kaylee to story time. Next month, we start pilates. Oh yeah, and I still have a healthy relationship with my husband. AND I shower once in a while. This is not the life of a Wisteria Lane housewife, and anyone who says that a stay at home mom isn't working has obviously never met one. While I used to think that "housewives" had given up their independence, I now realize that there's a lot of power in being the one in charge of it all. You're the traffic director, the conductor of the orchestra. You're the person who has the answers. And when you're awake enough to realize that, it's pretty cool.
I have chosen not to rename the blog for one simple reason: I'm still a Funky Gourmet. While my roasts may come from a slow cooker instead of a painstakingly basted rack of lamb that spent all day in the oven, cooking is still my passion and my release, now more than ever. I want to instill the concept of food as an expression of love in Kaylee, and of cooking as an art form. And frankly, chopping onions at 3 in the morning after she's been screaming all night is just about the best stress relief on planet Earth. So expect recipes and culinary quips. They'll still come. But, like everything else in this new life of mine, they come balanced with a bombshell of a baby.
Thank you for coming back to me, sticking with me, or finding my page for the first time. And Buon Appetito!
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