A day late & a dollar short the saying goes...and that seems to be thematic for me. But I am here, I am writing, and I am sure, in good time, with patience & persistence (hah! Not virtues I have been blessed with) I will find a good rhythm.
Tuesday evening I drove the kids to Awana again, and again I hesitated in the church driveway. Do I go for groceries or head to the mall? Christmas is sneaking up on us again and I have not yet begun shopping in earnest. In the past I have taken a day off and just hit it hard, getting as much done in one fell swoop as I can manage. No waffling, contemplation of ideas long since filed away. I love giving (and receiving) gifts so through the year I pay attention to random conversations and thoughts that drift through my head, tucking ideas away. It used to be easier, but I find great joy in finding the perfect thing for someone. Now if I were truly organized that thought would be accompanied by action, gift purchased and stashed somewhere. This is not the case. I confess though, that while I hate the crowds and the lines, I do like the electricity, the buzz in the air at Christmas time.
Again, I digress. I opted for the mall. First stop, Canadian Tire though for gas. And then the dollar store for the list of things Emily requested for her science project at school. It's always something! And did you know 3 volt motors are not an easy commodity? Why can't the school purchase a boxful & sell them to the students? They're always sending a letter home asking for money for this thing or that anyway. What's one more?
Ok, I'm done with that rant.
The mall was surprisingly not terribly busy, but they have only just begun their Christmas hours, and it was early in the week. My son Andrew works in the mall these days, and as it turned out, was just getting off work. Shopping was set aside for sharing a plate of poutine at the food court. Much more gratifying.
It was good to have an hour to sit and talk. I don't know if I have admitted it here, but as much as I did love my children as infants & toddlers, the older they get the more I enjoy them. We talked about movies & books, and what Christmas wishes we had, and that his sister had (her list changes daily, I think). I got a better sense of his plans for the next few years.
Since my first husband and I split almost 20 years ago (19 in March to be precise) and the courts, in their infinite wisdom, awarded "joint custody" (a joke, but not a funny one) with day to day care to my ex I have worked to build strong relationships with my sons. It is not such an easy thing to judge with young adults, especially young men, but I like to think I have a solid relationship with each of them. I know being with them is easy and I enjoy their company. How they feel I can only guess.
I miss them like crazy, all the time. I want them to spread their wings and build their own lives, but it tears at my heart when they talk about moving away.
That said, I sat there, in the mall food court, talking to my son and I couldn't help but think what a wonderful young man he has become. (Warning, Mother's bias ) He is attractive, in his own unique way, smart and thoughtful with a great sense of humour. Andrew is quiet and introverted, like me....I can see much of myself in him. If you're reading this, son, I am very proud of you.
He was a sweet little boy, affectionate but reserved. He was careful-not cautious particularly, he kept up with the other boys despite being the youngest of the 4 grandsons. But he did nothing until he could do it well. He made no tottering unsure steps learning to walk, he refused to even walk with us holding his hands as a pre-toddler, but one day just walked. Most things came easily to him, school was no challenge, the challenge was for us, the adults in his life, to keep him challenged. Now that he has chosen a more concrete career path I know he will excel. That's how he goes.
I am rambling here. I suppose all that is to say I am pleased my children have grown into people I can treat as friends without ever ceasing to be mom. I love spending time with them, and I am at my best with them one on one. I wonder how other mothers of grown children feel. And when I look at the one still at home I can't help but wonder if we will have this kind of bond in 10 years time. Or will she be pulling away needing her own space. I remember my little boys and see them still in their grown up faces. And I look at my little girl and wonder what her grown up self will be.
It is true what they say. Having children is like having your heart wander about outside your body.
The view from here is a place to discuss the interesting, the mundane, the introspective things I am learning as I travel down this road
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Cooking with Emily
I apologize for my recent negligence about writing. I have been overtaken by some serious bout of ennui, a sense of restless discontent and although I daily sat at my keyboard there were no words easy flowing.. deeper even than writer's block it seemed I had nothing to say.
But I am determined to press on, one way or another to find my way through the miasma and back to my mountaintop. Starting over one more time.
My daughter, Emily, spent the weekend with her dad. I spent the weekend away, in my, uh, pyjamas, book in hand, coffee and wine in fine supply....wonderful, but a post for some other time.
Sunday evening she returned home backpack full of laundry and a scrap of paper in her hand. She handed it to me as she said good bye to her dad informing me that THIS was what she was making for dinner the following evening. I raised my eyebrows; she gets grandiose ideas of what she can make on her nights to cook, often kiboshed by me because they outside her skill set still or because she has not yet the knowledge and skill in the kitchen to cook without a recipe of some sort. She will get there, in good time I am sure, but she is not there just yet.
I skimmed the hand written instructions on the paper, carefully outlined by my ex's new wife. It looked simple enough, and I quickly quashed the immediate rising of some weird jealousy, an instinctive response to push aside any affiliation with some other person standing in my stead. A non-existent threat to my maternity. I learned a long time ago to choose my battles, and for this child's affections there is no rivalry. She has a huge and generous heart, but there is no doubt our bond is strong.
Monday morning I promised I would purchase the few ingredients we did not have in the pantry as I dropped her off for school and headed off to fill my day. It was busy enough and on my way home I did remember to stop off to buy farmer's sausage and a new block of cheese.
She was surprised and delighted to discover my boyfriend was in town for the afternoon, meaning she had a real audience for her blossoming culinary skills. I sent her into the house with instructions to unpack her school bag & start peeling potatoes while we unloaded the car, partly because I knew potato peeling is a slow job, especially for a beginner, and partly because I had Christmas presents in the back of the car!
When I came in the house she was quick to inform me we had no potatoes, only sweet potatoes, her face prepared to worry or go shopping for them (I'm not sure which...being sent to the store for supplies is a much sought after privilege). I assured her we did indeed have potatoes, and dug deep in the bin I keep both potatoes and onions in to forestall further argument. I found her 5 fair sized ones, and now do need to add them to my grocery list. Four was all her recipe called for, but I told her the fifth one would feel left out, and to peel it too. She laughed at me for giving the last potato a mournful, lonely sob, and took it with giggling sympathy.
Once the potatoes were peeled we set them aside & chopped an onion and some of the farmer's sausage. The recipe called for 1 or 2 links, about 1/2 a pound, I guessed. She put the onion & sausage in a soup pot with a little butter, and cooked them together until the onions were soft.
About this time Peter came in from putting his own shopping in his truck. He laughed out loud when he came into the kitchen-there was our Emily, swathed in her apron, perusing her recipe and lifting a drink (milk) pinky finger extended. He looked at me, shaking his head, telling me she was just like me, although my drink of choice while making supper is usually wine. I suppose the apple has not fallen too far from the tree.
Once the onions were transparent, the potatoes, now cut into bite sized pieces, joined them with a carton of chicken stock. I turned the heat up, put the lid on and sent her to do her homework, or start it any way, while the potatoes cooked. She breezed easily through the spelling with just a few pleas for help, and only one eye roll when we sent her to the dictionary for a definition we could easily have given her. She started on maths and then it was time for the next step in her recipe.
She placed 2 tablespoons (roughly measured) into another pan to melt. I told her then she would need about 2 tablespoons of flour and a cup of milk. I should have been paying closer attention, as the milk was added before the flour became a smooth paste, but I did catch it in time to whisk away any lumps. To this thickened mixture the recipe said to add 2 cups of grated sharp cheddar. Emily sprinkled it in a little at a time, but without measuring. I told her she should measure, she argued that this was what Michelle had done. I agreed the method was right, but she still needed to measure (estimating is not yet in her skill set). Once the cheese was whisked and melted smooth it needed to be added to the soup pot. Given heat and height, I lifted the pan and poured, letting her scrape the pan clean while I whisked the whole mixture to blend it well.
While we were doing this Peter graciously set the table. I gave the soup a good stir and tasted it. Emily did as well, and decided it needed pepper. I advised her against too much as she wielded the pepper mill like a pro, and Peter laughed again when she retorted "I like lots of pepper!" because I say this often. I explained that I did too, but not every one did, and you can always add more, you cannot take it out.
The meal was a success, tasty, warm and filling. Perfect for a chilly, windy November night. At the end I think I would have added a trifle more sausage and allowed the cheese sauce to thicken a little more. Peter tells me she is becoming a good cook, and praised me for teaching her well. He also reminded me of just how much she is watching me, becoming more like me every day (sometimes a frightening thought!).
I did the dishes and sent our budding chef to finish her homework, leaving Peter to grapple with her over her maths. She was impatient, but she was willing to listen on most of the points when he asked her to explain her answers. There is a $5 bet riding on one particular question now. She insisted she was right, we both disagreed, and Monday we will know for sure.
We finished the evening with tea and several hands of Uno, before finishing the reading of "Call of the Wild" and bedtime prayers. Sometime the simplest things truly are the best things.
Cheesy Potato Soup
1 Tablespoon butter
1 small onion, minced
1-2 links farmer's sausage (abt 1/2lb) (I suspect bacon would work here too) diced
4 lg/6 sml potatoes, peeled & cubed
4 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons butter
flour
milk
2 cups grated cheddar (sharp)
In a large pot cook together 1 tablespoon butter, onion and sausage over medium heat until onion is soft. Add potatoes and stock, bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are done.
In a separate sauce pan melt second amount of butter, add enough flour to make a paste (about 2 tablespoons) Cook on medium two minutes, add enough milk to make a sauce of gravy like consistency (about 1 cup) Whisk until thickened and smooth.
Gradually whisk in cheese, heat until melted through.
Pour cheese mixture into soup, whisk until smooth, add salt & pepper to taste, and serve.
But I am determined to press on, one way or another to find my way through the miasma and back to my mountaintop. Starting over one more time.
My daughter, Emily, spent the weekend with her dad. I spent the weekend away, in my, uh, pyjamas, book in hand, coffee and wine in fine supply....wonderful, but a post for some other time.
Sunday evening she returned home backpack full of laundry and a scrap of paper in her hand. She handed it to me as she said good bye to her dad informing me that THIS was what she was making for dinner the following evening. I raised my eyebrows; she gets grandiose ideas of what she can make on her nights to cook, often kiboshed by me because they outside her skill set still or because she has not yet the knowledge and skill in the kitchen to cook without a recipe of some sort. She will get there, in good time I am sure, but she is not there just yet.
I skimmed the hand written instructions on the paper, carefully outlined by my ex's new wife. It looked simple enough, and I quickly quashed the immediate rising of some weird jealousy, an instinctive response to push aside any affiliation with some other person standing in my stead. A non-existent threat to my maternity. I learned a long time ago to choose my battles, and for this child's affections there is no rivalry. She has a huge and generous heart, but there is no doubt our bond is strong.
Monday morning I promised I would purchase the few ingredients we did not have in the pantry as I dropped her off for school and headed off to fill my day. It was busy enough and on my way home I did remember to stop off to buy farmer's sausage and a new block of cheese.
She was surprised and delighted to discover my boyfriend was in town for the afternoon, meaning she had a real audience for her blossoming culinary skills. I sent her into the house with instructions to unpack her school bag & start peeling potatoes while we unloaded the car, partly because I knew potato peeling is a slow job, especially for a beginner, and partly because I had Christmas presents in the back of the car!
When I came in the house she was quick to inform me we had no potatoes, only sweet potatoes, her face prepared to worry or go shopping for them (I'm not sure which...being sent to the store for supplies is a much sought after privilege). I assured her we did indeed have potatoes, and dug deep in the bin I keep both potatoes and onions in to forestall further argument. I found her 5 fair sized ones, and now do need to add them to my grocery list. Four was all her recipe called for, but I told her the fifth one would feel left out, and to peel it too. She laughed at me for giving the last potato a mournful, lonely sob, and took it with giggling sympathy.
Once the potatoes were peeled we set them aside & chopped an onion and some of the farmer's sausage. The recipe called for 1 or 2 links, about 1/2 a pound, I guessed. She put the onion & sausage in a soup pot with a little butter, and cooked them together until the onions were soft.
About this time Peter came in from putting his own shopping in his truck. He laughed out loud when he came into the kitchen-there was our Emily, swathed in her apron, perusing her recipe and lifting a drink (milk) pinky finger extended. He looked at me, shaking his head, telling me she was just like me, although my drink of choice while making supper is usually wine. I suppose the apple has not fallen too far from the tree.
Once the onions were transparent, the potatoes, now cut into bite sized pieces, joined them with a carton of chicken stock. I turned the heat up, put the lid on and sent her to do her homework, or start it any way, while the potatoes cooked. She breezed easily through the spelling with just a few pleas for help, and only one eye roll when we sent her to the dictionary for a definition we could easily have given her. She started on maths and then it was time for the next step in her recipe.
She placed 2 tablespoons (roughly measured) into another pan to melt. I told her then she would need about 2 tablespoons of flour and a cup of milk. I should have been paying closer attention, as the milk was added before the flour became a smooth paste, but I did catch it in time to whisk away any lumps. To this thickened mixture the recipe said to add 2 cups of grated sharp cheddar. Emily sprinkled it in a little at a time, but without measuring. I told her she should measure, she argued that this was what Michelle had done. I agreed the method was right, but she still needed to measure (estimating is not yet in her skill set). Once the cheese was whisked and melted smooth it needed to be added to the soup pot. Given heat and height, I lifted the pan and poured, letting her scrape the pan clean while I whisked the whole mixture to blend it well.
While we were doing this Peter graciously set the table. I gave the soup a good stir and tasted it. Emily did as well, and decided it needed pepper. I advised her against too much as she wielded the pepper mill like a pro, and Peter laughed again when she retorted "I like lots of pepper!" because I say this often. I explained that I did too, but not every one did, and you can always add more, you cannot take it out.
The meal was a success, tasty, warm and filling. Perfect for a chilly, windy November night. At the end I think I would have added a trifle more sausage and allowed the cheese sauce to thicken a little more. Peter tells me she is becoming a good cook, and praised me for teaching her well. He also reminded me of just how much she is watching me, becoming more like me every day (sometimes a frightening thought!).
I did the dishes and sent our budding chef to finish her homework, leaving Peter to grapple with her over her maths. She was impatient, but she was willing to listen on most of the points when he asked her to explain her answers. There is a $5 bet riding on one particular question now. She insisted she was right, we both disagreed, and Monday we will know for sure.
We finished the evening with tea and several hands of Uno, before finishing the reading of "Call of the Wild" and bedtime prayers. Sometime the simplest things truly are the best things.
Cheesy Potato Soup
1 Tablespoon butter
1 small onion, minced
1-2 links farmer's sausage (abt 1/2lb) (I suspect bacon would work here too) diced
4 lg/6 sml potatoes, peeled & cubed
4 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons butter
flour
milk
2 cups grated cheddar (sharp)
In a large pot cook together 1 tablespoon butter, onion and sausage over medium heat until onion is soft. Add potatoes and stock, bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are done.
In a separate sauce pan melt second amount of butter, add enough flour to make a paste (about 2 tablespoons) Cook on medium two minutes, add enough milk to make a sauce of gravy like consistency (about 1 cup) Whisk until thickened and smooth.
Gradually whisk in cheese, heat until melted through.
Pour cheese mixture into soup, whisk until smooth, add salt & pepper to taste, and serve.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
A Day to Myself
Another Wednesday, another day closer to the weekend. I have enjoyed several days to myself recently, as Emily went to her dad's a day early, leaving on Thursday evening, and not returning home until Sunday evening. I can't say I accomplished much that was productive-I read ( a lot), I watched movies, enjoyed some of my favourite "there's no one to cook for" suppers, and even spent one wonderful evening with friends. Entirely self-indulgent, sleeping late, moving slow....days to be savoured. I had good intentions of going to church Sunday morning, but the day dawned with ugly weather and I opted to stay off the highway.
There was no school Monday or Tuesday. Monday was a professional development day for the teachers (or some such thing, I don't keep particular track) and Tuesday was, of course, Remembrance Day. I stayed in Monday, and Emily entertained a friend. I let them loose in the kitchen to make banana bread (I had over ripe bananas that needed using) and spent most of the day curled up with my book.
Tuesday I took Emily to the Remembrance Day service here. She baulked at going, it was cold & I think she had envisioned spending the day in her pjs with her Legos & movies. I couldn't really blame her, I remember going as a kid, a Brownie, in fact, shivering in my uniform at the cenotaph and bored senseless at the service. And yet I felt like it was important.
As we pulled up to the community museum for the service I explained to her, briefly, why it was so important to show our respect. I told her there were places in the world where little girls didn't get to go to school, where you were not free to worship the way you wanted to, and that because of so many brave men & women we could live freely.
She actually enjoyed the service. I am not sure just how much she understood, but she watched & listened, fascinated. The bugler playing The Last Post was just behind & right of us, and I confess I got chills listening to the lone instrument's mournful call. The cannon volley outside, while muffled, still gave one pause.
Later, as I was sharing the details of the service with my boyfriend, who attended in another community, and with my mother, who happens to be the Legion President in my home town, I could not help but think how glad I am that my daughter has no sense of the real horrors in the world. She is not unaware. At school they discussed the recent events in Ottawa, and she has seen & heard enough of the news, although I do try to keep her from most of it, as I think too often media focuses on the lurid and sensational aspects of a story rather than on the facts. And it focuses on the ugliness of the world and not enough on the beauty of it.
I am glad she doesn't understand just what a blessing it is to worship Jesus openly, to pray & speak his name freely; that she doesn't know what a privilege school is, or that she has no idea how rich she really is because she is surrounded by people who love her, she had enough clothes for several little girls, and a roof over her head, food in a refrigerator, and clean water. I am glad she can take these things for granted, and I know in time, as her knowledge grows she will not, because she has also been blessed by a compassionate and generous heart.
It wasn't so much a day to myself, given that Emily was home, but it was a quiet day of reflection.
We are blessed, and to those of you who have sacrificed much that I can freely ramble on like this and live a life of quiet peace, I thank you.
There was no school Monday or Tuesday. Monday was a professional development day for the teachers (or some such thing, I don't keep particular track) and Tuesday was, of course, Remembrance Day. I stayed in Monday, and Emily entertained a friend. I let them loose in the kitchen to make banana bread (I had over ripe bananas that needed using) and spent most of the day curled up with my book.
Tuesday I took Emily to the Remembrance Day service here. She baulked at going, it was cold & I think she had envisioned spending the day in her pjs with her Legos & movies. I couldn't really blame her, I remember going as a kid, a Brownie, in fact, shivering in my uniform at the cenotaph and bored senseless at the service. And yet I felt like it was important.
As we pulled up to the community museum for the service I explained to her, briefly, why it was so important to show our respect. I told her there were places in the world where little girls didn't get to go to school, where you were not free to worship the way you wanted to, and that because of so many brave men & women we could live freely.
She actually enjoyed the service. I am not sure just how much she understood, but she watched & listened, fascinated. The bugler playing The Last Post was just behind & right of us, and I confess I got chills listening to the lone instrument's mournful call. The cannon volley outside, while muffled, still gave one pause.
Later, as I was sharing the details of the service with my boyfriend, who attended in another community, and with my mother, who happens to be the Legion President in my home town, I could not help but think how glad I am that my daughter has no sense of the real horrors in the world. She is not unaware. At school they discussed the recent events in Ottawa, and she has seen & heard enough of the news, although I do try to keep her from most of it, as I think too often media focuses on the lurid and sensational aspects of a story rather than on the facts. And it focuses on the ugliness of the world and not enough on the beauty of it.
I am glad she doesn't understand just what a blessing it is to worship Jesus openly, to pray & speak his name freely; that she doesn't know what a privilege school is, or that she has no idea how rich she really is because she is surrounded by people who love her, she had enough clothes for several little girls, and a roof over her head, food in a refrigerator, and clean water. I am glad she can take these things for granted, and I know in time, as her knowledge grows she will not, because she has also been blessed by a compassionate and generous heart.
It wasn't so much a day to myself, given that Emily was home, but it was a quiet day of reflection.
We are blessed, and to those of you who have sacrificed much that I can freely ramble on like this and live a life of quiet peace, I thank you.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Cooking With Emily: Nacho Casserole
Last week was my first stab at a new direction for my blog. I got three days organized, started on Friday's post half a dozen times... and there it sits in the drafts folder. It is just not taking shape. I appreciate your thoughts & input, please share them with me.
It's Tuesday again, and again Emily made supper for us last night. Because there was no school yesterday we had a little more time for her to make something that took a little bit longer to create. Still less than 30 minutes, plus baking time, for you looking for fast & easy recipes.
Last week, looking for the Corn Chowder recipe, Emily found this casserole & decided it was her choice for this week. It tends to be popular with kids because it contains chips-it was always a hit at potluck suppers, and I suspect that, and the name, were part of the draw. For me it was re-visiting an old favourite. The recipe card is written, again, in my juvenile hand, but I can't date it precisely. Some of the ink is fading, and in the instructions are my feeble attempts to scribe an ampersand (&). Still can't do it, have resigned myself to using a (+) sign when I write longhand.
While Emily walked her friend home I started browning the ground beef because the package was still mostly frozen. Winter has arrived with a vengeance and it is cold in my kitchen. By the time she got back & got undressed the meat was on its way. Into the meat she added 1 onion, chopped & i minced clove of garlic. Because I had started the process it was hard for me to step aside & just supervise. I handed her the recipe card & told her to read it carefully. The meat was about two-thirds browned & she was eager to take the next step. I stopped her, explaining that the onions were not yet cooked, and there was quite a bit of water from the meat in the pan. I had her drain the can of kidney bean & place them in a mixing bowl so I could use the can. I spooned most of it off for her, as this is not a kid-friendly task, placing it in the can for easy disposal. Tin cans usually go into the recycling bin, but sometimes they have other uses.
Into the kidney beans she mixed 1 cup of shredded cheddar. As a parenthetical note I often will grate large quantities of cheese and keep it for these kinds of uses. Sometimes the block in the fridge is getting old, sometimes I need a little for a recipe & since I have the grater out I may as well do a lot as a little. And the cost of pre shredded cheese is insane. Anyway...Back to cooking.
Into the now drained & browned ground beef, onion & garlic mixture Emily poured one can of tomato sauce & a package of taco seasoning. I confess I had to purchase this specifically since I season taco meat with my own mix of spices, by taste & aroma, She stirred everything together & set it aside to simmer while starting to construct this layered dish.
I had greased a 2 quart casserole dish for her, and into it she laid 1/3 of a bag of taco chips (I bought Zesty Cheese Doritos for this dish, but any flavour - or plain ones- would work). The mixture of kidney beans and cheese was poured onto the chips, followed by another third of the chips. Next we spooned in the meat mixture (I say we because lifting the pan & pouring was much easier for me to do. ) This was topped with the remainder of the chips, a half cup of taco sauce (we used salsa) and another cup of shredded cheese.
The recipe card makes no mention of baking this, whether because it's not necessary or because my overly confident mind omitted that detail I do not know. I do know I have always heated this in the oven for about 30 minutes, at 350 degrees F. I suppose one could take it either way, as the meat sauce is warm.
When we sat down to eat Emily decided to add sour cream and salsa to her serving, I opted for a smaller portion and a small salad, trying to regain control of some poor habits....a post for another day perhaps.
The casserole was as tasty as I remembered, but saltier (the fault of the taco seasoning packet, since we added no salt, and the chips, of course). It made a huge meal though, at least huge for the two of us. I suspect my wonderful & hard working babysitter will be getting lunch for the minions tomorrow. I think, apart from not wanting to do battle with my kids about eating the beans (Emily tried to pick them out, I told her if she left them mixed in she wouldn't even taste them....but that didn't work on me at 10, what made me think it would work on her? She did leave them in though, so maybe it does work sometimes....or maybe Nancy's influence (my amazing sitter) is shining through...or having made it herself helped. ) it was the sheer volume of the dish that left it in the archives rather that having it a part of the repetitive. Cooking for one, or one and a half, doesn't make most casseroles very practical. I have always done this dish in a deep casserole as well, but having made it now I think a longer, shallow dish (like a 9x13 cake pan) might work better. Hindsight, as they say.
Nacho Casserole
1 cup chopped onion
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 1/2 lbs ground beef (lean)
1 can tomato sauce (398 ml/15 oz)
1 package taco seasoning
1 can kidney beans
2 cups shredded cheddar, divided
1 bag taco chips
1/2 cup taco sauce/salsa
1/2 cup scallions (optional)
Brown beef, onion, and garlic, drain if needed. Stir in tomato sauce and taco seasoning.
Drain kidney beans, toss with 1 cup of cheese
Grease a 2 quart casserole dish, layer bottom with with one third of the chips. Lay bean/cheese mixture over chips, top with another third of the chips. Pour meat sauce over. Top with remaining chips, drizzle with taco sauce, sprinkle with scallions and remaining cheese.
It's Tuesday again, and again Emily made supper for us last night. Because there was no school yesterday we had a little more time for her to make something that took a little bit longer to create. Still less than 30 minutes, plus baking time, for you looking for fast & easy recipes.
Last week, looking for the Corn Chowder recipe, Emily found this casserole & decided it was her choice for this week. It tends to be popular with kids because it contains chips-it was always a hit at potluck suppers, and I suspect that, and the name, were part of the draw. For me it was re-visiting an old favourite. The recipe card is written, again, in my juvenile hand, but I can't date it precisely. Some of the ink is fading, and in the instructions are my feeble attempts to scribe an ampersand (&). Still can't do it, have resigned myself to using a (+) sign when I write longhand.
While Emily walked her friend home I started browning the ground beef because the package was still mostly frozen. Winter has arrived with a vengeance and it is cold in my kitchen. By the time she got back & got undressed the meat was on its way. Into the meat she added 1 onion, chopped & i minced clove of garlic. Because I had started the process it was hard for me to step aside & just supervise. I handed her the recipe card & told her to read it carefully. The meat was about two-thirds browned & she was eager to take the next step. I stopped her, explaining that the onions were not yet cooked, and there was quite a bit of water from the meat in the pan. I had her drain the can of kidney bean & place them in a mixing bowl so I could use the can. I spooned most of it off for her, as this is not a kid-friendly task, placing it in the can for easy disposal. Tin cans usually go into the recycling bin, but sometimes they have other uses.
Into the kidney beans she mixed 1 cup of shredded cheddar. As a parenthetical note I often will grate large quantities of cheese and keep it for these kinds of uses. Sometimes the block in the fridge is getting old, sometimes I need a little for a recipe & since I have the grater out I may as well do a lot as a little. And the cost of pre shredded cheese is insane. Anyway...Back to cooking.
Into the now drained & browned ground beef, onion & garlic mixture Emily poured one can of tomato sauce & a package of taco seasoning. I confess I had to purchase this specifically since I season taco meat with my own mix of spices, by taste & aroma, She stirred everything together & set it aside to simmer while starting to construct this layered dish.
I had greased a 2 quart casserole dish for her, and into it she laid 1/3 of a bag of taco chips (I bought Zesty Cheese Doritos for this dish, but any flavour - or plain ones- would work). The mixture of kidney beans and cheese was poured onto the chips, followed by another third of the chips. Next we spooned in the meat mixture (I say we because lifting the pan & pouring was much easier for me to do. ) This was topped with the remainder of the chips, a half cup of taco sauce (we used salsa) and another cup of shredded cheese.
The recipe card makes no mention of baking this, whether because it's not necessary or because my overly confident mind omitted that detail I do not know. I do know I have always heated this in the oven for about 30 minutes, at 350 degrees F. I suppose one could take it either way, as the meat sauce is warm.
When we sat down to eat Emily decided to add sour cream and salsa to her serving, I opted for a smaller portion and a small salad, trying to regain control of some poor habits....a post for another day perhaps.
The casserole was as tasty as I remembered, but saltier (the fault of the taco seasoning packet, since we added no salt, and the chips, of course). It made a huge meal though, at least huge for the two of us. I suspect my wonderful & hard working babysitter will be getting lunch for the minions tomorrow. I think, apart from not wanting to do battle with my kids about eating the beans (Emily tried to pick them out, I told her if she left them mixed in she wouldn't even taste them....but that didn't work on me at 10, what made me think it would work on her? She did leave them in though, so maybe it does work sometimes....or maybe Nancy's influence (my amazing sitter) is shining through...or having made it herself helped. ) it was the sheer volume of the dish that left it in the archives rather that having it a part of the repetitive. Cooking for one, or one and a half, doesn't make most casseroles very practical. I have always done this dish in a deep casserole as well, but having made it now I think a longer, shallow dish (like a 9x13 cake pan) might work better. Hindsight, as they say.
Nacho Casserole
1 cup chopped onion
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 1/2 lbs ground beef (lean)
1 can tomato sauce (398 ml/15 oz)
1 package taco seasoning
1 can kidney beans
2 cups shredded cheddar, divided
1 bag taco chips
1/2 cup taco sauce/salsa
1/2 cup scallions (optional)
Brown beef, onion, and garlic, drain if needed. Stir in tomato sauce and taco seasoning.
Drain kidney beans, toss with 1 cup of cheese
Grease a 2 quart casserole dish, layer bottom with with one third of the chips. Lay bean/cheese mixture over chips, top with another third of the chips. Pour meat sauce over. Top with remaining chips, drizzle with taco sauce, sprinkle with scallions and remaining cheese.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Restless Bed
Alone in my restless bed
the night wind sings through the stars
Arguing truth with shadow whispered
lies
In the distance a train whistle cries
into the chill dark.
Gusty west winds
rattle window panes,
curtains dance
And I shiver...
Wrap empty arms around your pillow,
breathe deep, seeking the last vestiges
of your scent
Aching for your touch, your arms around
me again,
your voice, your kiss
reassuring and promising
tender and sweet and passionate
The storm abates
the night breeze singing with the
stars
brings remembrance of warm summer
nights
of brilliant days, quiet dawns and
still evenings
Of laughter and tears and promises and
plans.
In the distance a train whistle cries
into the waning night
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
A Day To Myself
In yesterday's post I stated I wanted to shake things up a little, rather than trying to focus on one particular line of content. A dyed in the wool introvert I thought Wednesdays now could become "A Day to Myself". In all honesty, living alone, except for my ten year old (who is an extrovert - now there's a challenge!) most days are "a day to myself". I have always enjoyed my own company, and for years felt somewhat defensive about that fact. I am no misanthrope, but have only truly begin to embrace who I really am. Yes, I still envy people who are social butterflies, comfortable in groups and crowds. Parties and potlucks and school functions are torture for me. I grit my teeth and hope beyond hope to find another tormented introvert to hide in the shadows with....somewhere near the door to make a hasty escape! I envy happy couples too, despite being in a wonderful and loving relationship myself. It is a long distance relationship which has it's own challenges, probably most easily met because we are both introverts, and the distance makes our time together especially sweet. But I digress. Again.
Last night was my turn to drive the short people to Awana, leaving my friend Nancy to enjoy a bi-weekly date night with her husband. Some Tuesdays I head to Walmart to get groceries, but the pantry is well stocked this week. I dropped the kids off at the church and headed out again. Just over 90 minutes of time to fill. I hesitated in the driveway. The lure of the endless stacks of books to peruse at Chapters was powerful, but so was the siren call of buffalo wings & my current literary escape. I turned left, and pulled into a quiet restaurant/lounge just behind the church. I slipped in, ordered a glass of wine (a nice ale is my usual choice with wings, but I had been chilled all day - wine felt warmer) and a plate of wings. Tucked away in my booth I laid my book on the table and lost myself in ancient Rome with Messala & Judah Ben Hur. The movie has been a favourite of mine since my teens but I have to confess I have never read the book. I was surprised to discover it was first published in 1880, which explains the dense descriptive text. Again I digress. Books have been my favoured companions for as long as I can remember. My mother tells me I was clambering into the laps of our hired farm help book in hand as a toddler, much to the chagrin of these poor young men in dirty work clothes, some of whom could barely read themselves. I don't remember learning to read, but I do remember getting my first library card and the thrill of filling it & needing to renew it. And I well remember being frustrated that part of the elementary school library was off limits to scholars not yet in the lofty fifth and sixth grades. I remember the guilty pleasure of reading the books that raised eyebrows (East of Eden, after Dad said the movie was inappropriate for me when he recalled what it was about & turned off the tv, Peyton Place, for similar reasons, and The Agony & The Ecstasy, because my high school classmates thought it scandalous based on the title alone, and its overwhelming size)
I've had plenty of time to myself lately. I little too much, to be completely honest. But I have been enjoying the quiet. I'm writing more, catching up on my reading, and have tackled a few big STA (spare time activity) projects (you know, those little chores we all put off for when we have time-cleaning out closets, organizing the garage, we all have a list, don't we?) I still have more to tackle, am officially in procrastination mode again. A little free time is good, too much opens itself up to "I have time for that tomorrow."
We spent the weekend in a travel trailer in Brooks. A slice of heavenly escape for me. Not the town particularly, just the "getting away". No housework, no laundry, no tv, computer, no phone to speak of (yes, you can still reach my cell) none of the pulls of hearth and home. My boyfriend and I slept late and sat silently side by side, lost in our books all afternoon. My daughter, who does like to read but not like we do (not yet) watched a movie & begged me to play crib with her. We did, we enjoyed the movie too, family time is important. I tried to explain to her that she needs to learn to enjoy her own company, because sometimes that's all there is. A lesson lost on her. One day she'll understand. I know she will always crave company and activity, it's how she's wired, but silence and stillness is not something to be feared but embraced. In a busy, noisy, plugged in world is it any surprise people are seeking out new forms of meditation and prayer? Why exercise like yoga, that calls for one to be still, is on the rise in popularity? It is in the quiet places we hear that "still, small voice", where inspiration grows, where peace dwells?
I'm curious....if you had a day, an evening all to yourself-no kids, no spouse, no friends- to spend by yourself, on yourself, what would you do? Personally I have a list, and what I chose does depend on the mood I'm in.
Last night was my turn to drive the short people to Awana, leaving my friend Nancy to enjoy a bi-weekly date night with her husband. Some Tuesdays I head to Walmart to get groceries, but the pantry is well stocked this week. I dropped the kids off at the church and headed out again. Just over 90 minutes of time to fill. I hesitated in the driveway. The lure of the endless stacks of books to peruse at Chapters was powerful, but so was the siren call of buffalo wings & my current literary escape. I turned left, and pulled into a quiet restaurant/lounge just behind the church. I slipped in, ordered a glass of wine (a nice ale is my usual choice with wings, but I had been chilled all day - wine felt warmer) and a plate of wings. Tucked away in my booth I laid my book on the table and lost myself in ancient Rome with Messala & Judah Ben Hur. The movie has been a favourite of mine since my teens but I have to confess I have never read the book. I was surprised to discover it was first published in 1880, which explains the dense descriptive text. Again I digress. Books have been my favoured companions for as long as I can remember. My mother tells me I was clambering into the laps of our hired farm help book in hand as a toddler, much to the chagrin of these poor young men in dirty work clothes, some of whom could barely read themselves. I don't remember learning to read, but I do remember getting my first library card and the thrill of filling it & needing to renew it. And I well remember being frustrated that part of the elementary school library was off limits to scholars not yet in the lofty fifth and sixth grades. I remember the guilty pleasure of reading the books that raised eyebrows (East of Eden, after Dad said the movie was inappropriate for me when he recalled what it was about & turned off the tv, Peyton Place, for similar reasons, and The Agony & The Ecstasy, because my high school classmates thought it scandalous based on the title alone, and its overwhelming size)
I've had plenty of time to myself lately. I little too much, to be completely honest. But I have been enjoying the quiet. I'm writing more, catching up on my reading, and have tackled a few big STA (spare time activity) projects (you know, those little chores we all put off for when we have time-cleaning out closets, organizing the garage, we all have a list, don't we?) I still have more to tackle, am officially in procrastination mode again. A little free time is good, too much opens itself up to "I have time for that tomorrow."
We spent the weekend in a travel trailer in Brooks. A slice of heavenly escape for me. Not the town particularly, just the "getting away". No housework, no laundry, no tv, computer, no phone to speak of (yes, you can still reach my cell) none of the pulls of hearth and home. My boyfriend and I slept late and sat silently side by side, lost in our books all afternoon. My daughter, who does like to read but not like we do (not yet) watched a movie & begged me to play crib with her. We did, we enjoyed the movie too, family time is important. I tried to explain to her that she needs to learn to enjoy her own company, because sometimes that's all there is. A lesson lost on her. One day she'll understand. I know she will always crave company and activity, it's how she's wired, but silence and stillness is not something to be feared but embraced. In a busy, noisy, plugged in world is it any surprise people are seeking out new forms of meditation and prayer? Why exercise like yoga, that calls for one to be still, is on the rise in popularity? It is in the quiet places we hear that "still, small voice", where inspiration grows, where peace dwells?
I'm curious....if you had a day, an evening all to yourself-no kids, no spouse, no friends- to spend by yourself, on yourself, what would you do? Personally I have a list, and what I chose does depend on the mood I'm in.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Cooking With Emily
I've been thinking quite a lot lately about taking this blog in a new direction. While I am not one to change horses midstream posting poetry is not something I am finding I can do daily, or even several times a week. A friend suggested I take up multiple threads, and so I am going to give her advice a nod and give that a try. I have yet to work out all the details, please bear with me through this work in progress. I welcome your thoughts and suggestions, to my mind this should be something of a conversation between me & you, my reader.
Back in September, at the start of the school year, I decided that one day a week my ten year old daughter would make supper. She has an interest in learning to cook so this seemed a good opportunity to nurture that. I confess we have not managed every week, some weeks we are just busy, sometimes I forget....and to be honest preparing a meal myself is faster and easier.
This endeavour has had multiple benefits already though. I am learning patience, to let go of control, as well as revisiting old favourites in my kitchen. I have also had to back track and explain my short cuts and alterations. My daughter has become far more adventurous in her eating habits. She has earned bragging rights and is learning to plan ahead, read directions and to measure accurately. I still help with some of the chopping and peeling, for efficiency and safety, but she is responsible for the rest.
In that vein then Tuesday posts will be "Cooking with Emily", posts that allow me to share a kid-friendly, easy to do recipe along with my musings.
One of Emily's favourite soups is Corn Chowder. There are tons of recipes out there, and I have modified my favourite recipe along the way to make use of odds and ends. She declared on the weekend that this was what she wanted to make. I confess I had to scramble to find the actual recipe, as it is one I can make from memory. I did find it, in my ancient metal recipe box. It is faded & stained, written in my own juvenile hand. I don't know where the recipe is from any more, it was one of the earliest additions to my repertoire. Sunday evening I had Emily check the pantry for canned corn, for onions and potatoes, I knew for sure the other ingredients were on hand, but I thought we might be out of onions and potatoes. All we had were red onions, so a trip to the grocery on Monday was in order.
She eagerly set to peeling 4 fist sized potatoes. I could have done it faster, but I held my peace and left her to it. This is something of an accomplishment for me. I am pretty territorial in my kitchen, and impatient to boot. But the only way to learn some things, and to gain speed and efficiency in those tasks is to do them. I did peel the onion, when she set to attack it with the vegetable peeler. She fretted about the onion making her cry, asking me to wash it. It's not washing it so much as knowing that running an onion briefly under cold water neutralizes the fumes that make your eyes water when you chop them. I don't know why it works, but it does. Really. Sometimes the random things we read on the internet is useful.
Vegetables chopped, into the soup pot. The recipe calls for 2 cups of water, but I find that's not enough to cover the potatoes and onion, so we added enough water to do that & set it on the stove to boil. While the potatoes cooked Emily went to start her homework. I returned to my Words With Friends games, checking their progress toward tenderness occasionally.
Once the potatoes were tender Emily made a paste of 2 tablespoons of flour and 4 tablespoons of water, to thicken the soup. I explained to her that if she poured that mixture into the pot she'd have a doughy lump in the soup, and helped her spoon some hot water into the flour mixture first. While the flour cooked she opened and drained 2 cans of niblet corn, which were added next to the potatoes and onion with 2 cups of milk and 2 tablespoons of butter. While it heated through she returned to her homework. She is learning the fine art of multitasking too.
The soup was delicious. It is in fact an almost fool proof recipe, a good starter soup for a beginner chef.
Later, while I was doing dishes and she was finishing her spelling she heard me singing "That's Amore". I think the line "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" amused her, so we had to play the song, and find the lyrics. She was singing it at the top of her lungs in the shower within the hour. All of my children have be given the gift of wildly eclectic tastes in books and music and movies. I can't help but grin to think of her asking the music teacher to add that song to the playlist....I doubt she will, but a mother can dream, of children singing with crooners, and a day when I don't need to face the kitchen once a week, at least.
Corn Chowder
4 medium potatoes, peeled & chopped into bite size pieces
1 large onion, peeled & chopped
2 cups water (enough to cover vegetables)
4 tablespoons flour + 2 tablespoons water
2 cans corn (niblets) drained
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons butter
salt & pepper to taste
Place the potatoes & onion in a large pot, cover with water. Bring to a boil & simmer until potatoes are tender. Blend together flour with second amount of water until smooth. Spoon a little hot water from the pot into the mixture, then pour into the potato/onion water, stir and allow to thicken slightly. Stir in corn, milk, butter, salt & pepper. Heat through.
* I have used chicken stock to cook the potatoes and then added leftover chopped chicken to the soup with the corn & milk to make Chicken Corn Chowder.
Back in September, at the start of the school year, I decided that one day a week my ten year old daughter would make supper. She has an interest in learning to cook so this seemed a good opportunity to nurture that. I confess we have not managed every week, some weeks we are just busy, sometimes I forget....and to be honest preparing a meal myself is faster and easier.
This endeavour has had multiple benefits already though. I am learning patience, to let go of control, as well as revisiting old favourites in my kitchen. I have also had to back track and explain my short cuts and alterations. My daughter has become far more adventurous in her eating habits. She has earned bragging rights and is learning to plan ahead, read directions and to measure accurately. I still help with some of the chopping and peeling, for efficiency and safety, but she is responsible for the rest.
In that vein then Tuesday posts will be "Cooking with Emily", posts that allow me to share a kid-friendly, easy to do recipe along with my musings.
One of Emily's favourite soups is Corn Chowder. There are tons of recipes out there, and I have modified my favourite recipe along the way to make use of odds and ends. She declared on the weekend that this was what she wanted to make. I confess I had to scramble to find the actual recipe, as it is one I can make from memory. I did find it, in my ancient metal recipe box. It is faded & stained, written in my own juvenile hand. I don't know where the recipe is from any more, it was one of the earliest additions to my repertoire. Sunday evening I had Emily check the pantry for canned corn, for onions and potatoes, I knew for sure the other ingredients were on hand, but I thought we might be out of onions and potatoes. All we had were red onions, so a trip to the grocery on Monday was in order.
She eagerly set to peeling 4 fist sized potatoes. I could have done it faster, but I held my peace and left her to it. This is something of an accomplishment for me. I am pretty territorial in my kitchen, and impatient to boot. But the only way to learn some things, and to gain speed and efficiency in those tasks is to do them. I did peel the onion, when she set to attack it with the vegetable peeler. She fretted about the onion making her cry, asking me to wash it. It's not washing it so much as knowing that running an onion briefly under cold water neutralizes the fumes that make your eyes water when you chop them. I don't know why it works, but it does. Really. Sometimes the random things we read on the internet is useful.
Vegetables chopped, into the soup pot. The recipe calls for 2 cups of water, but I find that's not enough to cover the potatoes and onion, so we added enough water to do that & set it on the stove to boil. While the potatoes cooked Emily went to start her homework. I returned to my Words With Friends games, checking their progress toward tenderness occasionally.
Once the potatoes were tender Emily made a paste of 2 tablespoons of flour and 4 tablespoons of water, to thicken the soup. I explained to her that if she poured that mixture into the pot she'd have a doughy lump in the soup, and helped her spoon some hot water into the flour mixture first. While the flour cooked she opened and drained 2 cans of niblet corn, which were added next to the potatoes and onion with 2 cups of milk and 2 tablespoons of butter. While it heated through she returned to her homework. She is learning the fine art of multitasking too.
The soup was delicious. It is in fact an almost fool proof recipe, a good starter soup for a beginner chef.
Later, while I was doing dishes and she was finishing her spelling she heard me singing "That's Amore". I think the line "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" amused her, so we had to play the song, and find the lyrics. She was singing it at the top of her lungs in the shower within the hour. All of my children have be given the gift of wildly eclectic tastes in books and music and movies. I can't help but grin to think of her asking the music teacher to add that song to the playlist....I doubt she will, but a mother can dream, of children singing with crooners, and a day when I don't need to face the kitchen once a week, at least.
Corn Chowder
4 medium potatoes, peeled & chopped into bite size pieces
1 large onion, peeled & chopped
2 cups water (enough to cover vegetables)
4 tablespoons flour + 2 tablespoons water
2 cans corn (niblets) drained
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons butter
salt & pepper to taste
Place the potatoes & onion in a large pot, cover with water. Bring to a boil & simmer until potatoes are tender. Blend together flour with second amount of water until smooth. Spoon a little hot water from the pot into the mixture, then pour into the potato/onion water, stir and allow to thicken slightly. Stir in corn, milk, butter, salt & pepper. Heat through.
* I have used chicken stock to cook the potatoes and then added leftover chopped chicken to the soup with the corn & milk to make Chicken Corn Chowder.