I've been a little neglectful of late. Blame the holidays, blame my own battle with ennui, I can offer no real excuse. My head & my heart are here, my ambition fled. But I'm back, and hopefully 2015 will prove to be a better, more consistent year. I'll even provide a double header today just because. OK, I confess I intended to write up the "bonus" recipe last week, but the post-Christmas blahs knocked the legs out from under me. It's been a busy and emotional couple of weeks.
Monday morning Emily pulled out her cookbooks and found a couple of recipes she wanted to try; Silver Dollar Sausage Patties and Ginger-spiced Carrot Soup. I had no desire to go to the store (we we low on carrots) so I rummaged through the deep freeze and found a package of ground chicken. The recipe actually called for ground turkey, but hey, poultry is poultry. Unfortunately by the time we got home Monday evening it was late and I decreed it to be a "whatever's in the fridge" night. Spending an extra hour having coffee with my friend is more important than a proper meal sometimes. Scratch that. MOST times...if not all the time. Cup of Soup & grilled cheese sandwiches saved the day, and Emily's cooking night was quietly shifted to Tuesday as school holidays mean her Tuesday night activities are also on hiatus.
It was just as well she was on kitchen duty. I spent most of the day on the couch, feeling like a horse had kicked me in the chest and had no appetite or desire to cook. It would have been another grilled cheese night. Anyway....
Emily was somewhat disappointed that I had thawed out chicken instead of getting her the soup ingredients, but dove in with enthusiasm when I assured her we could do the soup next week.
She unwrapped the ground chicken and put it in a mixing bowl while I peeled 3 cloves of garlic for her. She had a little trouble with the garlic press, her hands aren't quite strong enough yet, so I helped with that and found the cumin for her.
Stirring the mixture together was something of a challenge until I suggested she don a pair of latex gloves. (I would have just dove in bare hands, but....) I have a box of the gloves that I bought so save my hands when I made jalapeño poppers last year. They do have their uses to be sure.
Once the meat was well mixed with its seasonings. Thankfully I caught her before she stirred in 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt, having mis-read 1/2 a teaspoon & not realizing that was a LOT of salt.
She laughed at the instruction "Cover and refrigerate for one hour to let the flavours mingle. Or you can cook it immediately, if you're very hungry". The things that amuse us!
We got the rice going, and after several forays into the cupboard she finally found my biggest skillet. She has a couple smaller ones, but she would have had to cook her patties in stages.
She decided to try the gloves for making the 2" patties, but they are too big for her hands, so I suggested it might go easier if she just washed her hands well and got to it.
Despite my still queasy stomach dinner was good. As I was cleaning up after supper I noticed the recipe was from the "Morning Food" section of the cookbook, but the little burgers were just as good with a side of rice & steamed peas as they would be with eggs & toast. I topped mine with a dollop of spicy Thai chili sauce, Emily used barbeque sauce.
The recipe is from a book she got for Christmas last year; "Kids Cook 1-2-3" The recipes are designed for beginner chefs & all only have 3 ingredients, barring things like salt, pepper & other basics.
Silver Dollar Sausage Patties
12 ounces ground turkey (we used chicken, because that's what we had)
3 small garlic cloves
2 teaspoons cumin.
Combine ground turkey, garlic, pressed through a garlic press, and cumin, along with a 1/2 teaspoon salt & a 1/4 teaspoon pepper.
Cover & chill for an hour, (or not, if you are hungry!)
Shape the meat into 12 small patties, about 2" across. Cook in a non-stick skillet until browned on both sides, about 2 minutes a side.
And now for your "bonus" recipe.
This recipe, Harvest Pork & Apple Pie" is one I found several years ago in a magazine, I think. It is one of my favourites, personally I enjoy the leftovers for breakfast as much as for lunch. I made it this year as my contribution to Christmas Eve supper at my mother's house, which is just the precursor to the feast to follow on Christmas day. We try to make dishes that won't create a lot of leftovers or that will get eaten later on that night as the boys (now young men, the first lot of grandchildren) decide they need a midnight snack.
I usually only make one at a time, but this year I made 3 - mostly since the recipe on the Tenderflake package was for 6 pie crusts (3 2 crust pies) We needed at least 2 for supper, so I figured I'd go for broke. The recipe below though is for a single pie.
2 pie shells 1/2 teaspoon ground sage (I use several fresh leaves, chopped up)
1 pound ground pork 1/8 teaspoon cayenne
1 stalk celery, chopped 2 medium, tart apples, peeled & sliced
1 medium onion, chopped 2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup fine, dry bread crumbs 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 cup chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 400F. Brown pork, celery & onion. (I have added a finely chopped carrot too, or instead, since celery disagrees with Peter). Drain off the fat, stir in bread crumbs, chicken broth, salt, sage and cayenne.
Pour this mixture into a prepared pie shell.
Combine apples (Granny Smiths are my favourite) sugar and allspice, spoon over meat.
Top with second crust, seal & vent. Brush with a little milk (I usually forget this step)
Bake 35-40 minutes. Let stand about 10 minutes before serving.
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
The View From Here
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Cooking With Emily
Cooking with a ten year old is always an adventure. Cooking with one who wants to learn, but thinks she knows what she is doing is a special kind of adventure. Why do I do this to myself on Monday nights, when Mondays are filled with their own stresses? I like to experiment on the weekends, and often my chef trainee is off visiting her dad. I considered the week before I picked a day...Tuesdays are busy, Thursday is wine with the dayhome moms, so often supper is late (hey, a girl needs to unwind & vent a little every now & then!) and by Friday I just don't have the energy.
We were half way to organized this week, Emily chose a chicken dish out of one of her own cookbooks (Kids Cook 1-2-3) and I made sure we had chicken thawed. Then we got home Monday evening & I re-read the recipe. I knew it was supposed to bake for 90 minutes, but, I had neglected to note the 30 minute (to overnight) marinating process. I guess my trainee isn't the only one who needs to read & re-read the recipe!
We quickly began skimming through cook books....solo I would have done a quick bread crumb coating and baked the bird, but there's not much learning there. I flipped through the always reliable Company's Coming (Healthy Recipe Makeover) and found something that looked like it would be an adequate replacement recipe. Thankfully Emily agreed.
I set her to measuring out the several ingredients for the milk & egg dip while I measured Rice Krispies and sesame seeds into the blender for the crumb coating. I was short on sesame seeds (note to self- put them on the grocery list that you will leave on your desk) so I substituted with flax seeds. The recipe called for an egg white, but I told Emily to use the whole egg (we'll deal with separating them another day, when it actually matters) and showed her an easy substitution for buttermilk by adding a splash of lemon juice to regular milk. She thought that was gross. She also made me measure in the Dijon mustard, because it smelled funny. To save cooking time I quickly de-boned the chicken breasts I had thawed, putting the bones into a pot to simmer to make soup another day.
While Emily dipped and dredged and coated I asked her what she wanted for a side dish"Perogies" was her definite reply. Surprisingly we had a few buried in the freezer and I glanced at the back of the package to see if there was a fast way to prepare them. Baked in the oven? With the chicken? Perfect. Emily put her chicken into the oven & brushed the frozen perogies with olive oil. I had beets in the fridge that needed to be cooked so I sauted them, putting together a bowl of carrot & celery sticks with raw broccoli for Emily, since she has yet to appreciate crisp, buttery, sweet beets....more for me that way.
Thinking on one's feet is an important skill, in the kitchen and in life. Sometimes things don't work out the way we planned, sometimes we don't have all the ingredients we need and have to make do with what we do have on hand. Story of my life...."Let's just make this work". Learning to be flexible and to rethink things is a skill I hope I am teaching. Those of us who cannot bend and flex a little are bound to be broken by life's storms. And tolerance and compassion should not be taken for blind acceptance....but there I go, off on a tangent. The lesson learned in the kitchen today was a corollary of the old saw "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or make gin & tonic)", "when the clock starts ticking, re-assess your plan".
Dinner was very good. The chicken was not as crispy as I would have liked, and like a true chef Emily was concerned it didn't taste good when I added a little drizzle of Siracha to my piece. It was fine, but I thought it needed something. Next go-round I'd add some zing to the crumb coating. And the discovery that perogies could be baked was a revelation. I prefer them boiled then fried, but that's 2 pans to wash and somewhat time consuming.
We were half way to organized this week, Emily chose a chicken dish out of one of her own cookbooks (Kids Cook 1-2-3) and I made sure we had chicken thawed. Then we got home Monday evening & I re-read the recipe. I knew it was supposed to bake for 90 minutes, but, I had neglected to note the 30 minute (to overnight) marinating process. I guess my trainee isn't the only one who needs to read & re-read the recipe!
We quickly began skimming through cook books....solo I would have done a quick bread crumb coating and baked the bird, but there's not much learning there. I flipped through the always reliable Company's Coming (Healthy Recipe Makeover) and found something that looked like it would be an adequate replacement recipe. Thankfully Emily agreed.
I set her to measuring out the several ingredients for the milk & egg dip while I measured Rice Krispies and sesame seeds into the blender for the crumb coating. I was short on sesame seeds (note to self- put them on the grocery list that you will leave on your desk) so I substituted with flax seeds. The recipe called for an egg white, but I told Emily to use the whole egg (we'll deal with separating them another day, when it actually matters) and showed her an easy substitution for buttermilk by adding a splash of lemon juice to regular milk. She thought that was gross. She also made me measure in the Dijon mustard, because it smelled funny. To save cooking time I quickly de-boned the chicken breasts I had thawed, putting the bones into a pot to simmer to make soup another day.
While Emily dipped and dredged and coated I asked her what she wanted for a side dish"Perogies" was her definite reply. Surprisingly we had a few buried in the freezer and I glanced at the back of the package to see if there was a fast way to prepare them. Baked in the oven? With the chicken? Perfect. Emily put her chicken into the oven & brushed the frozen perogies with olive oil. I had beets in the fridge that needed to be cooked so I sauted them, putting together a bowl of carrot & celery sticks with raw broccoli for Emily, since she has yet to appreciate crisp, buttery, sweet beets....more for me that way.
Thinking on one's feet is an important skill, in the kitchen and in life. Sometimes things don't work out the way we planned, sometimes we don't have all the ingredients we need and have to make do with what we do have on hand. Story of my life...."Let's just make this work". Learning to be flexible and to rethink things is a skill I hope I am teaching. Those of us who cannot bend and flex a little are bound to be broken by life's storms. And tolerance and compassion should not be taken for blind acceptance....but there I go, off on a tangent. The lesson learned in the kitchen today was a corollary of the old saw "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or make gin & tonic)", "when the clock starts ticking, re-assess your plan".
Dinner was very good. The chicken was not as crispy as I would have liked, and like a true chef Emily was concerned it didn't taste good when I added a little drizzle of Siracha to my piece. It was fine, but I thought it needed something. Next go-round I'd add some zing to the crumb coating. And the discovery that perogies could be baked was a revelation. I prefer them boiled then fried, but that's 2 pans to wash and somewhat time consuming.
Oven Fried Chicken
4 cups crisp rice cereal * 1/4 teaspoon paprika
2 tablespoons sesame seeds 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 egg white, beaten 1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/3 cup buttermilk 6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard 3 tablespoons corn starch
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
Process cereal & sesame seeds in a food processer until mixture resembles coarse crumbs (* we had lots of this mixture left over, I think you could get away with 3-3 1/2 cups of cereal. Then again, we only used 4 breasts too, so...)
Whisk together egg, buttermilk, Dijon, garlic powder, paprika, salt & pepper.
Dredge the chicken into the corn starch, shake off excess, dip into buttermilk mixture and then press into cereal mixture until well coated. Place on a greased, foil lined baking sheet.
Bake at 425F for about 30 minutes, until golden.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Breath Again
Behind closed eyes
flashing, glorious light
achingly beautiful,
beyond my poor words
a fleeting dreamscape just beyond my
reach
Opened
only
thieving velvet dark
thieving velvet dark
suffocating, deafening,
stunning
I strain once more to breath
in the encompassing
lightless,
limitless,
breathless dark
limitless,
breathless dark
and there,
just there
a spark
One tiny glimmer
one lonely candle flicker
shatters the dark
Silence lifts, song begins anew
and the whisper of your voice cuts
through the black
my heart begins again
And I gasp,
hope opens my lungs to breath again
I've been struggling lately. There is much to do, and big dreams to chase, but I cannot rouse the ambition for most of it. I wish I could say why. At least then I could do battle against that and see some kind of forward momentum. This is more of an insidious ennui. I would not go so far as to say I am bored...more like I am tired. Not sleep deprived, just weary. Maybe it's the season. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas-every last strand of tinsel, but there is something in the forced gaiety, the temporary "goodwill toward men" that will soon be forgotten (largely, thankfully I know many people who hold the spirit of Christmas throughout the year) that underlines my solitude and my personal struggles. But, honestly that's not quite it either. I am an introvert, a check every box on the list, dyed in the wool, introvert. I embrace my solitude most of the time. I am likely to turn down most invitations...but having an invitation to turn down might be nice.
I'm grasping at straws to explain how I'm feeling, but there is no easy answer. It is what it is. Soon enough, in God's good timing the clouds will part and I will feel better, more hopeful.
I'm grasping at straws to explain how I'm feeling, but there is no easy answer. It is what it is. Soon enough, in God's good timing the clouds will part and I will feel better, more hopeful.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Cooking With Emily
Let's try this again, shall we? I'm not entirely sure where all my ambition has gone, but gone it is. A chinook has brought a lovely reprieve from winter and I still only want to curl up with blankets and books and let the world go on without me for a while.
Once again Monday came too soon, spoiling the languor of a weekend of no commitments, and opening a week overflowing with them, as Christmas fast approaches. Thankfully my shopping is done, my tree is trimmed & I long ago gave up Christmas baking. Still there are school concerts and food bank drives, and life as usual.
I neglected to ask Emily what her plans for dinner were in the Monday morning chaos, and just took out a package of pork chops to thaw. Several hours into the morning I remembered it WAS her night to cook and I took a few minutes to run through a handful of recipes to try to find something she could tackle & enjoy making. In a Back to School issue of a cooking magazine (Taste of Home) I found one that I knew would appeal since root beer was a key ingredient..
Of course when I picked her up she had concocted some idea in her head, and when I told her I had pork chops thawed she amended her idea to become "pork chop stew". Not a terrible idea, but rather formless, which is not a good place for a beginner chef. She warmed to my idea when I explained about the root beer, as I knew she would....especially since she could drink the unused portion of the bottle I had purchased.
The recipe called for a pound and a half of small red potatoes. She was unsure how much that was, so I handed her 5 potatoes about the size of her fist. She had the peeler out, but this recipe left the skin on (a bonus to my mind! No tedious peeling!) We cut them in half (quartered the larger ones) and set them in a pot to boil.
Next came the fun part for a kid-pouring and mixing. She stirred together 1 cup of root beer, 1 cup of ketchup, a tablespoon of brown sugar, 2 teaspoons of chili powder and 2 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce. The recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder but I prefer real garlic, so I minced a clove for her. Ever the aesthetic critic Emily said the mixture looked weird, but I urged her to trust me.
Into a large ziploc bag she measured 2 tablespoons of flour, 1/2 a teaspoon of pepper & 1/4 teaspoon of salt. In went the chops, one at a time, to be coated by shaking.
I had already begun to heat a couple tablespoons of oil in my favourite large skillet, and she placed the chops gently into the pan to brown. Once the pork chops were browned (2-3 minutes a side) Emily poured her root beer/ketchup mixture into the pan. Once it started to boil she reduced the heat, covered the pan & let the sauce simmer until the chops were done. (6-8 minutes, but ours were thick & still partly frozen, so we simmered closer to 10 minutes)
By now the potatoes were tender so I drained them for her, and coarsely mashed them with 2 tablespoons of butter, salt & pepper. Again, the recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder, which I replaced by tossing a couple of cloves into the water with the potatoes.
While things were simmering away, against my advice, Emily spread her spelling homework across the kitchen floor. Thankfully there was no evidence of cooking on the pages while we discussed antonyms for words associated with space travel. Soon I heard complaints of hunger and then delight when the timer beeped. She was disappointed there was still one more step...will I ever convince her to actually read a recipe all the way through first?
I lifted the chops from the sauce to a plate, covering it with my biggest stainless steel mixing bowl to keep them warm, and turned up the heat to reduce the sauce. While I stirred Emily opened a can of corn (I would have gone with a green vegetable, like broccoli, but "we haven't had corn for a long time!") and put it in a dish to heat in the microwave..
Finally dinner was done. It was a hit, enough so there was no arguing about finishing dinner, and when I went back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers I had a request for a plate to be made for her school lunch the next day.
I suppose the day is coming when I should vacate the kitchen entirely when Emily cooks. And I can (and do) when she tackles chocolate chip cookies and French toast). It is hard not to take over. But we spent time together, and she learned about substituting real garlic for powder and what "reducing" a sauce means.
Soda Pop Chops with Smashed Potatoes
1 1/2 lbs small red potatoes, halved
1 cup of root beer
1 cup of ketchup
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1 small clove, minced)
2 tablespoons flour
salt & pepper
4 pork loin chops
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1-2 cloves cooked with the potatoes)
Place the potatoes in a large sauce pan, cover with water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & cook until tender (15-20 minutes)
In a small bowl combine root beer, ketchup, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce & garlic. Set aside.
In a large resealable bag combine flour with 1/2 teaspoon pepper & 1/4 teaspoon salt. Add pork chops, one at a time, shake to coat.
In a large skillet heat oil & cook chops over medium heat, 2-3 minutes per side, until lightly browned, Drain excess fat. Add root beer mixture, bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & simmer 6-8 minutes, until chops are done (145 F) Remove pork & keep warm. Let stand about 5 minutes before serving.
Bring the sauce to a boil , cook until reduced by half. Meanwhile drain potatoes, mash with butter, salt & pepper. (Incidentally the sauce is pretty good on the potatoes too...)
Once again Monday came too soon, spoiling the languor of a weekend of no commitments, and opening a week overflowing with them, as Christmas fast approaches. Thankfully my shopping is done, my tree is trimmed & I long ago gave up Christmas baking. Still there are school concerts and food bank drives, and life as usual.
I neglected to ask Emily what her plans for dinner were in the Monday morning chaos, and just took out a package of pork chops to thaw. Several hours into the morning I remembered it WAS her night to cook and I took a few minutes to run through a handful of recipes to try to find something she could tackle & enjoy making. In a Back to School issue of a cooking magazine (Taste of Home) I found one that I knew would appeal since root beer was a key ingredient..
Of course when I picked her up she had concocted some idea in her head, and when I told her I had pork chops thawed she amended her idea to become "pork chop stew". Not a terrible idea, but rather formless, which is not a good place for a beginner chef. She warmed to my idea when I explained about the root beer, as I knew she would....especially since she could drink the unused portion of the bottle I had purchased.
The recipe called for a pound and a half of small red potatoes. She was unsure how much that was, so I handed her 5 potatoes about the size of her fist. She had the peeler out, but this recipe left the skin on (a bonus to my mind! No tedious peeling!) We cut them in half (quartered the larger ones) and set them in a pot to boil.
Next came the fun part for a kid-pouring and mixing. She stirred together 1 cup of root beer, 1 cup of ketchup, a tablespoon of brown sugar, 2 teaspoons of chili powder and 2 teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce. The recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder but I prefer real garlic, so I minced a clove for her. Ever the aesthetic critic Emily said the mixture looked weird, but I urged her to trust me.
Into a large ziploc bag she measured 2 tablespoons of flour, 1/2 a teaspoon of pepper & 1/4 teaspoon of salt. In went the chops, one at a time, to be coated by shaking.
I had already begun to heat a couple tablespoons of oil in my favourite large skillet, and she placed the chops gently into the pan to brown. Once the pork chops were browned (2-3 minutes a side) Emily poured her root beer/ketchup mixture into the pan. Once it started to boil she reduced the heat, covered the pan & let the sauce simmer until the chops were done. (6-8 minutes, but ours were thick & still partly frozen, so we simmered closer to 10 minutes)
By now the potatoes were tender so I drained them for her, and coarsely mashed them with 2 tablespoons of butter, salt & pepper. Again, the recipe called for 1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder, which I replaced by tossing a couple of cloves into the water with the potatoes.
While things were simmering away, against my advice, Emily spread her spelling homework across the kitchen floor. Thankfully there was no evidence of cooking on the pages while we discussed antonyms for words associated with space travel. Soon I heard complaints of hunger and then delight when the timer beeped. She was disappointed there was still one more step...will I ever convince her to actually read a recipe all the way through first?
I lifted the chops from the sauce to a plate, covering it with my biggest stainless steel mixing bowl to keep them warm, and turned up the heat to reduce the sauce. While I stirred Emily opened a can of corn (I would have gone with a green vegetable, like broccoli, but "we haven't had corn for a long time!") and put it in a dish to heat in the microwave..
Finally dinner was done. It was a hit, enough so there was no arguing about finishing dinner, and when I went back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers I had a request for a plate to be made for her school lunch the next day.
I suppose the day is coming when I should vacate the kitchen entirely when Emily cooks. And I can (and do) when she tackles chocolate chip cookies and French toast). It is hard not to take over. But we spent time together, and she learned about substituting real garlic for powder and what "reducing" a sauce means.
Soda Pop Chops with Smashed Potatoes
1 1/2 lbs small red potatoes, halved
1 cup of root beer
1 cup of ketchup
1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1 small clove, minced)
2 tablespoons flour
salt & pepper
4 pork loin chops
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1-2 cloves cooked with the potatoes)
Place the potatoes in a large sauce pan, cover with water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & cook until tender (15-20 minutes)
In a small bowl combine root beer, ketchup, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce & garlic. Set aside.
In a large resealable bag combine flour with 1/2 teaspoon pepper & 1/4 teaspoon salt. Add pork chops, one at a time, shake to coat.
In a large skillet heat oil & cook chops over medium heat, 2-3 minutes per side, until lightly browned, Drain excess fat. Add root beer mixture, bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover & simmer 6-8 minutes, until chops are done (145 F) Remove pork & keep warm. Let stand about 5 minutes before serving.
Bring the sauce to a boil , cook until reduced by half. Meanwhile drain potatoes, mash with butter, salt & pepper. (Incidentally the sauce is pretty good on the potatoes too...)
Thursday, November 27, 2014
A Day to Myself
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.
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.
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.
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