The Misadventures of Mrs. B

No One's Home!

2011-02-23T06:30:00.000-05:00

I've packed my bags and moved out!

Please come visit my at my NEW Wordpress site, friends!

Don't Say I Didn't Tell You...

2011-02-21T11:50:00.000-05:00

Hey, friends!

Guess what? My new site is just about ready to go! Woot!

Within the next few days I'll be giving you the word to come on over, and I really hope you do.

Exciting! (for me, at least...)

The Red Dress Club: Until Someday Comes

2011-02-18T10:25:00.004-05:00

Another post focused on writing instead of food! Weird, huh? Today I'm happy to once again be participating in The Red Dress Club's weekly writing meme. Thanks for all of the wonderful responses last week - I wasn't as "social" as I would have liked to be, but that's because we were out of town. This weekend watch out - I'm gonna be all up in y'all's business.

Today's prompt: Write about finding a lost article of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet. How was it found, what is it, why is it so meaningful?

Saturday. Laundry day. I find it easiest to just barrel through as fast as I can, single-minded, before inertia sets in and I “discover” a movie on TV that I’ve seen a million times but need to watch just…once…more. Before you know it hours have passed and I’ve sat through yet another “Rocky” marathon with nothing but an overflowing hamper to show for it. Gotta stay focused.

I finish matching up what seems like a million pairs of socks and open the drawer to dump them in when I see it. A small lump of light blue fabric in the back corner. How long has it been there? Months? Years? I don’t even remember exactly when it ended up in my possession, but I’ve kept it all this time.

I reach for it and pull it out, smiling sheepishly to myself. Yes, now I remember. I’d been visiting one of my oldest friends, a girl I’d gone through high school with. She was the first of my girlfriends from that time of my life to have a baby. Talk about a shock – seeing the girl you giggled with late into the night, who you sat around and dreamed up your fantasy wedding with and swooned over Antonio Banderas with (you know, back when he was still hot) now sporting a baby on her shoulder and spit-up stains down her back.

At the time of my visit she had recently given birth to her second little boy. Little guy #1 was running around with the sort of boundless energy all toddlers have and I was playing games with him. The big event that afternoon was “hiding” an article in plain view for him to “find” it and return it to me. Amazing how the simplest games can entertain a child for hours.

When I got home that night I was searching for something in my purse and I found it. A little present my buddy had given me. I'd left my bag sitting wide open on the floor and he’d evidently gotten it into his head to hide something for me to find but then forgot all about it. A tiny pair of his baby brother’s socks.

A few years later I examine those socks once again. So small. I hold them up to my nose and breathe deep. They still have that glorious scent of extra gentle detergent – fainter now, but there nonetheless. I run my thumb over the unfathomably soft cotton and I smile to myself.

Why did I keep them? Why did I tuck them safely into the back of my own sock drawer and never tell a soul about them, not even my husband? I don’t know for sure.

Okay, that’s a lie. My heart knows better. I told myself that I was saving them for “someday”. For the day my own little baby would need them. Until then they would stay a secret, an ever-present symbol of my heart’s desire. I had forgotten about their existence but not about what they stood for.

For now I will put my little treasure back in its place and shut the drawer. There it will stay until someday comes.

Thanks for reading! Any and all constructive criticism is welcome. For the record, the specifics of the story are fictional - the only socks in my drawer are mine (well, maybe there's a pair of my husband's in there, too...).

Writer's Workshop: A Vacation to Remember

2011-02-17T11:40:00.002-05:00

Prompt #1: A Vacation to Remember

Rumspringa is a Pennsylvania German term which means "running around", and it is used to describe a period of time for Amish youth from the age of 16 until they decide to be baptized into the Amish church or to leave the church and the Amish way of life forever. During this time, the teenagers can pretty much do whatever they want in order to ensure that when they decide to become baptized, they are making the most informed decision possible.

Recently we watched a documentary entitled "The Devil's Playground" which told the stories of several such teens and their experiences. It's fascinating and at times downright shocking to see what some of these kids will get into during their "time off".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This past weekend, Rob and I took a short trip to Amish country and stayed at a bed & breakfast just outside of Lancaster, PA.

It was a fantastic mini-vacation. We relaxed for the sake of relaxing. On Saturday we actually took a nap. Yes. A nap. For, like, 3 hours. Because we could. That's one thing we never feel like we can attempt when we go to Disneyworld, for sure - everything's scheduled, there's always something more to do, you can maybe take a quick snooze if you play your cards right. But in Amish country? Zzzzz....Bliss.

We had some really important, probing conversations, such as "What would happen if the government banned all fast food restaurants?". We discovered a quaint little place called "Pancake Farm" and wondered if they, in fact, grew pancakes there. Alas, we never found out, since they are closed on Sunday.

Most importantly, we did something we hadn't done in a while. We did it again and again throughout the entire weekend. Seriously, we were unstoppable.

We laughed.

We laughed at everything. We were silly, we were goofy. Everything was funny to us.

One of our biggest running jokes focused on rumspringa. We decided that we would just wreak havoc all over the place and shout "Ruuuuumspringaaaa!" at the top of our lungs while doing so. And we came up with all sorts of crazy scenarios that sent us into fits of hysterical laughter.

Oh, did I rear-end you because you cut me off in the parking lot? Rumspringa!

Did I tell you off because you're being all chatty and annoying while I'm trying to eat breakfast which you forced me to get out of bed at 8 AM for, B&B owner? Rumspringa!

Did I punch your lights out for walking back and forth, repeatedly, in the room above me? On a hardwood floor? Wearing heels? At 7:00 in the morning? Rumspringa!

I think we even decided to legally change our last name to Rumspringa.

And no. We hadn't touched a drop. It was just one of those magical times when you're drunk on laughter and silliness and the simple joy of being together.

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We were at my favorite Amish smorgasbord on Saturday night. I love the place. It is Heaven to me. Simple, homecooked food prepared expertly by people who know how to fry a piece of chicken. If I could marry a restaurant, this would be the place.

The only drawback for me is sharing a long table with a bunch of strangers, as the food is served family-style on big platters. I don't mind eating with my entire family or a big group of friends. It's when I have to sit with strangers that I feel uncomfortable. And besides, who wants to look like a pig at one of these places? My family and friends already know I'm a pig...er...enthusiastic over good food. But here, we all have to "share" and "be polite". Psssh.

Anyway, we were seated first and wondered who we would be sharing our table with. Soon another couple joined us. And I knew from the get-go, just by hearing the way the wife talked about their numerous past experiences here, that they could very well foil my plans for gluttonous overindulgence. I didn't want to have to break any fingers in pursuit of that extra slice of pie (seriously, I am so hardcore - I only eat there, like, once every 3 or 4 years).

In my distress, I texted Rob from across the table. Throwdown

His reply? RUMSPRINGA!!!!

Oh, homemade bread and apple butter. You complete me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rob pointed out something to me last night. Evidently our trip made a lasting impression with him and he's been thinking back on it quite a bit.

To him, it symbolized that apart from all the stress we've been through in the past year, all the depression and anxiety and general insanity we've weathered...we still have "It". It's still there. We may not be able to tap into it as much as we would like, but the reason we're together in the first place stands strong.

We were able to shed all of that excess baggage for a couple of days and get back to the basics of our marriage and our friendship. We cut loose. We lived without a schedule. We overate (<-- understatement) and threw all caution to the wind. And then we went back to our "real life" together, with a fresh point of view and the determination to tap into that silly side of ourselves more often.

It was a very important mini-vacation.

It was our rumspringa.

A Few of My Favorite Foodies!

2011-02-15T12:13:00.001-05:00

There comes a time in any blogger's life when she feels as though she needs to give a shout-out to the bloggers who inspire her.

This is one of those times.

I follow a lot of foodies. A lot. A whole lot. I also follow many people who don't focus exclusively on food but whose recipes, photography, and general attitude towards the craft of creating good food inspire me.

Paula at Bell'Alimento is one of those bloggers. I pester her constantly. I'm always calling her names like "temptress". I complain that she's leading me down dark roads, what with her drool-worthy photos of delectable dishes. As if that wasn't enough, she now has an entire site dedicated to her obsession with Nutella (seriously, don't click on that if you're on a diet). Paula, I love you, you're a sweetheart, but you're killing me. Just so ya know.

Another such fantastic blogger is Katie over at This Chick Cooks. I first noticed Katie when we linked to a lot of the same foodie blog parties - I was always stumbling across her lovely photos, her delicious looking recipes, and was always impressed. Finally it occured to me that - duh - I should just become a follower of her blog so I could keep up with the craziness - she's a very prolific blogger with lots of awesome looking goodies, and I wouldn't want to miss one.

Then there's Kristan of Confessions of a Cookbook Queen - another blogger I pester. Not only does she create some of the most outrageous bits of heaven I've ever laid eyes on (not to mention crazy stuff like Angry Birds cupcakes), but she's completely hysterical to boot. It's much easier for me to not die of jealousy over someone else's talent when they're funny and relatable. Kristan manages this quite well.

Alissa over at 33 Shades of Green isn't exclusively a food blogger, but I've had the pleasure of linking up with her Tasty Tuesdays blog hop and let me tell you, this girl can cook and photograph up a storm. She's also a crafty gal, which I envy the heck out of. Visiting her blog is a delight and an inspiration every single time.

There you have it. Just a small handful of my favorite food gals. Who are your favorite bloggers?

Bacon Brussels Sprouts

2011-02-14T21:53:00.008-05:00

If there was one vegetable I hated as a kid, it was Brussels sprouts.

Wow. It's like I just heard dozens of people saying "Duh" at the same time.

Okay. I know I wasn't alone in this hatred. Lucky for me, we rarely ate them. Still, the few times we did have left me scarred for life. Boiled beyond recognition, puke green in color, bearing a faint odor of...well, stank...they were not exactly favored fare.

And it stayed this way. Until recently.

It was only recently that I learned that Brussels sprouts don't have to be disgusting. They don't have to be overcooked to the point of mush. They can be infused with flavor.

Bacon flavor. Yes, friends, I was sold.

I wound up using Paula Deen's Brussels sprouts recipe as a starting point, and made my own alterations as I saw fit. You know me - I always have to edit a recipe to my own liking. I didn't see a reason to cook 2 pounds at once since I knew I'd be the only one eating them, and I changed the preparation instructions a bit as well. For instance I knew, having received advice from some wise bloggers, that allowing the cut sides to sit in the bacon fat and carmelize would be the way to go. I removed the onions/garlic from the pan prior to adding the sprouts in order to increase the surface area and decrease the chance of dealing with stinky burned garlic. And it just seemed right to me to leave the sprouts in the pan after the broth evaporated in order to sort of re-brown them.

1 lb fresh brussels sprouts, ends trimmed and sprouts sliced in half lengthwise

1/4 pound bacon, diced (around 5-6 slices, or more if you're a glutton like me)

2 shallots, minced

1 clove garlic, minced

1 cup chicken broth

2 tbs butter

Heat large frying pan over medium high heat. Add bacon and cook until crisp. Remove bacon using slotted spoon, leaving rendered fat in pan. Set bacon aside.

Reduce heat to medium. Add shallots and garlic and cook for around a minute, stirring frequently to prevent burning. Remove with slotted spoon and set aside.

Add sprouts to pan. Turn all cut side-down so as to allow carmelization. Cook for several minutes, checking periodically to ensure proper browning without burning. When sprouts have carmelized, add onions and garlic back to pan and pour chicken broth over top. Allow broth to cook down completely, leaving pan uncovered, and occasionally move sprouts around to ensure even cooking.

Once liquid is evaporated, allow sprouts to sit cut side-down again for several minutes in order to encourage further browning. Add butter, and plenty of salt and pepper. Stir gently to combine. Remove from heat and serve with bacon pieces on top.

And that's it, friends. So simple and yet so good. The carmelization is marvelous, and I really believe that allowing the cooked sprouts to brown again added another level of flavor.

Plus. Bacon. Yeah. Suffice it to say I sat there and picked at these babies the entire time I was taking pictures of them. Then I ate them all week long. And it was amazing. I think I'll add more shallots next time, or just regular onions.

Make this dish. I promise you, if you aren't already a Brussels sprouts convert, you will be. And you'll wonder how you managed to spend so much time away from them.

Were you forced to eat Brussels sprouts as a kid? Do you think you'd enjoy them more if prepared this way?

Sharing with All the Small Stuff, Fudge Ripple, Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, 33 Shades of Green, Miz Helen's Country Cottage, Designs by Gollum, Simply Sweet Home & Tidy Mom - stop by and see what's going on with all the other talented bloggers who link up there!

Red Writing Hood: The Love of My Life

2011-02-11T09:28:00.000-05:00

I'm happy to be linking up for the first time this week with The Red Dress Club! Squeal!

This week's prompt involved starting the submission with "I could never have imagined" and ending with "Then the world shifted". I would love any comments and any constructive criticism, and am looking forward to visiting the other participants. Thanks!

I could never have imagined that I would meet the love of my life on Craigslist.

Yes. Craigslist.

It wasn’t the sort of ad through which men and women usually meet on that site. There were no come on’s, no propositions. Just a girl writing an ad, venting about the shallowness of the men she had met to that point and laying it all on the line for anyone who cared to read it, and a boy who found that ad and felt compelled to respond.

Out of all of the replies I got that day, his in particular stood out. He had clearly put a lot of thought into it. Hell, he could spell and knew how to put a sentence together. That alone put him ahead of the pack. But it was more than that. As I read I became increasingly interested in getting to know him. I laughed out loud once or twice. He had a dry sense of humor while at the same time an openness, a friendliness. He seemed eager to hear back from me. So he did.

Two days later he told me he would happen to be in my area that night with a couple of his friends, and asked if I would like to meet up with them. My exact words were, “I’m in a what-the-hell kind of mood, so why not?”.

I have to admit that it wasn’t an instant love connection. I later found out that up to that evening, he had habitually driven himself crazy getting ready to meet a girl for the first time, only to be disappointed time and again. This time he decided to play it cool to the point of underdressing. So no, I wasn’t exactly bowled over.

Over the next month we emailed back and forth several times a day, and I’ve saved every single one of those precious messages. Sometimes when I’m having a bad day I go back through them and laugh over those early days, the delicate getting-to-know-you dance we performed together. I was still unsure – this was completely new territory for me, and as much as I wanted to be a part of a relationship, there was something to be said for the comfort of knowing what to expect from life. Change is scary.

Still, a month after our first meeting we went on an actual date. After dinner we spent a lot of time talking in the car, as he drove in circles trying to find a parking spot in my hectic neighborhood. Finally, after 45 minutes or so, he decided to give up – he was working on Saturdays at that time and had to be in early the next morning. Wouldn’t know you it, though, that as soon as he decided to simply drop me off, a spot opened up almost directly outside the door leading up to my apartment? Fate’s a funny thing.

There we stood, in that crucial moment. I remember how my heart raced, wondering how this would turn out, not knowing what to do. My palms were sweaty.

Something had changed that evening. He was prepared this time, he was on his game. That plus the deepening of our friendship over the several weeks prior sparked something in me.

After a minute or two of small talk, I knew that it would be up to me to take matters into my own hands. And so I took a deep breath and went in for the kill. Right there in the dingy entryway of my dingy apartment building. Our first kiss.

Then the whole world shifted.

Fried Pickles

2011-02-09T23:24:00.006-05:00

The funniest things happen when you're on Twitter.

Just the other night I was on there, and somehow the topic of Sonic was brought up and the fact that I've never been to one (no, I haven't. A moment of silence, please). And either Shell or Kim brought up the fried pickles they sell. I think it was Kim. Shell was too busy taunting me with cherry limeade or whatever it is that I've never drank but which is supposedly the nectar of the gods or something but I'm not bitter or anything.

Jealousy aside, my curiosity was piqued. Fried pickles, you say?

I knew we had to be together, fried pickles and I. It was meant to be.

So I started looking through recipes for fried pickles and found one that I liked on AllRecipes.com - or rather, in the comments section (the first comment). Battering sounded to me like the way to go. So that's what I did. Of course I made my own alterations to the ingredient list - don't I always?

They weren't the prettiest things I've ever created but boy were they delicious. So delicious, in fact, that I ate...almost all of them over the course of the day. In other news, I never want to see another fried pickle again.

At least, not until I forget how sick I felt afterwards.

Fried Pickles

2 eggs

1 cup milk

1/2 teaspoon hot pepper sauce

3/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon garlic powder

2 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 jar dill pickles (I used 24 oz, you could use more)

1 cup vegetable oil for deep frying (Or more - I made sure I had 2 -3 inches of oil in the pan)

Salt and pepper to taste

Pour oil in pan or fryer. Heat to 365 degrees F. (I used my meat thermometer up to 300 degrees, then dropped bits of batter into oil to check how it fried. Maybe not the most scientific way to go about it, but it worked)

While oil is heating, pour pickles into a strainer and drain liquid. Lay pickle spears on paper towels and dry as thoroughly as possible.

In a large bowl, combine wet ingredients with flour and spices. Drop a bit of batter into oil once heated and taste to test spices, adjusting batter as needed.

Dip spears into batter, making sure to coat thoroughly. Carefully drop into hot oil and fry until golden, making sure to turn over to ensure even frying. This will only take a few minutes at a time.

Carefully remove fried pickles from oil and drain on paper towels. Immediately sprinkle with additional salt and pepper, to taste.

Next time I'll dredge and fry to instead of battering to see the difference. I was really satisfied with the way these turned out - as is evidenced by the number I ate. Sigh.

Have you ever eaten fried pickles? What did you think?

Sharing with House of Hepworths, Miz Helen's Country Cottage, Designs by Gollum, Simply Sweet Home, 504 Main, A Southern Fairytale & Balancing Beauty and Bedlam - stop on by to see what everyone else has come up with this week!

My Top Ten Kitchen Essentials

2011-02-08T15:36:00.001-05:00

Little known fact: I spend a lot of time in the kitchen.

Oh...wait...you knew that? For real? Wow. There I was, thinking I was all mysterious about how I spend my free time.

For someone who lives in the kitchen, there are bound to be tools which are absolutely essential to ensuring that your finished product is, well, edible. There are others which are not quite so essential, but they sure do make life easier. In my little old opinion, here's 10 which I know I couldn't live without.

My Favorite Non-Essentials:

1) Stand mixer - In how many ways has my stand mixer changed my life? How much time have you got to read this? Seriously, I don't know what I did without my girl (Yes, she's a girl. Say something, I dare you). Whether being used to knead dough while I'm doing something else, to mix ultra thick cake batter which I know my hand-held mixer couldn't manage and then whip up the frosting, or to help bring cookie dough together in a flash...my KitchenAid is truly the superstar of my kitchen. Next to me, of course.

2) Slow cooker - Our slow cooker gets used at least 3 times a week, sometimes as many as 4 or 5. Like the stand mixer, the slow cooker has changed my life in many happy ways. There is absolutely nothing like coming home to the smell of a roast or stew which has been cooking all day long. We've used it to make chicken, meatloaf, pork roast, soup, meatballs. Most recently, Rob made a jambalaya in there which knocked my socks clear off my feet. It was fabulous. Plus it helps keep food warm during parties, which is a huge bonus.

3) Food processor - Where oh where have you been all my life, glorious food processor? I've had mine for just shy of a year and, honestly, I have no idea what I did without it (see a trend here?). From breaking down tons of veggies and fresh bradcrumbs for a vat of meatballs and sauce to mixing the creamiest deviled egg filling imaginable to making quick work of chopping jars of olives and shredding cheese for olive cheesy bread, I've used this baby a lot over the past 52 weeks or so. Oh, and most recently I made a killer pasta dough with it. It's so versatile and a total workhorse. I love it.

4) Wooden spoons - Wait, what? Not another small appliance? Well, no. Not all superstar tools have to be plugged in to be amazing. My wooden spoons have seen me through a lot of cooking projects and, except for the one that broke (RIP old friend), they're going strong. I have around a half dozen and would happily keep buying more and more...only I don't have enough room for them. And I think there's a good possibility that Rob would kill me if I cluttered up the kitchen more than I already have. I'm tempted to move these into the "essential" category - they're just that important to have around, and plastic tools can melt and warp. But they're not really a 100% must-have.

5) Someone to clean it all up when you're finished - This one needs no explanation.

The Essentials:

1) A Sense of Humor - Please don't take yourself too seriously in the kitchen. As long as you're abiding by the rules of food safety and not allowing cooking oil to explode into flames, it's all fair game. Laugh at yourself and your mistakes. Burned dinner? Sounds like a good excuse to order takeout!

2) A Sense of Calm - BE CALM. Panic hurts people! Panic hurts appliances! Panic possibly hurts entire kitchens and/or homes! If you're in a panic you're that much likelier to cause an accident, and no one needs that. Just relax. It's only cooking. The food will be done when the food is done. And again, if you don't succeed there's always pizza.

3) Common Sense - When you read a recipe for the first time, especially if it's not printed in a cookbook (but even if it is), really read it. Does it make sense to you? Do you think there's a typo? Everyone makes mistakes, even recipe writers. Just keep an eye out and you may avoid making the same mistake as someone I know who, due to a problem converting a recipe from a website to their iPhone, added 3 cups of soy sauce to a dish instead of 1/3 cup. Guess what they had for dinner that night...? You can't always trust what's written down.

4) Imagination - Do you think you could make a dish taste better by adding your own little flare? Do you wonder what this ingredient would taste like if you mixed it with that one? Give it a shot! What do you have to lose? Worst case scenario, it doesn't turn out well. Now, do I suggest experimenting with expensive ingredients? Um, no. Just be fearless when and where you can. You never know - you might make magic happen.

5) Knowledge - Do you know what to do in case of a cooking oil fire? Do you know how to avoid cross-contamination? When using your knife to slice or chop, what do you do with the fingers of your inactive hand? Should you use a damp dishtowel to grab a pan out of the oven? You need to know the answers to these sorts of questions - ask someone or use the trusty internet. Play it safe.

Are there any essentials in YOUR kitchen - the sort of stuff you just can't do without?

Deconstructed Pierogi

2011-02-06T22:48:00.007-05:00

I've been craving comfort food lately - had you noticed? I mean, the homemade pasta, the ultra-meaty and rich bolognese, the braised onions to go in my stew. Yeah. Comfort city, kids.

And here's another example of the sort of food that makes me wanna curl up under a Snuggie (yeah, I said Snuggie) with a bowl and dive on in. A really big bowl.

Ever since I was little my mom has made this dish - what's better, it's something her mother made. I love the idea of carrying on tradition like that. Until I started making my own pierogi, the ingredients seemed sort of disjointed to me - I mean, who combines macaroni, cottage cheese and sauteed onions? Um, Polish people who make pierogi, that's who. I had the big revelatory moment while making a batch. One of my favorite meals, one I ask my mom to make on my birthday, is merely deconstructed pierogi. And boy, is it comforting. I could eat it every day.

Seriously. It's ridiculous.

I added a little touch of my own, by the way. The crumbled bacon lends a whole new level of texture and flavor. Of course you don't have to add it - I just happened to have a couple of pieces left over from breakfast the day I made this!

Deconstructed Pierogi

1/2 pound marcaroni

2 tablespoons butter

1 medium onion, diced

1 cup cottage cheese

1-2 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled (optional)

Salt and pepper, to taste

Cook macaroni according to package directions and drain. Return to pot.

In saute pan, melt butter. Add diced onions and cook over medium heat until softened and browned. Add to pot of cooked macaroni, along with cottage cheese, salt and pepper. Stir well to combine.

Serve with bits of crumbled bacon on top.

Stupid easy, isn't it? But the flavors meld so well - I promise you, you can't go wrong with this. It grosses my husband out when I eat it, but he just doesn't know what he's missing.

What's your favorite comfort food?

Sharing with A Southern Fairytale, Skip to My Lou, Frugal Antics of a Harried Homemaker, Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, 33 Shades of Green, All The Small Stuff, At The Well, Rook No. 17, House of Hepworths, Miz Helen's Country Cottage, Designs by Gollum, Simply Sweet Home & 504 Main - be sure to stop by and check out all of the awesomeness!

Spinning My Wheels?

2011-02-04T14:09:00.000-05:00

Friends, I need your advice!

See, I've never been what you might call "proficient" when it comes to time management. I'm more the "Ohmygod I have so much to do it's making my brain shut down, time to take a nap and sort it all out later" kind of gal. The "I'll think about that tomorrow", Scarlett O'Hara sort.

I compose to-do lists, but somehow while in the midst of trying to finish my tasks I always get sidetracked by other things that I need to do which didn't make it to my list. So I start doing those things. And by the end of the day I feel as though I've done nothing but spin my wheels. So I eat lots of chocolate in order to soothe my feelings of inadequacy.

And never has this problem been so glaringly obvious than in relation to blogging.

There is no way that a non-blogger could understand everything that goes into running a blog, outside of physically creating posts. And I know that each blogger does things differently, especially in relation to the topics they blog about. For me, most of the time there's the obvious cooking/photo taking/minor photo editing aspect. Then there's the creation of a post. And of course the eating of what I cooked. But what happens after I click "Publish Post"?

Numerous things. I tweet. I Facebook. I link to many memes and make it a point to visit and comment on as many other links as humanly possible (I've blown entire days doing this, truly, but have found some great friends and have drummed up a few readers as well). I email my own commentors and sometimes am lucky enough to start conversations with them. I tell myself that I should put recipes up on Tasty Kitchen but usually forget (I think I've remembered, like, twice). I submit to other food sites. I go through my reader. I visit forums. I tweet some more. I try to remember to Stumble (this is a more recent discovery of mine...late to the party, as always). Now I'm also a contributing blogger for About One (my foccacia recipe went up today!) and have another project in the pipeline which I alluded to last month - this is a paying gig but I still don't want to say anything definite because even though I submitted my signed paperwork a couple of days ago I haven't received confirmation of receipt.

Then? I tweet some more. Sometimes the Twitter stream is moving so rapidly that I just read tweets. Me and my voyeuristic tendencies.

The result: I'm exhausted. I am really 100% loving all of the talking, sharing and communicating which is going on. Not to mention learning. I'm having so much fun, and there's no way I'm giving up this time.

But I'm tired, too. And the worst part? I feel like all I'm doing is spinning my wheels. If I felt like I was accomplishing something it would be one thing. But all I'm doing is eating more and more chocolate to compensate for feelings of inadequacy because I just can't get it all done. I can't visit all my friends every day. I can't comment on all of my fellow meme linkers' blogs. Sometimes I don't manage to get back to all of my beautiful commentors. I can't churn out brilliant post after brilliant post. There's only so much brilliance in my head.

But still I tippity-type away.

Don't even get me started on how "real life" may be suffering.

So I ask you, my wise bloggy friends: Have you been in my shoes? Do you have a blogging schedule? Do certain forms of blog-related activity take precedence over others? Are you a Twaddict? (I don't know if that's a word or if I just made it up right now) Share with me! Or, send chocolate. Preferably the dark variety.

Julia Child's Brown Braised Onions

2011-02-01T21:40:00.005-05:00

To me, nothing says "happy warm times when it's cold and yucky outside" like a nice stew. Don't you agree?

Well, I guess it doesn't matter if you agree or not. I mean, I can't imagine that you wouldn't, but that doesn't affect this post.

As I was saying, cold temps = yummy stew. So I made one over the past weekend. Boeuf Bourguignon, in fact. Yeah, I went there. While there are already onions in that and, well, just about any stew, I like a side of braised onions as well. Of course they go super well with the stew, but they make a fabulous little side dish with just about anything as far as I'm concerned. They are sooooo good!

This is my variation of Julia Child's brown braised onion recipe. Julia uses only 1/2 cup of liquid, allowing it to completely cook down, and adds a cheesecloth bundled herb bouquet. But I like the additional sauce my variation lends the onions, and I don't often have cheesecloth around to simmer herbs in, so I generally skip it.

Did it take me a while to peel all these onions? Why yes. It did. But it was worth it!

2 tbs of butter gets melted in a pan over medium heat, then 2 tbs of oil are added. The onions go in the pan and are tossed around gently so they can brown.

Then the liquids are added. I used beef stock and white wine this time, but red wine adds a great flavor (and color!), and of course you could just double the stock and not use wine at all. The pan is covered and the onions gently simmer in the liquid, on low heat, for 40 minutes. Then the lid is removed and the rest of the liquid simmers until reduced to a nice syrupy consistency.

Trust me when I say that you will not want to waste a single drop of that rich, flavorful, syrupy sauce. A little salt, a little pepper, and you're all set. Sweet onion heaven.

Seriously, it does not get better than this. It's like candy.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have some leftover braised onions to snack on.

Braised Onions

Around 2 dozen pearl onions, peeled

2 tbs butter

2 tbs oil (I used EVOO in this case)

1/2 cup beef stock

1/2 cup red or white wine (optional - can use 1 cup stock instead)

Salt and pepper to taste

Melt butter in large pan over medium heat, then add oil. Pour in onions and toss gently around pan, allowing them to brown. Add liquids and allow to simmer on low, covered, for 40 minutes. Uncover pan and allow liquid to continue reducing until syrupy in consistency. Add salt and pepper to taste.

What do you like to prepare when it's nasty outside? Soup? Roasts? Stews? What's your favorite?

Do you like onions? Because I have another onion-heavy recipe coming up soon! It's, well, to die for.

Sharing with Somewhat Simple, It's A Keeper, House of Hepworths, Life as Mom, Miz Helen's Country Cottage, Prairie Story, A Glimpse Inside, 504 Main, Tidy Mom, Simply Sweet Home & Designs by Gollum - stop by and see what others are creating!

Using My Noodle, or, Homemade Pasta is Delicious

2011-01-29T15:06:00.006-05:00

Several days ago, I told you all about Lidia Bastianich's bolognese recipe. Her delicious, decadent (can a pasta sauce BE decadent? Uh, yes it can), rich and satisfying bolognese. It should be against the law but happily, it is not.

I knew that such a special sauce deserved a special accompaniment, aka homemade pasta.

Would store-bought dried pasta be just as good? Yes. I am 150% certain that it would (even if I hadn't eaten leftovers with dried pasta I'd still be certain of this). I just figured at the time that if I was diving in, I might as well go off the deep end. It's how I roll, in case you didn't already know.

I had tried in the past to make my own pasta but it was never much fun. As much as I adore the idea of my Kitchenaid pasta attachment...we've never been good friends. I think this comes from the fact that I can never seem to keep the noodles from sticking together without drenching them with flour as they're being extruded and basically making a big fat floury mess. I don't know. It just never worked well for me.

But then. Oh, then. Santa brought me a shiny pasta machine for Christmas!

Seriously. No one should ever be as excited about something without diamonds in it as I was about this pasta machine. Although it is kinda shiny...

Anyway, I figured that if I was making Lidia's bolgonese, I might as well use Lidia's recipe for homemade pasta as well! So I took her recipe for homemade tagliatelle...

3 cups all-purpose flour (plus more as needed)

3 large, cold eggs

3 large, cold egg yolks

3 tbs extra-virgin olive oil

2 tbs ice water (plus more as needed)

...and followed her instructions. The flour went into my food processor and was pulsed a few times to aerate. My wet ingredients were then mixed in a separate measuring cup and, with the processor running, I poured them through the feed tube and processed until the dough came together and just about cleared the sides of the bowl.

The dough was a bit too wet, though, so when I emptied it onto my (clean!) counter, I added a bit more flour and kneaded it in for a few minutes until the dough was smooth.

Pretty. Then the dough was wrapped in plastic and allowed to rest for 30 minutes (a little more, actually - remember I had that sauce taking up all of my attention, too!). At this point the dough can be left in the fridge for a day or frozen for "a month or more", according to Lidia - just defrost in the fridge and allow to return to room temp before rolling.

And speaking of rolling...I divided the dough into 6 pieces and floured each piece generously before starting the rolling process.

Rolling the dough is my favorite part, and I'm well aware of how dorky I sound when I say that.

You start with the machine on its highest setting - in this case, level 7.

Roll the dough through a few times to get it ready to be rolled more thinly. Then just turn the knob down one number and re-roll. Repeat this step until you're at your desired thinness. I usually stop at 3 - I like a little bite to my pasta. But that's up to you - experiment as you will.

As each sheet is finished rolling I lay it out over a dish towel and allow it to dry a little bit in order to make the cutting process easier. Now, I have both spaghetti and fettuccine cutters on my machine and in this case I used the fettuccine cutters. But you could just as easily fold the pasta sheets into thirds or fourths, then cut into strips and shake them out when finished. Either way, when pasta is cut it's important to toss the noodles with a bit of flour to ensure that they don't stick together. Just give them a shake to remove excess flour before putting them in your boiling water.

Fresh pasta doesn't require much cooking time - a few minutes should do. I test frequently to make sure I don't cook it into mush.

So, in case you didn't already know this: Making fresh pasta takes time. But anyone who has ever had the chance to eat fresh pasta will tell you, the difference is mind-blowing. The texture and flavor exists in a world of its own. Is it as perfectly uniform as store-bought fresh or dried pasta? No. But that's part of the fun. Plus there's the knowledge that your finished product contains good, fresh ingredients and isn't concealing any secrets - which of course is the point of all home cooking, right?

Yummy.

Have you ever made fresh pasta by hand? How did it turn out? If not, do you think you'd be interested in trying this yourself?

Sharing with The Girl Creative, A Southern Fairytale, Blessed With Grace, 33 Shades of Green, Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, Somewhat Simple, It's a Keeper, House of Hepworths, Life as Mom, Miz Helen's Country Cottage, Prairie Story, Simple Lives Thursday & A Glimpse Inside - come on over and see what everyone else has been creating!

Writer's Workshop: Left Out

2011-01-27T14:33:00.000-05:00

Mama Kat's prompt #3: Describe a time when you felt left out.

I'm 6 years old and in 1st grade. The girl who was my best friend through kindergarten didn't invite me to her birthday party. I just found out that all the other girls got an invitation but me. I sit down in the schoolyard one morning and cry, asking her why I wasn't invited. Why we're not friends anymore. I need to know - because in my head, we're still friends. I need to know when she decided that things were different, why she didn't like me anymore. But she walks away. I call her name, tears clouding my vision. She keeps walking.

I'm 10 and already the girls are talking about who has and who hasn't kissed a boy yet. They already know all sorts of words I've never heard before. The terminology alludes me, as much as I try to keep up. They act unaffected, comparing numbers of kissing conquests as easily as they used to compare the number of Barbies or She-Ra dolls they owned. Either way, I know I've never kissed a boy and what's worse, they know it too.

I'm 12 and the only reason any boys hang out with me is because they want to hang out with my best friend (the crazy one). Don't they know me? Don't they know all of the cool things about me? How, one day, they may actually want to hang out with a smart (if slightly awkward) girl? I hate these boys, I really do. They're not nice to me. But I want to be cool, so much so that I swallow my pride again and again just to hang out with the cool kids.

I'm 16 and the only girl I know not going to the Junior Prom. I go to the movies and Olive Garden with my Mom instead. I sit in school the following Monday, listening to the stories, eventually oohing and aahing over the pictures as they get developed (ahh, the days before digital photography). I try to be a good sport and take a genuine interest in my friends' experiences, but envy eats my heart.

I'm 20-going-on-21 and I still haven't been kissed. I try not to tell anyone. It's too embarrassing. I feel ashamed for reasons I can't even describe to this day.

I'm 25 and I've only been on a few dates in my life. Everyone I know is seeing someone, is living with someone, is married, has years of experience to fall back on. I've never had a boyfriend. The kissing thing has been rectified, though. But that's it. A well-meaning friend of a friend gently asks me when I'm going to start dating. As if it's that easy. I feel left out of life.

Of course, things changed. It may have taken me a little longer than some, but things did get better. And now here I am, 31 years old, looking back over all these years of pain and awkwardness. Of feeling left out.

Have I learned anything from that feeling? Well, I'd like to think that it's taught me a deeper level of compassion. It has taught me to include others, especially those who appear to be hanging around on the fringe, waiting for someone to be friendly towards them. People who have a whole world of thoughts and experiences inside them, just waiting to be shared if only someone would give them a chance.

So do I always live up to these high ideals for myself? Am I, like, the Mother Theresa of inclusiveness? No, not always - sometimes feeling included is so wonderful, I forget how it feels on the other side of things. It's very easy to forget when you're in the moment. All I can do is work on being more mindful. It doesn't hurt to make sure that someone isn't going through the same stuff we've all gone through at one point or another - feeling left out or left behind. And maybe one day they'll pay it forward by remembering that kindness and extending the same courtesy to someone else.

After all, like they say, a candle doesn't lose anything by lighting another candle. Or something like that.

Bliss at Home '11

2011-01-26T16:01:00.001-05:00

Welcome, lovers of bliss! It's a bummer that we weren't able to travel to Blissdom '11, isn't it? But all is not lost - we can network and have a good time from the comfort of our own home, in our jammies if we feel like it. Hence my excitement over Bliss at Home '11!

Because let me tell you...I big puffy pink heart my jammies. To the point where I rarely wear anything else around the house.

My name is Jen, and this is my corner of Bloggyland. Take off your shoes, put on your stretchy pants and get comfy. I love to write about cooking food, eating food, and then feeling bad about eating so much food. Oh, and other stuff, too. Like my family, my home and my horribly embarrassing tendency to do embarrassing things.

What are some of my favorite posts, you ask? Well, I'm happy to share them with you!

The Greatest Chocolate Cake Ever - Seriously, visit at your own risk. And the risk of your pants suddenly tightening. Which is why I recommended the stretchy pants earlier.

A Toddler Without A Tiara - Please, come revel in one of the most painful memories of my life. I beg you.

The Worst Day of My Life - Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. It was epic. My mom still pees her pants laughing over it.

Chicken Tikka Masala and Grilled Naan - They go so well together. Like peanut butter and jelly or chocolate and just about anything else.

Lots of exciting things are going to be happening soon, like the launching of my new site and a new series entitled Cooking Basics, where I'll be going step-by-step through basic cooking techniques and then building recipes using them. I really hope you'll be joining me for all the fun there.

I can't wait to meet all you fabulous home Blissers! If you stop by for a visit, be sure to leave me a comment and let me know you were here so I can swing by and say hi!

Bolognese, Lidia Style

2011-01-23T20:26:00.006-05:00

Bolognese. The very name conjures up all sorts of happy thoughts for me. For years now I've been making this version, and have been totally happy with it. It's stupid delicious, after all.

However, I received a copy of Lidia Bastianich's Lidia Cooks From The Heart of Italy for my birthday and have been dying to cook my way through it ever since. This bolognese is one of the basic recipes at the back of the book and it looked too good to not try.

There's no denying that the creation of a good, full-bodied bolognese takes time. Because it does. It's a real labor of love. But this recipe makes more than enough for one or even two meals, so you can cook your little heart out one day and have yummy bolognese for another night. It's perfect for freezer cooking!

The flavors in this sauce are so complex and well-developed. It's rich and satisfying, and worth every minute of prep and cooking time.

2 lbs ground beef

2 lbs ground pork

2 cups dry white wine

2 tbs extra virgin olive oil

6 oz bacon or pancetta

5 garlic cloves

2 medium onions, finely chopped

1 large carrot, shredded

2 large celery stalks, finely chopped

1/2 tsp kosher salt

2 cups red wine

2 tbs tomato paste

2 cups crushed tomatoes

8-10 cups hot vegetable stock or water

Freshly ground black pepper to taste

In a large bowl, pour 2 cups white wine over ground meats and, using your fingers (or a potato masher, as I did), mix so meat is moistened with wine. Set aside.

In food processor, process bacon or pancetta and garlic into a smooth paste. Heat olive oil over medium heat and add this paste. Break apart and allow to cook for 3-5 minutes, stirring frequently, until fat is rendered and paste begins to brown slightly. Add onions and sweat for several minutes. Add carrots and celery and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes, until vegetables soften and turn a golden color.

Turn heat up to medium high. Push vegetables to one side of pot (or pour into a separate bowl, which I did) and add meat to pot, then sprinkle with salt. Allow meat to brown on bottom, then mix in vegetables. Liquids will totally cover the meat/vegetables, so allow to cook down for 30-45 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent burning and lowering heat if necessary.

Pour in red wine and cook until wine evaporates. Stir in tomato paste and allow to brown for a few minutes. Pour in crushed tomatoes, then swish can out with one cup of vegetable stock and pour that in as well. Simmer until liquid no longer covers meat. At this point, add vegetable stock in batches - pour in enough to cover meat, around two cups at a time, and simmer until meat is no longer covered. This entire process will probably take between one and two hours.

So...like I said...a labor of love. But good golly, is it worth it. You'll want to dive right in a bathe in this sauce, I promise you. We decided out of the two bolognese sauces I've made (three, actually, if you count Alton Brown's which I only made one time), Lidia's bolognese is superior. This is the sauce I'll be making from here on out. And as frequently as possible.

And for the record...the fettucine in the picture is homemade. But that's another post...

Sharing with A Southern Fairytale, Skip To My Lou, From Mess Hall to Bistro, 33 Shades of Green, Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, Blessed with Grace, All the Small Stuff, Designs by Gollum, 504 Main, Simply Sweet Home & Tidy Mom - drop by and pick up some great recipe ideas!

On The Phone With Dad: Seven Dollars

2011-01-22T19:12:00.000-05:00

This is a verbatim transcript of a recent conversation with my father.

I am on the train. My phone rings.

Me: "Hello?"

Dad: "The bill is thirty-five dollars. What's the tip?" (notice the lack of a "hi, how ya doin?" there)

Me: "Seven dollars."

Dad: "Seven dollars?"

Me: "Seven."

Dad: "I'll give her 10. Okay, honey, thank you."

Me: "You're welcome."

Dad: "Don't tell anyone about this."

Me: "Okay, I won't."

Dad: "Unless it's in the book you write about me."

Me: "Okay, Dad."

*click*

Seriously. I couldn't make this up.

Cinnamon Raisin Bread

2011-01-20T22:17:00.002-05:00

Cinnamon raisin bread. Three words which work so beautifully together. Three words which have comprised my breakfast all this past week. And a snack as I was writing this post. Because how can you mess around with pictures of a food you happen to enjoy...highly...without eating said food which you know is just sitting in your freezer, a mere 30 microwaved seconds away from edible bliss? How?

You can't. That's how.

Anyway, I saw this recipe over at Food.Baby and I knew I had to give it a shot. You see, cinnamon raisin bread is my favorite bread. of. all. time. When I was little, it was always such a treat to stay at my aunt's house and eat cinnamon toast in the morning. It was like some sort of luxury item to my young white bread self. The love affair continues to this day.

The only way I like it any better is with a snowy white vanilla glaze on top, which I first tasted when I visited Amish country with my family...and lemme tell ya, Rob and I are spending a weekend there next month, which means I'm buying and freezing at least two loaves. And some Shoo Fly Pie, but that's another story.

I made a few alterations to the original recipe, which you can find here. I held a few optional ingredients back, used soy milk (it worked beautifully!), and altered the amounts of ingredients in the swirl. The original amounts did not sound like enough to me - in fact, I feel like it could use even more next time!

To make the dough, warm milk is combined with a pinch of sugar and some yeast, then left to get moist and well-acquainted. In the meantime, more warm milk is mixed with butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla and salt. The yeast mixture is added, and then flour. The dough is left to rise for 90 minutes.

Once risen, it was dumped unceremoniously onto my flour-dusted counter.

Rolled out, it was...

...into a rough rectangle.

I said rough. Don't judge me.

The dough is spread with butter and sprinkled with sugar, cinnamon and raisins. You can use regular or golden raisins, as long as they've been steamed or soaked til plump, then dried well.

Starting from one of the short ends, roll the dough firmly.

And, if you're me, you'll realize when it's time to tuck the ends under and plop into the greased loaf pan that you rolled the dough into far too large a rectangle. You'll end up creating a fat worm shape. And then tell your husband that this is going to be the ugliest bread ever.

Allow it to rise, loosely covered, for 45 minutes. And be even more certain of the bread's ugliness.

Bake it for 45 minutes, unmold after 5, and you have...THIS!

Not the prettiest shaped bread, for sure...but close enough for jazz, as they say.

It was a real act of will, waiting for this to cool in order to cut into it. But it was worth every tortured second. A little bit of buttery goodness on top...and I'm in heaven, folks. Heaven.

Of course, it's great without the butter as well. It's just pretty much awesome all over the place.

In order to not have it go stale before I enjoyed every last crumb, I sliced it up and froze the slices on a cookie sheet. Once they were frozen they were placed in a large ziploc bag, left in a sacred corner of the freezer, and have been enjoyed daily ever since, a slice with morning coffee here, a slice while watching trash TV there.

This may just become a Sunday ritual for me.

Bread:
2 1/4 teaspoons (1 packet) active dry yeast
1/4 cup sugar, plus a pinch
1 1/4 cups whole milk, heated between 110 - 120 degrees F (I used soy!)
1/2 stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 large egg
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

3 3/4 to 4 cups all-purpose flour

Cinnamon Swirl:

2 tablespoons white sugar

2 tablespoons light brown sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 cup raisins (dark or golden)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

In a small bowl, combine the yeast, pinch of sugar and 1/4 cup of warm milk. Cover and allow to moisten (around 3 minutes).

Fit your stand mixer with the paddle attachment. Combine remaining cup of milk, butter and sugar. Mix for a minute or so. Add egg, salt and vanilla. Mix for another minute. Add yeast mixture and, you guess it...mix it in.

Turn the mixer off! before adding 2 3/4 cups of flour. Mix on low until flour is mixed in. Switch from paddle attachment to dough hook. Add another cup of flour and mix on medium speed. If dough does not come together and almost clean the sides of the bowl, add more flour (up to 4 tablesppons, one tablespoon at a time). Knead at medium speed for 3 minutes, until dough becomes smooth and shiny.

Turn the dough into a large buttered bowl and cover. Put the bowl in a warm place (I always use my oven with the light turned on) and let the dough rise until it is doubled in size, about 90 minutes or so.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and roll into a rectangle, around 12 x 18 inches. Spread 3 tbs melted butter all over surface, and sprinkle sugars and raisins on top. Starting from one of the short ends, roll dough firmly. Seal the seam and tuck ends underneath. Place seam side down in a buttered loaf pan, cover loosely and allow to rise for 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Melt one tablespoon of butter and spread over surface of bread. Bake for 20 minutes, then loosely tent with foil and back 25 minutes more, until golden. Remove bread from oven and allow to cool for 5 minutes before unmolding, then allow to cool fully before slicing.

Enjoy!

Sharing with 504 Main, Designs by Gollum, From Mess Hall to Bistro & Tidy Mom - stop by and say hello!

Pouring My Heart Out: Trusting My Instincts

2011-01-19T11:46:00.000-05:00

Today I'm happy to have the opportunity to be linking up with Shell's Pour Your Heart Out over at Things I Can't Say. It's so timely because I really do need to pour my heart out over something that's weighing on me today.

Have you ever been in a situation which left a funny feeling in your gut? A situation which, though innocent enough on the surface, caused you to take pause and wonder if something was off somehow? Did you ever get a feeling about a person - someone who you liked perfectly well, but who said or did something which kinda threw you for a moment?

What did you do? Did you follow that feeling? Or did you talk yourself out of it somehow? Did you ever find out whether or not your instincts were on the money?

A few years ago, I went into the doctor's office for an appointment. I had been feeling sick to my stomach on a very regular basis and wanted to talk to someone about it (I didn't know it at the time, but I had UC). This doctor was someone who Rob had been seeing ever since he came home from the hospital after having contracted pertussis. They had developed a great rapport, and once I moved in with Rob I started seeing this doctor as well. We fell into a regular routine - I'd go in, he'd remind me that Rob's a bum and I'm too good for him, wocka wocka. Eventually we'd talk about why I was actually there, and we'd part with a hug.

Except for when I went in with my stomach ache. He came in and immediately started asking me questions about my birth control pills. Now, I hadn't been seeing him for very long at this point and I figured that he saw on my form that I was taking them and wanted to know how they were working for me. It made sense at the time since he was also a gynecologist (he would eventually become my gynecologist). So I answered his questions, waiting to get to the reason I was there to see him. But much to my surprise, he took out his pad, scribbled a prescription for refills on the pills I was taking, and started for the door.

"Um...hang on...are we going to talk about why I came in?". He looked at me. I explained my reason for being there. He apologized and told me that he was swamped and that there was a huge backlog of patients. Crossed wires with his assistant (who I'd explained my symptoms to), etc etc.

As I was leaving the office, something was bugging me. It seemed strange that he was so quick to write me a prescription, without asking me if I even needed it (I didn't at the time), and without asking how I was actually feeling. It seemed rather negligent, somehow. I told Rob about it and even told my mom - that's how much it stuck with me. I can't explain why it did, but it did.

Still, I brushed it off. I figured he was busy, tired, and that there'd been a miscommunication. I was being overly picky, no one's perfect. No big deal. And over time both Rob and I complained to the other about him - mainly about how he was so quick to write a prescription without really attacking the problem at hand - to the point where I said more than once that I wanted to find a new doctor. But hey, don't all doctors do that? Besides, he was so close to our apartment and we already had a good relationship with him. We were willing to overlook it.

Then we moved last year - I was sorry to see him for the last time not long before we left. He was sympathetic to our situation, to Rob's dad's health problems, and wished us well. We've talked about him since then, and about how it was a shame that we were so far away.

Last night Rob found an article online stating that this man was arrested this past summer when it was revealed that he had for years been writing prescriptions for painkillers in exchange for sexual favors. Unfortunately, one young woman (a 31 year old mother) died last spring after overdosing. Her sister had known that he was the one supplying the scripts for Oxy and other drugs, and confronted him prior to her sister's death, telling him that this woman had already been in the hospital twice as a result of overdosing. He wrote a new script the next day.

There were lots of other details in this article, things that turned my stomach, things he admitted to. But that's not the point of my telling you this.

The point is that maybe I need to trust my instincts a little more. After all, how often do you hear after the fact about people "just having a feeling" about someone who did something wrong? Most recently it was a former teacher of the guy who committed the shootings in Arizona - they said that they were uncomfortable around him and even feared that he'd bring a gun in to school one day, that he would laugh at inappropriate times and say things that made the other students uncomfortable. But rather than taking action, I'm sure they talked themselves out of it.

I'm not saying that there was any way I could have known what was going on in that office after hours, and I'm fully aware that nothing was ever done to hurt me personally and that it's none of my business. I am honestly praying for the women involved, and for him - clearly in order for him to jeopardize his career, not to mention the ethical issues involved, he must have some serious issues.

Still, I keep going back to that one visit. My gut feeling was that this was not the right guy for me. Regardless, I talked myself out of it and kept going back.

I talk myself out of a lot of feelings.

Maybe it's time to start honoring my instincts after all.

How about you? Do you find yourself going with your gut feelings or do you tend to overthink things?

Roasted Cauliflower

2011-01-17T16:37:00.000-05:00

Cauliflower. That strangest-looking of vegetables.
Seriously. Not pretty. Even with the little green fringe around the edges. Not pretty at all.

But as we all know because we're grownups and grownups know these things...it's not all about looks.
I like cauliflower because it is so adaptable. I have found that it can successfully soak up all kinds of flavors, which is a good thing because otherwise it's kinda...blah.

My absolutely favoritest way to prepare cauliflower is to roast it.

Drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with salt and pepper (and your choice of spices...I used garlic powder, but red pepper flakes would probably be super tasty!), roasted in a 375 degree oven for about an hour (making sure to turn it halfway through)...

Slightly crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. Deeeeelicious!

Roasting veggies = a great way to mix up what you may not have been super eager to include in your meals. I know that cauliflower isn't typically something I'd reach for right away in the past.

Now? Gimme!!!

What's your favorite vegetable? Which vegetables (if any) do you like to roast?

I Was A Baby Beauty Queen

2011-01-14T11:59:00.000-05:00

Have you ever seen Toddlers and Tiaras? You know, the show that features little girls (and some babies, from what I've seen on commercials) getting all dolled up and prancing around and crying because their scalps hurt from their hair getting teased so much?

Yeah. That show.

And no, I've never seen a whole episode. Just commercials. Because I think that's all I could take in one sitting. It hits too close to home and reminds me of my own painful pageant days.

What? You didn't know that I was a baby beauty queen? Oh yes, I was, when I was 4 years old. I still remember those days. Training, all the time. My face hurt from constantly smiling, my feet hurt from going tippity-tap for hours. The gowns. The hairspray. The bathing suit competition.

Okay...maybe it wasn't like that. Maybe I only appeared in one pageant and didn't even win. But the experience has stayed with me for 27 years.

Photo courtesy of BroadcastPioneers.com

If you live in the Philadelphia area, you're probably familiar with Al Alberts.

Good old Uncle Al. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Uncle Al, he was a singer back in the...50's? 60's? with an quartet who released some albums or something. Anyway, he had his own show on our local ABC station called "Al Alberts Showcase", and he'd feature kids doing all sorts of singing and dancing and whatnot. He would banter with his wife, Stella, and would eventually sing at least once over the course of the program. It was local TV at its cheesy finest.

And every year he held two contests, one for girls (Little Miss Showcase) and one for boys (Little Mr. Showcase). Parents sent in a picture of their utterly adorable child and would then cross their fingers that a letter would come in saying that their kid had made the cut and would appear on TV for literally hundreds of people to see and make judgements over from the comfort of their living rooms.

Needless to say, my parents sent in my picture. And I was picked to appear. I was just gorgeous like that.

I still remember getting all dolled up the night of the pageant (I didn't understand that the shows were taped in advance - it took me a minute to get over the fact that we were going in at night when the show aired on Saturday mornings). My mom's side of the family was there, too - it was a big deal, you know? I remember to this day how positive I was that I was going to win. I had a grandmother who doted on me, after all, and that sort of positive reinforcement is difficult to ignore.

Then there were my two teenaged cousins who waited til the three of us were alone in the living room to mutter "You're not going to win, you know that, right?". Angels. They were just jealous that I was a pretty pretty princess and they weren't.

Moving on.

We went to the studio for the taping. I don't remember much of it, just a blur of activity as we were told where to sit on a set of risers. I sat next to a nice little girl and I'm pretty sure I told her I was going to win. She still talked to me after that, though I don't know why.

Then the pageant. It went on and on. We didn't have to, you know, perform or anything - though there was talent lined up for the event in the form of at least one little girl who sang a song or something. It's a blur. I was 4 years old - not so much with the attention span. I was most likely concentrating on forcing myself to sit still.

Then it came time for the announcement of the winner and her court. As each name got called, I became more excited - after all, I was going to WIN! Hadn't I been assured of my WINNING ever since the letter came in the mail telling me I'd been chosen to appear? And WIN?

Alas, my name was never called and the show came to a close. My eyes searched the crowd for my parents' faces. I was desperate for someone to help me understand this travesty. Then I started crying. Boy, did I cry. And cry. And...cry. Again, I was 4 years old. I truly believed I was going to win from the botton of my little heart. But my heart was broken for the first time.

The much more level-headed little girl next to me stroked my arm and consoled me until my parents made their way through the audience and on to the stage. I can only imagine how much it hurt them to see me so distraught. See, they believed too. They weren't the beaten-down parents of 4 that they are today. They were still two crazy kids who really believed that their little girl was special enough to win. Oh, youth.

For many years worth of Saturday mornings after that fateful night, we booed and hissed every time the little girl who beat me appeared on the show. Because evidently, winning Little Miss Showcase means that you have to appear, like, every week or something and show off some stupid talent or whatever and pretty much rub it in the faces of the little girls who didn't win.

Boo. Hiss.

Incidentally, I just called my mom to tell her that I was writing this. She said: "Ooooh, we were walking through the parking lot afterward and we were right behind her and her parents, and I said to Dad 'There she is' and he said 'I know!' and I wanted to run over and knock her down and take the trophy and ride off. Here she is, a little girl, and I wanted to do that". We both laughed (...menacingly).

Through it all, I take one small consolation: My brother's picture was sent in for Little Mr. Showcase. But he didn't get picked to appear.

Because I'm cuter than him.

What do you think about little girls appearing in beauty pageants? I'm not talking Uncle Al here - I mean the real deal.

I'm a Weak, Weak Woman

2011-01-13T16:34:00.002-05:00

Friends, I'm struggling. I know that I've been lighthearted about this in the past, but I'm starting to realize that I have a real issue on my hands.

Normally, if I remove something from my life, I have no problem staying away from it. Now, food can't possibly count of course - it's not exactly something you can remove from your life and continue living. But outside of food I've been generally successful.

For example, smoking. I didn't smoke for very long - just through college - so I know it might have been more difficult to quit had I been smoking for many years. I remember the first few days at college, how I could instantly tell who the big kids were. The cool kids. They were the ones who would huddle together outside between classes, obscured by an ever-present cloud of smoke. Smoking was where it was at, so I picked it up and yes, I did make lots of friends during those smoke breaks. When I left college, I quit smoking. End of story. No trouble.

I am usually very good about being disciplined on other matters as well. I'm up at the same time every morning without using an alarm clock.

Okay, that's the only other thing I can think of being disciplined with. Give me time to come up with more.

The point of all of this is: I'm struggling now. With my Starbucks resolution.

Have I managed to keep it so far? Yes! I haven't purchased a single cup of coffee yet (in fact, it's been since before Christmas!) from Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts, McDonald's...anywhere. I'm really proud of that, because I walk right past many opportunities to give in every morning. It would be so easy to give in and take my place in line.

I have to ask myself the real reason behind my problem with these places. I mean, it's coffee, right? Coffee is coffee is coffee when you get right down to it. If I need it so badly, I can make a free cup at work. No biggie.

But it's clearly more than that. For one thing, it plays into my penchant for instant gratification. I want it? There it is. I'm gonna get it. It's a just another thing for me to waste money on. It's something to break up the monotony of the morning, a treat which has turned into an expensive habit.

Another underlying issue is, I believe, the fact that overpriced coffee has become somewhat of a status symbol. Hasn't it in some way? The fact that you can afford to walk around with an overpriced cup of coffee in your hands says something about you. I wanted to be one of the Starbucks sippers on the train. I still do. And I just made the connection between this and my college smoking - I want to be one of the cool kids. When will I ever learn that I will never be cool?

Plus...it's yummy. I'm a food addict as it is - maybe I should change that to "yummy addict".

Regardless of the "why", some days are most definitely easier than others. Today was not an easy day at all - but I kept on walking. Maybe the fact that I can stay strong and stay away from what's really just a money waster can serve as inspiration in quitting some poor eating habits as well. I'm finding that I'm way better at disciplining myself than I thought I was - it may suck at the moment, but it's not the end of the world. I'm learning.

One day at a time, right?

Have you ever had to quit something? What's your story? Do you have any advice?

How I've Scarred Myself For Life

2011-01-12T22:05:00.001-05:00

What's that a picture of, you ask? Well, I'll tell ya. On Saturday night, I got a little ahead of myself while steaming rice. Instead of using my tongs to lift the foil from the pan, I used my fingers. Stupid, stupid. And I got the lovely burn you see above. Rob was sweet enough to run out and get some burn spray and gauze to wrap them - yes, I cried, but he also brought me chocolates so that made me feel better.

So it's funny that one of Mama Kat's writing prompts this week is "scarred". Because I'm fairly sure that sucker's gonna leave a scar.

But then again, that's sorta par for the course with me. I scar easily and happen to be insanely clumsy. It's like the perfect storm of potential bodily damage.

Starting from the bottom up...well, there's a round scar on the big toe of my left foot. Why no picture? Because I haven't gotten an actual pedicure since the last month that started with "A". Moving on. That little beauty was acquired when I was around 4 or 5 years old. My mom let me sit on the front step with her in my bare feet. My nemesis, Jimmy, came by with his mom. Jimmy was taunting me and I wanted to chase after him and beat him up, but my feet were bare and it was concrete as far as the eye could see. My mom told me to stay put while she got my shoes. Yeah, right. The second she was in the house I took off running. I got maybe two houses down before I fell and somehow managed to get a tiny stone lodged in my toe. You read that right. The stone is gone but the scar lingers on and reminds me to always listen to my mom.

Both shins are covered in diagonal scars. They come from falling down the back steps...twice. Back in the day, those steps were made of the old concrete that was full of stones (are we sensing a pattern with me and concrete and stones?), and those stones left me with the little scars up and down my legs today. Why no picture? Because they're faint and, well...I need to shave my legs. I love y'all, but if I don't shave my legs every day for my husband...you get my point.

There's a 2-inch scar on the underside of my left arm from when I was cooking for Easter last year and was quickly reaching into a cabinet...with a very sharp cornered door. Almost a year later, Rob still asks me from time to time where that scar comes from. Uh, it comes from the fact that the kitchen evidently needs to be Jen-proofed. Duh.

There's a few faint scars on my decolletage from a huge oil spatter while frying potato pancakes in a tank top. Instant blistering. It was monstrous. Oh, and it was my birthday. Happy birthday to me.

Oddly, there are no scars on my face. Knock wood. Knock wood.

And those are just the biggies. The major guys. There are a multitude of other little ones here and there. All of them compose the road map of my life...my clumsy, clumsy life. For better or worse. Well, Rob doesn't seem to mind. That's all that matters.

Do YOU have a story for every scar? Or are you lucky enough to not have as many as me? ;-)

Garlicky Grilled Naan

2011-01-11T22:15:00.003-05:00

I don't know where naan has been all my life, but I'm glad it finally found its way to me. I'm determined to make up for lost time now.

Usually, when I buy naan in the store it's...puffy. Puffier than what I make on my grill pan. I once baked this and it puffed up like crazy and was very pretty...but I didn't like it nearly as much as I like this. It's traditionally baked in a tandoori oven, but...my tandoori oven is in the shop (or something). So the grill pan it is. But no worries - I would eat my grilled garlicky naan with anything. Don't like the garlic? Leave it out! Simple!

When grilling, look for bubbles to form on the top of the dough. This will tell you that the dough is almost ready to be flipped - you'll be able to tell for sure when your tongs can be slid under the bread easily.

Good thing it goes so well with...everything. Especially chicken tikka masala, which needs a bit of bread to (a) sop up all the delicious sauce and (b) offset the spiciness which hits you in the back of your throat like a sneaky spice ninja.

Plus, the best part: It's super easy to make. I wouldn't lie to you.

For the dough:

1 1/2 tsps dry yeast

1 cup warm water (around 110 degrees F, no more than 120!)

1 1/2 tsps sugar

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

6 tbsps clarified butter, or ghee (I didn't have any on hand, so I used plain melted)

3 tbsps yogurt (I use Greek)

Garlic Spread:

1/2 stick butter

2 garlic cloves, pressed

In a large bowl (use the stand mixer bowl if you're lucky enough to have one!), pour in the yeast and sugar, then add the warm water. Cover and allow to sit for 10 minutes - it should be frothy. If it does not froth, either the yeast is too old and therefore no longer active, or the water you used was not the correct temperature.

In a separate bowl, combine flour and salt. Set aside.

To the frothy yeast mixture, add the yogurt and butter and mix gently. Then add the flour/salt. Using a large spoon (and/or your fingers) or the bread hook of your stand mixture, mix until a soft dough comes together. Then turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until dough is elastic and smooth (or, again, use your stand mixer). Form dough into a ball. Coat the inside of a large bowl with a few drops of vegetable oil or sprays of cooking spray and place the dough inside. Cover and allow to rise in a warm place for 90 minutes.

Once dough is risen, punch down and knead once again for 10 minutes. Divide dough into 6 balls.

Heat grill pan over medium high heat.

Roll each ball of dough out on counter into a circle - not too thin, as you don't want it to rip. Transfer each dough round (oblong?), one at a time, to the hot grill pan. As soon as tongs can slide underneath, flip dough.

Meanwhile, add garlic to butter and melt in microwave - garlic will become very fragrant and softened. To keep bread warm, stack on aluminum foil with a generous amount garlic butter brushed in between layers. Once all bread is grilled, wrap stack in foil and keep in warm oven until ready to serve.

Enjoy!

We were thinking about serving this with pasta - just like garlic bread! What else would you eat with garlicky naan?

Sharing with Designs by Gollum, 504 Main & Simply Sweet Home - come by and get some super awesome recipe and craft ideas ideas!

CSN Stores Review!

2011-01-11T21:15:00.001-05:00

I've worked with CSN Stores in the past - I had the pleasure of hosting a giveaway with them last year. In case you're not familiar with CSN (I can't imagine that you wouldn't be, though!), they have 200+ stores and cover pretty much the entire gamut of imaginable. Like...just about anything.

So imagine my excitement when I was contacted and asked to do a review!

The mind boggles...what should I choose? There's so much! Should I go for shoes? I could always use a new pair of shoes - maybe a cute pair of flat boots, since I still don't have any even though everyone else in the world does. What about some new cookware - I was totally bugging over a fellow blogger's cast iron skillet today. But I am always complaining about how I don't have enough room for my cookware as it is. Perhaps some wall art and decor for the kitchen, since the walls are going to be pretty bare once we take off what's currently up there (another thing for the to-do list). There really is just so much to choose from!

Whatever I decide, I'll let you know - and I'll invite you to check out my review!

Chicken Tikka Masala

2011-01-09T17:41:00.007-05:00

Chicken Tikka Masala. According to numerous sources, this is considered Britain's #1 dish.

And there's a reason why: It's freaking phenomenal.

The end result is more than worth any work involved, and it's really not very work-intensive. It's one of only a few Indian dishes I've eaten and I have to wonder if anything will measure up. I'm just so in love with it. I'm also in love with the grilled naan I serve with it - but that's another post.

There are a few keys to the dish. Make sure the onions are caramelized - not just translucent. Getting them nice and brown and sweet is the way to go. You may be tempted to substitute a lower fat, or even non-fat, choice for the heavy cream. Half and half or light cream would work well, but fat free half and half turns the texture rather grainy (I know this from experience). Go for the highest level of fat you feel comfortable with. If it's too spicy for you, you can always add a little yogurt while simmering. Cilantro is normally used in this dish, but I can never seem to find any when I need it - if you have it on hand, add 1/4 cup of chopped cilantro to the final dish. Since I've never used it I leave it out of this recipe.

Let's get to it so you can make it yourself, shall we? But be warned: Once you start making this, it's all over. Just pencil it into your meal plans from here on out. Rob has demanded that I make it once a week. He actually referred to it as a "requirement".

Darn...well, he's the husband. I'm only following orders.

Marinade

1 cup plain Greek yogurt

1 tbs lemon juice

1 tbs minced ginger

1 tsp ground cumin

1 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp garam masala*

2 tsp ground black pepper

2 tsp salt

3 chicken breasts, trimmed and cubed

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Stir in chicken pieces, cover and refrigerate for at least one hour (I usually refrigerate for at least 3).

1 large white onion, thinly sliced

2 tbs butter or margarine

1 clove garlic, minced

2 tsp ground cumin

2 tsp paprika

1/2 tsp cayenne

1 cup tomato sauce

1 cup heavy cream

Melt butter or margarine in large frying pan on medium heat. Add onions and reduce heat to medium low. Allow onions to cook slowly until carmelized, stirring frequently.

Once onions are carmelized, pour in tomato sauce, cream and spices. Stir to combine. Pour in all chicken and marinade. Combine all ingredients, cover, and increase heat to medium high. Simmer for 20 minutes or until chicken is cooked and tender. Remove lid and simmer to thicken sauce, if necessary.

Serve over cooked rice and garnish with chopped parsley or cilantro and plain yogurt.

*Note: If you can't find garam masala (I purchased at a spice store), increase the cumin and cayenne in the marinade to 2 tsp each.

As always...enjoy!

Linking up with A Southern Fairytale, Skip To My Lou, 33 Shades of Green, Simply Sweet Home, 504 Main & Designs by Gollum - check out all the great dishes and projects being linked up!

Do you like Indian food? What's your favorite dish?

Do YOU To Do?

2011-01-07T13:35:00.001-05:00

It's come to my attention that for ages now I've been wanting to do certain things to the house and the things within it. You know how it is. You see something in a store or, more frequently for me, online/in a blog and think "Ahhh, that's something I need to do/have/pester my husband into making for me". For me this is especially the case when I'm visiting crafty blogs.

I can't stand crafty blogs for two reasons: One, because they make me feel like less of a person because I haven't yet attempted a DIY version of that famous Pottery Barn mirror. Two, because they fill my head with all sorts of ideas which will make me believe for a second or two that I could actually make happen what they've accomplished. Then I'll remember that I'm not that handy and have no working knowledge of power tools and Modge Podge, and feel like even less of a person.

(Just kidding. I totally dig crafty blogs and follow a ton of them, like A Soft Place to Land and Living with Lindsay and The Nester and Somewhat Simple, if only to live vicariously. But they do make me feel like a slacker, even if they are totally inspirational.)

So, with the combined powers of crafty/decorating blogs and the fact that I have nowhere to hang my bathrobe so it just gets draped wherever it lands, I present to you:

My Household To Do List

(cue trumpets and clanging cymbals here)

This is an ongoing list which I plan to keep in order to remember just what that "A HA!" moment was all about three weeks ago when I was blog hopping and saw something that totally caught my eye and made me fantastize about just how much better my life would be if I had the same thing but which was completely forgotten about, like, 5 minutes later because I got hungry and the battle of Food I Should Eat vs. Food I Want But Shouldn't Actually Eat recommenced in my head.

This list includes such small things as buying hooks for the inside of the bedroom closet (thus clearing up the great bathrobe debacle), slightly more involved tasks such as spraypainting the little corner rack in the kitchen (currently black, want it to be white), and more time-consuming tasks like painting many of the walls in the house. Just every little thing that crosses my mind will be written down on my list so I can keep track of the ideas I've had and the tasks which have been completed by either me or Rob. I would hope that seeing the completed ideas/tasks will serve as inspiration to keep going. And "Look what we made happen" will take the place of "Wouldn't it be nice if...".

So, either I'm going to ride this "New and Improved Me" thing for the rest of my life or I'm gonna burn out by the end of the month. I'm interested to see how this plays out.

How about you? Do you have a list of to-do's for chores? The house? Your relationships? Or just for yourself? If not, how do you keep track of the things you need to do?

Also! Do you have a favorite craft or decorating blog? Tell me about it!

Drunk Cooking = NO

2011-01-06T12:33:00.001-05:00

My original intention was to write this post about me and my past shenanigans when it came to drinking, because there were a lot. But as I paged through the misty, bourbon-infused memories, one particularly unhappy memory popped up which had nothing to do with my own drinking.

#3 - Drunk

At the time of this incident, I was college and living in an apartment with two other girls. We hadn't been close friends prior to moving in together - it was more a matter of convenience, as I needed a place to stay when my original plans fell through. Still, they were friendly girls and I knew them fairly well (we were all Theatre students and in a program like that, you can't help but get to know each other - I think I had seen them both naked at this point, in fact).

All along, I knew that S was a big drinker. It was a fact which we all were pretty much aware of. She would come to cast parties and drink everyone else's liquor. There were so many people milling around that no one was paying attention, until folks went to pick up their bottles from the kitchen shelf at the end of the night and noticed that there was less then there should have been. They'd compare notes - after all, almost everyone brought something for themselves, so there was no need to drink anyone else's unless it was offered. Except for S.

At first we thought that since she was working at a restaurant & bar at the time, she may have already been halfway drunk when she arrived. Plus, she was a tiny little thing - a little over 5 feet tall, pretty thin. It wouldn't take much to knock her over.

By the time we were living together I knew this wasn't just a matter of a tiny girl not knowing her limit. Looking back, though, it was nothing bigger than an annoyance at the time for my other roommate and me. She just came off as a stereotypical college student who drank too much.

Then came the night of my birthday party. A bunch of friends came over after hanging out at a kareoke bar and we did super awesome exciting things like play board games. We were animals, I tell you. And several people brought, you guessed it, a bottle of their favorite drink. At the end of the night those bottles were still sitting there on the kitchen counter...either as a gift or forgotten. I fell asleep watching a movie on the couch.

An hour or so later, I woke up and smelled something burning. We had a glass door leading out to a balcony and in its reflection I saw S slumped on the kitchen floor. I went to the kitchen and found that she had been drinking while I was asleep and had gotten the great idea to make nachos in the oven. At 500 degrees. Then she threw up all over the kitchen.

Immediately I turned off the oven and yanked the stinking, smouldering pile of chips, cheese and beans out of there. Then I turned to her, where she was now half-conscious on the floor. I was so angry with her. The months of not being able to keep a bottle of booze in the apartment for longer than a few days...the fact that she was always needing rides home from male coworkers who would spend the night and occasionally lose their way and end up in my room...it all came to a head that that moment. Our other roommate wasn't home and if I had gone to bed in my room instead of falling asleep the way I did? I don't even wanna think about it. Plus the kitchen was an absolute wreck of food and spilled liquor and vomit.

I was furious, but she wasn't hearing me, of course. She was just telling me how much she'd wanted nachos and how they were ruined now and did I want a drink? And my anger disappeared, to be replaced with sadness. It was such a pitiful situation. Here she was, a bright, bubbly girl...reduced to this slurring mess with puke on her shirt.

I wound up having to pick her up and carry her to bed. I took the ruined cookie sheet with its "nachos" out to the balcony and cleaned the kitchen, all the while alternately cursing her and feeling sorry for her. I just couldn't believe the situation. Things never got that bad afterwards - I don't know if she remembered any of it or not, but I never had to deal with one of her coworkers in the middle of the night again.

It's years later and I know that I'll never forget how sad the sight of her on that kitchen floor made me. I moved out several months later and we fell out of touch. She's doing fine now, or so I've heard from friends. I really hope so.

Lack of Technology = Unnecessary Drama

2011-01-04T21:45:00.001-05:00

I had a moment today on the train when my iPod played several 80's songs in a row. "Lost In Your Eyes", "Take On Me", "Eternal Flame". I remarked on Twitter that it was as if my iPod had gone back in time, but wouldn't that be weird - an iPod in the 80's.

I then remembered watching "The Great Outdoors" last week with Rob, and how he made a comment about how much easier things would have gone for the son in the movie if there had been cell phones in use back then - he could have texted his girlfriend and let her know he was running late, instead of her thinking he'd stood her up. But no. Lack of technology = unnecessary drama.

It's weird, thinking back to a time when there weren't cell phones and iPods. It wasn't all that long ago. To talk to your friends, you had to pick up the house phone and then get yelled at for tying up the line. If I had a nickel for every time my Dad made the "wrap it up" signal (consisting of making an exaggerated circular motion with his hand while wearing an exasperated expression on his face, regardless of how long you'd been on the phone)...well, I'd be knee-deep in nickels, that's what. And there's the time my brother was getting on my case and being obnoxious because he wanted to get on the phone, to the point where I snapped and whacked him on the arm with the receiver (of course he cried about it like I'd broken his arm). Again, drama which could have been avoided had we all had cells.

Think about the crap that could have been avoided in films if only there were cell phones. "An Affair to Remember" may have ended a lot less tearfully if only Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr had been able to send a quick text or voicemail (but then Kleenex sales would suffer).

And historically? Forget it. Think of the rest poor Paul Revere's horse (and backside, let's be honest) would have gotten if he could have sent a mass text, tweet or status update on Facebook about the British coming.

Which sorta reminds me of something my brother and I laughed about one night over the summer. We were at the library and there was a portrait on the wall of Abraham Lincoln wearing a leather jacket. We got on the topic of Lincoln's Facebook updates if Facebook existed back then. "Can't wait for 'Our American Cousin' tonight @ Ford Theater - see you there!" - and then, underneath, "J.W. Booth Likes This".

And don't even get me started on visiting the library and making 5 cent copies of encyclopedia articles for school reports. Oh my God. Kids have it so easy. I hate them.

In closing, although I believe that technology will in fact someday be the cause of our demise (see: Skynet, which is becoming more and more likely with each passing decade...I wonder if James Cameron had any idea how close to the mark he'd come), I also believe that it clears up all the stupid misunderstandings and frustration which used to litter our lives before it. So now we have all this extra time.

To spend on Twitter.

This Is What Happens When I Try At Life

2011-01-04T13:27:00.000-05:00

As is usually the case, the new year has filled me with all sorts of ideas.

Or rather, the impending new year filled me with all sorts of ideas last month.

Either way, stuff's happening. Good stuff.

This weekend, Rob and I are going to move me over to my new Wordpress site! Yippee! (I say that now - who knows how it will actually turn out or how close either of us will come to murder or computer carnage once it's all said and done.) I'm so excited about it, and I love him for all the time and effort he's put into this design. So the new domain will *hopefully* go live next week after tweakage. I can't wait!

After the new site is a go and all is working well, I'll be kicking off a new series. The idea for this new series came into being as a result of my brainstorming over how I could try to add something to the blogsphere. After all, it's important to offer something to readers besides tales of my social ineptness and how much I like to cook and eat yummy things.

Then later that afternoon I happened to overhear a conversation in my office regarding one coworker's inability (unwillingness?) to cook. She claimed that she relied a lot on takeout and frozen entrees since she had never taken the time to learn to cook.

And it hit me. How many people really don't know how to cook? And I don't mean fancy stuff - I mean the basics. Roasting a chicken. Cooking fluffy rice. And then on to slightly more challenging/less practiced stuff like baking homemade bread (which is a totally worthwhile endeavor, trust me if you haven't tried it yourself). I think it's easy to take for granted this knowledge if, like me, you find yourself hungry to learn everything you can. I mean, I was watching my mom make dinner every night for years - I would just stand there and watch her and she would ask me why (like in a "Why are you staring at me" sort of way. Just kidding. Maybe). Other kids were probably spending their time doing kid things. I was buying my mom a spice rack for Christmas which I used more than she did.

So starting this month (date still TBD based upon the process of launching the new site), I'll be offering a weekly series called Cooking Basics. In this series you'll see simple, basic techniques and recipes which can help any home cook step up their game a little bit. For instance, I'll explain a basic technique (for instance, a roux), then take it a step further if possible (bechamel sauce), then use it in a dish (like lasagna). And of course I would love as much feedback as possible, not to mention ideas for future entries.

I'll be giving more information on this as the launch grows closer. I'm really excited about it and I hope you will be as well!

I'm really thrilled that Rob had the great idea for me to buy an inexpensive, portable mini studio to take my pictures with - I had thought about building a light box but of course he's much more cut-to-the-chase than I am. That should be coming in tomorrow so I'll soon be taking much prettier shots!

Also, I have a new gig in the works! I'm still waiting for the odds and ends to be ironed out, but once they are I'll be starting a paid writing job at a really cool website. Stay tuned for more details on that!

Oh, and in case you were wondering: The cooking will continue. I know I haven't posted any new recipes on here in a while, mainly because we've been existing solely on holiday leftovers and pasta for the past couple of weeks (true story). This weekend, though, I'll be making my faaaaavorite Indian dish of all time (incidentally, one of only two or three Indian dishes I've ever eaten). So get your salivary glands ready for that!

How about YOU? Any big changes happening as a result of the new year?

Cultivating Drive

2011-01-02T17:19:00.000-05:00

My friend Alicia over at A Beautiful Mess is, as always, a source of great inspiration. She was inspired to focus on just one word which she will then use in as many aspects of her life as possible. Her word is "simplicity". I think that's a great word - too much of life is full of stuff, of things to do, of self-imposed burdens. We probably all need to set a burden or two down and live a bit more simply.

So here I am, two days into a brand-spanking new year, wondering if I should pick a word and what that word should be.

But here's the rub, friends. I can't focus on just one word. It's too much for me. There are so many areas of my life which need help. At least, that's how it seems from my point of view. My health, my finances, my goals. Not to mention the bed that never gets made, the laundry that piles up on the bedroom floor, the overflowing kitchen cabinets that don't quite close, the kitchen drawers which don't open without some effort because they too are overflowing with nonsense. I feel completely unfulfilled in my job. I know that I have talents which are going unused or underused as a result of my insecurity, combined with a more-than-healthy dose of laziness.

All of this thinking over the muddled and criss-crossed roads which compose my life has led me to create a visual depiction of the mess in my head:

Yeah. It all boils down to laziness.

So I went on the interwebs and looked up the opposite of laziness. The word which speaks most clearly to me is:

DRIVE

Drive is the one quality I'm lacking most, and always have. For as long as I can remember I've envied driven people and wondered what they had and how I could attain it. Drive is what gets stuff done. It's what makes a goal achievable. And it's not something I've ever recognized in myself.

My word for 2011 is drive. It's finding the strength and sticktoitiveness within myself to move forward in all aspects of my life. And in a funny coincidence, drive can be taken literally as well, since I'm still struggling with my fear of driving - yet another hurdle to overcome this year.

But...is drive something you can cultivate? A habit which can be developed? Or is it something you have to be born with and are basically SOL if you weren't?

What do you think? Are you a driven person by nature, or is it something you have to work on? Is there any hope for me?

New Year, New Resolutions

2010-12-31T12:27:00.000-05:00

Here we are. Just another New Year's Eve.

This is a day when many people, myself included, sit back and think on all of the hopes and dreams of last year...and focus on the unrealized ones. I mean, think about it. That's all a resolution is: A way to make next year better than this year. And it's all too easy to reflect on how the past year just didn't measure up.

I know that good things happened this year. Another great vacation. The ability to buy a new car when the old one went kaput. Continued employment. The continued health of my loved ones.

And then there's the things that happened in the day-to-day. A special dinner prepared for me after a long, hard commute. The fun of hosting this year's holidays and being able to spend time with my family. Waking up this morning, with a full To Do list before our party tonight, to find that *someone* completed half of those tasks for me while I was sleeping.

So here I sit, at my kitchen table, my mind a-buzz with possibility for 2011.

I wonder why it takes the changing of a year for folks to want to make a change in their lives. Why not every day? I suppose it's easier to look ahead and think of the year as a whole, rather than the 365 days in which choices have to be made. Choices like sticking to that exercise routine...eating this, not that...spending a bit of down time catching up with friends or reconnecting with a spouse or significant other...saying no to that impulse purchase.

MY resolution this year is simply this: To look at each day as a new opportunity to create joy, health, love, beauty and wealth in my life - and making the necessary choices each day. To not forget my goals from day-to-day...and if I ever do, to pick right back up the next morning.

How about you? Do you make resolutions? If so, what are you resolving this year?

I hope that all of your wishes for 2011 come true!

Wordless Wednesday: Holiday Carnage

2010-12-28T23:19:00.000-05:00

It was dinner time on Christmas night. The madness had come to a peak and was slowly subsiding. The food had been put out, almost all on time, and nothing had been forgotten. My blood pressure was returning to normal levels.

Of course, in the midst of the madness and my eagerness to get everyone fed, I didn't get a chance to snap any "before" pics. But as I sat for the first time in hours to enjoy my own plate of food, I took a shot of the carnage:

Whew!

Linking up with Wordless Wednesday

My Year in Blogging

2010-12-28T21:25:00.000-05:00

Blogging is a wondrous thing.

It affords a blogger the opportunity to make great friends and to become part of an infinitely large community. I know that it's expanded my world in all sorts of unforeseen directions in the past year. I mean, before I started blogging in a more serious manner, I had no idea that it would be so easy to make apple dumplings! Not to mention cinnamon rolls, which have become a beautiful and cherished part of my life and could possibly be a holiday tradition from here on in.

It never occurred to me that anyone might be so impressed with my chocolate pudding cake recipe that they'd want to make it for a birthday party - but someone did, and they loved it.

Turns out, lots of people like deviled eggs. Who knew?

Blogging affords me the opportunity to look back and reminisce over the weekends we spent in this house before we moved in, trying to make some room for ourselves in the midst of 30 years of possessions. The move was an emotional thing, for sure. I sit here now, almost a year later, and realize how far we've come since then. It took a lot of work, but it was worth it. Now it actually feels like a home, not just a house with some stuff in it.

Plus, I still can't believe we got those couches upstairs.

Three.Holidays.Hosted. I think that sums it up.

I've met people from across the country and overseas. I've come to regard many of these people as friends - friends I cheer for, pray for, laugh and cry with. My eyes have been opened to new ways of living, and to the fact that we all have something we struggle with from time to time but through it all, we can turn to each other.

Thank you, friends, for sharing your lives with me. I hope that we can continue together in 2011!

Coming soon: Resolutions - to make or not to make?

Scenes From A Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T22:47:00.002-05:00

I hope that you all had a blessed and happy holiday, friends.

I hope that you all got to have something delicious for breakfast...

I hope you enjoyed it, regardless of its caloric content...

I hope you got to enjoy some cookies...

I hope you got some help in the kitchen...

I hope you got some exercise to burn off all that junk food from earlier...

And that you spent some time with loved ones...

As for us...

We celebrated my cousin's 30th birthday...

...before diving face-first into dessert.

My great-aunt was with us once again, for which we're all grateful.

Finally, we all gathered in the living room to exchange gifts. It was messy and paper-filled, but we made it happen.

I can't explain this one. It's just...us.

It was exhausting, it was messy, it was full of laughter.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Big City, Big Dinner

2010-12-23T10:09:00.001-05:00

This past Saturday night, during our weekend of holiday fun, Rob and I treated ourselves to a meal at Fogo De Chao. I don't know if any of you are familiar with the place (they have locations across the U.S.) or their style of service, but it's definitely an experience.

We had heard great things about this place in the past and were just looking for an opportunity to visit.

The lowdown: First you visit the absolutely incredible salad bar, which features some out-of-this-world choices. They're basically trying to fill you up on salad so you don't eat too much meat. Yeah, I had their number. But it didn't stop me from filling my plate...

I mean, seriously. If you were facing down a salad bar which featured gorgeous veggies, smoked salmon, proscuitto, and all sorts of yummy cheeses...

Would YOU be able to pass it up?

Especially if there was a giant wheel of parmaggiano reggiano just sitting there, waiting for you to dig out a piece or three?

I mean, seriously. Look at that and tell me you wouldn't do the same darn thing.

(Incidentally, I need one of those wheels of cheese for my kitchen.)

Moving on. Once the salad course is finished (by the way, they do offer the option of just ordering the salad bar, which in my opinion would be totally worthwhile for a nice lunch), it's time to bring on the meat. Each person at the table is given a disc - one side green, the other red. You start off with the red side up. As soon as you flip to green, though...

The bombardment begins. I was trying to get a good picture of the process but those gauchos are so fast. They come to your table with meat on a long skewer. They explain what the meat is and ask if you would like some, then ask how you like your meat cooked. You tell them and they slice some off for you.

This happens over and over again until you explode. The end.

Okay, maybe it's not quite that dramatic, although I'm sure it could be if you didn't flip your disc to red prior to your expiration. There's 15 different types and cuts of meat, from filet mignon to sausage to chicken drumsticks to bacon-wrapped chicken to sirloin...and on and on...

It was utter carnage. And we did not even get halfway through the offerings - I know I saw a table of folks eating what appeared to be lambchops but we didn't get that far into the process before we gave up.

Oh, did I mention that they offered garlic mashed potatoes, polenta and fried plantains as well? It was heaven, I tell you. Absolutely heaven. And I'm not ashamed to say that I took full advantage of the sides, even though I know that they, like the salad, were meant to fill me up. Hey, I'm not trying to eat a whole cow here.

As I said, we flipped our discs to red long before all of the choices were offered to us. We were smart, and I was proud of us for that. No need to go overboard.

Oh wait. You say there's cheesecake?

Oh...I see...well, I'll have to try some...

Look how it glistens...

They actually offered at least a dozen choices for dessert, and each choice sounded more amazing than the last. But you can't go wrong with cheesecake. And we were not disappointed.

There's also a tremendous wine list, but since the wines were only served by the bottle and I'm the sole wine drinker, I passed.

In all, we were glad to have taken the chance on Fogo. Would we return? Yes, but we agreed after the meal that it would probably be more fun to go with a group of people. For the money we spent, we could have had a really fantastic meal at Morimoto, which I adore more than life itself, and we would have felt as though it was worth the cost. At a place like Fogo there's almost a feeling of pressure to eat your money's worth - and frankly, I don't feel as though we came anywhere close.

Still, it was yummy. And I got to carve chunks out of a giant wheel of cheese. So it was a good night.

Macy's Christmas Light Show

2010-12-21T12:51:00.000-05:00

On Saturday night, we went to see the Christmas Light Show at Macy's in Philadelphia. It was just as whimsical and lovely as I remembered.

It was fun to see both kids and adults crowding around to watch the lights.

Rob made a point that back when this store was built (when it was Wanamaker's, the first department store in the country), things were just done differently. It's such a beautiful building - marble floors, balconies on each level overlooking the Grand Court Atrium, even a huge organ which is the largest playable instrument in the world! It's a really special place.

And it was a really special night!

Oatmeal Raisin Health Food

2010-12-19T17:07:00.000-05:00

After a lovely weekend in Philadelphia, the time eventually came to go home. We had a lot of fun and I hope to be able to share some of our experiences with you here.

However, one can only stand so much holiday fun, especially on the weekend before Christmas when approximately a million things need to be done.

This afternoon, I'm finally baking my oatmeal raisin cookies. I'm really warming up to good old oatmeal raisin - they may not be as sexy as , say, chocolate chip. And they're not as "oooh, ahhh" as peanut butter cup cookies, either.

But they have something going for them that neither of the other two have. Namely, the fact that oatmeal is totally awesome for you. So these are, in fact, health food.

You heard it here, folks. Bake 'em up, eat 'em up. Your body will be so busy thanking you for filling it with oatmeal (not to mention raisins and cinnamon, which are also completely good for you) that it won't even notice that it's processing butter and sugar as well.

Trust me.

Incidentally, this dough was frozen into individual cookie portions in advance, then just plopped on to the cookie sheet and baked.

And they turned out just perfect! Crispy on the edges and chewy in the middle. Sweet, rich and buttery.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

3/4 cup softened butter

3/4 cup white sugar

3/4 cup packed brown sugar

2 eggs

1 1/4 cup flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 3/4 cup of rolled oats (not instant!)

1 cup raisins

Cream together butter and both sugars. Add eggs and mix to incorporate.

In separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt. Add to butter mixture and mix thoroughly. Add oats and raisins and stir to combine.

Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes. Makes 4 dozen.

OR, place dough on sheet as if to bake, but place in freezer instead. Once dough balls are frozen, store in an airtight container. When ready to bake, place dough on sheet and bake in preheated 350 degree oven for 15 minutes.

Delicious! I'm off to ingest some more health food now...

So, how is YOUR cookie baking going?

Intervention, Party of One

2010-12-17T10:59:00.002-05:00

It snowed yesterday - our first measurable snowfall of the year. Of course it was, like, a coating. But that was enough to make life sorta miserable when it came to commuting. Especially when it's the first snowfall of the year and everyone's super uber overly cautious because of it. But that's neither here nor there, and not the point of this post.

The point: I was walking rather cautiously to work from the train, knowing that there was still a slick coating of snow everywhere and knowing that I am, in fact, the Klutziest Person in the World. This has been proven by a crack team of medical specialists and will soon be reported in top medical journals.

So I wasn't in any hurry.

On my right shoulder was my enormous and completely packed bag. A bag which contained among other things my wallet, phone, journal, makeup, train passes, pasta salad for today's holiday luncheon, and my contribution to a gift exchange*.

Notice the placement of the cup next to it so you can get a sense of scale and the sheer enormity of this beloved bag. That's how dedicated I am to reporting hard-hitting issues.

In my left hand was this:

That's right. A venti non-fat, no-whip peppermint mocha. Nectar of the gods. And only one sip had been stolen from its papery vessel at this point.

And as I walked, I had one thought:

If I go down, I have to save the coffee.

Yes. The coffee. Not the bag, containing most of my life. The coffee.

And now I'm thinking I have a real problem.

But you know what? It's all good. Because one of my New Years Resolutions is...

Going cold turkey on Starbucks and, in fact, coffee in general. I know I can do it because I have in the past, and the longer I go without it, the less I want it. All I need to do is decide, every morning, that I'm going to walk right past the coffee stand.

Hold me.

*A $15 giftcard to...Starbucks. Intervention, anyone?

Funny thing: Two friends happened to post about their relationships with coffee today as well. The Empress is giving it up after a long affair, and Jenny has been a little, well, jittery lately. Check them out and get ready to laugh and empathize!

This One Time, In The School Yard...

2010-12-16T12:48:00.001-05:00

I've never participated in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop before, but as soon as I saw prompt #5, A Fist Fight, a special memory popped up and I knew I had to share a warm, fuzzy story...

When I was 8 years old, my family moved from a tiny 2-bedroom house to a slightly larger 3-bedroom house in the same neighborhood. I can see why my parents decided to make the move - not only was the first house the size of a postage stamp, but it existed on a street full of certifiably insane neighbors. That's a story for another time.

The biggest perk of moving? Living directly across the street from school. Talk about being the envy of the rest of the kids! If you played your cards right you could be out of bed and in the school yard in 10 minutes or less. Plus, our church was right there as well, which was a total bonus on sleepy Sunday mornings.

The second biggest perk to moving was that I was finally living around other kids. I was thrilled to pieces to find out that just two doors down would be a family with a little girl exactly my age, who I'd known since 1st grade. And I wasn't even half as thrilled as she was...I guess that should have been my first clue that there was something amiss. She had all these kids living so close by but was still in need of a friend. Turns out it was because she was insane.

Okay. In hindsight she wasn't any more insane than the average little girl. But she was a "type", and I know you've all experienced her. The needy, overly-fussy, everything-has-to-be-my-way, I-hate-you-today-but-will-be-your-best-friend-tomorrow-but-only-until-someone-better-comes-along-and-then-I'll-pretend-I-have-to-go-home-but-will-really-hang-out-with-that-other-person type.

And she was my best friend. Lucky me. Maybe I was the insane one.

Naturally, because my best friend was batsh*t crazy, I experienced my share of drama in the years that followed our move. And I got into my fair share of girlfights. But nothing as dramatic as the time we fist-fought in the school yard before the bell rang.

I don't remember what started us off, but the situation devolved into the two of us standing nose-to-nose, shouting insults at each other. And of course, the insults revolved around our families because, hey, that's the easiest spot to pick at if you really wanna hurt someone.

Me: At least MY Dad doesn't make me go in and fix drinks for him when he's outside with the neighbors! (referring to the fact that she had preparing her father's mixed drinks for him for years)
Her: At least I have a Dad I can look UP to! (referring to my father's 5'2" stature)
Me: At least MY parents don't send me outside to knock for my friends in bad weather because THEY DON'T LIKE ME AND WANT ME OUT OF THE HOUSE! (I think this one is pretty much self-explanatory)

That was it. The tipping point. Her eyes widened for a split second - I had hit my mark. And then she hit me. This devolved into a hair-pulling, blind-punching match, with the other girls cheering us on from the circle which had formed around us. After no more than 15 seconds or so (though it seemed like an eternity), we were pulled apart by two older girls and - gulp! - sent to the Principal's office.

This was new territory for me. I was a Good Girl. I had never so much as been reprimanded and here I was, being sent to the Principal's office. Where I got a demerit. And...an invitation to detention.

WHOA. This rocked my world. It was unthinkable. So unthinkable, in fact, that I ran back across the street to tell my mom that I (I!) had gotten detention for fighting. This was world-ending for me. I was in a panic.

But Mom was not as ruffled as I. I guess she wasn't all that surprised, since this was just one of so many fights I'd gotten into with this girl. So she told me to calm down, that I wasn't in any trouble with her, and to go back across the street before I was late for school.

So I did. And we both sat in detention later that week. Where we passed notes and made up, after our mothers had forced us to stand face-to-face and apologize for everything we said.

Oh, did I mention that things I said were only things I had heard my parents discuss in the past? And that my Mom had to stand there and listen to me repeat them in front of HER mother? And probably cringe?

Sorry, Mom.

Addictive Candied Nuts

2010-12-15T07:00:00.002-05:00

Thanks to everyone who offered encouragement and support last week when I opened up regarding my tendency to overdo things during the holidays, especially when it comes to throwing a party. I didn't go as far as I usually do, but I did manage to fall asleep before the party was over. Like a lame-o. One day I'll manage to stay awake, I swear.

Oh, how I wish I had managed to get pictures of the spread I put out. I truly do. There were stuffed mushrooms, shrimp cocktail, chicken skewers, barbecue meatballs...it went on and on.

I'm not gonna lie. It was a lot of food.

Sadly, I wasn't finished putting it all out when guests showed up and started eating. So I sent Rob into the dining room with the camera to try to get some shots of what was there before it was decimated.

I used sharp cheddar, brie, garlicky boursin, fresh mozzarella and Maytag blue cheeses (the Maytag being separate from the rest due to an allergy among the guests). Accompaniments were sliced pepperoni, candied nuts, sliced pears, grapes and honey. On the side, hummus and a delicious roasted tomato bruschetta (which I found at She Wears Many Hats). Crackers and a basket of fresh-from-the-oven crostini completed the spread.

And it all fit in with my "less work, greater effect" plan for the night. So it was a win-win all around!

I fully intend to put this together again on New Years, and promise to take actual pictures next time!

To make amends, let me share with you my absolute favorite recipe for candied nuts. They're pretty much ridiculous, addictive and incredible. Put a bowl of these babies out at your holiday gathering and watch them disappear (which is why I always hold some aside for later, but that's just between you and me). They went well with all the cheeses I used...as well as by the handful, several days later.

Not like I would know or anything...

Candied Nuts

1 lb shelled walnuts or pecans (or a combination thereof, which I used)

1 cup white sugar

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Line a cookie sheet with waxed paper.

In medium saucepan, combine sugar, cinnamon, salt, milk and vanilla. Heat over medium-high for 8 minutes, or until mixture reaches soft-ball stage of 236 degrees F.

Immediately add nuts and mix thoroughly, making sure to coat as evenly as possible. Pour nuts out onto prepared cookie sheet and break up into pieces. Allow to cool completely and enjoy!

So what about you? Do you have any go-to appetizer or snack recipes which you use during the holidays?

Painting the Town Red and Green

2010-12-14T17:00:00.000-05:00

How excited am I?

About what, you ask? Well, I'll tell ya. I'm excited because this weekend, Rob and I are going to spend time together in the best city I know - Philadelphia.

You may remember that we spent a weekend there over the summer, hanging out with friends and just generally enjoying the time together without having to answer to anyone else. It was pretty awesome, and something we knew we had to do again (if only for the Heavenly Bed and Heavenly Shower at the Westin. Seriously, have you ever experienced them? Because if not I'd dare to say that you haven't lived. It's just that amazing.).

I love Philly so much. I can't describe the feeling very articulately. It's just where I was born and raised, the skyline I know by heart, the city I'm insanely proud of for all the times it tries (even if it doesn't always succeed).

It's the place that, whenever I visited somewhere else (including NYC), I missed and wanted to return to. It's home and it always will be.

So on Saturday and Sunday we paint the town red...and green, since we're going to try to see as many Christmas-y things as we can. First up is two tickets to Holiday Pops, which is always fun (they have a gospel choir that is so good I swear I wanna jump up and sing along)...then we hope to get a chance to visit Christmas Village at City Hall, and my favorite...

I haven't seen the light show at Macy's since it was the light show at Wannamaker's (maybe it was already Lord & Taylor at that time...who can tell?). It's simple enough - a whole wall of lights in the shape of animals, Christmas characters and snowflakes blinks in time to music and narration by none other than Julie Andrews. Compared to more hi-tech spectacles this may seem...pedestrian.

But it is so.not.even. It's magical. There's something about the music and the lights, and seeing the awestruck faces of the little guys all around, that resonates in the soul. Plus it's pretty. And Rob's never seen it. So I'm really looking forward to seeing it again.

We would love, like looooove, to visit the Italian Market as well. We went last year and had a blast even though it was, like, 2 degrees outside with constant icy winds. I hope that this time around we can take more time to enjoy it without suffering hypothermia. All the spices, fresh meats and seafood, cheese and produce I can get my hands on. It's a dangerous scenario, actually. Seriously, y'all would have a fit down there.

How could you not be happy around all this olive oil? How??

Regardless of whether or not I get to frolic in the Christmas Village, or drool over the multitude of beautiful food shops in South Philly, or get a good night's sleep in a Heavenly Bed*, it matters not. The important thing is spending time with Rob and taking a breather from the madness of the holidays.

That's what it's all about.

*I better get a good night's sleep in that bed. I was totally lying about it not mattering.

How about you? Any special plans for the holiday season?

Wrappin' It Up

2010-12-14T08:40:00.001-05:00

Blah.

Erg.

Yucky.

So to sum it all up, in case you aren't following: I am not a fan of wrapping gifts.

Buying? Yes. Unwrapping? Sure! But actually wrapping? Not so much. Because I stink at it. There. I said it.

But then I take a look...

...and I see all the work he's done for me.

It's so pretty.

So here I go again, wrapping and decorating so he'll have pretty presents under the tree, just like I do.

How about you? Are you any good at wrapping gifts? Or is there another holiday to-do that makes your skin crawl?

Perspective is Key

2010-12-13T14:36:00.000-05:00

So many things in life can be taken for granted. I mean, it's all relative, right? Whatever you think is your sorrow may seem like bliss to the person standing next to you.

For instance, I often bemoan the fact that Rob and I live with his father as a result of his illness and subsequent recovery. Okay, maybe not "bemoan" necessarily, but I do talk about it a lot. I need to get it out of my system. (I just typed up a bunch of stuff and erased it because you don't need to read about it and it's not right for me to air it out like that.)

But then I hear stories of people who have it so much worse. People I know personally. For instance, a couple who just attended our party over the weekend. Turns out they're having such financial difficulties that they don't even live together anymore - they live with relatives and see each other only on the weekends. Both have jobs...they just don't make enough money to have a place of their own right now.

Not to mention so many more people who are so afraid of what's going to happen when their unemployment is cut off...right before Christmas.

And here I am, complaining. Even though I get to see my husband every day and sleep in the same bed with him every night. So what if we normally don't get to go to bed together because one of us has to stay up until FIL goes to bed, regardless of what time it is? At the end of the day, we're together and comfortable in our home, and planning a lovely holiday with our family, and probably going a tad bit overboard with gifts.

We're even going away for a night this weekend. Sure, we had to plan it well over a month in advance so as to secure plans for FIL, but hey, so very many people don't get to experience such luxuries.

It's all about perspective. I can think of a few people I know personally who wouldn't be able to handle what we handle on a daily basis...but I can think of many more than that who would probably jump at the chance.

And it humbles me.

Oh, Christmas Tree

2010-12-10T06:00:00.003-05:00

I'm so happy to be sharing this series of Christmas tree memories with my friends over at Company Girl Coffee today! Pay a visit - you won't be disappointed!

There really is something about just sitting at night, looking at the tree. It takes me back to my younger days, and the annual Christmas tree decorating which took place at my parents' house.

When I was little, we'd put the tree a couple of weeks before Christmas. This was always the most magical time of the season.

Or so you'd think.

We'd always use the same fake tree. I can't tell you how long the first tree I remember lasted...decades, I guess. Back then they made the trees well, as they did with everything else. So Dad would bring the pieces up from the basement and with each trip, the excitement increased.

Then the stand would be place in its spot of honor, and the center pole in the middle. Screws would be tightened to hold the pole in place, and then Dad would wrap a piece of twine around it and nail it to the wall - I'm assuming that the tree must've fallen at one point, back in the day? A wire hoop went around the pole, to hold the branches out to their desired fullness...and then the rows of branches would go on, one by one.

At this point, the tree never seemed tall enough. Is it possible, I'd wonder annually, that I remembered it taller than it actually was? Did it grow in my memory? But then the top piece would slide home, and that top branch was just as high up as I knew it to be in my heart.

Then. Oh, then. It came time for Mom to "shape" the tree - you know, spreading and arranging those many bristly branches until there weren't any empty spaces and the tree looked good and full. This...was a little stressful for all of us. And now, upon remembering this, I know where my "you're only saying it looks good so I'll stop" attitude (which pops up every now and again) comes from. Because I'm pretty sure I just quoted her directly.

Then time for the lights. I liked to make myself as invisible as possible as Mom and Dad ~~snipped at each other~~ worked together like a real team over the spacing of the strands as they progressed down the length of the tree. It was ~~uncomfortable~~ super fun.

Finally. Finally once my mother was completely and totally emotionally drained from the strain of shaping and then stringing the lights, it was time to hang ornaments. This was where my brother and I would come in, and after many years, my sister and my other brother. To this day, there's still the rush between Jason and I to get our "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments on the tree first, and in a position of more prominence. Pushing and shoving would ensue as we clamored to get our ornament just one branch higher than the other. One year not long ago I came home to find my ornament on the back of the tree. So mine replaced Jason's, and his was turned backwards. Mine then went in the trash. It's a good time.

But it's all okay in the end, because I was the first born and therefore have more "This baby is awesome" ornaments than he does. That's just the way it goes.

Nowadays, I don't decorate the tree with the family. I decorate my own tree with my husband. And this year we were fortunate enough to decorate two trees - one in the living room, one in the den. We might not have the annual "who can find their ornament and get it on there first" cage match, but we do carefully unwrap our own precious ornaments...the ones from our honeymoon and from each anniversary...the "Our First Christmas, 2006" ornament which we so treasure...and put them on the tree together.

I hope that one day I'll watch, lovingly, as my own children clump all the ornaments together in the one spot of the tree they can actually reach, the way Jason did when we were small. They'll go to bed and I'll fix things when they're asleep. And maybe through the years we'll be adding more "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments long after I thought I ever would, the way my parents did when the younger pair were born. Maybe they'll clamor to hang their own favorite ornaments and through the decades will turn it into a good-natured rivalry which only happens once a year. And I'll remember putting up the tree long ago with my family, and how even my parents' strained nerves were a part of the ritual.

And I'll smile beatifically through it all, my composure maintained, my sanity firmly in place.

See, we use pre-lit trees now. It's a better day.

The Biggest Nerd of All

2010-12-09T16:40:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I feel like...

...the biggest nerd.

...I have nothing of importance to say.

...no one would want to read/hear what I have to say anyway.

...I constantly have to think and re-think my words to people, because I might say the wrong thing.

...my overanalyzing only makes things worse.

...pulling the covers over my head and starting again tomorrow.

Do you ever feel this way?

The Stupid Elf In My Head

2010-12-08T16:01:00.003-05:00

I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching lately, and it all revolves around the holidays.

For my entire life, I’ve been that person who waits all year long for Christmas to come around once again. The sheer magic of the holidays does something to me. I can’t explain it, but the thought of it sends delighted shivers up my spine. And I’m thrilled to say that my enthusiasm towards this time of year has rubbed off on my husband, who is quickly surpassing me in Christmas spirit. It does my heart good to see it.

So I’m sort of “that person”. The one who discreetly listens to Christmas music on her iPod in early November. Who thrills at the appearance of the first Christmas commercial on TV. Whose heart skips at beat the sight of the first decorations.

I’m also the naive girl who made it her mission in life, one year, to have homemade eggnog with her family on Christmas Eve (I hadn’t learned about tempering eggs yet…and had to skim out the little bits of scrambled while fighting a sense of disillusionment). The girl who once stayed up until 3 in the morning, baking cookies for coworkers (because I didn’t start making them til I got home from work that night - it was a bad idea). The idiot who bought I can’t even tell you how many skeins of yarn on year in order to make afghans for extended family (I completed a total of ONE of them, by the way – sometimes I can do more in my head than I can in real life).

Over the years, though, this feeling of “I can accomplish every ridiculous idea the neurotic little Christmas elf in my head comes up with” has left me…exhausted. Irritated. Frustrated. And it has drained me, slowly but surely, of my Christmas cheer. I find myself loving the idea of the holidays more than the holidays themselves. I look forward to cookie baking, but the act of it leaves me annoyed and stressed. My spirit of joy is dying by inches with each passing year.

Hence the soul searching. Why is this happening? And can it be stopped?

Then I saw something this morning which made my jaw drop. I wish I could remember where I saw it – on a blog? In a comment? On Twitter? For the life of me I can’t find it, and if I did I’d thank the person who typed it out even if it wasn’t their idea. And even if my interpretation wasn't what was intended.

It’s literally as if the little elf in my head started screaming and jumping up and down and banging pots and pans to get my attention, because he recognized the answer to the problem immediately.

“Do Less. Be More.”

Whoa. Stop the presses. What’s this? You mean I can actually do LESS and be MORE?

Up til now, when I’ve thrown a holiday party, I’ve felt compelled to go from-scratch all the way. Literally the biggest shortcut I’ve ever taken was using canned crescent rolls for pigs in a blanket (and seriously, who wouldn’t? They’re the most delicious things ever) or a pre-made pie crust. And that’s pretty much it.

In most cases, it’s really a matter of economics – over time I’ve learned, as most of us do, that there’s a convenience charge involved with even the most everyday items. So why pay extra for a bag of shredded cheese when I can spend less for a block and grate it myself? Why buy candied nuts when it’s a snap to make a glaze for plain old nuts on the stove? Why buy slice-and-bake? A tub of hummus? A jar of sauce? I can make all of these things by myself.

Thing is…when you’re hosting a party and there’s a bunch of things to be prepared, it may be a good idea to take not only dollars but time invested into consideration as well, and how much of It you’re spending not enjoying yourself and your guests. Lord knows I can’t remember the last party I threw where I wasn’t too exhausted to enjoy myself. Case in point: Last New Years, when I slept through 2 hours of the party. True story.

So the lesson here, at least my interpretation of it, is that I need to do less fretting, less from-scratch preparation of every single thing, less stressing over the perfection (or lack thereof) of everything in my domain…and more being there. More connecting, more sharing, more actual listening to what a friend is telling me as opposed to keeping an ear out for the oven timer. To be more of a hostess and less of a Martha wannabe. I need to tell myself that people are showing up not just for the food (although let’s not kid, they’re coming for the food) but to be with me and my husband. And the best thing I can give them is the gift of my attention to them.

Because at the end of the holiday season, no one will give me a medal for Most Cookies Baked. No one will care that the delicious dip I served up came from Trader Joe’s and not my food processor. Or that I made my own eggnog or crocheted everyone’s gifts or stood at my counter/stove/sink until I wished my feet would fall off because after 7 hours they hurt.so.much.

What they will care about, at least I would hope, is that we got to spend time together in a lovely, festive atmosphere…while I was actually awake.

And eating pigs in a blanket.

What about you? Do you set high standards for yourself during the holidays? Do you have any tips, tricks or shortcuts to share?

The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever

2010-12-07T15:55:00.000-05:00

Chocolate.chip.cookies.

Really, are there any three words which go together so perfectly? Any three words which stir the soul the way those three simple words can?

Okay. Maybe "I love you". But "chocolate chip cookies" absolutely has to be #2 on the list.

It just so happens that I'm married to a lover of the cookies with the chocolate chips, so when I'm baking Christmas cookies, chocolate chip have to be knocked out right away just so he can relax and quit asking me when I'm making them. Sheesh.

It helps when making dozens upon dozens of cookies that a recipe be easy. And this, I'm sure you'll agree, is a pretty darn easy recipe. It's not all fancy pantsy and filled with crazy add-ins. Just straight up buttery, chocolate chip goodness.

It also happens to result in what are probably the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever made. This, friends, is what we call a "win-win". And who wins? You do.

And whoever gets to eat them, of course.

Note: I know that everyone and their mother has their own favorite recipe which they call "best ever". Don't listen to them. Listen to me.

Just kidding.

The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever

1 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips*

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Cream together the butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the vanilla. In a separate bowl, mix together flour, baking soda and salt, then add to the butter mixture and thoroughly combine. Stir in chocolate chips. Drop by large spoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets.
Bake for 15-20 minutes in preheated oven.**

* This is purely a matter of taste. I don't like too many chips in my cookies and feel that 2 cups is way too much. You may feel differently!
**15 minutes is usually enough to get that beautiful golden brown color, but some ovens (like mine) require 20. So keep an eye on these babies and make sure they don't burn!

Do YOU have a favorite cookie recipe?

And Now For Something Completely Different...

2010-12-06T14:58:00.003-05:00

I know this is a different sort of post for me, but it's something that's been on my mind today. While sitting on the train this morning and observing the people around me, I witnessed an everyday occurrence which sparked a memory. And immediately, all of the old feelings came rushing back – the embarassment, the confusion, the ickiness. Instantly, I thought “This is something I will teach my daughter about one day”.

Should I have a daughter, I’ll tell her this story because, really, a girl needs to know these things. I hope my sister reads this too, just in case!

There we sat, my best friend and I, eating crabs and drinking beer. It was a few days after my 21st birthday and this was my first time *in* a bar and drinking. I felt so grown up! Of course, in the back of my mind danced “So…this is it? This is what you’ve been waiting to be able to do? The Big Deal?”, but I pushed it aside. It was a big deal to me. I was in a bar and legally, to boot. And eating crabs. Back then you could smoke in Philly establishments, so the swirling smoke only served to heighten the atmosphere. It was all so mystical.

Of course the bar was only around the corner and a few streets down from my parents. Baby steps.

Towards the end of our evening, we left our table and made our way over to the bar, where my friend suggested we do a couple of shots. As we were both pretty much stone sober at the time (literally, I think we split a pitcher of beer and didn’t even finish it), and she promised to know of some tasty concoctions (she being a year older than me and therefore the elder statesman of bar stuff), I agreed.

We perched ourselves on a couple of stools and commenced with the shot taking – buttery nipples, if I remember correctly. They were really good. And before long, we had attracted a small bit of attention from a couple of older guys who were sitting catty corner to us. They started to chat us up, along with the bartender, and we went along with it. Just benign banter.

Now, I’ve always been a friendly person and I have no problem carrying on a conversation with a stranger. I’m pretty sure we talked about the fact that I was returning to college the next day, and that I was moving into my old dorm room with my roommate from the year before. Perfectly reasonable stuff. Plus these guys were, like, ancient as far as I was concerned – mid 40’s at the youngest, all blue-collar types workingman types, and I figured it was just a way to pass the time with two newcomers, since they all seemed to be fairly at home belly-up to the bar.

Then the inevitable happened, though in my mind it was hardly inevitable. One of the guys offered to buy me a drink. But again, I was totally innocent. I had not been indoctrinated in the subtle dance that takes place seven nights a week in every bar in America. I figured, what the heck, a free drink. Count me in! So I accepted – I don’t remember what my friend did or if she was included in the offer. But I enjoyed my drink and we continued talking about random things.

Eventually it was time to leave. I had started getting a weird vibe at this point from the man who had bought me the drink so I was all too happy to go. Every time I glanced his way I saw him looking at me from beneath lowered lids. Now, I might have been innocent when it came to very many things, but the icy shiver up my spine told me straight-up what that look meant. I didn’t understand why he would look at me that way. I was just a kid, and he was a grown-up, probably my father’s age. I think I might have murmured something about it to my friend, about how he was weirding me out and I wanted to go. So we said goodnight and got our things together and walked out.

We crossed the street and I was literally, honest-to-God just opening my mouth to express my relief at having gotten out of there, when I heard “Jen?” from behind us.

I turned around and couldn’t believe it – he had followed us out. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t want to be rude (there I go again, not wanting to be rude), so I hissed at my friend to please stay put, and I crossed back to where the man waited.

“So… you said you were going back to school tomorrow…do you think I could have your number? Maybe we could get together, see a movie, maybe you could show me where you live?”.

I had no idea what to do. This had never happened to me before. Let me give you a little more background: At that point I had never had a boyfriend, had never casually dated anyone, had never been picked up by a guy, anywhere. Just my luck that it happened for the first time in this way. What a disappointment.

And because I had never had the experience of turning a guy down, I had no idea what to do. I was lost. I was shocked. I just wanted to melt into the ground. Add on to that the fact that I was also disgusted by this turn of events. This was a man who was easily twice my age and then some, and who bore a distinct physical and personal resemblance to Louie DePalma on “Taxi”. This is what I was dealing with (and for what it’s worth, his age concerned me more than his appearance...but at the time I wouldn't have so quickly turned down, say, Antonio Banderas, so...).

I had no practice in letting someone down easy, so my instinct was to back out gently. First I tried to tell him that I didn’t know what my dorm room phone number would be (lie). Then I told him I wasn’t sure if I’d have any time free (lie). But, bless his heart, he would not be blown off course that easily. Finally, he asked me for the number to my parents’ house so he could find a way to contact me later (yeeeeah, that would have worked out really well, until my dad killed him). Pen and paper poised and ready, he looked up at me. And what did I do? Did I flat-out tell him that this was not a good idea, that I didn’t know that his offer to buy me a drink meant anything, that I certainly didn’t mean anything when I accepted it and carried on our conversation? That I wasn’t interested and that I was sorry if I gave him the wrong idea?

No. I lied one more time and gave him a fake phone number.

Then I promptly turned on my heel and, with my friend beside me, speed walked the couple of blocks home. The entire time we muttered “I can’t believe it” and “Ew ew ew ew” to each other.

I literally felt sick, in that way a woman (or man, I reckon) feels sick when given attention by someone from whom attention is the last thing they want. And I think this is something that all people, men and women, need to understand: It’s not flattering when it’s coming from someone you don’t want it from. When someone comes on that strong, shoots you “the look” from across the bar, asks for your number so you can “show them where you live”…it’s not flattering one bit. And you’re left feeling like a deer in headlights, especially if you’re the sort of person (like me) who doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. It would be one thing if I could have just blown him off, called out “Sorry, not interested” from across the street, then waved and walked away. That’s not me.

And when I sit on a train and see a pretty woman standing on the platform, and see a man very clearly crossing the line with his words to her…I think about how I felt 10 years ago, and how I've felt since then in such situations. Please don’t mistake me – I don’t consider the above experience to be harassment, just unwanted attention and the resulting discomfort, which result from harassment as well. There is nothing like that feeling. And I’ve felt it since, many times – I don’t consider myself a good-looking woman and even so I’ve been blatantly harassed, and come-on to inappropriately. Not to mention the once or twice I’ve been groped on public transportation by unsavory characters and still haven’t said anything for fear of the repercussions. I like to think that I'll be strong in such situations…but when you’re in it, it’s a different story. You just want to disappear, to be anywhere in the world but right there at that time.

So I know that if and when I have a daughter, I’ll make sure to explain “how things work” when it comes to being out in mixed groups and dealing with strangers, especially in a bar or at a party, so she doesn’t have to find out for herself. There are, after all, rules to the game which are being followed even if you don't know about them (especially when the person you're unknowingly playing the game with is playing by rules which may have gone out of style by now).

And I’ll make sure to tell her that she doesn’t have to accept being harassed, that being silent and “taking it” will only make her feel worse in the long run. That there’s a difference between being rude and being respectful but assertive.

What about you? Have you ever dealt with unwanted attention or harassment? What did you do?

Green Bean Casserole

2010-12-04T20:07:00.001-05:00

Last week, I shared with you the story of a food I didn't eat for decades, thinking that I hated it: stuffing.

Here's another one which I missed out on for years and years: green bean casserole.

Oh, green bean casserole. That utterly American dish which people across our country enjoy at least once a year, at the same time they're gorging on turkey and cranberries.

And for years I said "No, thank you" when it came my way at the Thanksgiving table, and passed it on down the line while waiting for my turn with the mashed potatoes.

Silly me! Because the first time I actually said "What the hell" and tried it, I was hooked forever.

Coincidentally, that "What the hell" attitude was what led me to meet my husband. But that's another story. The lesson here is, a healthy dose of adventurousness can lead to a life long love affair.

Oh, and a marriage. WHOA! See what I did there?

Okay, enough poor attempts at humor. Back to the utter destruction of a once-healthy vegetable.

This time around, rather than following the tried-and-true canned veggie and Campbell's recipe, I thought I'd try to take things up to the next level. So I adapted Alton Brown's green bean casserole recipe and was pleased with it - but it didn't go over too well with my traditional family, who are so used to having that tried-and-true version. In the future I might use canned beans BUT with the homemade sauce. Here's how it went down:

As with all good things, we start with butter. 2 tablespoons, to be exact. Melt it down in your pan...

And in do 6 oz of well-chopped mushrooms - I didn't want any huge pieces even though I happen to adore mushrooms. I wanted the beans to be the star, with the mushrooms taking a supporting role. The mushrooms were cooked down until they were well browned and had released their juices, and then...

2 tablespoons of flour were added and mixed in until the juices were completely absorbed and the flour had a chance to cook a bit, maybe 3 or 4 minutes.

1 cup of chicken broth was added and stirred, stirred, stirred in order to let the flour break down and thicken the sauce, instead of clumping up and giving me lumps. Lumps are no good. Down with lumps.

Moving on.

Once the sauce had thickened, after a few minutes of heating up with the flour (drag your spoon along the bottom of the pan - if you leave a streak behind, which doesn't immediately fill back in with sauce, it's time), add 1 cup of half-and-half.

Add salt and pepper to taste, and allow this to simmer until thickened...

...and try to not just eat it right then and there. Because let me tell you, this is the most heavenly soup, right here. I would just pour this into a bowl and call it lunch - and I might have to, one day soon.

This was not for lunch, though (sadly). This was a sauce for...green beans!

Around a pound, in fact. Alton calls for fresh beans and I'm sure that would be wonderful...but it's not always easy to find good fresh beans at this time of the year, especially when they've been picked over by scores of harried Thanksgiving grocery shoppers (believe me, I witnessed it and felt a little sick). So I went with frozen.

And with beans go, of course, the fried onions. I used a cup of the canned kind.

Into a buttered casserole dish this goes, and then it's topped with even MORE onions - another cup...or so. Don't worry, no one will judge you if you add more. Or even if you, say, eat one or two or a dozen right out of the can.

You're the cook. It's your kitchen.

Into a 450 degree oven for 15 minutes and that.is.it.

Can we please observe a moment of silence for this perfect mix of mushroom, bean, onion and rich cream sauce?

Okay. Moment over - time to eat!

Green Bean Casserole

1 pound frozen green beans, thawed and dried

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

6 ounces mushrooms, trimmed, cleaned and chopped

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup chicken broth

1 cup half-and-half

2 cups French's fried onions, divided

Salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Melt butter in large pan and add mushroom pieces. Cook mushrooms over medium-high heat until juices have been released and mushrooms are browning, around 4-5 minutes. Sprinkle flour into pan and stir well, making sure all flour is incorporated into juices. Turn heat down to medium and cook for a few minutes in order for the raw flour taste to cook out.

Add chicken broth and stir vigorously, in order for flour to fully incorporate with liquid. Cook for several minutes until broth is thickened and add half-and-half. Again allow liquid to simmer until thickened, around 5 minutes.

Remove pan from heat and add beans and 1 cup of onions, stirring gently to combine. Pour bean misxture into buttered 8x8 baking dish and top with remaining cup of onions.

Bake for 15 minutes in preheated oven, until bubbly.

My Fantasy Christmas Wish List

2010-12-02T15:42:00.003-05:00

Disclaimer: This list has nothing whatsoever to do with the gifts which are already wrapped and under the tree, addressed to yours truly. It doesn't even have anything to do with reality. This is merely a wish list. In no way do I expect to receive these items, and in no way does their presence in the back of my mind detract from the presents I will be receiving - presents which I know I will love very much.

I'm not the sort of girl who requires fancy things. Not at all. In fact, it's probably for the best that I have few fancy things, seeing as how I'm not exactly the most - what's the description? - coordinated and well-organized person in the world.

In other words, I break things and I lose things. The fact that my iPhone has survived, intact and unscathed, for over a year is a feat unbeknownst to mankind prior to now. For real. I think I went through 3 iPods in 2 years (service plans are a good thing).

So no fancy things required, and quantity of gifts is not an issue either. Seriously.

Throughout my life, I have found that it's more fun to want things. To drool. To, dare I say, covet. Because once I have everything I want...well, I have everything I want. Big deal. Now what to do with it? And there's the rub.

It's much more fun to want things than to actually feel obligated to use all of the wonderful things I have. Think about it. How many items have you purchased or received, convinced at the time of their incredible importance in your life...only to see them waste away, covered in dust and the occasional cobweb? I have. More times than I care to admit.

With that in mind, here it is. My Fantasy Christmas Wish List.

Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer Pasta Press Attachment

Oh, the things we would do together, you and I. The adventures we would have. The pasta we would make. The joy we would bring. Rigatoni flying every which way.

You have no idea of the imaginary damage I would do with this simple attachment.

And while we're at it...

Kitchen Aid Artisan Stand Mixer

Let me immediately state that my stand mixer has served me well for 2 1/2 years (it's still a baby!). Every recipe I've ever posted which requires beating, whipping or kneading of any kind has been tackled by my trusty stand mixer. We have a beautiful relationship.

But. I drool copious amounts of drool when I see this artisan mixer. It's on my wish list for 2 reasons:

1) It's bigger than mine, and has a handle on the bowl.
2) It's red.

No one ever said that wish lists had to make sense.

Just about everything on the Wilton website

See, in my head I'm quite the little baker/decorator. I'm, like, the Martha Stewart of my block. I spend my spare time finding new and innovative ways to decorate cakes and cookies, and then I set them up for display in my front window in order for my less gifted slacker neighbors to hate me and my ridiculous productivity. Therefore, it's clear that I need a whole arsenal of baking and decoration tools at my disposal. Wilton cake pans, Wilton piping tips, and not to mention the Wilton books on how to actually decorate things.

Not that I need to learn how or anything. Because I totally don't. I just need the inspiration for new awe-inspiring projects. In my head.

A double oven

Again: It just makes sense. Wouldn't holiday entertaining be much simpler if I could cook with two ovens at once? It's simple mathematics, people. 2 ovens get twice the cooking done in half the time. I think that, right there, is reason enough for me to knock some space into my kitchen wall and plop one in.

This is just a small sampling of the items on my miles-long list of things I would not exactly hate waking up and seeing every day. Hmm...notice a theme here? Well, there are less tangible (and less kitchen-oriented) wishes on my list as well. Like wishes for employment opportunities to open up for more people, for fewer hungry families in the world, and for all of us to start caring about each other a little more because, after all, we're all the same.

How about YOU? What's on your ultimate wish list?

And here's a bonus question: Have you ever received/purchased a really wished-for item...which you hardly ever used? Tell me about it!

Sweet Potato Casserole

2010-12-01T21:22:00.001-05:00

Back at Easter time, I shared with you the recipe I use for Sweet Potato Casserole.

This casserole...well, it's a tricky dish. See, you may decide to experiment with the food your family eats at holiday gatherings, and say to yourself "Hey, I like sweet potatoes and so do many members of my family circle - perhaps I should prepare a lovely casserole in order to bring joy to those I care for".

Oh, you naive person you. You remind me of me in younger and simpler times.

All I have to say is, be prepared to learn this recipe by heart. See, if you make it once, you will end up being asked - nay, required - to make it for every gathering thereafter. That's just how powerful it is. There will be no stopping the force of the sweet potato casserole. Your father will call several days in advance and ask, all innocent-like, if you're making "those sweet potatoes that he likes". Your entire family will descend upon it like ravenous vultures, never minding the plethora of other dishes at their disposal.

It won't be pretty. But at least it'll be completely delicious. So there you go.

One thing I know: I'll be making sweet potato casserole for Christmas. Will you?

Sweet Potato Casserole

Casserole:

4 cups sweet potato, cubed

1/2 cup white sugar

2 eggs, beaten

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 tablespoons butter, softened

1/2 cup milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Topping:

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons butter, softened

1/2 cup chopped pecans

Directions:

Prick sweet potatoes (4-5 potatoes depending upon size) and roast in 400 degree oven for 75-90 minutes, until knife can go cleanly through the flesh. Allow to potatoes to cool thoroughly, then split in half and scoop out flesh. Thoroughly mash the potatoes in a large bowl.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Mix together the sweet potatoes, sugar, eggs, salt, butter, milk and vanilla. Mix until smooth. Butter an 8x8 baking dish, and spread potato mixture evenly.

In medium bowl, mix the sugar and flour. Cut in the butter until the mixture is coarse. Stir in the pecans. Sprinkle the mixture over the sweet potato mixture.

Bake for 30 minutes, or until the topping is lightly brown (I usually like to go for 45).

Enjoy!

Christmas Ornament Wreath

2010-12-01T09:00:00.006-05:00

I know that everyone and their mother has made an ornament wreath by now.

But that doesn't stop me from feeling inordinately proud of mine!

I managed to salvage a lot of what I did last year - the original wreath made it through the move pretty well. So I removed the old ornaments and substituted some other unused ones, then strung them on my hanger. Any empty spaces were filled by smaller ornaments which I hot glued in place.

Once the glue was dry, it was time to hang. I knew exactly where I wanted it - right on the new dining room wall, in front of the mirror.

With the help of Rob, I looped a length of ribbon under the wire on the back of the mirror and draped both ends over the top. I knotted the ribbon in front of the wreath and cut the ends evenly, leaving them to drape down the front of the wreath as if they were the ends of the bow. I then used the rest of the ribbon to create a bow, which I hot glued to the knot.

And that was it! Okay, sounds easier than it was. It took some time to get it to look right. But I love the way it looks now!

What do you think? Have you made an ornament wreath (and if so, did you have a hard time with it at first the way I did with mine? Because I was cursing the idea when I first tried it!)?

And if you're all "What the heck?" because you've never heard of/seen a Christmas ornament wreath before, here's a link to Eddie Ross's blog, where he details the process much better than I could.

One note, though: I notice that he has ornaments with great big metal loops at the top to string along the hanger. I on the other hand use dollar store ornaments and the holes are much smaller. The first time I tried making the wreath it killed me that I couldn't get the ornaments as close together as his, which is why I hot glue ornaments in the bare spots. The cheapy tops don't allow you to get the ornaments too close together without breaking from the strain (I don't mean popping off, I mean breaking entirely). So there's my two cents!

Side story: While snapping pics for the ol' blog, I said to Rob "Do you want to be in the picture?". He said "No, I look terrible!". I said "Then get out of the way, you're in the mirror".

Happy to share with...

Peanut Butter Cup Cookies

2010-11-30T20:42:00.003-05:00

Although I haven’t actually started making my Christmas cookies yet – that’ll be this weekend – I just couldn’t let Cookie Week go by without throwing my 2 cents into the ring.

Wait, that’s not even right. Oh well. You get the idea.

So I share with you, friends, my favorite cookie recipe. The most magical cookies ever. They're super easy to make – the only time-consuming factor is the unwrapping of the peanut butter cups, especially if/when someone keeps stealing them from you as you do so.

Not that that’s ever happened to me or anything…

These are a huge hit every year. Huge. I hope you give them a try this holiday season! Your hips might not thank me, but your tastebuds will.

Oh, and have some milk or another beverage ready when you dive into these beauties. Trust me.

Peanut Butter Cup Cookies

1 3/4c all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 c softened butter

1/2 c white sugar

1 c chunky peanut butter

1/2 c packed brown sugar

1 egg, beaten

1 tsp vanilla

2 tbs milk

48 miniature peanut butter cups, unwrapped

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl and set aside.

In another large bowl, cream together the butter, white and brown sugars and peanut butter. Once creamed, add the egg, vanilla and milk and combine. Add the dry ingredients in batches, incorporating each addition fully before adding more.

Using an ice cream scoop, scoop dough and divide into 4 pieces, then roll each piece into a ball and drop into the cups of a miniature muffin tin (obviously you don't need the scoop, but it's helpful!). You should end up with 48 balls total.

Bake for 8-10 minutes.

Immediately upon removal from the oven, while cookies are still hot, press one miniature peanut butter cup down into the center of each cookie. Allow cookies to cool in pan so as to let the chocolate firm up. Cooled cookies should slip right out of the cups!

Happy to be sharing with...

Help ME Help YOU

2010-11-30T16:00:00.000-05:00

Okay. Maybe this won't help you at all, but the title sounded good to me when I typed it in there so it's staying.

I need your help, friends. I decided in typical headlong fashion to move over to Wordpress for various reasons. Now, the actual public unveiling won't take place for some time, as I want everything to be as beautiful and brand-spankin' sparkly as possible for you when you get there. Sorta like when you're cleaning house for new guests. You want to make sure there's an extra roll of t.p. in the powder room and no errant crumbs on the sofa. You get the idea. And I'll probably announce the new site for weeks in advance of switching over completely.

Because I just know you couldn't live without a regular dose of yours truly and I would hate for even one of you to be left out of the fun.

Here's what I need from YOU: Opinions.

Do you use Wordpress? If so, what do you think of it? Did you move there from somewhere else? Did you face difficulty? And if you don't use Wordpress, why not?

Any tips or advice would be greatly appreciated, friends!

Perfect Pecan Pie

2010-11-30T11:29:00.000-05:00

Here at The Misadventures of Mrs B., I like to take the opportunity to showcase the recipes of relatively unknown little bloggers who need the exposure.

After all, dozens of you read this blog every day, and I feel that it is therefore my duty - nay, my own noblesse oblige - to boost the popularity of bloggers who are just starting out. What can I say? I'm a giver.

Today's recipe is by someone I'm sure you've never heard of, and someone who I am so proud to promote.

Her name is The Pioneer Woman.

What? You mean you have heard of her and are a devoted follower and have possibly seen her cookbook and her appearance on Throwdown? Oh...

Okay. Clearly if you're reading this or any other blog devoted to life and food, you've heard of Pioneer Woman and are probably one of her gajillion readers. She's everywhere. And with good reason, of course.

Just prior to Thanksgiving, I was debating on whether or not to make a pecan pie this year. I love pecan pie. Looooooooove pecan pie. But I was already making a bunch of other stuff, so making yet another dish was not high on my list of To Do's. Plus, the pecan pie I'd made in the past was rather work intensive and I knew I wouldn't have the time. Still...it's so good...what to do, what to do?

Well, the Good Lord must've been listening in on my hemming and hawing because He directed me towards PW's recipe, and I felt as though I'd been born again. Never had I seen a recipe for pecan pie that was so darn easy. You mean I don't have to heat the sugar and syrup and then temper the eggs and then spend precious time whisking and whisking and whisking nonstop until my arm feels like it's gonna fall the heck off? Pie is back on the menu, kids!

And here's how it went down. It was so easy, I couldn't believe it.

First, let me just get something out of the way right here and now. Please don't judge me. I bought a pie crust instead of making one. I know! I know! But those darn pre-made doughs from Pillsbury are just too good and seriously, I'd already been cooking for half the day and had another several dishes ahead of me. So prepackaged dough it was.

Unroll your dough over top of the pie pan and gently press it into the corners, while taking a picture which reminds you of just why manicures are, in fact, worth the money but you're clearly too cheap to get one.

One heaping cup of roughly chopped pecans go into the bottom of the pie pan. I was very serious about my heaping.

Then it's time for the goo that holds the whole thing together.

1 cup of white sugar

3 tablespoons of brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon of salt

1 cup of corn syrup

3/4 teaspoon of vanilla

3 beaten eggs and 1/3 cup of melted salted butter (around 5 1/2 tbs or so).

Yuck, right? But no worries. Once you stir it all up and pour it over the pecans, it looks much prettier.

Can I just take a second to pay tribute to the most beautiful crust crimping I've ever pulled off? Just look at that. It's like the fates all got together to help make this pie possible.

Now it's time for the all-important crust cover, which will keep it from browning too much and (hopefully) leave it golden brown and flaky. If you're one of the lucky people who have a pie shield, well, hooray for you. Now you get to use it!

I, however, do not own such a piece of kitchen toolery. So my shield was made of four strips of aluminum foil, wrapped gently around the crust and overlapped like so, then pressed very tightly along the lip of the pan so as to keep it firmly in place.

Into a 350 degree oven this goes. After 20 minutes, remove the foil/shield from the crust and let 'er keep baking. PW suggests an additional 30 minutes but that left me waaaaay too jiggly, so I gently laid a large piece of foil on top and let it go for another 20, checking halfway through. So altogether this took 70 minutes to bake.

Was it worth the wait, folks?

Well pardon my language, but hell yes it was.

Look. At. That.

Now look away. Now look at it again.

It's, like...perfection in a pie pan. And the taste? Let's just say a certain someone, namely me, announced at the Thanksgiving table that if I weren't married, I'd marry this pie. My husband checked to make sure he'd heard me correctly. He had.

It's just that good.

So thanks, PW, for making my Thanksgiving (and the following weekend, throughout which I ate more leftover pecan pie than is good for anyone) a bit sweeter.

If you're looking for a fabulous pecan pie recipe (for, I don't know, Christmas maybe?), you've come to the right place. Bake this. I'm serious. If you don't like pecan pie, bake it and send it to me anyway. I'll make sure it doesn't go to waste (maybe to my waist, though).

Enjoy!

Pioneer Woman's Perfect Pecan Pie

1 unbaked pie crust (I use Pillsbury, but you can be all fancy and make your own)
1 heaping cup chopped pecans
1 cup white sugar
3 tbs brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup corn syrup
3/4 tsp vanilla
1/3 cup melted butter (salted)
3 beaten eggs

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line bottom and sides of pie pan with unbaked pie crust. Pour pecans on top of crust and spread to cover the bottom of the pan.

In a large bowl mix the rest of the ingredients and pour the mixture over the pecans.

Cover the crust with pie shield or aluminum foil to prevent overbrowning, then place pan in preheated oven and bake for 20 minutes. Remove shield/foil and bake for at least another 30 minutes or until pie is only slightly loose in the center when shaken - some ovens require only 50 minutes total bake time, whereas mine took 70.

Tip: Cover pie loosely with foil if you require the extra time in the oven.

Allow pie to cool, then chill for several hours or overnight. And then thank the heavens that pecan pie exists for your enjoyment.

Creamed Spinach + What To Do With Leftovers?

2010-11-27T15:33:00.009-05:00

I love me some spinach. Add cheese and cream to that spinach and, well...you might want to avert your eyes. It's not gonna be pretty when I get my hands on it.

This was originally a recipe for spinach gratin, created by Ina Garten. I sort of diverged from that and did my own thing, and in the future will be making some further changes (maybe using fat free half-and half instead of cream?). The end result is very reminiscent of Boston Market's creamed spinach. Check it out...

As with any great recipe, we start with butter. 2 tablespoons unsalted, to be exact, melted over medium heat.

Into the pan goes 2 cups of diced onion, which is sauteed until translucent.

Sprinkle 2 tablespoons of flour over top...

Stir the flour into the onions until absorbed, and continue stirring while the flour cooks for a minute or two.

Then pour over 1/2 cup of heavy cream and 1 cup of milk.

Sprinkle 1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg over top, then stir everything together and allow the mixture to thicken.

Meanwhile, squeeze the water out of 3 10 oz. packages of thawed frozen spinach. Once the spinach is as dry as can be, add to the onions and cream and mix together. At this point, add salt and pepper to taste.

Pour the mixture into a buttered dish, and sprinkle 1/2 cup of fresh parmesan cheese on top.

Bake for 15 minutes at 425 degrees until bubbly. Yum.

And that's it! Simple as can be. As with my stuffing recipe, this could just as easily be used as a Christmas dinner recipe (that festive green color is perfect!), or as a make-ahead side dish which can be popped into the oven and ready in a matter of minutes.

Enjoy!

TIP: Leftover spinach sitting in the fridge? No problem! Reheat the spinach in a saucepan over medium heat and add enough skim milk (or whatever you prefer) to thin it out to a saucy consistency. A pinch of garlic, a drizzle of olive oil, and voila! You have a creamy, spinachy pasta sauce! It works terrifically well, believe me, and you can adjust the seasoning and level of thickness any way you like. So there you go! A tasty way to use up your leftovers.

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My Meatless Mondays

Did You Ever...

2010-11-27T13:55:00.000-05:00

Did you ever have one of those days (weeks, months...) when you can't seem to muster the necessary "get up and go"?

Do you ever feel like you should be happier than you are?

Right now I'm going through a "blah" moment. It's the weekend after Thanksgiving, aka The Start Of The Christmas Season (rightfully capitalized, thank you very much!). In my mind, I'm flitting and floating around the house, tossing little bits of Christmas to and fro while wearing pearls and singing carols. I am, in case you didn't know, the very spirit of Christmas.

Sometimes.

Right now, though, I'm irritated and frustrated and over it. And the fact that I'm over the whole thing - already! - makes me even more frustrated. I live for this time of year! And here I am, already squandering it by being moody and depressed.

I know that many people go through things like this and that for me, it's always short lived...but at the holidays, all I see is "perfect" Christmas everywhere, even if that perfection is a facade. The old familiar "there's no time to waste!" fervor sweeps over me, which only serves to highlight my shortcomings and inabilities. I feel as though I need to top myself every year - even though I know that I never come anywhere close. I'm left feeling as though I'm letting people down when everything isn't wonderful. In reality, I know I'm only letting myself down.

I'm praying for serenity this holiday season because if anything, I want to be able to pull off what I can and let go of the rest.

What are YOU praying for this holiday season? And how do you feel about the idea of a "perfect" holiday? Is it attainable?