Two lists

Things I am doing wrong*, according to my daughter:

1. Hashtags
2. Instagram
3. Using Android instead of an iPhone
4. Presuming to check in and see how the summer reading is going
5. Cheering out loud at her soccer games
6. Wanting the empty fruit snack wrappers to be in the trash
7. Making friends with her friends' parents
8. Asking her to speak to waiters 
9. Singing along to the radio when it is on her station
10. Breathing

Things I am doing right, according to me:

1. Raising my daughter.

Also, risotto.

Traveling for Work

I have a job. I love the people I work with and the products we make.  Not to mention the dress code of t-shirts and jeans when we don't have customer meetings.  Even more incredibly, the office is a three minute walk from my house*.

Some days, though, work does take me a little farther away from home.

It's a really, really good job.

I haven't yet figured out how to duplicate the astonishing cheese and custard filled cake from the night market in Taipei, or the perfectly fried chicken with hot chiles from Hong Kong.

But the killer sweet-spicy skillet cornbread with maple butter I had in Eden Prairie, Minnesota?



I could google that one.

A simple request

We went a little nuts with the baking for this year's Holiday Open House, even more so than usual.

Mini pecan tarts.  Chocolate Chip Cookies with Sea Salt.  Peanut Butter Fudge Bars.  Mocha Cupcakes with Peppermint Chocolate Buttercream Frosting*.  Lemon Icebox Squares. 

Apple Molasses Cookies**.  Crispy Chocolate Truffle Shortbread Bars.  Mom's Christmas Cut-Out Cookies with homemade icings.  Butterscotch Cherry Granola Cookies with Lemon Drizzle.  

Thumbprint Cookies with Fig Butter.  Apricot Rosemary Cocktail Cookies.  Two different kinds of challah. And my sister's famous Cream Cheese Pound Cake.

My husband was appalled.

Him: Why do you do this to yourself? I think the ovens have been on for a week straight.  I'm begging you, please, for Christmas Day: keep it simple.

Done***.

These still involve the oven****, but are about as uncomplicated as you can get.  

Here's to a notably simpler new year all around.  

Double Rainbow from a can (with a side of grilled cheese)

When the sky looks like this:

The ground looks like this:

And you feel like this:

Give yourself a break.  Stop stressing about work and Thanksgiving and whether you remembered to clean the gutters in time for the storm.*

Pop open a couple of these cans of sunshine:

And enjoy this:

It's like a rainbow, I'm telling you.

A double rainbow.

It's that good.

P.S. This trick also comes in handy on snowy days, sleet-y days, foggy days, freezing days, and all the days when a bunch of crappy stuff happened and nothing but a crispy, gooey, buttery grilled cheese sandwich with warm, smokey tomato soup will do.

Raining Corn

One of the sure fire signs of summer* is fresh corn on the cob.  It's amazing roasted over an open fire, or simply boiled according to this classic recipe**:

 

Even my normally veggie-loathing small children adored the ritual of gnawing their way delightedly along a hot ear of sweet, juicy goodness, usually winding up with a sheen of leftover melted butter gleaming on their grinning faces.

So when this happened:

I'm referring to losing their front teeth, not having to hold a giant slimy toad

It was devastating.
No teeth = No corn.

Wobbly lower lip. Brimming eyes.

Mom with a big sharp knife.
Flick! The cob tilted over the plate. Golden kernels pouring down in a stream into a messy, gloriously edible pile.

Wide, astonished, hopeful eyes.

"Mommy! Can you rain my corn***, too?"

You bet.
As a bonus, I'll bake it with a little butter, and turn it into sweet-salty-creamy-dreamy-almost-better-than-corn-on-the-cob corn.

Moms are magic like that.

There oughta be a law

...against this slaw:

Image of Popeye's coleslaw from wikimedia.org

Whoever thought putting mayonnaise and cabbage together was a good idea should be shot.
Twice.

I, on the other hand, should be knighted or something.

Fish & Chips & Chips

There was definitely a randy Irish slave owner somewhere in my family tree*, and my husband's pale-faced lineage has many an O'Brien in the not so distant past.   My kids have a disturbing overabundance of the Gift of the Blarney**, and my son did leave his recent SAT test with just one reward in mind:  A large Shamrock Shake.

The three of us that were old enough to see it thought The Guard was pure genius.

In other words, we may not have greeted the day with green bagels and beer, but there was no reason for everyone to be such a hater when I brought up the idea of making a traditional Irish dinner yesterday.

My husband:  What?  Like corned beef?  No.  No way. I draw the line at corned beef.
Me;  You draw the line at corned beef?  Since when?
My husband:  Everyone should draw the line at corned beef.  It's a given.

My son:  Hold on. What would be for dinner?
Me:  I was thinking about a nice Guiness Beef Stew.  I saw few recipes online the other day and...
My son:  Well that's just a terrible idea.  I hate stew, and you know it. Let's just go out for fish and chips.  Man, I could totally go for some fish and chips right now. That sounds amazing. And super Irish.  If you want, we could even go to a pub with Irish people in it, and get fish and chips there.  Problem solved.

In the end, I compromised***.  No corned beef. No stew.
Fish.
Chips.
And chips on top of the fish.
Because it's super Irish to go heavy on the potatoes.
Problem solved.

Do as I say, not as I do

In May, I'm going to be co-hosting a cooking class called "The DIY Dinner Party"*. In the school auction brochure, the tagline for the event is, "Impress without Stress!"**

During the class, I plan to give the attendees some helpful tips for making that simple but compelling statement a reality:

1. Don't use a dinner party as a place to experiment with a new recipe.  Go with something tried and true, so you have confidence in your food.
2. Keep the guest list manageable for your menu.  If you are planning a series of plated courses, for example, make sure you have elbow room and comfortable seating for the group around a dining table.  For larger groups, go with a buffet and allow the guests to spread out among several tables.
3. Expect people to offer to help, and have simple jobs ready for them to do.
4. Pour plenty of wine and cocktails for the guests, but keep your own consumption to a minimum until the dinner is firmly under way.
5. Above all, prepare as much as you can ahead of time, so you can enjoy the festivities yourself.  Sitting down and eating with your guests is the most impressive entertaining accomplishment of them all!

I should totally take that class.

On Monday, I sent my husband an email.

To:  myunsuspectinghusband@gmail.com
From:  youroverambitiouswife@gmail.com
Re:  Birthday dinner party

Can I throw you one on Sunday night? Was going to invite [list of six people].
xxoo

From: myunsuspectinghusband@gmail.com
To: youroverambitiouswife@gmail.com
Re: Birthday dinner party

That sounds nice.  Are you cooking or catering?

From: youroverambitiouswife@gmail.com
To: myhusbandwhoasksgoodbutsillyquestions@gmail.com
Re: Birthday dinner party

Cooking!

[Silence]

On Tuesday, I sent out an evite.

I meant to invite those six people, but then I remembered a few more people he really likes and that we hadn't seen in a while and I thought how it was actually really short notice and a holiday weekend so most people would probably say no so it would be better to ask a few too many than not have anyone show up because how sad would THAT be for a birthday party, right?  So I emailed 16 people instead of 6.

On Wednesday, I pulled out a bunch of cookbooks and spent hours drooling over photos and recipes. I literally had stacks of them all over the family room. I jotted down ideas for a multi-course gourmet meal, complete with passed appetizers.  My husband had requested a whole fish be in there somewhere, even though I'd never cooked a whole fish for him in my life.  No problem!  In fact, that could be, like, the theme of the dinner:

On Thursday, I checked on attendance.
10 people had said yes, four had not replied and two said no.  I texted another couple and invited them, too.  Note: our dining table seats 8.

On Friday, I went to the liquor store.
Because of course, the only recipe I bothered to test ahead of time was the cocktail one.

On Saturday, I was on a roll.  I shopped. I made dip, salad dressing, and Parmesan crisps. I made the vanilla ice cream, the caramel sauce, and the puddings. We had carrot cake and presents and celebrated my husband's birthday as a family until the kids ditched us.

On Sunday, I realized I was about to serve bacon-wrapped fish to an observant Jew and a vegan.

I had another, much larger, test version of the cocktail, opened up some wine, put out the appetizers, answered the door, and hoped for the best.

The Mixed Tuna Carpaccio

The (fortunately) vegan-friendly mixed green salad

The salmon was good, but the mashed potatoes were AMAZING!

They loved it all. My daughter, bribed to be my sous chef, turned out to be a master of carpaccio creation and a plating genius. We squeezed into 15 folding chairs around the dining table, and no one seemed to mind the bumped elbows and interludes between courses.  Food disappeared and glasses were filled, then filled again.  Once the party started, I was too busy to take photos****, but not too busy to catch up with old friends.  We told stories and laughed and mocked my husband a little before wishing him happy birthday with a single red candle in a bowl of hot, molten chocolate decadence.

And somehow, even though I pretty much ignored all my own advice, I did manage to impress.  The stress part still needs some work.

Why I hate my sub-zero refrigerator

Sometimes, having a fancy name-brand appliance is a good thing.  For example, if you are selling your house, people may want to pay more if it has fancy name-brand appliances in it.  In this example, you benefit in two ways.  a) you make more money and b) you leave the fancy name-brand appliances behind to stealthily leak all over somebody else's favorite baking books for several days and ruin them.

If, however, your house, like mine, is not on the market, you pretty much just have a pile of moldy, swollen cookbooks and a big bill from the plumber.

I definitely needed this vacation.