I love cookbooks and cooking magazines! Here is a list of my five favorite cookbooks that you might enjoy:
1. The Pioneer Woman Cooks by Ree Drummond. This is my very favorite cookbook of all time. I have only made one recipe in this cookbook that we didn't like too much. Otherwise, I have learned how to make some amazing meals from this book and from her website. This is not a low fat cookbook, but it is absolutely wonderful, delicious comfort food. I have this cookbook through Kindle on both my computer and on my iPod. I refer to it often from my kitchen or at the grocery store. Even if I don't use a recipe in its complete form, it gives me a basis for many happy meals. The Spicy Pulled Pork is amazing!
2. Southern Lady Gracious Tables {The Perfect Setting for Any Occasion} by Phyllis Hoffman (whose magazines are incredibly beautiful too). This is one of the prettiest books I own. It's not available on Kindle yet, but the hard bound version is simply stunning. I love the pictures of the place settings and tables. It makes me crazy jealous! The recipes are delicious but the pictures keep me coming back to this book over and over again. I really enjoy her magazines too for the same reason.
3. Betty Crocker Fix-With-A-Mix Desserts. This book is available on Kindle. My favorite recipe in this book is Strawberry Cheesecake Bites. It's nice to have a little head start in a recipe. Some of my favorite dishes start out with a little help in the beginning.
4. Southern Plate: Classic Comfort Food That Makes Everyone Feel Like Family by Christy Jordan. This book feels like "home" to me. I love to look through all the southern recipes in this book. There are a wide variety of comfort foods for every occasion and season. I have the Kindle version and have read it several times through. A very enjoyable read. Delicious southern cuisine.
5. Eva's Kitchen: Cooking With Love for Family and Friends by Eva Langoria. I learned to make delicious pico de gallo from this cookbook. It is a surprisingly good cookbook and available on Kindle. Who would have thought a Desperate Housewife could write such a great cookbook? (Hmmm...gives me some ambitions of my own.) I am always searching for Mexican recipes that are easy to make. I am only now learning to make Mexican food myself instead of eating it only in restaurants. So this cookbook is fantastic. Very easy to follow.
I have so many others that I enjoy too. I will save those for another day.
Happy reading!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
You've Been Chopped!
I wonder who came up with the premise behind the show "Chopped?" It is one of my favorite cooking shows EVER, but who thought of this? It's the dessert round, Chefs. Open your baskets. Here are your four mystery ingredients: purple yam jam, liver-flavored cat treats, children's gummy vitamins and duck feet. Make a dessert! Yes, I am exaggerating, but I am not dipping very far into the exaggeration pool here! (By the way, we really do have purple yam jam in our pantry since Better Half was raised on it.)
I never miss this show. The chefs are insanely talented. They can make anything into something spectacular. What I don't like is what I refer to as the human error gross out factor. There are times I promise I will never eat in a restaurant again. For a foodie like me, that's a bold statement. However, these contestants are supposed to be some of the finest chefs and restaurateurs in the country and they have some pretty bad manners.
Yes, they can blame the "clock" for their bad decisions, but come on already! How many times have I seen them cut them selves with the knife and continue to handle the food until someone calls them out for it? Or they use the same spoon or even their finger to double dip over and over again to taste the food. I don't want to see that spoon go from their mouth back into the pot. But mostly, the thing that gets me is the inevitable sweat factor. I am often heard yelling at my TV with a loud, "Ewwww, you are sweating right off your nose into the bowl!" Yuck! I love restaurants, but if these top chefs are behaving that badly and while on camera, who's making my value meal?
I applaud them for their creativity though. I know I couldn't work under those conditions. After all, I don't even know what half of those ingredients are. I have enough trouble bringing a family dinner together when I haven't been to the grocery store in a week.
I never miss this show. The chefs are insanely talented. They can make anything into something spectacular. What I don't like is what I refer to as the human error gross out factor. There are times I promise I will never eat in a restaurant again. For a foodie like me, that's a bold statement. However, these contestants are supposed to be some of the finest chefs and restaurateurs in the country and they have some pretty bad manners.
Yes, they can blame the "clock" for their bad decisions, but come on already! How many times have I seen them cut them selves with the knife and continue to handle the food until someone calls them out for it? Or they use the same spoon or even their finger to double dip over and over again to taste the food. I don't want to see that spoon go from their mouth back into the pot. But mostly, the thing that gets me is the inevitable sweat factor. I am often heard yelling at my TV with a loud, "Ewwww, you are sweating right off your nose into the bowl!" Yuck! I love restaurants, but if these top chefs are behaving that badly and while on camera, who's making my value meal?
I applaud them for their creativity though. I know I couldn't work under those conditions. After all, I don't even know what half of those ingredients are. I have enough trouble bringing a family dinner together when I haven't been to the grocery store in a week.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Cupcakes -- A Million Dollar Business? Really?
I am in the wrong business! An easy statement to make since I am not in business and I don't work outside the home anymore, but this time I mean it. I should be in the cupcake selling business.
A couple of weeks ago, our daughter and our friend we feel is now our daughter went downtown for the day (by downtown, I mean Washington, DC). As part of their adventure, they found a parking space in Georgetown and stopped in at Georgetown Cupcake where they weren't currently filming "DC Cupcakes" but were filming an episode of "Kate Plus 8." Our girls were so excited about being in the middle of this production.
They came home laughing and telling about their adventures plus they brought a dozen of the most beautiful cupcakes I had ever seen, perfectly arranged in a pretty box and crisp white shopping bag. Each cupcake was gorgeous, no two exactly the same. For a foodie like me, this was a perfect experience ... until I asked how much this decadent box of treasures cost. About $30, I was told. I almost dropped my cupcake! That's the dozen price. Individually they cost more, I was reassured. So I looked it up. According to the website, the cupcakes are $29/dozen or $2.75/each.
When did baked goods become so expensive? Even at the local Safeway, the price of a dozen cupcakes can send me running to the baking aisle in search of Betty Crocker.
So I am still thinking I'm in the wrong business. I don't have the required industrial, safety inspected kitchen it would take to run a business, but if our kid's friends want some cupcakes, I have a few really good recipes up my sleeves! Just start placing your orders! I will make them from scratch and load on the cream cheese frosting piped through a pastry bag. I will even load them up with red food coloring if they have to have red velvet cake. Personally, I don't get that craze. I prefer my cupcakes natural.
Or they can just come by the house for dinner and grab one for dessert. There is usually a dessert under the glass dome on the kitchen counter at our house. Desserts baked with love ... there's a concept!
By the way, the $29 cupcakes ... not that impressive to eat. Lovely to look at, but overly sweet and very dense. I think I prefer my cupcakes the way Mom used to make them.
A couple of weeks ago, our daughter and our friend we feel is now our daughter went downtown for the day (by downtown, I mean Washington, DC). As part of their adventure, they found a parking space in Georgetown and stopped in at Georgetown Cupcake where they weren't currently filming "DC Cupcakes" but were filming an episode of "Kate Plus 8." Our girls were so excited about being in the middle of this production.
They came home laughing and telling about their adventures plus they brought a dozen of the most beautiful cupcakes I had ever seen, perfectly arranged in a pretty box and crisp white shopping bag. Each cupcake was gorgeous, no two exactly the same. For a foodie like me, this was a perfect experience ... until I asked how much this decadent box of treasures cost. About $30, I was told. I almost dropped my cupcake! That's the dozen price. Individually they cost more, I was reassured. So I looked it up. According to the website, the cupcakes are $29/dozen or $2.75/each.
When did baked goods become so expensive? Even at the local Safeway, the price of a dozen cupcakes can send me running to the baking aisle in search of Betty Crocker.
So I am still thinking I'm in the wrong business. I don't have the required industrial, safety inspected kitchen it would take to run a business, but if our kid's friends want some cupcakes, I have a few really good recipes up my sleeves! Just start placing your orders! I will make them from scratch and load on the cream cheese frosting piped through a pastry bag. I will even load them up with red food coloring if they have to have red velvet cake. Personally, I don't get that craze. I prefer my cupcakes natural.
Or they can just come by the house for dinner and grab one for dessert. There is usually a dessert under the glass dome on the kitchen counter at our house. Desserts baked with love ... there's a concept!
By the way, the $29 cupcakes ... not that impressive to eat. Lovely to look at, but overly sweet and very dense. I think I prefer my cupcakes the way Mom used to make them.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
More Thoughts on Ancestors
My ancestors are still on my mind today after writing yesterday's blog. So I was just viewing my family tree on Ancestry.com a few moments again. This year, I have been working to trace my family's heritage and have been quite successful using Ancestry's tools. It has been a rewarding experience for me and I highly recommend it.
I find it completely fascinating that I can see the names of my ancestors dating back to the 1700s. I haven't gone further than that yet, but that is far enough to thrill me. I can see when my brave family members came to this unknown place called America from various countries in Europe including Germany, Scotland, Ireland, Switzerland and England. I'm not surprised by the countries. Look at me and you know I am German. I had already heard that I was also Irish, English, Scotch and even a little Native American. But to see the names and the places is wonderful.
It is remarkable though, to note, that my family on BOTH sides came to America, settled in one place and stayed there for many generations. I am not finding my relatives in covered wagons moving west to find gold or to Kansas to raise wheat. No, it is a common scenario in my family ... born in a small town and die in the same small town or just a few towns away. My mother's family lived in rural Pennsylvania; my father's family lived in rural Virginia.
For generations, many of my ancestors lived on the same street or rural route as other family members -- or even their future spouses. On Ancestry.com, I can even see the census rosters listing the name of my great aunt, and then a few entries away the name of her future husband, from the time she was about three years old. They lived only a couple of farms away from each other and were obviously destined to be together. Amazing to discover!
As I've said, this small town scenario happened on both sides of my family, but the cycle changed when both sets of my grandparents moved to Washington, D.C. to build new lives in the 1920s. Thank goodness, both chose homes in the same school district before having their families! My parents would attend the same schools and eventually meet as teenagers on a streetcar following a high school basketball game.
A very good thing, if you ask me!
By the way, all of this explains something about me. I have lived in the same county in Maryland my entire life. I even lived down the street from, and then eventually next door to, my parents and the home where I grew up. Even now, I am only about a half hour away from where I spent my childhood and most of my adulthood too. I guess I, like my ancestors, don't feel inclined to move my covered wagon very far from home.
I find it completely fascinating that I can see the names of my ancestors dating back to the 1700s. I haven't gone further than that yet, but that is far enough to thrill me. I can see when my brave family members came to this unknown place called America from various countries in Europe including Germany, Scotland, Ireland, Switzerland and England. I'm not surprised by the countries. Look at me and you know I am German. I had already heard that I was also Irish, English, Scotch and even a little Native American. But to see the names and the places is wonderful.
It is remarkable though, to note, that my family on BOTH sides came to America, settled in one place and stayed there for many generations. I am not finding my relatives in covered wagons moving west to find gold or to Kansas to raise wheat. No, it is a common scenario in my family ... born in a small town and die in the same small town or just a few towns away. My mother's family lived in rural Pennsylvania; my father's family lived in rural Virginia.
For generations, many of my ancestors lived on the same street or rural route as other family members -- or even their future spouses. On Ancestry.com, I can even see the census rosters listing the name of my great aunt, and then a few entries away the name of her future husband, from the time she was about three years old. They lived only a couple of farms away from each other and were obviously destined to be together. Amazing to discover!
As I've said, this small town scenario happened on both sides of my family, but the cycle changed when both sets of my grandparents moved to Washington, D.C. to build new lives in the 1920s. Thank goodness, both chose homes in the same school district before having their families! My parents would attend the same schools and eventually meet as teenagers on a streetcar following a high school basketball game.
A very good thing, if you ask me!
By the way, all of this explains something about me. I have lived in the same county in Maryland my entire life. I even lived down the street from, and then eventually next door to, my parents and the home where I grew up. Even now, I am only about a half hour away from where I spent my childhood and most of my adulthood too. I guess I, like my ancestors, don't feel inclined to move my covered wagon very far from home.
Monday, July 18, 2011
How Did Our Ancestors Survive?
I am a huge fan of historical fiction. I especially enjoy reading books about the late 1800s/early 1900s involving strong women and families of courage. I get pulled into their worlds with wonder and amazement at how anyone could run a home without a computer, microwave, vacuum or well-stocked neighborhood grocery store.
This weekend, I spent time watching the "Sarah, Plain and Tall" trilogy -- again. I frequently feel the need to watch these movies, or TV shows like "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman," much to my family's dismay. But I have to get my pioneer fix! It boggles my mind that people survived before modern conveniences. I ask myself over and over, "How did they do that?" I watch in wonder as they cook huge meals, including bread, in a wood-burning stove. I understand there is "television magic" involved, but for our ancestors, there was no such thing.
My question for you is this: I wonder how many of us would "survive" if we were thrown into the lives of our great, great grandparents. Could we cope in a world with horses instead of minivans? Could we wake up before dawn to make food, milk cows, gather eggs, bake bread, chop wood, plow fields and clean barns? I doubt I could, especially without Ibuprofen!
There are days when I spend hours in the kitchen making dinner and I have every modern appliance (including some Better Half wishes I would get rid of since I rarely use them). I can't imagine making dinner without two ovens, a four-burner stove, a microwave with a turntable, an enormous food supply and my mother's 1980s Cuisinart food processor (which is still in mint operating condition despite it's outdated appearance).
I often try to explain to my embarrassed family where my fascination with fictional pioneers comes from. I know it is probably driven by my love of home and family, but it is also from curiosity regarding these tireless men and women running households and farms under these conditions. My amazement makes me want to do a better job with what I have to make my corner of the world a better place for my loved ones.
This weekend, I spent time watching the "Sarah, Plain and Tall" trilogy -- again. I frequently feel the need to watch these movies, or TV shows like "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman," much to my family's dismay. But I have to get my pioneer fix! It boggles my mind that people survived before modern conveniences. I ask myself over and over, "How did they do that?" I watch in wonder as they cook huge meals, including bread, in a wood-burning stove. I understand there is "television magic" involved, but for our ancestors, there was no such thing.
My question for you is this: I wonder how many of us would "survive" if we were thrown into the lives of our great, great grandparents. Could we cope in a world with horses instead of minivans? Could we wake up before dawn to make food, milk cows, gather eggs, bake bread, chop wood, plow fields and clean barns? I doubt I could, especially without Ibuprofen!
There are days when I spend hours in the kitchen making dinner and I have every modern appliance (including some Better Half wishes I would get rid of since I rarely use them). I can't imagine making dinner without two ovens, a four-burner stove, a microwave with a turntable, an enormous food supply and my mother's 1980s Cuisinart food processor (which is still in mint operating condition despite it's outdated appearance).
I often try to explain to my embarrassed family where my fascination with fictional pioneers comes from. I know it is probably driven by my love of home and family, but it is also from curiosity regarding these tireless men and women running households and farms under these conditions. My amazement makes me want to do a better job with what I have to make my corner of the world a better place for my loved ones.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
My Ode to "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives"
So it is no secret that I could watch the Food Network 24 hours a day. I record more shows on that network than on any other. I love to watch the shows that teach, the ones that compete and the ones that travel. No show floats my boat more than "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives!"
I love this show. Maybe I can’t miss an episode because I love food or maybe it is because, after being a full-time care giver for three years, I have barely left my home in a long time. My friends know if they want to see me, they usually need to come to my table for dinner. So that would explain my fascination with this show. I live vicariously!
Guy Fieri takes me all over the country so I can watch chefs/cooks/diner owners making fabulously good looking meals, mostly devoid of nutritional value. How delicious! I mean ... how unhealthy! Yes, that's what I meant. Moving on.
I can watch with anticipation as someone else samples these decadent dishes and tells how gooey and sinful they taste. Wait, I don’t think I’m thrilled with that part. I’d much rather be eating them myself … but Guy hasn’t asked me to travel the country as his official taster yet. (Guy -- call me!)
Each time I watch this show, I have the same two thoughts: 1) Why is it most of these places are not within driving distance of me; and 2) Why don’t I own a diner? I guess the answer to the first question is, because I would weigh 5,000 pounds. The answer to the second, I don’t have what it takes! I work up a tired sweat just trying to feed this family of mine at dinnertime! Not sweat like some of the chefs who compete on "Chopped" and make me never, ever want to eat in a restaurant again. Just ordinary people tired sweat.
I don’t know how these amazing cooks work in these small, hot kitchens surrounded by steaming surfaces for 12 to 20 hours a day. I couldn't do it. I have to plan ahead. I don’t need to be working in that environment when I start having hot flashes! I’m just saying.
So last night, I took my newly-found gravy making skills and did my own homage to diners here at the old homestead. I decided to whip up a batch of biscuits with sausage gravy, another of my son's favorites.
Have I mentioned that I love breakfast food, especially at dinnertime? When I was a teenager and my dad worked nights, my mother and I would often make breakfast for dinner and talk for hours about our lives. I love memories of my mom.
But I digress.
Back to last night. I started by getting the biscuits in the oven using my tried and true three-step recipe. First I took the canister of biscuits from the fridge. Then, I carefully (and I do mean carefully, this is vital) unwrapped the foil label. Thirdly, I jumped and screamed like a little girl when it went pop! Anyway, it wasn't like I was trying to impress the fam with my biscuits. It was all about the gravy.
My new skills for roux basics paid off again. I kept that pan low and slow. There was a moment, after adding the milk to the hot roux and sausage, that I thought it would never thicken and come together, but amazingly IT DID! A pot of creamy, non-flour tasting, delicious gravy. My son was delighted. Again, Mom made a gravy that didn't taste like it had just come off a Kindergarten pasting project!
My diner-fix was fixed! So for now, I will go back to my TiVo and live vicariously through others ... maybe pick up a meal idea or two (or three or four) from watching Guy and his Camaro hunting down and sampling high caloric meals. But I am so jealous. I’m just saying.
I love this show. Maybe I can’t miss an episode because I love food or maybe it is because, after being a full-time care giver for three years, I have barely left my home in a long time. My friends know if they want to see me, they usually need to come to my table for dinner. So that would explain my fascination with this show. I live vicariously!
Guy Fieri takes me all over the country so I can watch chefs/cooks/diner owners making fabulously good looking meals, mostly devoid of nutritional value. How delicious! I mean ... how unhealthy! Yes, that's what I meant. Moving on.
I can watch with anticipation as someone else samples these decadent dishes and tells how gooey and sinful they taste. Wait, I don’t think I’m thrilled with that part. I’d much rather be eating them myself … but Guy hasn’t asked me to travel the country as his official taster yet. (Guy -- call me!)
Each time I watch this show, I have the same two thoughts: 1) Why is it most of these places are not within driving distance of me; and 2) Why don’t I own a diner? I guess the answer to the first question is, because I would weigh 5,000 pounds. The answer to the second, I don’t have what it takes! I work up a tired sweat just trying to feed this family of mine at dinnertime! Not sweat like some of the chefs who compete on "Chopped" and make me never, ever want to eat in a restaurant again. Just ordinary people tired sweat.
I don’t know how these amazing cooks work in these small, hot kitchens surrounded by steaming surfaces for 12 to 20 hours a day. I couldn't do it. I have to plan ahead. I don’t need to be working in that environment when I start having hot flashes! I’m just saying.
So last night, I took my newly-found gravy making skills and did my own homage to diners here at the old homestead. I decided to whip up a batch of biscuits with sausage gravy, another of my son's favorites.
Have I mentioned that I love breakfast food, especially at dinnertime? When I was a teenager and my dad worked nights, my mother and I would often make breakfast for dinner and talk for hours about our lives. I love memories of my mom.
But I digress.
Back to last night. I started by getting the biscuits in the oven using my tried and true three-step recipe. First I took the canister of biscuits from the fridge. Then, I carefully (and I do mean carefully, this is vital) unwrapped the foil label. Thirdly, I jumped and screamed like a little girl when it went pop! Anyway, it wasn't like I was trying to impress the fam with my biscuits. It was all about the gravy.
My new skills for roux basics paid off again. I kept that pan low and slow. There was a moment, after adding the milk to the hot roux and sausage, that I thought it would never thicken and come together, but amazingly IT DID! A pot of creamy, non-flour tasting, delicious gravy. My son was delighted. Again, Mom made a gravy that didn't taste like it had just come off a Kindergarten pasting project!
My diner-fix was fixed! So for now, I will go back to my TiVo and live vicariously through others ... maybe pick up a meal idea or two (or three or four) from watching Guy and his Camaro hunting down and sampling high caloric meals. But I am so jealous. I’m just saying.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Being a Mom to Grown-Ups
Yesterday was a long day for me after only a few hours of interrupted sleep. You see, I say we have "kids," but in fact, we have grown-ups. They don't require a lot of attention or care. They are out of their teen years, but not out of our home. (Thank goodness!)
Our daughter ("Almost 21") has been very sick with an upper respiratory infection for the past week. She had returned from a beach trip with friends Wednesday, when she suddenly started feeling and sounding much worse. This one, Almost 21, never stops. She pushes at 150 mph every day of her life. She works hard and plays hard. She is a bubble that never pops. She just goes and goes without thinking about it.
So Wednesday night, we sat down to a delicious dinner made by our grill master, "Better Half." Although the food was delicious, there was no ignoring our now very ill daughter. "Big Brother" was home as well and even he was about to send her to bed for the night. Of course, you know he was thinking, "Don't give it to me!"
The four of us who were home started quickly searching the various medicine cabinets and drawers throughout the house, as we all do, looking for cold medicines that will relieve coughing, that will reduce coughing, or will inflict coughing. You get the idea. All four of us weighed in our opinions on what that cough required. Not a medical license among us, but everyone concerned for her health and well being. We finally made our group decision (I'm not sure if there was an actual voting process or an exasperated ending), we medicated her and sent her off to bed.
I don't know what made me check on her a few hours later. I rarely have a need to check on any of them ... ever! It's not like Almost 21 usually needs mothering. If anything, she mothers me when I am the one who is sick. She is the strongest and bravest woman I know. But I walked across the house to her room and I could sense something was wrong. My mom-intuition had been right. She seemed broken and confused there in the dark. Her fever was through the roof and she was hallucinating. For the first time in nearly a decade, I crawled into my daughter's bed and held her in her confusion throughout the night -- even when she stole all the covers!
I had a lot of time to think during the night. Fear was gripping me. There was my baby, although taller than I am now, lying there shaking and disoriented. Should I take her to the emergency room? Did we give her the wrong medications? Was it the fever? I was as scared as she was as I held her hand and reassured her.
I explained away the dancing items on her walls as she watched in amazement. I told her people weren't moving things into her room through her second-story windows, even though she didn't believe me. I tried to make her understand that her fever or her medications were making her see things I couldn't. We laugh now about her thinking I was magically making her shelves dance, but it was truly frightening at the time.
I realize more today than most days that motherhood is a never ending process. My mom told me that a long time ago, but I didn't understand this journey. Being a parent is not for sissies! The good times are great, but the tough times ask us to take on another tour of duty; another active role. We do it and we don't ask why. We respond. We love. We care.
I love being a mom. Have I mentioned that today? I do. I love being the matriarch of this crazy family! That's such a cool, old-fashioned word -- Matriarch. Maybe I should put that in quotes when I refer to myself in the future. Hmmmm.
Almost 21 is doing much better now. No one will ever give her cold medications again, but she is recovering!
Have a healthy day!
![]()
Our daughter ("Almost 21") has been very sick with an upper respiratory infection for the past week. She had returned from a beach trip with friends Wednesday, when she suddenly started feeling and sounding much worse. This one, Almost 21, never stops. She pushes at 150 mph every day of her life. She works hard and plays hard. She is a bubble that never pops. She just goes and goes without thinking about it.
So Wednesday night, we sat down to a delicious dinner made by our grill master, "Better Half." Although the food was delicious, there was no ignoring our now very ill daughter. "Big Brother" was home as well and even he was about to send her to bed for the night. Of course, you know he was thinking, "Don't give it to me!"
The four of us who were home started quickly searching the various medicine cabinets and drawers throughout the house, as we all do, looking for cold medicines that will relieve coughing, that will reduce coughing, or will inflict coughing. You get the idea. All four of us weighed in our opinions on what that cough required. Not a medical license among us, but everyone concerned for her health and well being. We finally made our group decision (I'm not sure if there was an actual voting process or an exasperated ending), we medicated her and sent her off to bed.
I don't know what made me check on her a few hours later. I rarely have a need to check on any of them ... ever! It's not like Almost 21 usually needs mothering. If anything, she mothers me when I am the one who is sick. She is the strongest and bravest woman I know. But I walked across the house to her room and I could sense something was wrong. My mom-intuition had been right. She seemed broken and confused there in the dark. Her fever was through the roof and she was hallucinating. For the first time in nearly a decade, I crawled into my daughter's bed and held her in her confusion throughout the night -- even when she stole all the covers!
I had a lot of time to think during the night. Fear was gripping me. There was my baby, although taller than I am now, lying there shaking and disoriented. Should I take her to the emergency room? Did we give her the wrong medications? Was it the fever? I was as scared as she was as I held her hand and reassured her.
I explained away the dancing items on her walls as she watched in amazement. I told her people weren't moving things into her room through her second-story windows, even though she didn't believe me. I tried to make her understand that her fever or her medications were making her see things I couldn't. We laugh now about her thinking I was magically making her shelves dance, but it was truly frightening at the time.
I realize more today than most days that motherhood is a never ending process. My mom told me that a long time ago, but I didn't understand this journey. Being a parent is not for sissies! The good times are great, but the tough times ask us to take on another tour of duty; another active role. We do it and we don't ask why. We respond. We love. We care.
I love being a mom. Have I mentioned that today? I do. I love being the matriarch of this crazy family! That's such a cool, old-fashioned word -- Matriarch. Maybe I should put that in quotes when I refer to myself in the future. Hmmmm.
Almost 21 is doing much better now. No one will ever give her cold medications again, but she is recovering!
Have a healthy day!
Almost 21 and me when she still needed mothering.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
My Closet Makeover
Well, I am an organizer from way back when, so I took everything out and started over.
First I started with the shoes I was keeping ...
42 in all. Is that wrong? 'Cause I don't wanna be right! I boxed and labeled them to avoid an avalanche in the future. I have been pleased with the results.
Then I moved on to the opposite side of the closet. Cue the dramatic music ...
Please tell me this wasn't my closet! Yikes.
Well, I knew from my official organizing training (that's the top secret name), you place "like" items together. So I went and bought some drawers. Good thing I'm tall, right? Again, I pulled out my trusty label maker and voila ...
I fixed what was wrong beneath it too. (Note to self: Matching hangers would be nice.)
So, I worked really hard. I purged three large bins of clothes, most with tags still on them, I'm sorry to say, but someone shopping at the Goodwill store will find them. I cleaned every nook and cranny. I also took about 50 additional pictures. Don't panic. I will spare you. Breathe. Only one more. The final shot.
After:
It is a much friendlier atmosphere, don't you think? I do need to mention one thing. See the man's tie hanging there? The purple one with the bright birthday balloons on it. It's now mine -- a trophy, you might say. See, my better half wore that on our first date -- a blind date -- so that I could find him at the crowded subway station. He took my breath away the moment I saw him. We knew within a few hours we had something very special together. At the end of the date, he gave me the tie.
Funny thing is, I thought that might be the only "loud" tie he had. Gee, was I wrong. But then I got to know him and found out that a quiet, subtle tie could hardly keep up with his bigger-than-life personality!
So that's the short version of my two-day closet makeover.
Organize your life and find some household bliss!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Gravy
I have a dirty little secret I have been trying to cover up for years. I never learned to make gravy. Gasp. It's out there now for all the world to see. I am a gravy-challenged American.
My mother was a fabulous cook who was always finding and trying new recipes. A couple of times a year, she would make holiday food that included gravy but somehow never showed me how in the 34 years I had with her. Maybe I never showed an interest in learning. What a fool I was to think I could live my life without this skill. She taught me the three Rs, but not the fourth ... the Roux.
So I spent years avoiding and even covering up the gravy issue. I bought jars and cans of prepared gravy. I would quickly toss the empty containers in the recycle bins outside so no one would be the wiser. I added pan drippings to the store-bought versions and microwaved them in my mother's prettiest gravy boat to distract and to make it look like I knew what I was doing! I passed it off as my own and, while it may not have been delicious, no one knew my secret.
Until this past year.
I couldn't find a 12-step program but somewhere along the way I found some hidden strength and decided this couldn't be all that hard. It appears I had to admit that I was, indeed, gravy impaired. A very sad condition to be in. I had to admit it ... admitting it is the first step, or so I've heard.
So I decided no more canned/jarred gravies would enter my pantry. It was either my homemade concoction or nothing at all. I had already narrowed down the cause of my predicament to the roux, but couldn't figure out what I was doing incorrectly even after googling. This so called "roux" was the basis for my failure, not only with gravy, but with the illusive macaroni and cheese as well. This past week, I got that monkey off my back once and for all. I finally figured out the art of the roux. Whew!
The roux. A little mixture of fat and butter that would humiliate me time and time again. I could make "non-roux-based foods" with my eyes shut. Why was this happening to me? My gravy tasted like flour. My macaroni and cheese tasted grainy and pasty. The box that the store-bought mac & cheese came in tasted better than my version.
Then a breakthrough! I finally figured out that the key to making a roux was low and slow! I read in my favorite cookbook that it needed to be on medium low heat, not high to insanely-high heat, like I had thought! I learned the successful golden color that only low and slow could achieve.
I made my first successful roux for macaroni and cheese. My very first ever roux success! I cried! My family, though cautious at first, devoured it. Nobody fed it to the cat when I wasn't look. I had achieved a new level of household bliss!
Then yesterday, my son's 23rd birthday, it happened! I promised to make chicken fried steak and country gravy for dinner for the first time. Usually only a restaurant favorite for this household, he looked at me with shock and fear when I suggested this for his special celebration. You could see the weariness in his brown eyes as he asked cautiously, "How confident are you that you can make this?" "Very," I said, with a wink and a nudge. "Trust me." Then, I delivered!
Like an athlete prepares for a competition, I prepared for this meal for 24 hours ... visualizing, planning, writing, reading, meditating! Then, in a moment of triumph, I did it! I made the gravy and it was gooooooood! Oh sweet victory! Never again shall I hang my head in shame at the mere mention of gravy. I will rise to meet my roux! I will face the challenge of the white sauce, the mac and cheese, the sausage gravy. No more embarrassing my family ... well, at least when it comes to gravy.
My mother was a fabulous cook who was always finding and trying new recipes. A couple of times a year, she would make holiday food that included gravy but somehow never showed me how in the 34 years I had with her. Maybe I never showed an interest in learning. What a fool I was to think I could live my life without this skill. She taught me the three Rs, but not the fourth ... the Roux.
So I spent years avoiding and even covering up the gravy issue. I bought jars and cans of prepared gravy. I would quickly toss the empty containers in the recycle bins outside so no one would be the wiser. I added pan drippings to the store-bought versions and microwaved them in my mother's prettiest gravy boat to distract and to make it look like I knew what I was doing! I passed it off as my own and, while it may not have been delicious, no one knew my secret.
Until this past year.
I couldn't find a 12-step program but somewhere along the way I found some hidden strength and decided this couldn't be all that hard. It appears I had to admit that I was, indeed, gravy impaired. A very sad condition to be in. I had to admit it ... admitting it is the first step, or so I've heard.
So I decided no more canned/jarred gravies would enter my pantry. It was either my homemade concoction or nothing at all. I had already narrowed down the cause of my predicament to the roux, but couldn't figure out what I was doing incorrectly even after googling. This so called "roux" was the basis for my failure, not only with gravy, but with the illusive macaroni and cheese as well. This past week, I got that monkey off my back once and for all. I finally figured out the art of the roux. Whew!
The roux. A little mixture of fat and butter that would humiliate me time and time again. I could make "non-roux-based foods" with my eyes shut. Why was this happening to me? My gravy tasted like flour. My macaroni and cheese tasted grainy and pasty. The box that the store-bought mac & cheese came in tasted better than my version.
Then a breakthrough! I finally figured out that the key to making a roux was low and slow! I read in my favorite cookbook that it needed to be on medium low heat, not high to insanely-high heat, like I had thought! I learned the successful golden color that only low and slow could achieve.
I made my first successful roux for macaroni and cheese. My very first ever roux success! I cried! My family, though cautious at first, devoured it. Nobody fed it to the cat when I wasn't look. I had achieved a new level of household bliss!
Then yesterday, my son's 23rd birthday, it happened! I promised to make chicken fried steak and country gravy for dinner for the first time. Usually only a restaurant favorite for this household, he looked at me with shock and fear when I suggested this for his special celebration. You could see the weariness in his brown eyes as he asked cautiously, "How confident are you that you can make this?" "Very," I said, with a wink and a nudge. "Trust me." Then, I delivered!
Like an athlete prepares for a competition, I prepared for this meal for 24 hours ... visualizing, planning, writing, reading, meditating! Then, in a moment of triumph, I did it! I made the gravy and it was gooooooood! Oh sweet victory! Never again shall I hang my head in shame at the mere mention of gravy. I will rise to meet my roux! I will face the challenge of the white sauce, the mac and cheese, the sausage gravy. No more embarrassing my family ... well, at least when it comes to gravy.
Simple Paths Forward
Simple paths forward. I am on a quest to discover how I can make every path simple. Let me introduce myself since this is my first blog. My friends call me Cat. I'm a 45-year-old recovering paralegal. A few years ago, I gave up my job to stay home and take care of my father during the last years of his life. We moved him out of his assisted living facility, brought him to our home, closed off a couple of rooms on the first floor of our house for his use, installed a wheelchair ramp and made his two kitties our two kitties. For three years, he blessed our days with his smile at the table and his silly jokes to entertain us. Our family learned a great deal about life from watching him fight for his.
We lost my dad almost a year ago and we miss him greatly. In the meantime, I've decided not to go back to the corporate world. We've decided I will stay home and make a difference here in our own home. We have a typical 2011 blended family. Three amazing girls and one hilarious boy. I say girls and boys, but in actuality, they are young adults. Three of them are living with us as they start their careers or save money to buy homes. We love having them here and I'm not just saying this because they may get bored enough to read my blog someday. I mean it.
We find that we are not the only American family in this living arrangement. Our economy is causing this dilemma for many households. Unlike most, we love it! We have found several easy ways to make our family of six, now five, work. It is a calm, relaxing environment where we enjoy being surrounded by family and friends. Well, maybe not always calm. But very friendly and loving!
At dinnertime, we come together and share our days. We enjoy laughing and poking fun. There is love and mutual respect. Our family is my greatest gift. I dread the day they all move out. Not that I won't enjoy being a couple and having less footprints to clean up! But I will miss seeing these amazing people every day. I love them, but I also truly LIKE them. They are great human beings!
So my blog will be about family. It will be how I run this household ... or at least how I perceive I run this household ... depends on the day! I think we all need to find balance. We all need to find our simple paths forward. Sometimes, we just need to learn how to make good gravy. That's my next blog. Gravy.
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