Lunch Advice for the Young at Heart

I work from home. Sounds like an anachronism, right? My husband also works from home. Now it gets interesting.

Anyway, working from home allows me to be there not only for my kids, but for my other girlfriends who are working mothers. Which is why today, our eleventy-first snow day of the year, I had five (5) children in my house including my own: three 10/11 girls and two 6/7 boys. (Since they are all into animal hats, they are identified as such.)   

Having my kids occupied with play dates actually makes it easier for Jeeps and I to work, we just have to stick our heads upstairs every now and then to gently remind them to stop screaming, or please not to run around near the artwork, or to suggest maybe it's a good time to go outside. Please. Now. Out.

You wouldn't believe what five jackets and five pairs of snow pants sound like in the dryer, nor how much food five kids can pack away, especially after playing outside in the snow. But my girlfriends are swell enough to have sent them over here with provisions. You can guess what they wanted for lunch. What do kids always seem to want for lunch?!

Someday I'm going to make mac n' cheese properly from scratch, but today it was Annie's to the rescue, along with some Nathan's hot dogs. But here's what was interesting. Around my dining room table sat five kids under the age of twelve, happily munching away their lunch, and talking about food. 

A large part of children's conversation seems to be survey-based: who like this? Who likes that? Raise your hand if you...? And true to form, these kids were polling each other about food. I was actually surprised to hear some of the commentary. I mean, there were the things you would expect: Brussels sprouts—disgusting. Lima beans—vomitrocious. 

"I have never eaten a turnip," offered up Koala, her tone clearly indicating she intended to continue on this way for life. Then Cat ventured, "I tried spinach. Spinach is actually pretty good."

"I love spinach pie," Panda swooned.

"I love spinach and pasta," replied Koala enthusiastically.

"Who likes Pierogies?" sang out Redman.

"I'm Polish, are you kidding," retorted Cat.

Koala: "What are Pierogies?"

Cat: "Pasta pockets with potatoes and cheese"

Koala: "Oh, they sound like gnocchi, have you ever had gnocchi? It's awesome."

Panda: "No." (Ahem, she's had gnocchi, she didn't like it, but there is nothing like a friend to up one's food game. Note to self: try gnocchi again)

Cat: "Who likes chili?"

A chorus of "Meeeeees."

Redman: "Who likes potato pancakes?"

Chorus of "Mmms," and then both Koala and Cat comment how much they liked the potato latkes at our Hanukkah party. But not the soup.

Dog (brother of Koala): "Who likes meatballs?"

Forest of hands raises above the table, followed by commentary on whose mother makes the best meatballs, and whether tomato sauce should be referred to as "sauce" or "gravy." 

(By this point, I am hiding in the kitchen writing this shit down.)

Panda: "Who likes tuna cakes?"

I cringe a little, thinking this will be induce a mass gag-reflex. But Koala asks politely, "What are they?"

Panda: "Well, they're..... OK, so like, you know how you make meatballs and you put in breadcrumbs and parmesan and an egg and seasonings and stuff? OK, so you do all that, but you use tuna fish. And you make little patties and you fry them in the pan. They're really good."

Koala: "Oh. Sort of like fish tacos?"

Redman: "Tacos are my favorite!"

Pause, and everyone yells, "Spaghetti tacos!!!!"

On and on it went, it was terrific! And here's something else impressive: Koala has tree nut allergies. For dessert I cut up some strawberries and grapes, and put them out with some cookies Cat brought—shortbread, and Chips Ahoy. I went back downstairs to work. A few minutes later, Koala comes downstairs with the wrapper from the shortbread cookies. She points to text in an enclosed box: Not suitable for people with nut allergies.

"That means me, right, I shouldn't have this." 

She wasn't really asking a question, she just wanted the second verification, but I was really impressed with how she knew to stop, think, and consult. 

"What about the Chips Ahoy?" I asked. 

"Those are fine, I have those all the time." She smiled and skipped back upstairs. A minute later, I heard Panda instructing her friends to bring the dishes over to the sink, leaving me with a sort of lump in my throat. In such an age of hover- and helicopter-parenting, I'm a firm believer that if you give them rules and guidelines and basic training, and then benignly get out of their way...the kids are all right.

I also believe in an alternate schedule instead of snowdays.  I would have no problem sending the kids to school from 12-6PM on a day of inclement weather.  Then again, easy for me to say that because I work from home.

By the way, I had two hot dogs for my lunch and they were awful good, but they made me thirsty as hell.  The kind of thirst that can only be truly assuaged by a beer. But I was working. Once you start drinking on the job, it's a fast road downhill.

Shtupping on the job is permissible. But only on lunch hour. On non-snowdays. With your spouse. Not with your employee/er. Or the poolboy.

This post was over 2 paragraphs ago, wasn't it?

(*Ahem*)

Meat Loaf

Meat Loaf!

 

No, no, not you, sir. I meant...

Meatloaf!

Yeaaaaaaahhh. Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Paradise by the oven light.

Meatwoaf. That sacwed institution. That dweam wivvin a dweam....

Actually I feel ridiculous putting up a meatloaf recipe. In my mind, acquiring knowledge of meatloaf happens in one of three ways: 1) you get the recipe from your mother; or 2) you get it from some other significant person in your circle of family and friends; or 3) you buy a pound of ground beef and think "how hard can this be?" and after successive trial and error, you arrive at your own personal meatloaf that you then make by rote until someone asks you how. Then you think about it.

I made meatloaf the way my mother taught me, which was via a series of notes left on the kitchen counter when I was growing up as a latchkey kid.  "Pr--h--t ov-- to 350 a 5:00," was always at the top (my mother had terrible handwriting and she was always scribbling these notes in a hurry).

Sometimes the dry ingredients had been laid out for me, sometimes not. "Gr---d b--f in frig.  2 egs.  1/2 cup br--dcr---bs..." The last direction was always to open a can of Campbell's tomato soup and spread it over the top of the meatloaf. Why? I never thought to ask why until later years, and my mother shrugged and said that's the way her mother had done. I accepted that, and in later years I went from tomato soup to just plain ketchup as a top glaze.  Why? I don't know, maybe I didn't have the soup one night, made do with the ketchup and liked it better. This is how these things happen.

There's turkey meatloaf, and ground beef meatloaf Some will say if you're going to do it, then do it right and use a mix of ground beef, ground pork and ground veal. 

My friend Lisa swore Martha Stewart's recipe for All-American Meatloaf in the same book Favorite Comfort Food is really good. It calls for 1/2 pounds of beef, veal and pork. I've used that and other times I've used turkey and it all comes out good.

Martha Stewart's All-American Meatloaf

  • 3 slices white bread (which she has you process into crumbs but you know me, ahem, I've already done that ahead of time and I will translate this to 1/2 cup of fresh breadcrumbs)
  • 1 large carrot, peeled and cut into 1/4 inch rounds
  • 1 rib celery, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
  • 1/2 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, smashed
  • 1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves, loosely packed (which I already have chopped and frozen because Mommy taught me)
  • 1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons ketchup
  • 4 1/2 teaspoons dry mustard
  • 1/2 pound each ground beef, veal, pork (or 1 to 1 1/2 pounds turkey)
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 1 teaspoon Tobasco
  • I1/2 teaspoon chopped rosemary, plus more needles for sprinkling

Put breadcrumbs in mixing bowl (however you procure them)

Place celery, carrot, garlic and onion in food processor, process until vegetables are minced, about 30 seconds, pausing to scrape down sides of bowl. Transfer vegetables to mixing bowl with breadcrumbs. Add 1/2 cup ketchup, 2 teaspoons of dry mustard, the ground meat, eggs, salt, pepper, rosemary and Tobasco. Knead ingredients until thoroughly combined, about 1 minute. Do not overknead, it will result in a heavy and dense loaf. The texture should be wet, but tight enough to hold a free-form shape. (Whenever you're done, Martha.)

Set a fine-mesh baking rack in an 11x17 inch baking pan (I have neither of those things, honestly, Martha, you piss me off sometimes). 

Cut a 5x11 inch piece of parchment paper, and place over center of rack to prevent meat loaf from falling through (ignore, ignore). 

Using your hands, form an elongated loaf covering the parchment... OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MARTHA! Shape the damn loaf and put it in your meatloaf pan or your baking dish. Done. Honestly. This isn't rocket science.

Make a glaze of the remaining 3 tablespoons ketchup, 2 1/2 teaspoons mustard, and the brown sugar. Brush that over the top. Then saute red onions in olive oil for about ten minutes, add 3 tablespoons of water and cook until that evaporates and...

You know what? She lost me at "parchment paper." This recipe is a production. It's Monday night, I'm tired, people are hungry. I'm spreading Heinz ketchup over the top of my meatloaf and calling it a day.

Bake 50-55 minutes at 400. Let cool 15 minutes and serve.

Serve with what? How about Trader Joe's mashed potatoes and the last of those little baby carrots I got at DeCicco's, which failed so miserably in the crockpot? I trimmed and peeled them, tossed them and my other 1/2 onion with olive oil, salt and pepper, and added them to the 400 oven halfway through cooking.

Oh wait, I lied... I don't have the mashed potatoes. How about Alexia waffle fries? Yes? Nod your head at me. Yes. Good? Don't lie. OK. Thank you.

Dim Sum Outing

I took Pandagirl into the city today to meet two of my girlfriends for Dim Sum. We went over to the Golden Unicorn on East Broadway in Chinatown.  Dim Sum is a great and inexpensive way to try lots of different Chinese foods. This was Panda's first experience ever and I was really proud of her for trying so many new, and sometimes strange-looking things. In the end she decided the spring rolls were her favorite.

This was only my second or third Dim Sum outing; all previous times had been with Karen and Elisa as well.  I think I had Vietnamese food for the first time with Elisa.  She, by the by, is a singer-songwriter extraordinaire; please do visit her website here.

After lunch we wandered over to Mott Street and Aji Ichiban candy store. Besides candy, they have a wide variety of dried fruits and other exotic foods. Panda picked a few chocolates and some dried strawberries; I found some dried strawberry plums I really liked a lot.

From there it was over to Grand Street and Ferrara Bakery & Cafe, for coffee and pastries.

We caught a 3:00 train home.  Panda was asleep before we were out of the tunnel.  I held on long enough to give the tickets up to the conductor then I crashed hard.

Woke up wondering what to make for dinner after such a day of feasting, and thinking about novels of Chinese food and culture that I could recommend. I didn't have to think very long:

If forced to pick between the two, then Last Chinese Chef, no question. In fact, read that and then go read everything Nicole Mones has written.

Carrot Soup

“That autumn in Brooklyn, my grandmother’s sky rained soup...”
— Miriam's Kitchen, by Elizabeth Ehrlich

This winter there's not enough soup in the world. Tonight it was carrot soup.

Carrot soup, and its first cousin butternut squash soup, are insanely delicious and stupid simple to make. The formula adapts easily to any other vegetable that would make a pureed soup.

P1050370
P1050370

The formula is:

  • 2 potatoes (3 if small)
  • 2 onions (3 if small)
  • 3-4 cloves of garlic (more or less according to your taste, I like more, I will use 5)
  • Chicken broth
  • Vegetable of choice. In this case you use 2 bags of frozen baby carrots. I could've sworn I had two in the freezer but I only had one, so I am supplementing with fresh carrots.

Vegetable alternatives:

  • 1 large butternut squash, peeled seeded and cut into 2-inch chunks OR 2 packages of pre-peeled, pre-seeded, and pre-cut butternut squash that are readily available at any grocery store.
  • 2 pounds frozen or fresh broccoli
  • 2 pounds parsnips
  • 2 pounds asparagus
  • You get the idea.

I use Madame le Creuset for this soup, but any soup pot will do. Put it on medium-heat and splash some olive oil and a pat of butter in the bottom.

Peel and quarter the onions and toss them in, saute 4 minutes until they soften and start to come apart.

Peel and cut the potatoes into rough 2-inch chunks, toss them in, stir.

Competently smash the garlic cloves under the flat blade of your knife, peel the skins away and toss the cloves into the pot whole. (Hmm... This sounds vaguely familiar. You might want to have a handsome man, suffused with hunger and weariness, watching you at this point to get the full effect.)

Add the frozen carrots (and in this case, the supplemental fresh ones, peeled and chunked). Stir another few minutes and then add chicken broth to barely cover, I estimate about half of a 32-oz box. Cover Madame, turn the heat to low, and go rinse the Feria out of your hair.

(What, I didn't mention I was coloring my hair tonight? My bad. It was long overdue, and getting back to my roots in a way that wasn't pretty at all.)

So the goal here is soft mushiness which will take about 20 minutes at a lower simmer. If you can break the carrots with the edge of a wooden spoon, you're done. Turn off the heat and carefully dump veggies and broth into a bowl. 

In batches, puree them in the blender or food processor and scrape back into Madame. My seester gave me a gorgeous Viking immersion blender for Christmas and if this were a more country-style soup I would have used it, but I like this soup ultra-smooth and so the Cuisinart is really the way to go.

Once back in the pot, add more chicken broth until it is the consistency you want. You could do only broth or add some buttermilk or regular milk or even cream if you are so inclined. I then like to sprinkle a nice amount of paprika which boosts the flavor and intensifies the orange color. When serving, I like to put out sour cream or plain yogurt to dollop on top, and then chopped chives or dill to sprinkle. Sometimes I like to sprinkle caraway seeds on mine.

This soup freezes beautifully for another day.  You can make it in the morning, chill, and reheat it later.  You can push it to the back burner and forget it while you make something yummy to go on the side.  Like...um...oh, I don't know, how about BROCCOLI BITES!?!

I know!!!  I found these on Stacey Snacks and lost my mind.  They are simple to make and totally delicious on the side of a pureed vegetable soup.  So here is the money shot:

Broccoli Bites

I confess I squealed like a little girl when I saw these on Stacey Snacks.  I was planning to make carrot soup for dinner and needed something to go on the side.  Not only did Stacey have these, but she had also posted a recipe for chickpea and carrot soup.  It seemed like fate.  Or a girl crush.  Or a combination thereof.

Cheesy Broccoli Bites

  • 16 oz. package of frozen chopped broccoli, thawed (I already had some steamed broccoli left over from last night's dinner. I chopped that up and then supplemented with 3 crowns of fresh broccoli, chopped and blanched for 3-4 minutes. No matter what you're using, drain well to get rid of excess liquid)
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded cheese (Fresh or bagged, your choice, I had a bagged blend of cheddar and monterey jack. I imagine mozzarella would be yummy)
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 cup of seasoned Italian breadcrumbs

Jeeps came to play in the kitchen tonight, which I love. The bites were being made at the same time as the soup. It turned into this ballet of passing the camera back and forth, or calling "Quick, I need both hands, take a picture!"

Mix all the ingredients together in a large bowl. It was real sweet how hard Jeeps worked to compose the shot so that it came out exactly the way Stacey's photograph looked.

In the end we had to add another egg to the mixture. These things happen.

With your hands, form small patties and lay on a parchment lined baking sheet.  Small patties.  1-2 inches tops. We made some too-big ones which did not brown up as well.  

If you're wondering, Jeeps has that squeamish expression because he doesn't like touching raw eggs. His side of the family has an inborn streak of germophobia. Me, I'm not afraid, just wash your hands. I don't believe in antibacterial this, that and the other. Plain old soap and hot water was good enough for my mother and her mother and her mother, it's good enough for me.

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P1050390

Oh stop making that face, those are organic eggs!

Bake at 375 for 15 minutes, flip patties, bake another 10 minutes. The too-large ones had to go back in another five minutes each side.

Delicious!!!

Miriam's Kitchen

I have a handful of books that I read once a year, some on a very particular schedule.  In the fall, right after Halloween and before Thanksgiving, I reach for Miriam's Kitchen, by Elizabeth Ehrlich.  This book is 13 years old.  The cover has fallen off.  The pages are dog-eared both at top and bottom.  There are coffee drips on some pages; other pages are taped back in.  I should get myself another copy, but really I don't want to, I love this beat-up one. This beautiful memoir recounts an assimilated Jewish woman’s attempt to embrace the religious traditions of her husband's family by spending time in the kitchen of her mother-in-law, Miriam, learning her recipes.   Miriam, a Polish Holocaust survivor, "guarded culinary specialties in her mind during years when possession and certainties were ripped from her hands."  As the relationship between mother- and daughter-in-law deepens,  Ehrlich remembers and retells memories and traditions from her own Jewish heritage, including those of her fiercely left-wing family in the inner city of Detroit.  She weaves stories from four generations of her immigrant family with those of Miriam's tragic experience in a concentration camp and brief sojourn in Israel as a young mother.

Both families celebrate their Judaism through food, drink, ritual, prayer and family ties. Ehrlich's views on Judaism shift as she travels the road to middle age, first as a young girl, then as a young adult, next as a new wife and, finally, as the mother of three young children. Along the way she explores such complexities as Miriam's memories of the Holocaust and her native Poland, the challenges of managing a kosher home, and the joys and regrets of interfaith unions.

Simply put, this is a book about food, about cooking, about kitchens, about traditions.  Even more simply put, this is a book about women.  Rich with love, lore, memories, cooking tips and recipes, this is an absolutely outstanding read.

Click here to read one of my favorite chapters.

Manning the Kitchen

Pandagirl has ballet class late on Thursdays so dinner is in the hands of my husband. And they are very capable hands. There are few things sexier than a man who knows his way around the kitchen...one of them is a man who knows his way around the kitchen and plays guitar but I digress...

Jeeps has a very decent repertoire of dinners and beats me flat-out at making omelets. Tonight Panda and I came home to tuna cakes, cous-cous and steamed broccoli.

And he cleaned up, too.

Dinner 1-28
Dinner 1-28

Tuna cakes are a fallback dinner around here. They're easy and versatile and adapt to whatever you have around the pantry. I'd give you a recipe but really it's like making meatloaf: you just throw it together. Two cans of tuna, half a chopped onion (or dried minced onion). Chopped red pepper. And/or some thawed frozen corn. And/or some drained, rinsed black beans. And/or some scallions. Got some leftover steamed cauliflower or broccoli? Hell, chop it up and throw it in the bowl. Seasonings, or seasoned bread crumbs. Eggs to hold it together. A little mayo if you're short on eggs.

There's no wrong way to make these.

Form into patties and fry them up. You can make them little to stuff inside a taco shell. Or make big ones to eat on a roll with lettuce and tomato.

Do Try to Speak as We Do...

Scotch Egg by Sam Breach 2
Scotch Egg by Sam Breach 2

This, my friends, is a Scotch Egg.  Look at it.  It's exactly what you think it is:  a hard-boiled egg, wrapped in sausage, breaded, and then fried. (Are you clutching your heart?)

No, I did not make this one.  I have never made one.  It's possible I shall someday but Scotch eggs strike me as overkill - the sort of thing that sound wildly delicious and then you eat a quarter of one and think, "OK.  Done."  It also seems to me like they must be eaten piping hot...once these babies go cold they probably get pretty lurid.  Just my opinion.  If anyone knows how to make them or swears by them, please do set me straight.

And why am I bringing them up in the first place if not to eat them?  Ahhhh....it must be a READS post!

I first heard of Scotch eggs when I read a book called Do Try to Speak as We Do: the Diary of an American Au Pair, by Marjorie Leet Ford.  It's a little formulaic:  a cross between Bridget Jones and The Nanny Diaries, but a good, light and entertaining read.

Synapsis from Library Journal:  "Reeling from a recent layoff and the possibly permanent postponement of marriage to her longtime love, Melissa takes a position as an au pair to an upper-middle-class English family. It seems like the perfect job. The children are well behaved, the wife sounds charming over the phone, and the husband is a member of Parliament. Melissa's visions of tea, lawn tennis, and elegant parties quickly dissolve upon her arrival in England, when she is handed the tasks of a scullery servant, impossible working hours, children forever on the brink of disaster, and a constant whirlwind of packing and unpacking as the family bounces between their home in London and their crumbling estate in rural Scotland. A faux pas lurks at every turn as Melissa strives to hone her British speech ("Do try to speak as we do!") and manners and to overcome the polite but frigid anti-Americanism of the family's friends and relations. In addition to her other tasks, she must teach three-year-old Claire, who is deaf, to speak the Queen's English. Melissa describes all these trials and tribulations with wit and charm in her letters home."

The food in Do Try is tantalizing:  luscious descriptions of banquets and teas and the aforementioned Scotch eggs abound.  Plus there is a little gem of a book referenced within the book:  Fattypuffs and Thinifers, by André Maurois, which the English children's mother reads to them on picnics.  Written in 1930, it concerns the imaginary underground land of the fat and congenial Fattypuffs and the thin and irritable Thinifers, which is visited by two brothers, the plump Edmund and the thin Terry. The Fattypuffs and Thinifers do not mix, and their respective countries are on the verge of war when Edmund and Terry make their visit.

This sounded like a great book to read to Pandagirl so I took it out from the library.  Turned out to be just a little over her head (this was some years ago) but I went on and read it myself.  It was charming! I think I recommend it just a little more highly than Do Try, and a lot more highly than Scotch eggs.