I was too lazy/hungry to take pictures of my lunch today, but I should have.  I feel like pictures on other people's blogs make me more likely to try the recipe... because I can't get the yummy ones out of my mind.  Anyway, it all started with that veggie bagel sandwich The Pioneer Woman posted a while back.  With all the best intentions, I knew I still wouldn't get around to cutting up that many vegetables for only me.  For only lunch.  But ever since I saw that picture, I just can't get fresh, crunchy, crisp, cool things off my mind, which is probably why the below recipe was earmarked in Taste of Home's "Fun Food" issue from the grocery store aisle.  (Madalyn talked Poppy into buying it for her.)

Yesterday, I went to Panera with my mom and two of the youngin's and moaned over cheddar broccoli soup and a tomato basil bread turkey sandwich, today I moaned over this turkey wrap.  (I must be in need of some vitamins.)  It's nothing complicated, this wrap- took about 2 minutes to assemble, and can serve just one.  Praise the Lord!  Finally, something that deviates from plain old bread and turkey without much work.  Try it.  Even without a picture.  Please try it.  Especially if you're a sandwich-fan craving fresh, crunchy, crisp, cool things:

Turkey Ranch Wrap 

flour tortilla, warmed  (I just put it in the microwave for a few second between paper towels)

2-4 slices of turkey- just a thin layer across the wrap

thin tomato slices (I used the ones still on the vine)

shredded lettuce (Fresh Express bagged- can use again and again)

shredded cheddar

Ranch Dressing (I used a buttermilk ranch- I can only imagine using a homemade ranch on this, sigh...)

Just warm your tortilla, slice a tomato, and assemble in the order listed (you could also do green pepper, but I didn't want to waste a whole pepper on just moi.)  Roll it up, slice it down the middle, voila!  Something quick, cheap, and fresh.

It ain't fancy.  It hardly counts as a "recipe," but it's good.

Labels: food for thought, let there be butter and sour cream, mealtime

Evan has begged me to cook in the kitchen for some time.  You might remember this:

I told him (this note was from about a year ago,) that come his 6th birthday he could have a chance to cook in the kitchen.  A cooking party it would be.

But a cooking party takes a lot of planning.  There were chef hats to buy, utensils, and lots of ingredients.  Not to mention- cookbooks to make!  This was the table the night before, when Evan slowly moved his way into the kitchen to see what I was doing. 

The anticipation was too much.  He started off lying with his pillow at the foot of the bed and listening... then before I knew it he had his comforter and pillow on the floor at the foot of his bed... then in the hall... with a square tub for a bedside table.  (He needed somewhere to put his cup of water, naturally.)

I had to be so "on it" the night before with prepping ingredients and such that I over-organized and found myself with time on my hands... taking pictures of random things.  Like this one, of his presents from us.

He recently watched Superman when it came on tv (a newer one) and was way impressed.  He did, however, remind me that this was a Ratatouille party when he saw the Superman paper.  (Forgive me for diverging from the theme.)

This is Charlie after his bath that night, wondering why I am standing on the kitchen counter taking pictures...

and whether or not he would be able to catch me if I were to fall. (He would not.)

This is proof that the top of my fridge is not getting dusted.  Oh, and these people are the employees at my printing company.  Sigh, we're like family...

These are light bulbs that burn too short and cost too much...

This is why there are light bulbs on the counter.  Part of Shaun's checklist, not mine... so let's move on.

This is the cookbook Evan designed for his party.  He is cooking with his chef hat on at the stove and he tore out notebook paper and taped it on the front to indicate who each book belonged to.

I meant to change the egg amount to more before having him write this, and the cheese, but I didn't.

Did they follow the recipes anyway?  No.  So did it matter?  No.  Can you really mess up cheese and noodles and butter?  No.  Do 6 year olds do major improvising on their recipes?  YES.      

This is the next morning, what Evan came out to when he declared "my party is going to be just perfect!"

Madalyn came out of her room that morning, holding her blankie, and sang, "Good morning, birthday boy."

We always put on their first year or birth video while people are arriving.  Reminds us what we are celebrating.

This is my cake that was tilting like the leaning tower of Pisa. 

This is where they were to decorate their aprons and chef hats while waiting for their masterpieces to cook.

This is Evan's goofy six year old smile.

This is Jacob's. 

This is Ethan's.

This is Corbin's.

This is not a goofy smile.

This is three generations.

These are the aprons my mother-in-law gave us last Christmas.

This is Jennifer and Jacob making the yogurt parfait.

It was a dark, rainy day and actually really nice that way.  It kind of set the mood.  Shaun found French Bistro music for me.  It was cozy and surprisingly peaceful.

Decorating their aprons while...

the food cooked.  They made the macaroni on the bottom shelf there, but the tomato tarts I made ahead of time.  They are super yummy- my mom's recipe.  You just use a Pillsbury, ready-made pie crust and top it with mozzarella, fresh torn basil, fresh sliced tomatoes (I used Plum tomatoes,) and then a touch more basil, drizzle with olive oil, and bake for about 20 minutes at whatever the crust bakes at- or maybe 400, 425.  There's not an exact recipe, I'm sorry.  That's just how it is. 

I'm also sorry I forgot to take any pictures of the bread or macaroni when finished.  Here is the parfait, though.

Then, it was onto the cake decorating. 

That is Jack's chubby arm helping.  Don't think he would miss out, although I'm not sure if he's adding candy, or taking it off.

Did you just throw up a little in your mouth?  Your gag reflux get the best of you?  It's okay.  It's admittedly pretty bad in the way of sugar shock (and color shock.)  And see that dark spot, that is where Jack started eating the cake and the older kids tried to patch it up with M&M's.

I wonder why daddy had to have a root canal this week?

Evan being shy while we sang.

He is outgrowing his baby teeth.  Boo hoo!

They got to take home their aprons and hats and measuring cups/spoons and whisks to play with outside or in the tub.  It was a fun day.  And our bathtub has A LOT of cooking utensils in it now.

The fun didn't end with the party.  The next day, daddy took Evan to a Chef Mickey dinner at Disney at the Contemporary Resort with Ethan and Mr. Wattles.  (Even with a major toothache, in need of a triple root canal, daddy took him.)  Now that's love. 

He got to play in the cool pool with the slide, too.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, we went to my cousin's wedding this weekend where one of the family members was a real chef and I introduced them.      

Very fitting that this is what he was doing when I brought her to the table to meet him.  She found it interesting how he was keeping his food sorted by types after he chopped it.  Who would've thought that the kid once scared of the texture of cake and macaroni and cheese would turn chef one day?  Just goes to show life is entirely unpredictable. 

Keep cooking, Little Chef, and if we're all lucky, one day you can cook for us.

Labels: birthdays, Evan, kids, let there be butter and sour cream, mealtime, milestones, pics

So, last week was one of the first I haven't worked in quite a while, have I mentioned that yet?  Anyway, I got all domestic-crazy and cooked more in one week than I have in my entire life.  (Slight exaggeration, but still... it was something crazy.  Flour and sugar everywhere.)  It's not that I missed cooking, but I missed eating.  I would SO hire a chef if I could.  I just don't love to cook.  But I love to take pictures.  So I took pictures while I cooked.  That helped.  And eating it helped.

I only had time to go through half of the recipes again today... so here's what's on the menu: Kentucky Butter Cake, Doug's Cauliflower, Brown Rice and Pork, and Banana Bread.  Plus, I'll include a coordinating timeline to see what kind of madness the kids got into while I cooked, because- well, I can't do BOTH!  (Duh.)

Kentucky Butter Cake 

3 c. all-purpose flour

2 c. sugar

1 t salt

1 t baking powder

1/2 t baking soda

1 c. buttermilk

1 c butter

2 t vanilla

4 eggs

sauce:

3/4 c sugar

1/3 c butter

3 T water

2 t vanilla

Okay, so let's hurry up and skip to the mouth-watering part.  Mix the dry stuff, blend in the wet stuff, yada, yada... and you end up with this:

If I worked on Food Network, this is where I would talk about how silky and smooth the batter is.  But I don't work on Food Network and I prefer to keep those adjectives to the bedroom dressing room.  So, pop this in the oven, and watch your back because there might be Barracudas in the kitchen:

Now, the yummy part- the sauce.  Start with your sugar and butter:

Add your water:

And your vanilla:

Then- and here's the part where I want to giggle excitedly- take your cake out of the oven and poke holes in it:

No, seriously.  See?  Poke holes in it.  Now technically, I think the recipe calls for a cooking skewer, but I just use whatever I can find lying around: Tinker Toys, Barbie Doll legs, Double A batteries... no, no don't use the batteries, only kidding.  In this case, I believe I used a wooden spoon.  (The skinny part, stupid.) 

Sorry.  It's been a long day.  Ignore the name-calling.  Oh!  And be sure not to poke through the other end of the cake... you should not be touching the cake pan, moron.  (Ignore it, remember?) 

Then- this is where it gets good- pour that butter sauce down into the holes.  Oh you heard me, drench it, baby!

Because then you end up with this gooey masterpiece.  That you get to EAT.

And when you turn it out, voila!  A lovely, regular, ole bundt cake.  (Except it's not, because it has the secret sauce inside keeping it moist, remember?)  This is really good served WARM.  Or toasted for breakfast with more butter on it.  What?  Don't look at me like that.  Toasted things call for more butter.

Doug's Cauliflower

1 cauliflower

honey mustard

provolone cheese

This is my mom's husband's recipe and it's a really nice way to keep your vegetables from tasting like vegetables.

Start by rinsing and then boiling your cauliflower whole, like this:

While you're waiting, pull those Sister Shubert rolls out of the freezer and do this to them.  What?  It won't kill you... today.

Carefully remove the flower and place it in a casserole dish, like so. 

Smother with honey mustard.

Well, rub it around a little so it doesn't look so sloppy.  Of course, if you get it on the dish like this, what's the point I guess?  It makes it look homemade.  Yes, it does.

Now lay those round slices of Provolone around it like this. 

Into the oven she goes.  (And this is what an oven looks like.  It's the square thing in your kitchen with wire racks.  Be sure to turn it on first.)

Time for a kid check.  Up, there's one:

And I see she's dressed herself again.  She changes clothes more than a movie star changes hair color.

The Bandaid on her big toe.  It really is fascinating.  We keep close track of our boo boos 'round here.  We count them and wear them like battle wounds.

Speaking of Bandaids... 

And out she comes, looking scrumptious.

Mm mm MM!

Banana Bread from SK

3 or 4 ripe bananas, smashed

1/3 cup melted butter

1 cup sugar (can easily reduce to 3/4 cup)

1 egg, beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon baking soda

Pinch of salt

1 1/2 cup of all-purpose flour

Mash some bananas and drop them in the butter.  Already looking pretty good, isn't it?  Well, unless you have a texture-thing, like Evan.

Mix.

Add that sugar.  Now, you could get out a spoon and just stop here.  But I am not THAT wild about bananas, no matter how much sugar and butter you throw on 'em.  So let's keep going...

Add the rest of the ingredients- HOLY SCHMOLY!  WHAT was that noise?  Did you hear that explosion?  I think that means we're overdue for a kid check. 

Why is the back of the couch and the rug sparkling, and where did the dog sprint off to?

Ah, nearby I can see that aerosol can of body glitter that my dad and his wife gave me for Christmas.  Well, now everything shimmers and smells like "warm vanilla", so who can complain, I guess.  If the dog weren't hiding under the bed I would take a picture of him for you- he is SO sparkly.  Could be on Broadway in Lion King or something... bet he'll never bite on a can again.

Well, we better keep plugging, don't worry about him, he'll come out eventually...

Pour that batter in the pan, bake her, and:

Voila.  Best toasted in the morning, and lathered with PB.  Or not toasted and lathered with PB.  (We like PB in this house- even the dog.)  But I supposed if you are out of that, more BUTTER will also do just fine.

Mom's Consomme Rice

1 stick butter

1 can beef consomme

1 can french onion soup

1 cup rice (don't use "Uncle Ben" but spend the money for the big square thing of Basmati Rice)

Kim's Pineapple Cheese Casserole from Kim

20 oz can chunk pineapple

3 T pineapple juice

1/2 c sugar

3 T flour

1 c shredded cheddar

1/4 c butter, melted

1/2 c Ritz crackers, crumbled

Okay, I'm tired of the step by step's, so can we just cut to the chase?  These are really good recipes and turn out like this:

I just put pork down in my rice when it went in the oven and covered it for some of the cooking time and it turned out great.  You cook this between an hour and hour and a half... just keep an eye on it.

This rice is so good.  Seriously.  It was great with this casserole and greens.

Here's the pineapple casserole, only you can't see it buried under all the scrumptious crumbles.

There, is that better?  YUM.  It was SO good.  I might not put quite as much sugar in it next time because my brother and I aren't huge on sweet stuff, but Shaun IS, so... he'd probably notice if I skimped out on him.  Well, we better go check on the kids.  I know where Charlie is, I know where Madalyn is... but those boys... where are they?

Jumping off the headboard, where else?  I wonder how Evan's middle initial got knocked down?  I wonder where Jack's clothes are?  I wonder a lot of things.  (This is the reason I named the photography business "How I Wonder," by the way.) 

And if YOU'RE wondering if this kid ever wears clothes, ever, ever?  No.  No, he does not.

Labels: boys will be boys, Evan, Jack, let there be butter and sour cream, Madalyn, mealtime

Every morning Evan appears in our room first. He crawls into my side of the bed, smothers me with kisses and we cuddle until Madalyn appears. Madalyn then says one of two things: a) "Feed me. Will you feed me, mommy? Get out of your bed." b) "Can I go see Jacky? Evan, come see Jacky with me?" Or, as often is the case, she starts with a and when that's shut down moves on to option b.

Shaun snores and I lie and there and try to determine if I can go back to sleep on a full bladder until someone hurts someone else and the wailing on the monitor will not taper; that's when I roll out of bed and reach in an uncoordinated, exhausted fashion for my glasses (if Madalyn has not already brought them to me,) and retrieve the children. Breakfast commences.

Peanut butter toast and cereal are the staples, and often bananas for Jack. Lately, he insists- (and by "insists" I mean protests with the volume and tenacity of the UAW)- on using a fork. He is undoubtedly soon to start a Union called "United Utensil Users of America," which would conveniently suit his limited vocabulary as UUUA might be something he could babble.

The problem with this for us is that he's utensily challenged. It's that horrible phase where you know you have to let them have the weapons or how will they ever learn to use them, but should we really give weapons to a baby and do we really have to clean up Ground Zero after every meal now? I mean, my hands are so weak in the morning I can hardly hold my coffee cup and certainly couldn't tie a shoelace to save my life... should I, then, really be expected to pick banana goo off the tile with my thumbnail?

This particular morning we went through all of these rituals and got to phase 4, where Shaun and I sit like Zombies on the couch, staring vacantly at the Mickey Mouse Club and clutching our coffee with Whipped Cream (to help us escape,) when we hear a clank on the floor and wailing to follow. The baby has dropped his fork... again.

I get the fork and push the baby back to the table as he has pushed himself away. When my rump hits the couch another clank sounds. Shaun yells something Homer Simpsonesque and takes his turn retrieving the fork. After about 20 more rounds and scoldings of this, we debate taking the fork away. (And I know what you're thinking- really- it took 20 rounds before you even thought about confiscating it?) But please keep in mind that Jack is a United Utensil User of America. His career and every ounce of his being hinge on using that fork, stabbing that banana, and getting that thing to his mouth. If you could see the half moon of one stuck to his forehead and the concentration in his eyes, you would understand. Taking it away is simply not an option. We simply can not take away the very pinnacle of his self-worth.

So Shaun offered up another solution: I'll go look for some string and we'll tie it to his wrist.

Now, the enablers of the Pacifier Users of America came up with the leash idea a long time ago, so it was only a matter of time before the enablers of the UUUA did the same. And the very exciting part of all of this is that when Shaun gets it patented we will be rich, people. Rich like Henry Ford. And then I might hire somebody to make breakfast for us, to bring ME my coffee and clean up the poop in the crib.

Labels: Evan, Jack, Madalyn, mealtime, parenting