Today is my birthday. In keeping with tradition, Andrew made a chocolate cake last night (gluten-free this year, look at me, I’m growing as a person!) so that I could enjoy a piece for breakfast. Because he is amazing, he managed to find time to stick a candle in it and get the kids to sing to me before we raced out the door to church.
After church, we went to small group where I learned that our sweet friends have been paying attention when I mentioned that I like chocolate cake. And they took me seriously. Cake Number 1:
And Cake Number 2:
Nothing says “love” like chocolate cake options!
After dinner, the neighbors (and honorary members of the culdesac) gathered next door for yet another dessert.
This one was called “the Marriage Saver” and I do believe this creation of deliciousness and peanut butter could quite possibly save not just a marriage, but the world.
I have never felt so covered up with love - all the phone calls, tweets, facebook messages, and desserts that you people have thrown at me. Thanks for celebrating with me. Thanks for understanding that my love language is words of encouragement and chocolate. And thanks for loving me… even if my jeans may never fit properly again.
On Mondays, the kids usually get an easy dinner like pizza or mac ‘n cheese. We feed the small people and save our appetites for a grown-up meal cooked by The Chef and the ever-anonymous C. We wouldn’t dream of “casting pearls before swine” by giving The Chef’s food to the kids. Although, to be honest, our kids are not dummies. They’ve figured out that The Chef brings with him tasty morsels of yummy goodness and they won’t go to bed until they’ve wandered by the table slowly and begged a bite from our plates.
This doesn’t mean, however, that they don’t appreciate a good macaroni and powdered cheese, straight from the box.
Today was a wild one and Andrew was a bit late getting home. I pulled the kids out of the fountain, stripped them down, and sent them all for showers and baths. Somewhere in the middle of that, I switched the oven on to preheat for a frozen pizza.
Eat your heart out, Martha.
I had to drain out Sam’s cast and get the girls dressed and then Andrew wandered in and it was a good twenty minutes before I went to the freezer and discovered we didn’t have any pizza.
Sigh. Even my “convenience foods” were failing me.
I pulled out a box of “organic” family-size mac ‘n cheese. I set the pot of water on to boil, supervised general cleaning up around the house, started a load of laundry, and then returned to add the noodles. I stirred them a few times and then went to my room to drop something off.
And then, through my frazzled head, I heard a voice. My bed was calling me…
I sat down and laid my head back on my pillow for a minute. Andrew found me and we proceeded to discuss the proceedings of the day. I was very engrossed in our conversation (and in the study of the back of my eyeballs) when my nose told me something was amiss.
I hopped off the bed and ran into the kitchen.
The pot was smoking.
Y’all.
I burned macaroni and cheese. The boxed kind.
I threw the pot on the back porch and was prepared to let the kids go hungry for the evening. Andrew, ever the calm one, pulled the top layer of un-burnt noodles off and we rinsed them well. Then we mixed them with the cheese and decided it tasted like “smoked gouda.”
The kids ate it.
There may be hope for their little class-less palates yet.
I, on the other hand, am holding out for whatever deliciousness The Chef is bringing. This swine prefers her pearls “un-smoked.”
After our Cookie-Lands were baked, we needed an ocean to surround them. But I didn’t have blue icing. And I was too lazy to make any. So I found some blue chocolate wafers I used to make Adam’s Roadrunner Cake. I threw in some white baker’s chocolate and put it over a double boiler to melt. Once it was melted, I let the kids add green and white sprinkles to make it look oceanic. I think the results were pretty good.
Since the whole point of the exercise was for the kids to understand maps and landforms, I gave the boys an impromptu quiz. And if you can listen to Ian’s sweet little lisp without smiling, then you’re either made of stone or you don’t share DNA with him.
Just to show you the contrast in my twins, here’s Sam’s version of his land. (We’ve been studying Egypt, too, which is why he thinks everything is just “Egypt.”) I had to keep the camera off of his face because if he thought he was actually on camera, he would have acted ridiculous. The boy has a need to entertain.
Happily, we completed our first week of school last week without major incident. Matter of fact, we’re enjoying our new curriculum and schedule. (Dee Dee is hosting a curriculum round-up on Friday, so I’ll give you the scoop on the new additions to our line-up then.) One of the new additions involves more hands-on activities to our routines. Which means I’ve got to be artsy and crafty. Or, as I like to call it, Mommy Will Be Sniffing the Glue By The End of the Morning.
So on our first week, I took the easy road out. I chose the craft option that involved FOOD, my other love language. Even better, it involved cookies. We talked geography terms, major land forms and such. Then I brought out a large bowl of cookie dough (NOT made from scratch) and told my four oldest kids to make up their own land mass.
Willa even got a hunk of dough which she promptly amassed in her mouth.
Once we had used our fingers to make mountains, rivers, lakes, and plains, I broke out the shiny grit Glitter Sprinkles. Happiness abounded. For the kids.
And Willa got another hunk of dough to gnaw.
She’s pretty sure this was the best. day. ever.
Adam, aka Tactile-Boy, was thrilled to enjoy some carbs and some kinesthetic learning all in one activity. Can you tell?
Once everyone had cast their sprinkles about the room (and a few of the kids just turned the sprinkles jars up and chugged them), we put the cookie-lands in to bake. And then we applied the chocolate ocean…
Tomorrow I’ll let Sam and Ian show you the finished product. In the meantime, I’m still finding sprinkles on the floor, despite Willa and Adam’s best efforts to eat them up for me. Guess I’d better go sweep again…
So the predicted chicken fiasco went pretty well considering it was, well, ME at the helm of a big sharp knife. I handed the camera to the twins and let them document it. I am sad to report, they inherited my disappointing photography genes. Most of their pictures were blurry. The rest of them were random. Like in this picture where I flashed the chicken a Poultry Gang Sign to let him know I’m his new boss. Gulf Coast Holla!
A chicken and his neck are soon parted.
And here’s one where Adam flashed the camera.
I watched the video to figure out how to cut a chicken up, and then I went to hacking. I didn’t really follow the instructions. Once I knew the pieces I needed, I just went for it. I handled it okay, although I may have squealed a little when that wily bird reached his little chicken wing up and grabbed me by the wrist. I knifed him back into submission. But I was understandably a little queasy by the time I was done.
I dissected the bird and marinated him in buttermilk, garlic, thyme, and salt and pepper. Once he was grilled, that feared fowl was delicious.
Which means, heaven help us all, I may have to do this again sometime.
We had a huge rainstorm last night, so, despite the sunny weather, the outside was too wet for playing. Which meant that around 11 AM, we were out of entertainment. I finished reading silly stories with the kids and Sam asked to be allowed to cook in the kitchen. I pressed him for more details on what he was going to cook. His only reply was a request for “milk, cinnamon, and, um, mint.”
The next thing I knew all four big kids were in the kitchen, pawing through the cabinets and wielding spatulas. I decided to grab my camera and roll with it. It was that or sit in a corner and suck my thumb.
Willa, who was exceptionally Beast-y today, sat on my hip and watched the chaos in bewilderment.
Sam demonstrated he really is the leader of the pack by procuring ingredients. He’d raise his hands and say, “Everyone! We need…. Peanut Butter!”
Then he’d go off to the pantry or cabinet to find it. I was there to keep him from dumping an entire canister of cocoa powder into his concoction. But I let him have free reign with the nutmeg and cinnamon.
Adam and Ellen alternated between stirring and sipping. My stomach is still rolling from watching.
At some point, the kids decided they needed a banana. Ian was the designated masher. I had to set Willa down so I could take pictures. My hands were shaking as my blood pressure rose and I needed both hands to hold the camera still.
Ian tried to stop Adam from taking sips out of his ice cream scoop and a wrestling match ensued. Ian’s bucket slipped out from under him and he fell on the floor. My only coping mechanism was to keep snapping pictures and say very sweetly, “Are you okay, son?”
He was fine. Willa, on the other hand, felt like a meltdown was appropriate.
When viewing the rest of the pictures, please imagine the sound of a baby squalling in the background. This will provide you with the full ambiance.
The children very kindly offered to share their concoction with me. I avoided the question and managed to avoid tasting as well.
Willa was mad I wouldn’t give her any.
Sam and Ellen drank all of theirs. Ian and Adam eventually admitted that their new recipe was “not good.”
Something else that wasn’t good? Willa’s life.
She eventually found solace in her lunch.
And I found solace in my chocolate stash.
So everybody’s okay now.
p.s. I realize that this would have been a much cuter post if the pictures had been less blurry. I even used the “real” camera. I have no excuse but my own photographic mediocrity.
I may have mentioned a time or three that my kitchen is possessed. Things don’t rise in my kitchen like they’re supposed to. I’ve had the Bread Whisperer try to help me fix my problem, I’ve had my friend who is a trained chef… We are all bumfuzzled.
And tonight, I offer you further proof.
Our chef buddy came over to spend the evening with us. Usually, he brings carefully crafted culinary delights with him, the likes of which will make me eat vegetables I’ve never dared consume. Like kale. And asparagus. There might have been a leek in there somewhere. All I know is, he makes magical sauces that render just about anything edible.
And then there’s The Cake of Magical Wonders. Once he truly understood the depth of my love for chocolate, and the darker the better, he started showing up on my doorstep with a certain cake. It has very little flour or sugar in it, hence, I can eat the whole thing and it won’t mess with my delicate insulin issues. Hypothetically, of course. Ahem.
Tonight, we ordered take-out, but I thought a little snacky something was in order while we visited. Chef P offered to teach me how to make the Cake of Magical Wonders. He mixed and stirred and finessed around my kitchen. But at some point, something went wrong. The egg whites mixed with cream refused to reach a “semi-solid state.”
We pulled out my powerful mixer, because even the Chef’s “Popeye Arms” were tired of beating the egg whites into submission. And yet, not even my Electrolux could coax proper solidification from that cream. All we got was butter. Chef P dumped the first attempt and reached for the cream. We whipped it up and folded it very sweetly into the delectable chocolate mix on my stove.
And then we waited while it sat in the oven and filled my house with my favorite smell: chocolate.
Chef P went to remove the cake from its prison and, with sadness and consternation, reported a disaster. The Cake of Magical Wonders, the cake he had so faithfully created for me for months, had failed. Not just failed, had concussed right there in my oven.
It took a good fifteen minute discussion to determine the cause of the disaster. We decided that water in the cream kept it from whipping properly, which made us throw the egg whites out, and we should have known those egg whites were important to the overall structure of the cake. Plus, my sugar was sub-par. And my oven hates me.
But maybe that last one isn’t scientifically provable.
You will notice, however, if you look carefully at the picture, that this culinary disaster did not deter me one bit from consuming the would-be-cake. Matter of fact, I ate a lot more after this picture was taken. And I have every reason to believe that either myself or my children will enjoy it for breakfast tomorrow, too.
Because, My house? It’s where good chocolate goes to die. And I’m okay with that.
Today was one of those days where everyone had spring fever and I could choose to fight it and have my head explode or I could roll with it. I opted for rolling with it. Well, except for when the spring fever would result in death or dismemberment, in which case I put a stop to it. I will not give you an actual numerical figure for how many times I had to put a stop to things.
We spent most of the afternoon in the backyard. The boys played in the fountain. Their favorite game was to fill their rain boots up with water, put them on, and run around the yard. Their second favorite game involved swords and a plastic golf club. I’d rather not get into it. And I will also not give you a numerical figure for how many times I got “accidentally” sprayed with the garden hose. But I will tell you that I was on the phone with Gran and I did a lot of screeching in her ear at random intervals.
I had some bread dough in the fridge I wanted to use up, so I rolled it out flat and we grilled pizza. It was a revelation.
Because my dining room happened to be clean the kids ate dinner on the trampoline. They were happy. I was happy.
Some day I’m going to have to apologize for putting a picture of them stuffing their faces on the internet. But I suspect I’ll have to apologize for most of the contents of this blog, so we will just add it to the list.
I had just enough dough leftover for a dessert pizza. I put some cream cheese on the dough, added frozen blackberries, and squiggled a bunch of honey on top. After it was baked, I sprinkled powdered sugar on top. Dessert Perfection.
Because we are responsible parents (and because my dining room was still clean), we bathed everyone and washed all the outside grime and grit off of them. We also removed several layers of pizza sauce.
And tomorrow, we will probably do all of this Spring Fever outside-reveling again. But minus the pizza.
And, hopefully, minus the indignities done against my person with a garden hose.
One of the ways we’ve cut our budget back recently is by cutting out trips to the grocery store. I figured out that I always spent the same amount at the store, no matter how often I went. So I started trying to go only every other week. Then I stretched it to three… Last month I only went one time! I’ll admit, though, toward the end of the month, I had to get pretty creative with the ingredients in my pantry.
The happiest result of all this experimenting was my new substitute for Macaroni and Cheese.
I wanted to make a corn casserole one night but got the recipe half-started and then realized I didn’t have everything I needed. So I made it up. The result was a cheesy, gooey, salty, crunchy, corny casserole that was gone in no time. I made it again last night and the kids deemed it “better than pizza or macaroni and cheese.”
Y’all. That is high praise.
I’ve tried to type out a recipe for you, but you have to understand that it’s a little different every time. It’s all about using what you have.
Crack ‘n Cheese
2 bags frozen corn
4 tblsp butter
3 tblsp water
1 1/2 tblsp ground mustard
1 8 oz block of Cream Cheese
Parmesan Cheese
Panko breadcrumbs
optional Cheddar Cheese
Salt and Pepper to taste
Place a large saucepan on medium high heat. Add the butter and let it melt. Toss in the corn with a few tablespoons of water and let it cook a bit until it’s not frozen and some of the water has evaporated off. Then add the cream cheese and mustard. (I added minced garlic the first time and it was great, but the second time I tried garlic salt, which I didn’t like as much. Doesn’t have to have garlic at all.) Add about a half of a cup of parmesan and if you want to turn it “mac ‘n cheese” orange, throw in some shredded cheddar. Salt and pepper to taste. Pour into a casserole dish, sprinkle with Panko breadcrumbs and more parmesan and bake at 350 until it bubbles.
Voila! Super easy to make, no roux to mix, and doesn’t require noodles. You can sneak a vegetable in it and no one will notice! Cream cheese hides everything! It makes the world go round! Well, that and chocolate…
A few weeks ago, we went out with Uncle Stik and Aunt Katie to a Japanese restaurant to celebrate all the recent birthdays. Our children were naturally suspicious.
Even the older kids felt a bit intimidated by all the clanging and banging. Or maybe it was the disco ball that went off every now and then.
And then the chef set the grill on fire and, well, I’m just glad no one screamed.
I’m not sure Ellen could have clamped her hands down on her ears any harder. Although why she was so concerned about protecting her ears from the fire is beyond me. I was more concerned for my own head of hair, which is a fire hazard unto itself.
Willa remained nonplussed by the whole affair. Fascinated, but relatively unconcerned.
And, eventually, even Ellen loosened up a bit. Not enough that she removed her hands from her head, but still…
Despite being terrified of their food preparation, the kids loved dinner and seemed to enjoy the experience.
And since it was probably the quietest our children have ever been during mealtime, I vote we go every week!
