Cream of cauliflower soup with garlic croutons; cinnamon apples.
We have had two snow days so far this week. Snow days are fun for about twenty minutes. That's how long the boys want to go sledding before someone (a) gets snow on his face or (b) gets ice crusted under the cuffs of his snow pants or (c) has to pee. (Twenty minutes is also, coincidentally, how long it takes to dig out the snow gear and bundle them up before they can go outside for Big Snow Fun.)
I bet snow days are great in, like, Telluride. Even, maybe, in upstate New York, where I lived until I was nine. If everyone has four wheel drive and is going ice skating or snowshoeing or skiing, then hell yeah, a day off school sounds good. (I don't know whether they have snow days in those places.) But here in the great plains, we do not do snow activities. There are no mountains, of course. Our ponds are not to be trusted for skating because we have frequent thaws throughout winter. It doesn't make sense to own snowshoes and the like here--we just don't get enough snow.
Anyway, even if we had those things, yesterday and today would have been too cold to use them. This afternoon found the boys and me huddled in the basement, wrapped in blankets, watching movies. When I finally had to unhuddle to fix dinner, all I could think of was: Hot. Hot soup. Hot toast. Hot apples.
Cinnamon apples are something our nanny, Deanna, came up with to give the boys for after-school snacks. They are really good!
Cinnamon apples (serves 4-6)
3 apples (Fuji, Gala, or Pink Lady work best), cut into half-inch cubes
2 Tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon (and if you want to get fancy, 1/2 tsp ground cardamom, 1/4 tsp grated nutmeg, and a pinch of ground cloves for good measure)
1 Tbsp butter
Combine all the ingredients in a large, microwave safe bowl. Toss to coat the apples. Cover and microwave for five minutes on high. Allow to stand for ten to fifteen minutes, until apples are tender. Stir and serve.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
What I Made for Dinner: January 9, 2011
Pasta with brussels sprouts and bacon; marinated mushroom salad.
I find recipes in many unusual places. In this case, it was a 2004 Martha Stewart Living magazine Alex found in the craft bin while we were looking for pictures of green things to cut out and glue onto a bucket. We are making a green bucket. It's a Cub Scout project, so we cannot just go and buy a green bucket. Buying a green bucket would be ridiculous. Instead we must make one out of a white bucket and many small scraps of green paper.
So I found the recipe because its greenness attracted me. Not for eating, but for bucket-transforming.
When I announced I was making this dinner, I got a lot of pushback. "I won't like it! I don't want it! Can't you make something else?" But Martha and I were vindicated: The big boys ate seconds. Eli even ate the bacon and the pasta (separated and not touching each other, of course). It was delicious--much too good for a Cub Scout bucket.
Pasta with Brussels Sprouts and Bacon (serves 6) (adapted from Martha Stewart Living, November 2004)
7 slices low-sodium bacon, cut into large dice
2 tsp minced garlic
half of a large sweet onion, diced
1.25 pounds brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved
1.25 cups chicken stock
1 pound penne
half cup grated parmesan cheese, more for serving
1 Tbsp chopped fresh sage leaves
Bring a large pot of water to boil. In a large pan over medium heat, cook the bacon, stirring occasionally, until crisp. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.
If necessary, add oil to bacon fat in pan to equal about 2 tablespoons. Add garlic, onion, and brussels sprouts. Saute, stirring, until the onion softens and the sprouts turn light golden brown. Add chicken stock and season with salt and pepper to taste. Simmer until most of the liquid has reduced, about ten minutes.
While the sprouts are simmering, cook the pasta. Reserve one-half cup of cooking water and drain. Add the pasta and reserved cooking liquid to the pan with the sprouts. Add cheese, 2 tablespoons oil, sage and bacon; toss to combine. Serve, passing more parmesan cheese.
I find recipes in many unusual places. In this case, it was a 2004 Martha Stewart Living magazine Alex found in the craft bin while we were looking for pictures of green things to cut out and glue onto a bucket. We are making a green bucket. It's a Cub Scout project, so we cannot just go and buy a green bucket. Buying a green bucket would be ridiculous. Instead we must make one out of a white bucket and many small scraps of green paper.
So I found the recipe because its greenness attracted me. Not for eating, but for bucket-transforming.
When I announced I was making this dinner, I got a lot of pushback. "I won't like it! I don't want it! Can't you make something else?" But Martha and I were vindicated: The big boys ate seconds. Eli even ate the bacon and the pasta (separated and not touching each other, of course). It was delicious--much too good for a Cub Scout bucket.
Pasta with Brussels Sprouts and Bacon (serves 6) (adapted from Martha Stewart Living, November 2004)
7 slices low-sodium bacon, cut into large dice
2 tsp minced garlic
half of a large sweet onion, diced
1.25 pounds brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved
1.25 cups chicken stock
1 pound penne
half cup grated parmesan cheese, more for serving
1 Tbsp chopped fresh sage leaves
Bring a large pot of water to boil. In a large pan over medium heat, cook the bacon, stirring occasionally, until crisp. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.
If necessary, add oil to bacon fat in pan to equal about 2 tablespoons. Add garlic, onion, and brussels sprouts. Saute, stirring, until the onion softens and the sprouts turn light golden brown. Add chicken stock and season with salt and pepper to taste. Simmer until most of the liquid has reduced, about ten minutes.
While the sprouts are simmering, cook the pasta. Reserve one-half cup of cooking water and drain. Add the pasta and reserved cooking liquid to the pan with the sprouts. Add cheese, 2 tablespoons oil, sage and bacon; toss to combine. Serve, passing more parmesan cheese.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
What I Made for Dinner: January 4, 2011
Spinach and white bean stew with garlic toast.
I have a cold that has settled, uncomfortably, in my larynx and threatens hourly to move several inches downward and become a real problem. To its credit, my immune system did spectacular work all through the month of December, so I suppose I can't really object to its taking some well-deserved time off.
Anyway, I made this stew from Smitten Kitchen (except I used spinach where she used chard) and it helped, a little.
I have a cold that has settled, uncomfortably, in my larynx and threatens hourly to move several inches downward and become a real problem. To its credit, my immune system did spectacular work all through the month of December, so I suppose I can't really object to its taking some well-deserved time off.
Anyway, I made this stew from Smitten Kitchen (except I used spinach where she used chard) and it helped, a little.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
What I Made for Dinner: December 28, 2010
Family spaghetti sauce with meatballs and Italian sausage; mixed green salad.
We had a rare treat tonight, as Chuck's parents, brother, aunts, uncle, and cousins joined us for dinner! That side of the family always gets together at his Aunt Sharon and Rita's house, but tonight they bravely ventured from midtown out to the western suburbs. We talked and talked and drank lots of red wine. I don't think anything too scarily suburban happened (although I guess I might not even notice if it did).
My family's four-hour spaghetti sauce is a great way to feed a crowd. All the meat cooks in the tomato puree and seasonings so at the end, you wind up with a very rich stew-like tomato gravy and--bonus!--only one pot. (To feed fifteen, I used three pounds of ground chuck for meatballs and twelve Italian sausages.) It's really very low effort and who doesn't like pasta and meatballs?
I hope we get to do this again, and I mean soon. These people are fun and they bring the fun with them even if they do have to trek west.
We had a rare treat tonight, as Chuck's parents, brother, aunts, uncle, and cousins joined us for dinner! That side of the family always gets together at his Aunt Sharon and Rita's house, but tonight they bravely ventured from midtown out to the western suburbs. We talked and talked and drank lots of red wine. I don't think anything too scarily suburban happened (although I guess I might not even notice if it did).
My family's four-hour spaghetti sauce is a great way to feed a crowd. All the meat cooks in the tomato puree and seasonings so at the end, you wind up with a very rich stew-like tomato gravy and--bonus!--only one pot. (To feed fifteen, I used three pounds of ground chuck for meatballs and twelve Italian sausages.) It's really very low effort and who doesn't like pasta and meatballs?
I hope we get to do this again, and I mean soon. These people are fun and they bring the fun with them even if they do have to trek west.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
What I Made for Dinner: December 22, 2010
Roasted steelhead trout with roasted turnips and red onions over a bed of wilted spinach.
We keep on keepin' on here at chez Dinnertime. Today was grey and cheerless, with nothing in particular to do after the boys' haircuts this morning. Around 3 I thought, we need some cheering up--so I made a fire and put on Elf--le film and started looking for recipes, and this is what I came up with.
Tomorrow comes Nana Jean's memorial service. We'll need some baking and like a cord of firewood to get us through.
We keep on keepin' on here at chez Dinnertime. Today was grey and cheerless, with nothing in particular to do after the boys' haircuts this morning. Around 3 I thought, we need some cheering up--so I made a fire and put on Elf--le film and started looking for recipes, and this is what I came up with.
Tomorrow comes Nana Jean's memorial service. We'll need some baking and like a cord of firewood to get us through.
Monday, December 20, 2010
What I Made for Dinner: December 20, 2010
Chicken tacos.
The story of the chicken that went into these tacos goes back to Friday night.
We had big plans for the weekend: a party on Friday, another on Saturday, friends to see and places to go. We had all the grandparents conscripted as babysitters. But on Friday morning, we got a call from my mother-in-law. Chuck's grandmother Jean had become very ill, the prognosis was poor, she was in the hospital and would we be very upset if she had to cancel that evening's babysitting?
Well, needless to say our weekend plans changed. On Friday evening, though, with Jean hanging in there, we still needed to go out and take care of some things. So my parents stepped into the lurch, showing up on Friday afternoon with groceries. "I'm making roast chicken," my mom said. "Don't worry about it. When do you think you'll be home?" When we arrived home that night, we discovered that she had roasted not one, but two chickens. "You might need the leftovers," she said. "You can always freeze them." Better yet, she hadn't thrown out the carcass of the one they had eaten. I knew they would come in useful.
On Saturday, Jean was failing. They had brought her home and the family had gathered to wait. We rushed to get ourselves and the kids dressed and out the door and as we left, I thought, "is there anything we can bring over?" Terrible, this time of year, to have an empty cupboard; I'd just finished grading papers, and there had been no time to bake (or to cook anything at all; I see the last time I posted here was December 7). We hadn't yet even done the grocery shopping. Then I remembered a complete roast chicken dinner I had frozen a while back. The bird, vegetables, potatoes, everything sitting in its aluminum pan in the deep freeze. I grabbed it and we went over to the house, where it became our offering.
Jean died early Sunday morning. We will miss her awfully. She was tough and funny and loving, the kind of grandmother who played ping-pong with kid-Chuck even when her hands were so gnarled with rheumatoid arthritis that she could scarcely hold the paddle. The kind who didn't blink an eye when he brought over his Jewish girlfriend to meet her on Christmas Eve, the kind of grandmother who suggested it would be nice to light a menorah at her house on Christmas Eve when Chanukah fell at the same time.
Dinnertime still arrives, and someone still has to make dinner. On Sunday, I took the chicken carcass left from Friday night, threw it in the crock pot with some celery, carrots, onion, potatoes, and herbs, and left it so no one had to worry about dinner. Tonight, the other leftover chicken got stripped down and combined with scallions, lemon and lime juices, and canned diced green chiles for tacos.
My friend Allison and I were talking about roast chicken the other day. We both make it a lot, and we bring it everywhere: when someone is sick or hurt, when someone has a new baby. (And I remarked, if someone thinks my roast chickens are gross, they'd better tell me, because otherwise I'll just keep giving them away.) It seems so irrelevant in many ways, really, all the cooking. But when we came home on Friday to discover that my mom had left us roast chicken in the fridge, we both felt loved and cared for. That's the feeling I hope people get when I leave them food. It's how I hope my kids feel, or at least how they'll remember feeling when they look back someday. Like someone cared enough about them to roast them a chicken sometimes, and then to turn the leftovers into tacos.
The story of the chicken that went into these tacos goes back to Friday night.
We had big plans for the weekend: a party on Friday, another on Saturday, friends to see and places to go. We had all the grandparents conscripted as babysitters. But on Friday morning, we got a call from my mother-in-law. Chuck's grandmother Jean had become very ill, the prognosis was poor, she was in the hospital and would we be very upset if she had to cancel that evening's babysitting?
Well, needless to say our weekend plans changed. On Friday evening, though, with Jean hanging in there, we still needed to go out and take care of some things. So my parents stepped into the lurch, showing up on Friday afternoon with groceries. "I'm making roast chicken," my mom said. "Don't worry about it. When do you think you'll be home?" When we arrived home that night, we discovered that she had roasted not one, but two chickens. "You might need the leftovers," she said. "You can always freeze them." Better yet, she hadn't thrown out the carcass of the one they had eaten. I knew they would come in useful.
On Saturday, Jean was failing. They had brought her home and the family had gathered to wait. We rushed to get ourselves and the kids dressed and out the door and as we left, I thought, "is there anything we can bring over?" Terrible, this time of year, to have an empty cupboard; I'd just finished grading papers, and there had been no time to bake (or to cook anything at all; I see the last time I posted here was December 7). We hadn't yet even done the grocery shopping. Then I remembered a complete roast chicken dinner I had frozen a while back. The bird, vegetables, potatoes, everything sitting in its aluminum pan in the deep freeze. I grabbed it and we went over to the house, where it became our offering.
Jean died early Sunday morning. We will miss her awfully. She was tough and funny and loving, the kind of grandmother who played ping-pong with kid-Chuck even when her hands were so gnarled with rheumatoid arthritis that she could scarcely hold the paddle. The kind who didn't blink an eye when he brought over his Jewish girlfriend to meet her on Christmas Eve, the kind of grandmother who suggested it would be nice to light a menorah at her house on Christmas Eve when Chanukah fell at the same time.
Dinnertime still arrives, and someone still has to make dinner. On Sunday, I took the chicken carcass left from Friday night, threw it in the crock pot with some celery, carrots, onion, potatoes, and herbs, and left it so no one had to worry about dinner. Tonight, the other leftover chicken got stripped down and combined with scallions, lemon and lime juices, and canned diced green chiles for tacos.
My friend Allison and I were talking about roast chicken the other day. We both make it a lot, and we bring it everywhere: when someone is sick or hurt, when someone has a new baby. (And I remarked, if someone thinks my roast chickens are gross, they'd better tell me, because otherwise I'll just keep giving them away.) It seems so irrelevant in many ways, really, all the cooking. But when we came home on Friday to discover that my mom had left us roast chicken in the fridge, we both felt loved and cared for. That's the feeling I hope people get when I leave them food. It's how I hope my kids feel, or at least how they'll remember feeling when they look back someday. Like someone cared enough about them to roast them a chicken sometimes, and then to turn the leftovers into tacos.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
What I Made for Dinner: December 7, 2010
Baked ziti.
This week I will be cleaning leftovers out of the freezer. It's always an interesting exercise to go spelunking in there. Last time I served this particular baked ziti (or, rather, itsmuch younger self) the kids wouldn't eat it, but tonight they thought it was great. I don't know what that says about my cooking.
This week I will be cleaning leftovers out of the freezer. It's always an interesting exercise to go spelunking in there. Last time I served this particular baked ziti (or, rather, its
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