What a short week, and how unproductive! And how stupidly cold. And stupid in general. We did have a few good meals, though. Here’s what we ate this week:
SATURDAY Buffalo chicken salad
Those pesky shupply change issues came for the frozen buffalo chicken, and I couldn’t find any, so I bought some regular chicken. So we had greens with chicken, grape tomatoes, shredded pepper jack cheese, crunchy fried onions (the kind that come in a canister), blue cheese dressing, and then some buffalo sauce on that.
Tasted great. I think buffalo chicken is too hot anyway.
SUNDAY Museum
Sunday, I took Sophia and some of her friends to the Worcester Art Museum for her birthday. We masked all the way there in the car, and then stopped to grab some lunch, and I looked in the rear view mirror, and they were sharing an ice tea. Two honor students, one straw. ANYWAY, the museum was great. You can check out some of the photos I took here. (They’re not really a representative sample of their excellent collection! I’ve been there many times and didn’t snap pics of their more famous works. If you’re in the area at all, you should go. It’s small enough that you can see absolutely everything in under three hours, but there’s plenty worth seeing, and the descriptive cards are top notch, very informative.)
Afterward, I offered to take them to a restaurant of her choice, and she chose Chili’s. I support this. Chili’s offers reliably B- food with reliably B+ service, and the floors are usually not gritty. I swear I would have taken her somewhere fancier, but it had been a long day and I totally understand her choice. (I had shrimp tacos and they were kind of weird, to be honest. I guess I didn’t read the description and wasn’t expecting them to be absolutely baggy with coleslaw, but that’s what you get.)
I believe they had some kind of pasta with red sauce, peppers, and sausage at home.
This was a low-skill, popular meal. The pork ribs were just plenty of salt and pepper, roasted on both sides under the broiler. The mashed potatoes were made with an entire peeled head of garlic boiled and mashed in with the potatoes. And the Brussels sprouts, I trimmed and halved, drizzled with olive oil, a little balsamic vinegar, lots of honey, a sprinkle of red pepper flakes, and a large handful of chopped walnuts, and roasted under the broiler.
I LOVE roast vegetables with nuts. This is how kings eat their vegetables. Real kings, not stupid kings.
I wish I had let everything cook a tiny bit longer, but we were all so hungry. It’s been so cold, and all I want to do is eat.
TUESDAY Bugogi dubap (garlic soy beef on rice)
A much-anticipated meal. Strips of garlicky, gingery beef, with onions, scallions, and mushrooms served over rice. Somewhat sweeter than many similar recipes I’ve tried. Not like a sweet and sour dish, but just a little fruity.
I slightly adapted the recipe from Cook Korean! by Robin Ha. It turned out very well, although next time I will put less of the marinade in with the meat when I cook it. It was just too pulpy, and I would have liked a little more of a sear on the meat.
The marinade includes kiwi, which is what provides the acid to tenderize the meat, and wow, it works well. It was . . . there isn’t really a synonym for “tender” that works well for meat, so I guess we’ll stick with that. (When my little brother was about 5, he couldn’t remember the word for “chicken tender,” so he told the waitress he wanted “chicken softies.” So you see what I mean.)
It’s served, as I said, over rice with scallions and sesame seeds. Tons of flavor, nice and bright, with loads of garlic and fresh ginger.
Next time I will not bother paying for shiitake mushrooms. I’m sure some people can taste the difference, but I sure can’t. I can taste the difference when they’re raw, but not when they’re cooked! (Not to mention that the first batch of mushrooms I bought got moldy, so I had to run out and buy more, and I was late picking the kids up from Dungeons and Dragons, so I decided to go to the co-op for my replacement shiitake mushrooms, rather than the supermarket, and . . . you know what, we’ll just let a shiver pass through our system one last time and then quietly turn the page in the ledger and not think about that part of the food budget anymore.)
The recipe in the book calls for soju, a dry Korean rice liquor, but it doesn’t mention what to do with it. Presumably you throw it into the marinade, but possibly you’re supposed to deglaze the pan with it. In any case, I didn’t have any. I was planning to substitute vodka, but I forgot. So now you know as much as I do. Possibly it would have cut the sweetness slightly.
Verdict: Definitely making this recipe again, with cheaper mushrooms, less marinade and more room and heat in the pan. Loved the garlic and ginger and kiwi, loved how simple it was, adored how tender it made the beef. A very good way to treat a cheap cut of beef.
WEDNESDAY Hamburgers, chips
Nothing to report, other than that the burgers turned out long, for some reason. This is what passes for entertainment around here.
THURSDAY Muffaletta sandwiches, tater tots
Not true muffaletta sandwiches, no doubt. You’re supposed to have a specific kind of bread, specific meats and cheeses, and a particular blend of olives. We had all the deli meats I felt like paying for (some ham, a few kinds of salami, a little bit of capicola and a little bit of prosciutto) and a delightful salad made of things that fell out of my cupboard into my food processor.
I think I used three cans of black olives, two skinny jars of green olives, maybe six little pepproncini, half a jar of capers, some olive oil, and a little wine vinegar. I would have put some giardiniera salad in there, but I couldn’t find it. Our refrigerator is a travesty. Parsley would have been good, but we had none.
This picture makes me laugh because the sandwich appears to be eating itself. Monch monch.
We ate very early because Sophia had an art show. They made it fancy, with a little jazz band, and the whiter the kids were, the harder the adults in the audience bopped their heads, as if they could will rhythm into existence with their necks. The good will in a room full of parents listening to their teenagers playing jazz solos will save the world.
I thought Sophia’s self portrait was pretty good!
Although as you can see, in real life she doesn’t actually have a mouth or nose, so she had to use her imagination. Strange times.
While we were gone, Clara whipped up a Bruno and Rat cake, as one does.
I still haven’t seen Encanto, but this seems like a good cake to me.
Best rat cookies I’ve seen in quite some time.
I’m not sure what these are for.
Some kind of interactive element? I guess we will find out when the kids come home from school today.
FRIDAY Mac and cheese
I didn’t even buy any cheese. I can feel how much cheese there is in this house. By the end of the day, God willing, there will be less.
In conclusion, I just noticed I have tagged this post both “olive salad” and “olives salid,” and I guess that’s fine.
A Korean dish of tender strips of sweet and savory garlicky beef, served over rice. Adapted from Cook Korean! by Robin Ha
Ingredients
4-5lbsbeef chuck, sliced as thinly as you can
3onions (divided)
1-1/2headsgarlic (20 cloves or more)
3inchesfresh ginger
2kiwis
1cupsoy sauce
1/3 cupsesame oil (divided)
1/2cupsugar
2tspfreshly ground pepper
1bunchscallions, divided
12ozmushrooms
cooked rice
sesame seeds for garnish
Instructions
In a blender or food processor, combine 1.5 of the onions, the garlic, the ginger, the kiwis, the soy sauce, 3 tablespoons of the sesame oil, and the sugar and pepper. Combine until blended. Marinate the sliced beef in this for at least three hours.
Cut the mushrooms and the remaining 1.5 onions into thin slices. Cut most of the scallion (green parts) into three-inch pieces. Save out a few and slice thinly for a garnish.
Heat the sesame oil in a large skillet and sauté the beef until it's just slightly browned, then add the onions, scallions, and mushrooms and continue cooking until the meat is fully cooked. You may have to cook in batches to avoid crowding the pan.
Serve meat and vegetables over cooked rice. Top with scallion garnish and sprinkle with sesame seeds.
I haven’t ever seen the movie, but have heard that the movie and book are both good, but quite different. I’m enjoying the book a lot. It’s weird and entertaining, and reads aloud very well. It’s easy to get the tone of voice right in dialogue without having to read ahead, and there is plenty of variety in the sentence structure, which I always appreciate when reading aloud. It gives some clues to the characters’ interior lives, without overexplaining; and the storytelling is so deft, it helps you accept some really outlandish situations without blinking. My only quibble is that the chapters are different lengths, which can be frustrating when we only have a certain amount of time allotted to read.
Also reading Christopher West’s Theology of the Body for Beginners to the middle kids (ages 12, 14, 16, and 17).
I wouldn’t say they’re enjoying it, exactly, but I chose it so at least we would have some kind of common vocabulary, and then if they want to disagree with me (or if I want to disagree with West, which I’m not ruling out), at least we could have somewhere to start. I don’t know. The world has gotten very strange very quickly and I have no idea what to do about it. I know there are issues with Christopher West, but it’s pretty solid so far, and the kids have moved from snarky to reluctantly interested. I just don’t want them to grow up thinking that the Church’s main teaching is “Adam and Eve, sex bad, be careful, marriage, the end.”
This is what we are doing, by the way, rather than the parish whole-family religious education program. (We also send them to Dead Theologian’s Society, but we’ve been skipping because it includes a meal, and it omicron time.) Between covid and who knows what else, our parish stopped doing individual religious education classes and started this thing where I guess the whole family goes in together, and then you have to go home and teach your own kids anyway? Which sounds like the worst of both worlds. So we’re just doing this, and also:
Damien is reading St. Patrick’s Summer by Marigold Hunt to the younger kids (Benny did her first confession, first communion, and confirmation last year, but Corrie hasn’t done any of that yet).
I read this to the older kids when they were younger and remember liking it a lot — it’s a catechism told through a story, where a couple of 20th century kids meet St. Patrick and some other spiritual figures — but Damien says the content is good, but he’s finding the style hard to read. I think we were homeschooling when we read it, and probably just had a wider tolerance for weird books. Anyway, I recommend it for people who are looking for a solid catechism but maybe don’t want to go the Baltimore Catechism route for whatever reason. It has really good stuff about doctrine, like the trinity, etc., that many adults probably missed learning. I remember it as being fairly winsome in tone, definitely not preachy, but surprisingly natural in the way it conveyed doctrine through dialogue.
On my own, I’m reading Piranesi by Susanna Clark, which I got for Christmas, and I’m enjoying immensely.
It’s wonderful to read a book that’s been written so deliberately. I’m constantly astonished at how carelessly so many popular books are written. Like, the story is interesting and the characters are fine, but the author doesn’t seem to have gone to any trouble over the writing itself? Even though they are an author?? I don’t think we should put up with this.
Anyway, Piranesi is wonderfully engaging and fascinating and I have no idea whatsoever what is going to happen, and I can’t wait to find out.
Joan Aiken is always worth reading. Never writes down to kids, but knows what kinds of things are important to kids. This is not actually one of my favorites — there are too many characters, and I’m finding the action a tiny bit confusing — but it’s got lots of adventure, appealing characters, pathos, comedy, an excellent sense of place, and a bit of social conscience, all of which are Aiken trademarks.
This one is about a young lonely teenage boy growing up lonely in a decrepit mansion as the ward of a titan of industry. He longs for a friend and is dismayed to find himself instead put in charge of a little French girl. The two of them get swept up in an intrigue in the streets of the Industrial Revolution slums of the hellish city of Blastburn. The book includes a lot of peril and the death of children, so may not be appropriate for sensitive young readers.
Lately we’ve been watching:
The Book of Boba Fett on Disney+
I’ve been hearing a lot of belly-aching about this show, and the arguments against never strike me as critiques of the actual work, but more that the show didn’t fulfill the particular desires that happened to reside in that particular viewer’s psyche. It’s possible I just have the right combination of fondness for Star Wars and ignorance of the lore minutiae, but I’m finding it to be the most entertaining thing I’ve watched in ages. I do think it stands up on its own as a cinematic spectacle and on its own narrative integrity. It’s not groundbreaking, and it’s not supposed to be. It’s well-known that the original Star Wars trilogy was a space western. The Mandalorian and now Boba Fett really bring that out of the realm of suggestion and right up to the surface. It may as well be a John Ford movie, just transplanted. I just about lost my mind when the train showed up in episode 2. So beautifully shot, and thrilling! People said it was boring, and I just don’t understand what they were watching. It’s exciting! It’s beautiful! It has monsters! And trains! And a good-bad man that you come to understand more and more as the show goes on. I’ll watch that story again, why not. It doesn’t hurt that my kids keep shrieking with joy as little obscure references and inside jokes keep turning up (and going over my head).
One essay complained about the exploitation of the story of the Tusken Raiders. It said that, while previous Star Wars movies were clearly written by the victors, portraying the tribe as witless savages, Boba Fett gives them the space to be revealed as a true culture with a backstory and a grievance which explains why they’re so aggressive — but then it obliterates them offscreen once they perform the service of giving Boba Fett some character development. And that’s true! But I’m not sure why it’s a problem! This is the kind of thing that happens all the time in a John Ford western, and I think people just need to watch more of them. Start with The Searchers and relax your ass.
We’re also watching I, Claudius again. The 1976 BBC series based on the historical novels by Robert Graves.
I did read the book a long time ago, but I really don’t remember it, so I can’t say how faithful the series is, but it has won numerous awards. It’s rather dated and very British in some ways, but once you get going, it’s gripping. I mean how could it not be! It’s told from the point of view of the emperor Claudius at the end of his life, putting together his autobiography and his horrible family history. Lots of poisoning, orgies, and intrigue, betrayal, heartbreak, oracles, and people deciding just how many compromises they can stand to make. I’m not great at following all the ins and outs of the politics, but it doesn’t really matter. You just have to understand which people will do anything for power, and see everyone else eventually get squished. Lots of great acting, spectacular costumes, so sad and funny and terrifying. (Tony Soprano’s mother Livia is clearly a nod to the uber-ambitious wife of emperor Augustus.) I recall it has some very grim and gory stuff further on with Caligula, so viewer beware.
And, for something totally different, we’re watching The Great British Baking Show, season 9, on Netflix.
We’re only about three or four episodes in, so please don’t tell me who wins! We finished up the previous season, and it was just delightful. Stressful! Always surprisingly stressful. But overall a lovely show, structured very differently from any American reality show.
It starts out with 12 amateur (but extremely good) bakers who have to produce a series of pastries and other baked goods. Sometimes they have a chance to practice and develop their recipe ahead of time; sometimes the assignment is a complete surprise, they’ve never heard of it, and the recipes are vague and unhelpful. Sometimes they have to make a dozen, identical pieces of some relatively simple sweet; sometimes they’re expected to produce outlandish, elaborate edible projects like chandeliers or childhood toys that you can really play with. One baker is eliminated each week, so you really get to know them over the course of the show, and they each bring in their own traditions, ethnic backgrounds, aesthetic preferences, and neurosis. They do a great job of choosing a variety of contestants with different strengths and weaknesses and different kinds of appeal. They encourage and sometimes even help each other, and although the judges are sometimes stern and the pressure is intense, this isn’t a cruel show. We save it for Sundays, because it’s so pleasant and I don’t want to wear it out.
They include short bits where the judges horse around with each other and do stupid little gimmicky jokes, and these are lame, but not too intrusive, and they focus mainly on the bakers and the baking. It’s all done outdoors under a giant tent, and the setting is breathtakingly lovely. (And yes, one of the hosts is the guy who plays Richmond on The IT Crowd.)
Listening to:
I’m not listening to anything! I have nothing. I’m listening to the dog making glorping noises with his stupid loose face and I’m going to lose my mind. What are you listening to?
This is the story of how I contracted driving madness. It happened several weeks ago, but the pain is still fresh.
To understand what really happened — to truly savor the full robust flavor of the drink I am about to proffer you — you have to understand that, the whole time everything I am about to tell you is going on, I am driving. I am driving all the time. All I do is drive. Driving is what I am. That’s all there is to me, anymore: Drivingness.
The reason for this is that my husband and I decided, against our better judgment, that he should fly away on a business trip to the rather far-fetched-sounding state of Texas for four days. The reasons for this will become more clear as the story proceeds.
He used to travel a lot, just about every week, back when our family was young and I wasn’t as good as screaming, “YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE” as I am nowadays. We didn’t like that kind of life at all, and we decided not to do that anymore.
But we did decide he should go, just this once, and I would take care of things back home, mostly by driving. This is because we have six kids who go to four different schools in two different towns, none of which are in the town we live in; and three of our kids go to college in another town, but live at home, and they all work part time in town. We do have one extra car, and one of our kids can currently drive it, so that helps somewhat. That kid would do his driving, I would do my driving and my husband’s driving, and it would be a lot of driving, but we could do it. That was the plan.
Then I took a look at my calendar for the week he would be gone, and o! What a clever woman I am. I saw that, on the week I was solo parenting, in addition to all the usual trips and errands and chores and obligations and side quests, I had scheduled physical therapy for my hip, and a neurological evaluation for one of the kids, and I had, as a long-overdue birthday present, bought tickets to see an off-Broadway show in the next state, and I had also, this is true, signed up to cook an Italian meal in honor of St. Clare for 35 youth group kids.
And we also had a driving test for one of the kids. Which in theory would come in handy eventually, but which at the moment felt like seeing someone drowning and quickly tossing them the blueprint for a boat.
So I said to myself. I said. I can do this. We can all do this. All we have to do is keep our wits about us, stick to the schedule, go to sleep at a reasonable hour, remember not to pack any nuts in the school lunch, order some underwear for the child who mysteriously suddenly has none, remember to say our prayers before bedtime, and you know what will happen?
That’s right, your car will break down.
That’s right, the car you just put new front brakes and rear brakes and front struts into at great expense. That’s right, the car you just bought a few months ago, which is why your husband thought it was probably a good idea to go on this trip and maybe pick up a little extra money if possible, because we apparently bought a shiny red car-shaped money hole instead of a car.
So into the shop went the car. I, being a spoiled American, had an extra vehicle at my disposal, if you will recall. It is the vehicle that my three oldest children usually drive, and I am more than welcome to use it for MY driving. The only catch is that I must now drive the older children to and from the places they need to be. Which is EVERYWHERE, and very late at night indeed for a very old woman. It’s a good thing I already had physical therapy scheduled, because by the end of the first day of this driving schedule back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth to get everybody where they needed to be, I was suffering from a third degree case of herniated vehicular sadbottom* and I was just plain gloomy about it, I really was.
So we got through the day, and then I got up the next morning and man, I was on my game. I had clothes picked out, I had made hot cereal, I knew where everyone’s water bottles were, I was brushing hair left and right, writing checks, signing permission slips, shouting about deodorant, and I was just absolutely wowing myself. We left the house a spectacular four minutes early, and I shouted gleefully for everyone to get in the car, get in the car! Which they tried to do. But they couldn’t. Because the car I was driving was the car — I believe we’ve spoken of this car before — where the seat doesn’t super duper go up. It just stays down and looks stupid. And that means there aren’t enough seats for everyone.
Oh children, get out of mommy’s car.
Children, get out of mommy’s sight, because mommy is going to have a little come-apart, just for one quick minute.
And so then, I got back to driving. Every so often, as I drove, I would call the mechanic, and they would tell me various interesting stories. First they would say it was the timing chain, which (I looked it up) is very bad indeed. Then they said, never mind, it was actually just some stupid little sensor and everybody was happy, and I could have my car back again, and it was only a little bit of money, as soon as they had a bay open to work on it. Then they changed their mind and said it was the chain thing again, and for some reason somebody had hidden the chain way back in the back of the engine, and darn if they didn’t have to take the entire engine out to get at it, and it was going to take twelve hours. I am not making this up, twelve hours of labor, and they would get it it as soon as a bay opened up. They also changed my oil.
I forgot to go to the neurological evaluation. I just forgot. Sorry. I’m a bad mother. I rescheduled. How hard could it be? You kids are all nuts. There; you’re evaluated, okay? I’ll cook the youth spaghetti or whatever tomorrow. They can take it or leave it, the little jerks. St. Clare would understand. St. Clare will have a little come-apart with me. St. Clare got to stay in one place and nobody made her drive anywhere.
I will be honest, my husband came home last night and was a little concerned to see that, while I was glad to see him, I have contracted a slight case of drivingmadness, and everything just seems funny to me now. There is no cure. Maybe next time, I’ll be the one to go to Texas. I won’t even need a plane. I’ll just get in my car and drive.
*not an actual condition, it turns out, but still very uncomfortable
Happy mid-January! I don’t know about you, but I finally worked up the nerve to get up on the scale, and I have gained ten pounds over Christmas! Ten pounds, hooray! Wait, I mean, ten pounds, booooo. And I’m very annoyed at myself. But I know how to lose it, so, away we go.
Here’s what we had this week:
SATURDAY Damien’s birthday!
The kids had, I think, chicken nuggets. The adults went to The Winchester, and it was good.
It’s always tasty, but this one was especially good. This recipe has hardly any tomato in it. Not that there’s anything wrong with tomato; it’s just very different from a typical red sauce with meat thrown in. Very different indeed.
MONDAY Meatball subs, veggies and dip
My meatballs are like me, large, uninspired, and soft in the middle. I did throw a bunch of Worcestershire sauce in there to jazz them up, which resulted in them being salty. Hey, it’s hot meatballs in January. Nobody complained.
I’m pretty aggressively shoving vegetables back into our diet after a very vegless Christmas season.
TUESDAY Beef barley soup, challah
It was fuh-reezing out — actually far below freezing — and just raw and bleak and rotten, so a good day for a hearty soup and some bumptious, golden bread.
This soup starts with carrots, onions, and garlic, and then beef, then tomatoes, then beef broth and wine and plenty of pepper, and then barley.
I actually had a pouch of barley and lentils, and nobody noticed the lentils. I also added an extra cup of wine, which was not a bad idea. I forgot to take a photo, so here is some soup of ages past:
The day was frigid but sunny, so I put the challahs out for their second rise in a sunbeam on the table, where they all but rang a bell and demanded another strawberry daiquiri from the pool boy.
They came out of the oven looking like respectable matrons, though
and everyone was pretty happy, and nobody pointed out that part of the middle was extremely damp and heavy and totally could have used another 6-7 minutes in the oven.
Next time I’ll bake it longer. I’m actually thinking of trying some different recipes, though. Here’s mine:
The flavor is exactly what I want, and the texture of the bread inside is perfect (when it’s well-baked), but I would like the crust to be a little more crisp. Any recommendations? Or would it help to knead it longer or something?
WEDNESDAY Pork bulgoki with nori and rice, sesame broccoli
It’s been a while! This is a cheap, easy Korean dish with lots of flavor and lots of heat. Literally “fire meat,” made with that wonderful gochujang, plus honey, sugar, garlic, and soy sauce, and whatever pork is on sale (you can use it on beef, too). I sometimes marinate ribs or chops and grill them whole, but today, I cut . . . some kind of giant pork hunk, I wasn’t paying attention . . . into thin strips.
I threw a bunch of onions and baby carrots in the food processor, rather than doing matchstick carrots like I usually do, and I liked it this way, with the carrots cut thin. Marinated several hours before stir frying on the stove in a little oil.
I also . . . and I still can’t even believe this . . . did not crowd the pan when I cooked the meat. I used two big skillets and I cooked the food in batches, transferring it to a dish in the oven as it finished, so it had a chance to brown up a bit, and it didn’t end up coddling itself to death in its own moisture.
I made a big pot of rice in the Instant Pot and roasted a tray of sesame broccoli, and served the meat with sheets of seaweed. You pull off a square of seaweed and use it to grab up a little meat and a little rice, and you pop the bundle in your mouth.
So tasty and lovely. You can also use lettuce instead of seaweed. If you made the gochujang sauce spicy, it’s definitely good to have something green to cool your tongue a bit.
I also made a tray of sesame broccoli, easy peasy.
Few things give me more satisfaction than making three different dishes that are all hot and ready at exactly the same time.
THURSDAY Pizza
One cheese, one pepperoni, one olive, and one with feta, ricotta, fresh-shredded parmesan, olives, red pepper flakes, garlic powder and oregano, artichoke hearts, red onion, fresh garlic, and anchovies. The cat was watching closely and I realized I was blocking his food dish. Poor little kitty cat! So I moved the pizza aside. He promptly jumped up on the counter and ate an anchovy right off the pizza! I don’t know why this surprised me so much. I guess I spend a lot of time with the dog, who would have done exactly the same thing, except he would have been furtive about it. The cat is too dumb to be furtive.
I also got the idea to brush the crusts with olive oil and sprinkle them with garlic salt. I got this idea from Domino’s. Domino’s has been on my mind lately because the only local one burned down last week (actually the bar next to it burned down, and the whole building is a total loss). Some people heard fire engine sirens, but others heard it for what it truly was: A shrieking judgment directly from heaven, calling down doom on the heads of disorganized moms who have been getting through the day by telling themselves that if it all goes to hell by 6 PM, we can just order Domino’s.
Anyway, here is the pizza. It was delicious. Yes, I cut it like a sociopath.
The oil and garlic salt really didn’t make a difference on the crusts, though, to my disappointment. This may have been because I did it in the morning and the pizza had several hours to sit before it baked, so the dough had risen more than usual before baking, and maybe the effect was kind of dispersed. Next time, I’ll do it right before I put it in the oven.
FRIDAY Tuna noodle
The kids requested this when I was feeling weak, so I agreed. I actually kind of like this meal. I guess it’s mostly the draining of the tuna I resent. When I worked at Subway, we would drain vast quantities of canned tuna by squeezing it by hand in a giant colander. That was one of the best jobs I ever had. But I guess it was only fun to hand-squeeze tuna if I was getting paid. [makes note under “ideas for only fans”]
Well, here are the recipe cards for the week! I’m starting my second full day of not eating things just because they are sitting on the table and nobody else is eating them. Who’s with me?
5lbsground meat (I like to use mostly beef with some ground chicken or turkey or pork)
6eggs, beaten
2cupspanko bread crumbs
8ozgrated parmesan cheese (about 2 cups)
salt, pepper, garlic powder, oregano, basil, etc.
Instructions
Preheat oven to 400.
Mix all ingredients together with your hands until it's fully blended.
Form meatballs and put them in a single layer on a pan with drainage. Cook, uncovered, for 30 minutes or more until they're cooked all the way through.
Add meatballs to sauce and keep warm until you're ready to serve.
29ozcanned diced tomatoes (fire roasted is nice) with juice
1cupuncooked barley
salt and pepper
Instructions
Heat the oil in a heavy pot. If using Instant Pot, choose "saute." Add the minced garlic, diced onion, and diced carrot. Cook, stirring frequently, until the onions and carrots are softened.
Add the cubes of beef and cook until slightly browned.
Add the canned tomatoes with their juice, the beef broth, and the merlot, plus 3 cups of water. Stir and add the mushrooms and barley.
If cooking on stovetop, cover loosely and let simmer for several hours. If using Instant Pot, close top, close valve, and set to high pressure for 30 minutes.
Before serving, add pepper to taste. Salt if necessary.
poppy seeds or "everything bagel" topping(optional)
corn meal (or flour) for pan, to keep loaf from sticking
Instructions
In a small bowl, dissolve a bit of the sugar into the water, and sprinkle the yeast over it. Stir gently, and let sit for five minutes or more, until it foams.
In the bowl of standing mixer, put the flour (starting with six cups), salt, remaining sugar, oil, and eggs, mix slightly, then add the yeast liquid. Mix with dough hook until the dough doesn't stick to the sides of the bowl, adding flour as needed. It's good if it has a slightly scaly appearance on the outside.
(If you're kneading by hand, knead until it feels soft and giving. It will take quite a lot of kneading!)
Put the dough in a greased bowl and lightly cover with a damp cloth or plastic wrap. Let it rise in a warm place for at least an hour, until it's double in size.
Grease a large baking sheet and sprinkle it with flour or corn meal. Divide the dough into four equal pieces. Roll three into "snakes" and make a large braid, pinching the ends to keep them together. Divide the fourth piece into three and make a smaller braid, and lay this over the larger braid. Lay the braided loaf on the pan.
Cover again and let rise again for at least an hour. Preheat the oven to 350.
Before baking, make an egg wash out of egg yolks and a little water. Brush the egg wash all over the loaf, and sprinkle with poppy seeds or "everything" topping.
Bake 25 minutes or more until the loaf is a deep golden color.
Because I’m friends with a lot of creative people — painters, poets, authors, poets, clothing and jewelry designers — there is a lot of talk about impostor syndrome, the deeply internalized fear that one’s accomplishments are all a sham. Even though they have successful careers, they routinely have to hush the little voice telling them have no business calling themselves a professional, and that either everyone is already laughing at them, or it’s only a matter of time before the great denouement begins. (I am also friends with a few people who ought to feel this way, but don’t. Somehow it’s always the genuinely talented and accomplished people who feel the most like phonies, whereas there’s no shortage of confidence among the fakers, hacks, and bums.)
So a little service my friends and I perform for each other is to point out the obvious: But you’re doing it. You’re making a living. People are paying you for what you do. Your skills are in demand. If you’re not the real thing, then no one is. The objective evidence proves you are productive and successful.
The task has been a bit different lately. Lots of creative people are in a bit of a rut. Can’t seem to come up with any ideas. Can’t seem to come up with any enthusiasm for expressing what they do come up with. Can’t seem to drum up a persuasive argument for why it’s worth while to try to express anything to anyone anyway, when everyone is so . . . well, you know. It was one thing when we were doing drawing challenges to get through a two-week lockdown to flatten the curve. Headed past the bend of two years, and the flattening effect has become pervasive, and very flat indeed.
So the task becomes a bit different. Rather than persuade ourselves that what we produce really is extraordinary, really is above average, really is something special, my friends and I are busily reminding each other that we are valuable and worthy even when we’re not producing anything. And this is a steeper hill to climb.
But it is a time that will come to all of us, sooner or later. Night, when no man works. The hour when the clock has run out, one way or the other, and we will no longer be able to point to our busywork as evidence for our worth.
For some people, this hour is their entire lives: They never make anything, they never accomplish anything. They simply exist, and the Christian ethos has always insisted that these souls are as worthy of love and respect as the most productive among us. There are saints who never did anything but sweep the floor, and saints who never did anything but pray. There are saints who only became saints after they lost their ability to accomplish the things they thought God put them on earth to do.
I wish I were writing this essay as a guide to tell you how to get from A to B — how to remind yourself that you have intrinsic worth in the eyes of God, and that your value was never a matter of what you could accomplish or produce. I do know that God sometimes gets our attention by letting our accomplishments be taken away from us.
I’m in no place to teach any lessons, but I can at least point to them. I’m reading He Leadeth Me, and woof, that’s the story right there.
The author, Servant of God Walter Ciszek, tells about how he thought he was going to be a bold and amazing priest who evangelizes Russia, but when he gets there, it turns out he’s not allowed to preach; then he gets arrested and it turns out everyone he talks to has been taught to despise priests; and then he doesn’t even get to talk to anybody at all, except interrogators . . . for five years.
And he breaks. He agrees to sign his name to a false confession of spying for the Vatican, and is horrified and grief-stricken at his own weakness. And this is the place where he finds himself totally reliant on the mercy and will of God.
About halfway through the book, after he describes a strange and profound conversion where he fully surrenders to God’s will for the first time, he says:
“Somehow, that day, I imagined I must know how Saint Peter felt when he had survived his denials and been restored to Christ’s friendship. Even though our Lord had promised that he, being once converted, would confirm his brethren, I doubt very much that Peter ever again boasted that he would never desert the Lord even if all others deserted him. I find it perfectly understandable that Peter, in his letters to the early churches, should have reminded his Christians to work out their salvation in fear and trembling. For just as man begins to trust in his own abilities, so sure has he taken the first step on the road to ultimate failure. And the greatest grace God can give such a man is to send him a trial he cannot bear with his own powers–and then sustain him with his grace to he may endure to the end and be saved. “
I am not going to pretend I know what this really means. I’m just going to keep reading the book, which is fascinating and brutally honest about his interior struggles. I’m sure it’s no accident that this book came into my life when the theme of the last many months has been distress over how little I seem to be able to get done. Fr. Ciszek puts a lot of stock — his entire heart, in fact — in the value of being where God puts you, to do God’s will. I wish he had been more explicit about how to tell what God’s will is; but I have gathered, at least, that it’s more about being than about doing. And the good news is, he found tremendous joy, freedom, and relief when he surrendered to being entirely at God’s disposal, rather than trying to be productive.
This is some good company, my friends, with Fr. Ciszek and St. Peter. If you are, like so many other people, struggling and feeling discouraged, or if you are not only struggling but have actually failed, then this is a time to pray that the place you’re in is a path toward God. It’s not a time to stop praying. That’s always a mistake; that much I know. It couldn’t hurt to pray to Fr. Ciszek. You know he’ll understand.
Anyway, one thing “impostor syndrome” has taught me is that it’s one thing to recognize my own talents and skills objectively, but quite another to act as if I deserve special treatment because of them. I don’t. But the deeper lesson is that we’re all imposters, as long as we insist that our worth lies in what we can produce.
The short version is: I used to be a runner. Then some muscle and gait problems caught up with me, and my hip started to hurt so much, I could barely walk. So I was looking for something non-jarring to keep me active while I slowly healed with physical therapy. I randomly chose yoga because it looked easy, and was amazed to discover I love it, it’s the perfect exercise for me, and I hope to do it for the rest of my life.
It is a challenging, incredibly efficient workout. It uses every part of my body, and has made me much stronger, improved my posture, and has also improved my balance, which is something I didn’t realize needed improving (apparently it seemed normal to tip over while putting on pants or socks). I noticed a big difference during my recent renovations projects that involved a lot of getting up, getting down, reaching, scrambling, ducking, etc. I have so much more control and elasticity in my movements, it’s just easier to do all kinds of work. I expect gardening will be a different experience in the spring, too.
It is just as effective as running for losing or maintaining my weight, together with my loose plan of modified intermittent fasting and counting calories. I started doing yoga just to do something, anything, until I could get back to “real exercise,” by which I meant something violent and sweaty. Changed my mind! I do often break a sweat with yoga, and I’m clearly building muscle and losing fat. But a lot of it a subtle, isometric, and efficient, so you don’t necessarily feel like you’re being wrung out like an old rag.
It has shaped my body amazingly quickly. I’m 47 and was kind of resigned to just becoming more and more sack-like even if I lost more weight, but it turns out that I’m still kind of cute. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
It’s been awesome for my mental and emotional state. I sleep better, and I feel energized and invigorated when I do yoga regularly, and it’s as effective as running for keeping migraines away. I have better posture, which feeds into a better mood. I apologize in advance for this, but at the end of a class, I feel like all my fluid-filled sacs have been replenished. Seriously, it’s just easier to be chill and even-tempered and confident when I get my yoga in regularly. I feel more put together as a person. This probably has something to do with lymph, but who knows.
It’s fun, which I was not expecting. There’s lots of variety, lots of different modes of action, and the class flies by. It keeps my attention in a way that no other form of exercise has (and I have tried MANY many different kinds of workouts). When I was running, I always craved that state where I would forget I was running and my body would enter a lovely automatic flow. With yoga (at least as I’ve done it so far), it’s kind of the opposite: You’re hyper-focused on the physical experience, and you get a lot of satisfaction out of achieving it. And you know, it’s kind of like playing. How often does a 47-year-old housewife get to be a warrior, or a cactus, or a swan? This is not something I realized I wanted to do, but now I know. I also very much enjoy how non-western some of the poses feel. It’s cool to be doing things with my body that just aren’t part of my normal body movement vocabulary. I also like learning words in a language that I’m completely unfamiliar with.
I have not gotten even a single demon. (Yeah, this was a bit of a concern for me. More about this later.)
Now some specifics about this series.
As I said, the videos I’ve been following are by Julia Marie. First I did her 30 Day Yoga for Weight Loss challenge, and today I’m finishing her Couch to Confident 14-Day Yoga Challenge, both of which are on Amazon Prime. They are thirty-minute classes, and there is quiet mood music playing throughout all the class. She has several more courses on Prime as well, but I may just go back and re-do these when I’m done. I think you can pay to follow live videos on her site. The classes are half an hour each, and the Weight Loss ones have little bonus chats with advice about losing weight (which I skip, because it seems to be stuff I already know). The Couch to Confident series is about getting more proficient at various yoga practices.
I like her overall approach very much. I went into it never having done a single bit of yoga in my life, and she does an excellent job of easing you into familiarity and proficiency with the various poses, and explaining exactly what you’re supposed to be feeling, and how to correct if it you’re experiencing something amiss. Some of the poses are pretty subtle, and it looks from the outside like you’re doing it right, but you need to make an interior, isometric shift that makes a significant change in your experience.
This is fascinating to me — because of the newness of the practice itself, and also because of her skill in describing bodily gestures and sensations. I don’t know what most yoga instructors are like, but I’ve certainly tried taking classes from other fitness instructors who are not this articulate, and it’s so frustrating, trying to play catch-up to what you see on the screen. I have a lot of trouble following left/right body commands. With this instructor, though, I rarely feel confused. Even if I can’t perform the pose, I understand what it is. (She does occasionally fill up some long spaces with talk, probably to take your mind of the discomfort of holding the pose, and a few times I’m pretty sure I caught her starting a sentence that she had no idea how she was going to end. It was suspenseful for a few seconds, but she pulled through!)
She’s encouraging, but not patronizing, and it’s more or less a dignified experience overall. That means a lot to me, because I get embarrassed and discouraged easily. She’s pretty open about not liking certain poses or actions, and being okay with that, but also honoring your body’s limitations, and being content with doing what you’re ready to do on any particular day. There’s no “oooh gurl, feel that burn, it hurts so good” stuff, but I still end up feeling motivated to try hard to do the best I can, because I usually end up feeling so dang good at the end of the class. She gives brief pep talks about the importance of making time for yourself, and allowing yourself to take up space, and I didn’t think I needed to hear that, but I did. I also kind of rolled my eyes at the part where you spend a few seconds in fetal pose before getting up and starting your day again, but you know what? Now I do it. Because if you can be a fetus for thirty seconds, why would you not? I even did the class that was just about resting, because I figured she must know what she’s talking about. (My normal approach would be “aw, screw this, lady, don’t waste my time!” so the fact that I listened to her will give you some idea of how much respect I’ve gained for her.)
There is some stuff that is too hard for me. She’s very good about suggesting a modification, if you’re not feeling up to it (or, as she phrases it, “if [such-and-such] isn’t available to you today”). In a few cases, I just skipped a whole class and did an easier one, and then returned to the challenging one when I was feeling more ambitious.
For instance, she started doing this, and I just noped right out of it, stopped the video, and went back to an easier class. A few days later, I was ready to try this pose, and I did it! I didn’t look cute, but I did it.
I was joking when I said earlier I was afraid I might get a yoga demon, but I am also Catholic and do not want to participate in something that could be an expression of a different religion, whether that’s Hinduism or Buddhism, or some kind of nameless New Age spiritual practice. What I have learned is that yoga, as it’s practiced in the United States, is actually a quite recent invention, and not an ancient religious practice at all. However, modern or not, there is most certainly such a thing as yoga that invites you to participate in spiritual practices that are foreign to Christianity. What we do with our minds matters, so I get a little annoyed at Catholics who scoff at the idea that any yoga class could possibly be spiritually harmful or inappropriate. I would not take a yoga class that included a spiritual element. (That includes yoga classes that try to be explicitly Christian yoga, because that’s just weird. Just exercise! Or, do whatever you want, I don’t care.)
This particular class, though, is almost entirely about physical exercise, breathing, and occasionally spiritually neutral emotional things like gratitude or calm. She very occasionally slips in some quasi-spiritual stuff, and I just ignore it. She says bring your thumbs to your third eye, I think, “Forehead, though.” She says to close your eyes and express gratitude toward the spirit of whatever, I think, “Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” But it honestly very rarely comes up, at least in the classes I’ve done so far. It’s usually just about breathing, muscles, where to look, where to shift your weight, what to do with your fingers and toes, and so on.
She also mentions some stuff that may or may not be medically accurate. I don’t know what she means by “shadow side of the heart,” so I just ignore it. She mentions what effect breathing and stretching and being upside down has on your body, and I have no idea if she knows what she’s talking about or not. I’m not in it to learn about biology. I see that it’s making me feel better and be stronger, so if she says get on the floor and be a pigeon, I’ll do that.
The weight loss classes incorporates some HIIT (high intensity interval training), so you will be doing mostly yoga, but also some classes that have terrible things like bicycle crunches and mountain climbers and even burpees; but she keeps it quick and doesn’t make you do endless repetitions. She also tends to count in breaths, rather than in repetitions, which makes it more tolerable, somehow. And I have to admit, it works really well.
Anyway, about my hip. The physical therapist said that my glute and core muscles were weak, and I was compensating for them by using some muscles I wasn’t supposed to be using, which was putting strain on my hip. Or something. The solution was to do some boring, unpleasant exercises to strengthen my glutes and my core.
WELL, guess what yoga does? At first I was doing my PT exercises and then yoga, but now I’m just doing yoga, especially yoga with a lot of planks, and my hip is feeling fine. Yoga is not a substitute for real physical therapy, but it’s great for maintaining the gains I made in PT.
I use an exercise mat and occasionally a yoga block. The “Couch to Confident” class has one session where you need a roller, which I don’t have; but you could easily get along through both classes just using a mat. I recommend wearing a close-fitting top, because you spend a lot of time upside-down.
And that’s it! Happy to answer any questions, although I only know what I’ve seen and learned in these videos.
I still can’t even believe it happened, and I will never ever forget it. This is why I’ve been pushing so hard to finish the dining room renovations! I got it all more or less done in time (and I will write a whole other thing about that with copious before and after photos). Meantime, here’s our What’s for Supper for the week, including Epiphany, when WE HAD MASS IN OUR DINING ROOM.
ON OUR DINING ROOM TABLE. I still can’t even believe it.
We watched a Marx Brothers movie (the one where they go to college. A college widow is a woman who dates college students and then still lives in town after they graduate, thereby making her a “widow” of sorts every year when they leave. We have to look it up every few years) and then an MST3K episode (Reptilicus). Corrie could have stayed up all night, I believe.
And now I also have to tell you about one of the most boneheaded things I have done in the kitchen in ages. Earlier in the week, I had scouted around town and found a large and beautiful lamb shank, probably six pounds. I intended to roast it on New Year’s Eve and serve it with pita bread for a nice little treat. So on Saturday afternoon, I got all the other ingredients and all the stuff for sushi, and got home just in time to season the lamb and get it in the oven before we need to get the sushi rice going.
And . . . I couldn’t find it. I could not find this rather large piece of lamb, which, as I mentioned, is at least six pounds. How do you lose a hunk of lamb? True, we have two refrigerators, but we ended up taking everything out of both of them, and I simply could not find that lamb. I knew I had put it in there! I felt like I was losing my mind! The only thing I could find was this piece of pork, and where did that even come from? Didn’t I already cook the pork a few days ago for those kind of mediocre . . . nachos . . .
Oh no.
Yes, friends, I had made a terrible mistake. Somehow, I was so busy and stressed out and dopey that I had tossed a giant $7-a-pound lamb shank into the crock pot and boiled the hell out of it, shredded it, and served it on top of store brand tortilla chips with wads of melted cheese. LAMB NACHOS. We had lamb nachos, and we didn’t even know it.
Here’s a picture of the lamb nachos that I thought were pork nachos.
I am eating them on a box of shoes and miscellaneous crap because I was in the middle of putting in a new dining room floor and was *sob* just gulping down my food, not even really tasting it.
So . . . we just had sushi for New Year’s Eve, no lamb, and Damien fried up some frozen dumplings and heated up some egg rolls and dumplings, and it was plenty.
You know, when I was working on the floor, at one point there was a big gaping hole leading directly to the basement, the the dog of course came along and instantly lost his Christmas ball down the hole. And he could not figure out what had happened. Ball . . .no ball! No ball. No ball! Where ball go? There was ball, now ball no here! No ball! Was ball . . . but now . . . no ball! Even after we got it for him, you could see that there was still this cold pocket of confusion in his brain, and I still think that even to this day, he hasn’t completely gotten over it.
Well, that’s what I was like with this friggin’ lamb. I knew I had cooked it and eaten it and it was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. But I still spent the next few hours opening boxes and lifting cushions and peeking under tables, like it was going to be there waiting for me. Which would be weird! But I couldn’t help myself.
A fitting way to end the year.
ANYWAY. SUNDAY NEW YEAR’S DAY BIRTHDAY!
Baby New Year requested her traditional birthday meal, calzones and tiramisu. The calzones are my job, and I have a reliable but unspectacular method with pre-made pizza dough and sauce. Everyone likes it well enough, so I don’t mess with it.
Damien made the tiramisu using this recipe, and it was light and creamy and delicious as always.
She elected to go visit an art museum with some of her friends in lieu of a party.
MONDAY Sheet pan lemon chicken on potatoes, garlic knots
I had a bunch of chicken thighs and no clear plan, so I tried out this NYT recipe, more or less. I skimmed, I skimmed. Basically you lay down a bunch of scallions, then a bunch of sliced potatoes, then some chicken thighs. You’re supposed to save out half the potatoes and arrange them around the chicken, so they probably would have come out more crisp than mine did if I had done that. You drizzle olive oil and sprinkle on plenty of salt and pepper on each layer. Then you cook it, allegedly for 35 minutes. For whatever reason, it took more like an hour and 15 minutes. Some chicken be like that.
Then you remove the food from the pan, deglaze it, throw in some lemon juice and capers, and I also added some white wine, and make a little sauce to spoon over the chicken.
Serve with more lemon. And you can see the little girls also made up a bunch of garlic knots for us out of pizza dough.
It was fine. It definitely would have been better if I had distributed the food over two pans to crisp it up more. But it was super easy to make, and I can imagine all kinds of combinations of things instead of the scallions and the potatoes. So there you go. I do love lemons and capers.
TUESDAY Banh mi
Some of the family is tired of banh mi, but some of them still love it, and I happen to be a member of the latter group, so guess what’s staying in the rotation.
Yes, I used the pork that was supposed to be nachos. A fitting way to bring closure to my lamb grief. My Lammkummer.
WEDNESDAY Burgers
Nothing to report. This seems like eleven years ago.
THURSDAY Shawarma, stuffed grape leaves, king cakes
So Thursday was Epiphany, the big day I had been pushing to get ready for all week. I, addition to putting in a new floor and trim, I bought a breakfast nook off Craigslist. I have been thinking of a breakfast nook ever since we moved into this house, and the perfect one finally turned up at the perfect time.
The only thing wrong with it was that it smells like cigarette smoke. But this turns out to be not a catastrophe when it’s wood. (It was a catastrophe when I bought a giant curved leather couch that turned out to smell like cigarette smoke. I solved that by not sitting on the couch for several years, and then throwing the couch away.) I scrubbed it down with vinegar and then just let it air out, and the smell is almost gone.
It came with a square table which has a Patriot’s logo stained and woodburned into it. I may eventually start using that as our main table. But that was not the table I was going to use when we had Mass at our house. Instead, Lena scoured and scrubbed and bleached the heck out of the old wood and tile one we’ve been using for almost 25 years, and I covered it with a fresh white cloth, and . . . guys, we had Mass on our dining room table.
I supplied our friend Fr. Matthew with some candles and a bowl to wash his hands, and he brought his Mass kit and a little bag with hosts for everyone in the family, and we set up chairs facing the table, and we had Mass.
I didn’t take any pictures during Mass, because I wanted to be as present as possible. But if you are picturing an intensely reverent atmosphere, that ain’t it. We were running a little behind schedule and made the tactical error of just throwing the dog into his crate, rather than giving him time to figure out that Fr. Matthew is an okay guy. So the entire Mass was set to the horrible music of a frantic boxer expressing profound self-pity and woe, woe, woe, woe, woooooooe. Then, right after the Sanctus, the kitchen timer went off for the shawarma, and then of course the smoke alarm went off. In other words, there is no way it could have been any other way, and Jesus came to us, and it was beautiful and ridiculous and holy. And the Benadryl we gave the dog eventually kicked in, sort of.
I did take some photos of the rest of the evening! Pardon me while I do a bit of a photo dump. We did the Epiphany house blessing, with the blessed chalk on the door way
and holy water in the four corners of the main rooms.
and the kids did some of the readings for the blessing.
Then we had chicken shawarma and stuffed grape leaves and fruit. We had the chicken with pita, yogurt sauce, cucumbers and tomatoes, various olives, feta, and hummus; and grapes and pomegranates. The stuffed grape leaves were a mish mash of various recipes, but they were filled with rice seasoned mainly with mint and dill.
They were pretty good, if not very tidy. I definitely prefer fresh grape leaves. These were from a jar.
Then we at the two Rouse’s king cakes Fr. Matthew carried on a plane from Louisiana, because that’s the kind of priest he is
and then we had some piano time,
some guitar and ukulele and kalimba time,
and some more animal time.
Corrie sang all the verses of “Mississippi,” her favorite murder ballad, and some of us discovered we can sing in harmony when pressed. And then we all got a blessing and then it was time to go! I have never had a more wonderful Epiphany day.
I will tell you, when Fr. Matthew suggested having Mass at our house, I almost turned him down, because it seemed overwhelming, and we’re not the kind of people who etc. etc. But if you ever have the opportunity, please do it. It was a joy.
And good grief, you guys. I just realized. The last thing I did in 2021 was lose the lamb that was supposed to go on our table.
The first thing we did in 2022 was . . . this.
Well.
And now this seems like a terrible anti-climax, but this is still a food blog, so. . .
FRIDAY Quesadillas
Having quesadillas today! And then I am going to drop dead, because I am exhausted.
This is the basic recipe for cheese calzones. You can add whatever you'd like, just like with pizza. Warm up some marinara sauce and serve it on the side for dipping.
Servings12calzones
Ingredients
3ballspizza dough
32ozricotta
3-4cupsshredded mozzarella
1cupparmesan
1Tbspgarlic powder
2tsporegano
1tspsalt
1-2egg yolks for brushing on top
any extra fillings you like: pepperoni, olives, sausage, basil, etc.
Instructions
Preheat oven to 400.
Mix together filling ingredients.
Cut each ball of dough into fourths. Roll each piece into a circle about the size of a dinner plate.
Put a 1/2 cup or so of filling into the middle of each circle of dough circle. (You can add other things in at this point - pepperoni, olives, etc. - if you haven't already added them to the filling) Fold the dough circle in half and pinch the edges together tightly to make a wedge-shaped calzone.
Press lightly on the calzone to squeeze the cheese down to the ends.
Mix the egg yolks up with a little water and brush the egg wash over the top of the calzones.
Grease and flour a large pan (or use corn meal or bread crumbs instead of flour). Lay the calzones on the pan, leaving some room for them to expand a bit.
Bake about 18 minutes, until the tops are golden brown. Serve with hot marinara sauce for dipping.
Mix together the fish sauce ingredients and add the meat slices. Seal in a ziplock bag to marinate, as it is horrendously stinky. Marinate several hours or overnight.
Grill the meat over coals or on a pan under a hot broiler.
quick-pickled carrots and/or cucumbers for banh mi, bibimbap, ramen, tacos, etc.
An easy way to add tons of bright flavor and crunch to a meal. We pickle carrots and cucumbers most often, but you can also use radishes, red onions, daikon, or any firm vegetable.
Ingredients
6-7mediumcarrots, peeled
1lb mini cucumbers (or 1 lg cucumber)
For the brine (make double if pickling both carrots and cukes)
1cupwater
1/2cuprice vinegar (other vinegars will also work; you'll just get a slightly different flavor)
1/2cupsugar
1Tbspkosher salt
Instructions
Mix brine ingredients together until salt and sugar are dissolved.
Slice or julienne the vegetables. The thinner they are, the more flavor they pick up, but the more quickly they will go soft, so decide how soon you are going to eat them and cut accordingly!
Add them to the brine so they are submerged.
Cover and let sit for a few hours or overnight or longer. Refrigerate if you're going to leave them overnight or longer.
Mix marinade ingredients together, then add chicken. Put in ziplock bag and let marinate several hours or overnight.
Preheat the oven to 425.
Grease a shallow pan. Take the chicken out of the marinade and spread it in a single layer on the pan, and top with the onions (sliced or quartered). Cook for 45 minutes or more.
Chop up the chicken a bit, if you like, and finish cooking it so it crisps up a bit more.
Serve chicken and onions with pita bread triangles, cucumbers, tomatoes, assorted olives, feta cheese, fresh parsley, pomegranates or grapes, fried eggplant, and yogurt sauce.
Trump’s true believers were still with us, but there hadn’t been election day riots, and it did seem like there would be a peaceful transfer of power. We’d just have to deal with a lot of crazy and dishonest people on a societal level; but at least the political system was intact. It felt like the country had passed an important test. The constitution had held.
Then came Wednesday. It felt something like the early hours of 9/11, when I stood in the kitchen prepping dinner, slowly realizing that what I was hearing on the radio was not normal political chatter, and that the news was not normal news, but that something new and dreadful was in progress. A violent mob was swarming the capitol building. Shots were fired. Congress cowered in fear.
The president’s fans tore down the American flag and hoisted a Trump flag in its place. There was blood on the floor of the senate. And when his arm was twisted to try to bring peace, the president recorded a message telling the men and women waving a flag of sedition, “You are very special. We love you.”
Four people are dead.
The president was still in office.
Can you understand the horror, the dread, the boundless disgust of this day? I don’t know if citizens of other countries feel about their governmental system the way many Americans feel about theirs.
But when I slowly realized that a MAGA mob was in the capitol building, smashing windows, scaling walls, clowning, capering, screaming, peeing on the carpets, rifling through private papers, and secreting pipe bombs while our representatives scurried into lockdown, it was — well, it was like going to bed feeling grateful that your beloved mother was doing so well staying sober, and then waking up to find that she discovered cocaine and is currently standing in your children’s bedroom with a pistol and a flamethrower, screaming that no one loves the family as much as she does.
And I thought, That’s it. It’s over. The foundation did not hold. They broke the constitution.
My heart is broken. I thought I had settled into a tolerable kind of rational cynicism about what our country is capable of, but it turns out some small part of me still believed in the fairytale of America. I used to fall asleep on summer nights listening to the local fife and drum corps practicing colonial marching tunes in the Woolworth parking lot. It’s very hard to shake that music once it’s in your head.
I know the story of our founding is mingled with myth. I don’t believe that the founding fathers were all righteous civic saints who unerringly chose the good. They were men, like all men full of a mix of good and bad intentions, and their actions showed it. We’re a work in progress and always have been.
But until that Wednesday, I believed that, despite the way we tend to go astray from time to time, we are still basically good, basically sensible, basically idealistic, basically faithful to the pursuit of the good. Basically willing to do better.
I believed that we are still essentially the same people as the people who founded this country, when hardworking farmers and blacksmiths washed the day’s work off their hands and immediately took up a quill pen for inking eloquent and persuasive arguments for a new kind of democracy patterned on ancient Athens. I knew this was part romantic myth, but I did believe we are always refining ourselves, always looking to rededicate ourselves to liberty and justice. That was the fairy tale I believed in.
The problem is that so many rabid Trump supporters also believe in a fairy tale. But it’s a different kind of fairy tale that captures their imaginations. It’s the kind where, if you have a wish and believe in your heart that it’s true, it must be true (and that’s how they know, despite a complete lack of evidence, that there was massive fraud and Trump really won the election). They believe in a fairytale where you can win a revolution by swarming in on a magical, star-spangled carpet of sheer patriotism (and are then shocked to discover the police carry mace) .
That when you’re feeling aggrieved and downtrodden, a magical prince will ride up on his steed and singlehandedly whisk you away to a land of wealth and happiness, safe forever from all your enemies (and don’t ask me how Trump managed to disguise himself as a prince, but apparently that’s what people see).
You might not think “fairytale” when you see an armed mob tricked out in riot gear and fatigues, but that’s essentially what it was: A dream, an unreal fantasy divorced from fact and rife with a horrible combination of wishful thinking, desperation, and narcissism, and powered by the nonsensical belief in some patriotic happily ever after.
The reality is that four people are dead, and the president was still in office.
Listen to this, now: The oldest fairytales weren’t about magic and costumes and dreams come true. The truest versions of these stories are about fear and evil, about deprivation and depravity, about hunger and betrayal, and they are about strength, fortitude, virtue, and courage that doesn’t get rewarded without a terrible, long struggle.
People told each other these strange, dark stories as a way of dealing with the archetypal monsters haunting our collective psyches, but nobody thought they were real. They were a way of giving us strength so we could do what needed to be done in our actual lives. There are no righteous mobs in fairytales. The heroes often suffer terribly, and are misunderstood, wrongly accused, abandoned, and isolated before they triumph. There is a happy ending, but not before the hero pays a terrible price.
And that is the kind of American fairytale I still believe in.
Not the kind where we get caught up in the magic of the moment, but the kind where we grimly face the things that lurk in the woods; where we conquer evil or flee from it, but we do not make friends with it; where we endure injustices endlessly rather than abandoning our ideals; where people may betray us, but they cannot disguise who they really are. Where goodness is required, whether it’s immediately rewarded or not.
There’s not going to be some permanent happily ever after for America. All great civilizations fall, some sooner than others. I don’t know how far away the end of my country’s story is. But I’ll be damned if I let a delusional mob make me believe that all is already lost. It is not lost. It’s still a good country and I remember why it was founded, even if nobody else does.
Merry Christmas, lovely everybody! Merry Christmas to you. I love yez all.
Before we do What’s for Supper, I wanted to do a quick plug for a New Year’s Eve sushi party, which we’re getting ready to do for the I think 5th year in a row.
Sushi parties are so much fun. As long as you’re not a perfectionist, sushi is actually pretty easy to make; and if you are, all you have to do is eat it real fast so you don’t have to look at it. You don’t have to make rolls, either. You can make individual sushi cones or even just little goblin bundles. I usually make a few basic rolls for anyone to try, and then people can come up with their own combinations. There’s something for everyone, and it’s great fun to buzz around the table, picking out different exciting combinations. If you do make rolls, there’s something like the suspense of cutting a paper snowflake and opening it up to see how it turned out.
This is not going to be a place for you to learn how to make authentic sushi (or nigiri, or maki). We just set out a bunch of ingredients that taste good, and people combine them as they like and have fun with them. If you live in a more cosmopolitan area, no doubt you can get more interesting ingredients than we did!
Here’s some of the things we’ve assembled in previous years:
sushi rice, obviously
nori (seaweed)
tuna, mahi, and/or salmon steaks that were frozen at sea, (freezing is how you kill parasites in raw fish)
seared and seasoned tuna
sautéed calamari rings
small sautéed shrimp
canned salmon
imitation crab legs
soy sauce
wasabi sauce
ponzu sauce (citrus dipping sauce)
mayo with sriracha in it
pickled ginger
caviar or other roe
toasted sesame seeds
avocados
mangos
scallions
pineapple
pea shoots
pickled carrot matchsticks
cucumber in thin slices
toasted panko crumbs
The rice part is, obviously, pretty important. I always spring for a sack of good sushi rice, which is just a gorgeous tactile experience in itself. It looks like polished little wedges of mother of pearl. I cook it in the Instant Pot (rinse the rice thoroughly, put equal amounts of rice and water in the pot, close the valve, press the rice button) then make the sushi rice, which is a bit of a production.
I use my Instant Pot to get well-cooked rice, and I enlist a second person to help me with the second part. If you have a small child with a fan, that's ideal.
Ingredients
6cupsraw sushi rice
1cuprice vinegar
1/2cupsugar
1Tbspsalt
Instructions
Rinse the rice thoroughly and cook it.
In a saucepan, combine the rice vinegar, sugar, and salt, and cook, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved.
Put the rice in a large bowl. Slowly pour the vinegar mixture over it while using a wooden spoon or paddle to fold or divide up the cooked rice to distribute the vinegar mixture throughout. You don't want the rice to get gummy or too sticky, so keep it moving, but be careful not to mash it. I enlist a child to stand there fanning it to dry it out as I incorporate the vinegar. Cover the rice until you're ready to use it.
The rest of it is just a matter of chopping and slicing and maybe a little toasting or sautéeing, and then of course assembling.
I have a rolling mat, but you could also make sushi rolls by putting plastic wrap over a dishtowel. Basically you want to lay down a rectangle of rice, leave a horizontal margin of an inch or so, add a horizontal stripe of fillings, and carefully roll it up as tightly as you can, then carefully take the mat or towel off the roll and slice it into little disks with a sharp knife. Try putting a sheet of nori down and spreading the rice over that, to hold it together; but once you get the hang of it (and if you’ve made your rice sticky enough) the nori won’t be necessary.
Not that I took a picture. But I swear, I’m a moron, and I managed to make sushi without nori on the outside! But I like nori on the outside.
You can also make individual sushi cones. Take a sheet or a half sheet of nori, lay it point down, spread the rice and fillings on one side, and roll it up diagonally.
These are less dainty, but there’s nothing wrong with that.
Or just take a sheet of nori, throw some rice on, pile on whatever looks tasty, bunch it up, and devour.
and then you strap it to a scoop of sushi rice with a strip of nori
I had my doubts about this, because the caramelized spam had a very harsh taste; but combined with the sweet, mild rice and the umami of the nori, it was great, and so stylish.
***
Okay! Just wanted to get that off my chest because it would make me immensely happy if you started a sushi tradition on New Year’s Eve, too. We usually throw in some eggnog and some Marx Brothers and, to be perfectly honest, usually a roast leg of lamb, because What If There’s Not Enough Food?
We use Tom Nichol’s grandmother’s leg of lamb recipe, which is tastier and easier than reason permits, and never again will I spend an afternoon cutting garlic into slivers and jamming them into meat slits, pleasant though that may be. This recipe is just better.
And we just serve it with a sliced baguette and maybe some horseradish and cheese. Okay, now let’s do a little catching up from last week. Christmas Week.
MONDAY Chicken burgers, veg and dip
Nothing to report, foodwise.
Monday we also made applesauce and cinnamon ornaments. Equal parts applesauce and cinnamon mixed together into a kind of clay, pressed into cookie cutter shapes and set out to dry.
We pressed star anise into some of the shapes. We had so much clay left over, I made it into beads, which took a very long time to dry and smell great but look somewhat turdly.
(I think I promised like 18 months ago to share pictures of my new backsplash! It’s no longer new, but there it is!) If I had made them sooner, I would have strung them in among the citrus garlands, but it didn’t occur to me. Now THIS was a completely successful project, for once. I just cut oranges, mandarins, lemons, limes, and grapefruit into thin slices and put them on paper towels on cookie sheets
and left them in a 170 oven pretty much all day.They still weren’t dry by bedtime, so I moved them to racks and let them continue drying, then eventually threaded them in two spots on hemp twine. Every 6-7 slices, I doubled back with the twine to anchor the citrus.
They are gorgeous. Really just like home grown stained glass.
I tried interspersing some cinnamon sticks and tying on some star anise, but eventually just stuck with citrus. The lemons went pretty colorless, but the rest of the fruit kept good color. Several people asked about the smell, wondering if it exudes a wonderful citrusy scent. In fact it smells faintly of hot orange juice, which is not great, but it’s very faint, and fading.
TUESDAY Italian wedding soup, breadsticks
Tuesday was the last day of school for all but one kid. We had been doing distance schooling for just over a week and it is . . . not my favorite. It is nobody’s favorite. But Tuesday was the last day, and I made a lovely soup to celebrate.
I had bought some ground pork on sale, so I made some little meatballs with it, adding in plenty of freshly-grated parmesan and Italian parsley, and fried them up in butter.
Then I removed the meatballs and fried up some carrots and onions and garlic in the butter, then put the meatballs back, and added chicken broth and white wine, plenty of pepper, some chopped kale and ditalini. More parmesan and some fresh Italian parsley on top.
It was just delightful. Friendliest, most nourishing soup I’ve had in ages. A very good way to round out the year. I made some frozen breadsticks so the soup haters would have something to sop up their tears with.
Tuesday we also made the cookies for the cookie tree I rashly promised we would make.
It wasn’t exactly a hard project, but, I don’t know, we made it hard. It’s just a set of star cookie cutters that comes in — there’s a word for this, but I mean that they come in small and work their way up to coming in big. Guys, I’m so tired. Everyone is so tired. Anyway, this set also comes with decorating tips and bags and instructions, but we lost those immediately.
We made a double recipe of my 100% reliable, no-chill, keeps-its-shape-in-the-pan sugar cookie dough
and cut out two (or occasionally one, or three) of each size star, and baked them. You would think the cookies would bake at various rates, because they were such different sizes, but they all finished up at about the same time, go figure.
Then, we left the baked cookies hanging around on racks in my tiny kitchen, balanced on top of packages waiting to be mailed, and the dog ate one, and the tips fell off some, and people needed the pans for Lego projects, and we had to move them around so we could find the papers for the student loan thing, and people put them on top of the clean laundry, and people put five pound bags of flour on top of them because we were planning to make more cookies, and so on. You know, Christmas.
WEDNESDAY
I have no idea. Oh wait, we decided to go run out right before dinner and buy a few last presents, and also the stocking candy, and stocking stuffers, and food for Christmas breakfast and Christmas dinner, tights, wrapping paper, and presents for the dog, cat, bird, and lizard, and in retrospect, that may not have been our finest plan. Most of the stores in town only had Valentine’s Candy, or Easter Candy, or Halloween candy, or just actual literal stuffing, like Stouffer’s stuffing with country herbs. Goodness gracious. It also turns out everyone was out of the canned cinnamon buns I decided would be good enough this year. We got about half the stuff and then stopped at Domino’s, and nobody complained.
THURSDAY Shredded pepper beef sandwiches, veg and dip
This was supposed to be pepperoncini beef, which you make by putting a hunk of beef in the slow cooker with some pepperoncini and its juice, and then shredding it when it’s done; but I forgot to buy pepperoncini. I forgot repeatedly, because I went to the store 327 times this week, and each time returned home with things like a stuffed shark or a Dungeons and Dragons dice box or YET MORE WRAPPING PAPER, but no pepperoncini. Instead, I added some banana peppers and some jalapeños, and the juices therefrom, and also a can of beer
and let it cook for several hours. Shredded it up, served it on rolls with cheese, and it was pretty good.
A little dry, so I used the cooking juice as a spicy dip.
FRIDAY, CHRISTMAS EVE Quesadillas
Damien made these and they were delicious.
We finished wrapping, stuffed stockings, and put together our first Barbie Dream House, and decorated the tree. And of course we iced and put together that fershlugginer cookie tree.
It turned out really cute!
But we all aged eleven years in the process and there was definitely threats, drama, crying, and apologies.
Even the kids didn’t suggest we make this an annual tradition. But look at this friggin cookie tree.
Then the middle girls decided to make their own cookie tree, so I made the more dough, and they baked and decorated a BTS tree, with some baffling details.
Oh, and I detangled about 70% of Corrie’s hair. I was doing so well, but it got away from me this last month, argh.
Then I got the cinnamon bun dough started. I decided to try Alton Brown’s recipe, rather than the Pioneer Woman one I usually use. Great choice. I didn’t have buttermilk, so I added some lemon juice to milk, and the dough came together great. I set it to rise and forgot all about it until about 10:20 PM, while I was sitting in the pew at the Christmas Eve Mass at Night and realized it was probably good and risen by now.
We did make it through Mass, which was lovely. We cleaned up really well this year!
But about those cinnamon rolls. You’re supposed to brush the dough with melted butter and the sprinkle the sugar and cinnamon on before rolling it up, but I misunderstood and mixed the melted butter and cinnamon and sugar together. So I had to spread that on the dough and . . . I think I’m a genius. It worked out great, and it way so much easier and tidier then trying to roll up dough with melted butter on it. I made 24 rolls, threw them in the fridge while Damien shlepped 9 stockings and 36 presents out of our room and under the tree, and we were in bed shortly after 1.
SATURDAY, CHRISTMAS Breakfast: Bacon, cinnamon rolls, fruit, OJ, eggnog Dinner: Chinese food, steak, and a sandwich
Cinnamon rolls continued! You warm up the rolls by putting them in the oven and putting a pan in the rack under them, and pouring boiling water into that pan, and letting it warm up for 30 minutes. Worked just fine. The rolls were just great. The glaze is made with cream cheese, milk, and vanilla, and it tastes a little bland. It’s richer than just a sugary glaze, but I think I will search for something a little more interesting next year. But overall, this recipe is absolutely everything I wanted for Christmas. Easy, no exotic ingredients or maneuvers, and the rolls were puffy and tender, sweet and rich. Absolutely ideal.
Then we spent the day in a pleasant haze of games, candy, and napping. There had been so much drama around our traditional Chinese take-out Christmas dinner, it kind of defeats the purpose of doing something stress-free. So instead, Damien cooked a bunch of magnificent steaks. He salts and peppers them, heats up a ton of butter and garlic cloves in a cast iron pan. He has some kind of method that involves olive oil as well as butter. I don’t know, man. The steak was amazing. You could cut it with a fork. I didn’t get a great picture because I was in a hurry to eat it, but there’s this:
The meat noticer has entered the room.
Then of course we also ordered some Chinese food because What If There’s Not Enough Food? And Irene got a sandwich from Jersey Mike’s, because one time she had Chinese food and got sick, and Christmas has always been a bit of a trial for her, and this year we decided to finally do something about that.
SUNDAY Spiral ham, shrimp cocktail, various cheeses with crackers and spreads and salamis, pomegranates, baked brie with cranberries, and roasted mushrooms
This meal is a combination of food we were supposed to have for Christmas because we are ridiculous and we shopped thinking What If There’s Not Enough Food, and a ham that one of Damien’s editors sent because she is awesome.
And Damien made a big tray of wonderful roasted mushrooms using this Deadspin recipe. We haven’t had these for some time, and they are so tasty.
You get the rich, earthy buttery mushroom flavor and the sharp lemon and caper and the fresh herbs all frolicking together. Once you chop up all those mushrooms, it comes together really fast.
We got one of those sets of jams that’s supposed to pair with specific cheeses, but I immediately lost track of which was which, so I was forced to just eat everything.
And now it is Monday and there is so much food in the house. I am going to go out and see what I can rustle up for sushi, though, I guess (except for the actual fish). Also we have a birthday coming up, because we are 24/7 party people. I also ordered some flooring for my dining room. Because I am a 24/7 flooring person. I promise pictures. I promise.
Oh, one last thing. I was looking at our Christmas pictures, and I couldn’t resist a little comparison. Here is Christmas 2019, and Christmas this year.
Look at that! Damien has lost close to 80 pounds, and I’ve lost over 40 (I’m focusing on maintenance at the moment, because everything else is pretty overwhelming), and we’re both way, way stronger. As you can see, we’re still enjoying lots of yummy food. Just less of it. Yay us! It feels good.
And here are the recipe cards, whew. I think this was the longest What’s for Supper in this history of What’s for suppers. Hope you find something good! I really do love yez.
Lots of variations to this pleasant, nourishing soup with little meatballs.
Ingredients
For the meatballs:
4-5lbsground pork (can mix in some ground beef or turkey)
5eggs
2-1/2cupsbread crumbs
4tspsalt
1tsppepper
1Tbsporegano
1bunchfresh Italian parsley, chopped fine
1 to 1-1/2 cupsfreshly-shredded parmesan
1/2cupbutter for frying
For the soup:
3lgcarrots, diced
1lgonion, diced
8clovesgarlic, minced
16cupschicken broth
3cupswhite wine
3-4cupsraw kale, torn into pieces
2cupsuncooked small pasta like ditalini
pepper
more parmesan and Italian parsley for garnish
Instructions
To make the meatballs:
Thoroughly combine all the ingredients (except the butter) with your hands. Form them into small meatballs. In a large, heavy pot, melt the butter and lightly brown the meatballs in batches. They do not need to be cooked all the way through, as they will continue cooking in the soup.
To make the soup:
Remove the meatballs from the pot. Put the onions and carrots into the butter and cook until they're slightly soft. Add in the garlic and continue cooking until the garlic is fragrant but not too browned.
Add the meatballs back in. Add the broth and white wine, the kale, and the pepper to taste. Simmer for several hours.
About half an hour before serving, add the uncooked pasta and turn up the heat to cook.
Serve with shredded or grated parmesan and coarsely chopped Italian parsley for a garnish.
Basic "blank canvas"sugar cookies that hold their shape for cutting and decorating. No refrigeration necessary. They don't puff up when you bake them, and they stay soft under the icing. You can ice them with a very basic icing of confectioner's sugar and milk. Let decorated cookies dry for several hours, and they will be firm enough to stack.
Servings24large cookies
Ingredients
1cupbutter
1cupwhite sugar
1-2tspvanilla and/or almond extract. (You could also make these into lemon cookies)
1egg
2tspbaking powder
1/2tspsalt
3cupsflour
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350.
Cream together butter and sugar in mixer until smooth.
Add egg and extracts.
In a separate bowl, combine the flour, salt, and baking powder.
Gradually add the dry ingredients to the butter and sugar and mix until smooth.
Roll the dough out on a floured surface to about 1/4 inch. Cut cookies.
Bake on ungreased baking sheets for 6-8 minutes. Don't let them brown. They may look slightly underbaked, but they firm up after you take them out of the oven, so let them sit in the pan for a bit before transferring to a cooling rack.
Had a very enjoyable pre-Christmas conversation with Mike Jordan Laskey, the host of the Jesuit podcast for Canada and the US. It was a pretty wide-ranging chat, covering having adult children, dealing with materialism and other Christmas-related anxieties, managing and building traditions, my favorite Christmas carol that I couldn’t quite remember at the moment, CAKE OR PIE, and recognizing Jesus, or not. Have a listen!
