So, my latest food hang up is pesto. All different sorts. Last week it was this roasted red bell pepper version; today I’ve done one with arugula and walnuts. I’m not sure how the whole pesto idea got stuck in my head to begin with. I’ll lay blame on a favorite sandwich that I always order when catching lunch Read more
Since I’m all about learning new tricks and facing down fears in the kitchen, I taught myself how to roast bell peppers over an open flame this morning. Up until now, I’ve been a purchased-jarred-peppers-kinda-girl when I’ve needed them for a recipe, mainly due to the fact that roasted capsicums resemble pepper-shaped lumps of Kingsford briquettes, and I guess I was intimidated by the idea of charring anything that badly in my own home. Well, I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t at all difficult to do and although it makes a little bit of a mess, I had a great time and the results are delicious. I watched this video and got perfect results. Give it a try, don’t be afraid. It’s fun! : )
In honor of June being Dairy Month, I decided to kick things off with summer’s first batch of ice cream from scratch. I sacrificed a waffle maker in the process. While I was standing on a chair above my pantry this morning, I moved our behemoth bread machine to the side and inadvertently knocked my thousand year old waffle maker to its (timely?) death on the kitchen floor. It was quite a scene, let me tell you. All in the name of homemade vanilla bean. Oh well … what’s that phrase? If you wanna make an omelet, you gotta break a few waffle makers.
I was talking to some friends this past weekend about the order of events in their home on Christmas morning. I’m not going to name them here (they know I love them), but here’s what they do: first, they open their stockings. But before they open any presents, they proceed in an orderly fashion to a formal, hot breakfast of bacon and eggs, the whole nine yards. After dining, they take turns opening one present at a time. Gift opening comes to a complete halt when someone unwraps an item of clothing and (wait for it) the recipient must try on and model said apparel for the rest of the family, receive compliments and admiration, and offer up effusive thanks. Then the civil, one-at-a-time gift opening can resume. Well, I was kind of snickering (they weren’t) because – first of all, this must take hours. And, not to make it sound like I can’t manage to maintain some small modicum of decorum in my house, their order of events is in sharp contrast to what happens at our home on Christmas morning.
Ever since Cross Country came into our lives earlier this fall, here is the scene that plays out at our house every afternoon. Two sweaty runners stumble through the door around 5:30 and they’re absolutely ravenous and a little on the grumpy side and they can barely wait until dinner is served. There are no pleasantries such as “Hi Mom, you’re looking pretty today” only “WHEN’S DINNER I’M STARVING WHAT ARE WE HAVING?!?” And they’re reaching for Ho-Ho’s and Ding Dong’s and Cheeze-Its and all other manner of calories available for immediate consumption. It’s like a feeding frenzy you’ve not seen before. Or maybe you have. Maybe I’m just a newbie because I’ve never had rapidly growing teenagers who go out and run five miles after school every da’gum day.