Thursday, January 26, 2012

Need a Break? Take the Kids Out!

Never thought you'd hear that out of my mouth? If you'd seen my sinkful of dirty dishes at yesterday's meeting of the Mom Pool, you'd understand. I am talking a giant mound of food-encrusted plates, pots and pans that completely hid my family-sized stainless steel basin. Yes, even I need to escape my domestic bliss and be waited on now and then.

On these occasions, we love Mad Mex!  We loved it as dinks (for the uninitiated: double income no kids) because they have excellent Tex-Mex, an impressive beer list, beautiful/bizarre artwork by local favorites, and great Muzak. We were surprised that we could also love it as bedraggled parents of two loud fussy eaters (ages 3 and 5).  They have the best kids menu with many fabulous choices other than mac/cheese and chicken nuggets (although they have those, too).

As soon as we are seated, the kids are served (each their own) appetizers of carrot and celery sticks with ranch dressing, and, to be honest, if they eat that I am happy. But usually they eat that and part or most of a quesadilla or taco with sides of rice and veggies. Plus tiny brownie sundaes for dessert. The kids food is actually quite good.  I sometimes just order guacamole (which is excellent) and eat it with the quesadilla half I end up eating from my 5 year old's plate.  Meanwhile, my husband gets to order something spicy hot and the kids don't pester him for it.  The wait staff is always young and hip and good with kids, even if it means showing (and explaining) their tattoos and piercings. They are also usually good about not mentioning the free desserts or chocolate milk without subtly asking the parents first. The only trick I had to discover was not ordering the chips and salsa up front.  That usually derails the entrees. I order it as a side to come with my meal and specify just "on the side" and not in a basket.

As for keeping the kids in their seats, we engage in who-can-eat-more eating contests with the carrots and celery.  The first time we went with both kids, they were offered these etch-a-sketch wannabe toys which were promptly and firmly rejected in favor of Dad's eating contest idea. (Which is no small miracle. Crunchy things that aren't chips? Nobody would ever eat that at home!)

And lastly, because my three year old is still into the unsolicited brain-splitting squeal-scream, the noise and somewhat ruckus atmosphere of Mad Mex covers a variety of outbursts, both happy and sad. The last time we went, we sat in the outdoor bar area (smoking prohibited), and it was so relaxing that Dad and I both commented that it felt like we were at the beach (instead of a Cranberry Twp. strip mall.)

Do I sound like an advertisement? Sorry. Just sayin'... . There are kid-friendly eating out choices that don't conflict with my entire mommagenda.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Everyone Has A Recipe ... Even Pop Pop

In light of (in honor of) recent family medical events, I want to share my dad's recipe.  While I do know men who have full recipe card boxes (well, at least one) and many who know how to open a cookbook and follow instructions, most dads these days rely on pizza delivery, takeout and fast food when the moms are absent for the evening. Very few, I suspect, have their own recipes. Hardy Beans is that recipe for my dad, or Pop Pop as he goes by these days.  This is the one he used on "dad's night."

My husband's recipe for these occasions is simply: remove from freezer, open box, place in oven, remove from oven, sprinkle with red pepper flakes.  My dad's recipe was only slightly more involved than that and was implemented a lot more often.

When he was 30, my dad was married, father of four, and full-time college student. To make this possible, logistically and financially, my mom worked the evening shift as a supervising nurse at the local hospital. So many days, if not most, dad was supervisor of the supper-time shift. This was in the late 1960's, so pizza delivery was not all that common.. Although McDonald's was around (though not having served a billion hamburgers yet) it was not within walking distance and my parents had only one car between them (a Volkswagon bus). Besides, McDonald's, not yet the corporate behemoth it is now, really was a special occasion deal for our family.  Probably Mom prepared some meals for us ahead of time, and probably Dad had more in his repertoire, but the recipe that stuck with me (and my siblings) is Hardy Beans.  Just three ingredients made this nutritious and delicious repast:  One pound of ground chuck, one can of baked beans, and about a half a bottle of ketchup.  And the method was as simple as it gets: brown meat, add beans, heat through, add ketchup to taste.

As I read that now, I admit it does not sound all that appealing. Dad claims we loved it so much we begged him to make it.  Mom shudders anytime it is mentioned, swearing she herself never made it or ate it. According to Dad, the time period when he served it was short lived, too.  Having completed most of his degree requirements through night-school, he finished college a year or so later and perhaps, never made Hardy Beans again. But we kids talked about it and laughed about it for years afterward.  As a young adult I made it my own go-to camping meal.  The meat stayed frozen in my backpack until the first night's campfire meal. Cooking it on a campfire brought on dual feelings of "Look at me! I'm a big girl impressing my friends with my camping skills!" and "Oh what I wouldn't give to be the baby of the family again." I still sometimes long for that time when we were all cozy in our matching hooded sweatshirts, squished together on a bench in the warm kitchen of a tiny rented house, waiting for our cooking, always singing, dad to put dinner on the table.

So as this baby girl grew older, I tweeked and embellished this basic recipe in innumerable ways. Adding onions and peppers to the browning meat, substituting real tomatoes for the ketchup, using any kind of beans to avoid the ubiquitous can of Heinz Pork and Beans.  During my 10 year vegetarian stint, I traded the meat for barley pearls. Sauteed with caramelized or toasted onions and a bit of red wine, barely takes on a nutty flavor and chewiness just like ground chuck (well, almost.)

Tonight, in honor of Pop Pop's recent surgery, I think I'll make it with kidney beans.

Post Script:  As with any discussion about words in my family, the dictionary was consulted when I tried to confirm the spelling of the name of this never written out recipe, hardy or hearty? Mom was insisting on hearty as it describes food.  Dad said he always assumed it was hardy.  Instinctively, Mom reached for her ever handy Webster's New Collegiate that she received for her 75th birthday from her four-year-old grandson. (The previous version had been given to her on her 40th birthday by her father.)

Standing in the doorway of the room where my father in his comfy chair recovered from his recent radical nephrectomy, my mother read from the giant tome held in one hand while the other hand waived in the air, looking much like a preacher. Upon hearing the two definitions, abundant, rich, or flavorful enough to satisfy the appetite...     or    ... inured to fatigue or hardships, robust, capable of withstanding adverse conditions, he chose the latter, perhaps recalling those exhausting times spent making dinner for four little hoodlums and simultaneously making Dean's List.  And as with most of the arguments I have witnessed between my parents, they were both so right, it's no wonder they argue.

Want the recipe?  Follow my dad's recipe, or get more involved with my version of it.  Either way, it is a hearty (or hardy) one-dish skillet meal, perfect for a rainy/snowy winter evening like tonight.

Hardy Beans
One pound ground meat of choice (lean beef, pork, meatloaf mix or turkey)
One medium yellow onion, diced


One can of Bush's baked beans
                             or
One 12-oz can of kidney beans, drained
One tablespoon molasses or brown sugar
One tablespoon apple cider vinegar

One can of diced tomatoes, undrained
Salt and pepper to taste

Brown the meat, add the onions and saute stirring occasionally until onions are translucent and sweet smelling. Add beans and tomatoes, salt and pepper.  Simmer for 15-20 minutes. Garnish with crumbled cheese of choice.  Serve with crusty bread and butter.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

2011 in the rearview, Martha Stewart* caught in the headlights

It was the best of times, it was the worst ... .

Actually, it was really pretty average. In non-food-related departments,  2011 was Year of Kids Sleeping All Night (for the most part). But 2012 is Year of Mom Responsible for Only Her Own Potty Needs. And it is starting to look like it might be Year of Potty Words, and not just from the mouths of babes.

But more important than all that is the food-related department: 2012 is shaping up to be the year my kitchen becomes more like a kitchen than a closet.  New fridge has arrived, ovens are in the delivery queue. I am so excited, I can't even feel my husband's hairy eyeball boring a hole in the back of my head. (Yes, God bless him, he does have enough to do already.)

In the latest edition of Martha Stewart Living magazine, we are treated to a peek inside Martha's "dream room."  It is the central room in a building previously referred to as the Goat Shed, hearkening back to a time when goats lived better--or at least in more sq. ft.--than the average middle class family in Bedford, New York. Her dream room is called the home-keeping room.  The room Martha devotes to organization and storage of her cleaning products (her own label cleaning products, of course) is roomier and better apportioned than any of the rooms or combination of rooms I currently devote to home/self/kid/husband/pet/garden/vehicle-keeping. But we do tend to expand to fit our budgets, don't we? Kate's dream foodkeeping room will be re-invented on a scale and budget suited to the income and time constraints of single-earner family with a zero-waste agenda. 

Now, I don't like Martha's personal style, and I am personally embarrassed by her criminal record.  But I do admit that she has something I want.  Although I don't envy her money, her vast country estate, or her corporate empire, I am man enough to admit that I would benefit greatly by her impeccable organization and endless list of lists. Tune into LizziesChocolateCake.com to witness the transformation of my so-called kitchen into a truly usable space. A space that will be "very practical and a pleasant place to spend time too" while "making everyday tasks easier," as Martha says, believable or not, of her homekeeping room.


*As my regular readers can attest, I am not a Martha fan or detractor. Wandering around the food and publishing world as I do, one can't help but bump into her.  She is omnimedia, personified.  She is everywhere.  "I see Martha ... all the time."