Archive for the Family Category

I’ve had some good success lately with trying my hand at creating dishes, or substituting a lot in other people’s recipes, essentially creating my own version.  It feels so amazing to be in a cooking and baking groove after my year+ of very limited taste and 18-months of sleep-deprivation, very busy days, and lots of change for our family.  I can taste everything now, I think.  I have my confidence back and am now conquering my lifelong fear of experimentation.  Only a type A perfectionist would write that, right?  What cook fears failure?!  Well, this one does, but I’m working on it.  (Oh my gosh, I just referred to myself as a cook!  That feels really weird, but I’m leaving it.)

I’m probably going to post more about food here, mostly so that I can remember what I’ve made.  If any of you enjoy these recipes, then all the more fantastic!  I’m terrible about tracking the details of changes I’ve made to recipes, leading me to disappointment like when I recently made a pumpkin bread for a mom’s group because I remembered it being so delicious.  I knew the amount of cloves seemed like too much, but I second-guessed myself and put them all in.  Too strong.  I have a feeling I also subbed apple sauce for some of the sugar, but didn’t do it this round.  Lots of women ate only a few bites and left the rest on their plates.  Lesson learned.  Write notes on the recipes, lady!

These are a few recipes requested by friends or family:

Dana Treat’s savory muffin .  My changes included using half whole wheat pastry flour and half all-purpose.  I also left out the peppers, but only because I couldn’t find a jar I knew I had.  (They’ve since been found, tucked in the back of my lazy susan, off the shelf.  I imagine a two foot monkey had something to do with this.)  These were absolutely delicious and very comforting warm out of the oven on a rainy, fall day.  Charlie and Miles both ate them quite happily.  I imagine fresh, young kale would work well as a substitute for the spinach, too.

Molly’s salted peanut butter cookies.  What’s really funny is that I made these even though I had no pb in the house.  We do have a plethora of almond butter, though, and Harry & I wanted cookies desperately.  I’d wanted to make these for awhile, so I dove in with my almond butter.  I also subbed whole wheat pastry flour and dark chocolate.  These were divine.  I froze most of them, as she recommends, and served them out of the oven for the next three days to everyone who entered our home.  I will not make these again for awhile because my waistline would grow too much, but oh my goodness, they are my favorite cookie ever now.  And I don’t know that I’d return to peanut butter, even though I imagine that’s also super delicious.  I think I’m just an almond butter kind of girl.

I bought some harisssa from market spice at the Pike Place Market and mixed a few teaspoons in with sauteed vegetables, later adding coconut milk and cooking some couscous in the pan with it all.  Good enough to feel pleased and rewarded for taking the risk.  It needed some crunch and I’m undecided as to what would’ve been perfect for it.  Maybe toasted pine nuts?  Still not sure.  I need more recipes for this spice to help me get a feel for good pairings.

Tonight I made a pureed soup from a winter squash I roasted.  I bought the squash slightly impulsively at the last Queen Anne Farmer’s Market from Local Roots, my favorite local vegetable farm.  (They’re Angie’s favorite and basically any farmer that’s her favorite is my favorite because she’s always right about these things!  The woman knows food.)  I knew I wanted squash, but I overheard Jason talking to someone about how delicious this particular variety was and I took it, 15lbs and all.  I thought I remembered him saying it was a kobucha, so I roasted it with that in mind, but after pulling it out and tasting it, I was totally disappointed.  I expected sweet and this was nothing of the sort.  A few bites later, with expectations in check, and I knew it wouldn’t be served with butter to the boys but would be fine for breads or soups.  It was definitely more like a pumpkin flavor.  A green, bumpy pumpkin that will nearly kill you when you try to prep it for roasting.  (Anyone know what it is?)  So, tonight I sauteed some leeks and garlic and then added sage & rosemary roasted onions (leftover from roasted veggies I made Friday) and about 4-6 cups of the squash.  Tossed in some cumin, added vegetable broth and simmered 20-30 minutes.  I pureed it all in the blender.  Rich, soothing, creamy…wow.  It tasted like it had cream in it but the only fat was olive oil.  This recipe wasn’t at all planned, so I had nothing to combine it with, but a biscuit, cornbread or whole grain loaf would’ve been lovely.  And a salad with fresh, local apples.  Perfect.  Anyways, I was really pleased with this throw together.  It made me think all my reading and cooking from this blog is paying off.  I can finally cook with whatever is in my fridge and not end up choking it down or donating to city compost!

Lastly, thanks to an amazing night of shared thali at Poppy, which included the best carrots I’ve ever had (from Local Roots, of course!), and NYC French chef Eric Ripert’s show, “Avec Eric”, my latest obsession, I cooked up some honey/butter glazed carrots last night.  Miles put them in his mouth, made a funny face and spit most out.  Charlie ate them.  Harry & I really ate them.  That is the way to eat carrots, my friends.

Now, I have a lot of dishes to clean and food to put away.  So, in the spirit of my new best French friend, “santé”.  Cook from life!

PS- Planted 20-25 cloves of garlic yesterday!

Harry and I have been married a long, long, long, long, loooooooooooong time. (If you’ve heard Charlie use that phrase, definitely overlay his voice there.) Almost six million minutes. When we married, I was a meer 23 years old. I was blissfully unaware that my body would ever obtain wrinkles, baby belly flab, or the effects of chronic sleep deprivation. Most importantly, I was incredibly naive about just how much would be required of me as a wife. If I wanted to remain a loving one, that is. Don’t let that sentence paint Harry as a patriarchical figure in our home. He is a fabulous husband and dad who eagerly contributes his part and more, often with joy. Rather, I am referring to the constant necessity that I swallow my pride and be willing to see that I might not be right about everything. Most things, sure, but not everything. (Did you just sigh, Harry?) I have needed to learn over and over again that Harry perceives, experiences, and pursues things very differently from me and that we can make our pursuits work together. If I’m willing to do my part and he’s willing to do his.

For me, the hardest lesson of the past few years has been that I must state what I need and want. Out loud. Not in small hints or gestures. It’s ridiculous that this is so challenging, if you think about it.  Babies and kids have no difficulty requesting.  In fact, they spout out a desire almost every second!  I don’t know if it’s cultural, typical gender differences, or a bit of both, but I believe there is a strong tendency for women in our culture to expect that men should know what they want and what they need and then to grow bitter when the men don’t fulfill those unstated desires and requests.  It’s certainly not helped by movies, all those princes rescuing princesses without the princesses stating how they’d like it to happen. (“Please, dear prince, don’t bring me a glass slipper. They’re horribly uncomfortable. I’d like some leather flats!”) A incredibly inspiring friend wrote two awesome posts lately about women’s power and selfishness and I think she’s spot-on with regards to these issues.  So, I am in the simultaneously arduous and exciting process of learning to better value, identify and assert my human-sized power and needs. And to believe that this is the best thing I can do for our marriage, my boys and our family.

These are the knitty-gritty details of marriage, right? Working things out together so that we can all thrive as individuals and as a whole.  Trusting that if the other’s needs are more important at that moment, yours will be met eventually, too.  Believing that it’s alright to stand up for your own, even if the other has to sacrifice.  (Like yesterday evening when I was truly face first on our carpet after feeding the boys dinner, and decided I’d better ask Harry to put Miles to sleep so that I could eat and feel better.  Clearly, that’s an extreme example, but martyrdom doesn’t help anyone and it can be very hard for me to see when I’m acting that way.)

So, dear Love, thank you for being the person who allows me to work these things out and loves me enough to honor my needs and requests, seeing that this journey is valuable for us all.  Thank you for doing your own personal work to make our marriage better.  Thank you for loving me when I am anything but loveable.  Thank you for treasuring my wrinkles, soft belly, and mushy, forgetful brain and truly seeing me as beautiful no matter how awful I may feel or how many days it’s been since I last showered.  Thank you for encouraging me as a mom, particularly when I feel completely deflated in my abilities to love and raise these boys well.

Here’s to at least 20 million more minutes together!  And I’m so thrilled that these ones will enjoy the fruits of our labor in learning to communicate better.  I’m so thankful we just keep getting better and better.  Let’s find some nicely aged red wine to celebrate.  And pair it with a few Fran’s.  Tomorrow?

Happy Anniversary, Harry!

Miles took his first step last week, a couple yesterday and his first series of steps this morning. Charlie started walking away from him with a toy Miles wanted and Miles apparently didn’t want to take the time to get down on the floor and crawl.

This will be a short and sweet post to mark this Milestone (I simultaneously love and hate that that’s a pun) as we’re still quite busy moving into our new rental. We have been living in it for nearly six weeks but we’ve begun painting the interior and tonight is all about rolling, rolling, rolling.

Since beginning the moving process we’ve had a really lovely season of visitors, starting with friends from Holland, my brother, Harry’s mom and my brother again! We have loved their company, so much so that the moving in process has been quite delayed (though Harry’s mom helped us tremendously by weeding like mad and thoroughly enjoying the boys in play). Plus, this house was nasty…and continues to be rather gross. So, we’re cleaning it up, moving in bit by bit, and enjoying a lovely back yard with plenty of space for a walking toddler and a running, jumping, curious four year old.

One year old! For twelve months you have made us smile and been someone very, very precious to love in the household. You are still so young and barely talking, yet we already know much about you. You are vibrant.

The way your face lights up when you see a ball would make even Scrooge smile. Your love of all things round has been with you from the beginning, I think. I remember very early smiles upon seeing the polka dot quilt behind my back while I nursed or rocked you. And all of our round ceiling lights still please you, but when you were just a few months old, you would coo at them endlessly.

I wonder if you’re going to be quite good at accessorizing. If people are wearing hats, glasses, scarves, helmets, they often get a smile from you. I love that you kiss the biker donning fluorescent green sunglasses and a pink helmet in “Good Night Seattle” and are usually ready to leave the book behind after her page is turned. And you think I’m really silly if I wear bunny ears. I know, it is pretty funny. Especially if I’m vacuuming with them on while you’re in the Ergo. Sometimes I just hope for someone to knock on the door.

You have been seeking out books and music lately. Sometimes you will chase us down, crawling several feet with a desired book in hand, and throw it at us. I have a few book bruises on my legs to prove it. The current downstairs favorites include Barnyard Dance (probably because we sing it and add a nice foursquare twang to our tune), and Charlie’s Thomas book with buttons that make music. I love that you’re bopping your head and torso to the tunes. I can’t wait for you to shake your cloth diapered booty while you’re standing, too.

You are resilient. You can hit your head, get your toes stepped on, or be pushed aside and protest with a little more than a grunt. Therefore, when you do cry in pain, it completely breaks my heart and I search you all over for some horribly serious injury. Last week you dove into our radio nob and cut your ear. That was awful, but we all survived. I’m really hoping you’re not the kid that dives off of trees to fly like Superman. But I have a feeling we’re headed that way.

And oh, Miles. You are so silly and playful. No matter how many times we’ve gone through your nap and bedtime routines, you still try to play instead of sleep. You will do almost whatever you can to make me laugh and play with you, which now includes making silly noises, grabbing my face, clapping your hands and playing with your lips. It is incredibly cute, extremely tempting, and sometimes you win…but only for a little bit.

You’re also turning into a car driving machine. You have the “voom” noise down and are getting closer and closer to being able to beat Charlie in a race. For now, you’ll have to settle for your mom helping you get back the cars he’s always stealing from you. Granted, you often steal them first.

So, Mr. Miles William Love, today we celebrate your birth. We can’t imagine our family without you. You are dearly loved.