Nostalgia in a Tub

My lunch box today held a pleasant surprise - pimento cheese on whole wheat. This may sound a little dull, but I assure you, pimento cheese is one of my favorite sandwich fillings, yet I rarely have it. A couple of months ago I was craving the stuff, but couldn't find any at the store. After walking through three different groceries I came upon an extremely small carton for nearly $5. Too rich for my blood, I just kept on walking and considered making my own. A trip to Allrecipes.com yielded more pimento cheese recipes than I could read in a sitting, and before I could choose one to try the hunger passed. Funny how that works. When I am starving for something either the urge is sooo overwhelming it MUST be fulfilled (as mentioned in the CNN article about fatty foods being addicting), or it just goes away. This one did the latter, until a couple of days ago when I zipped through Walmart's grocery section to pick up some soda. Walking past the cheese cooler, my eye spotted a carton of the pimento spread for only $2.50. Naturally, I had to have it, and today my craving was finally appeased.

Pimento cheese, like many foods, has nostalgic overtones. My mom has described her mother making it at home when she and my aunt were young. I don't remember growing up eating this spread, but it does seem to be an old-fashioned type of food, or perhaps it just lacks the cosmopolitan flare we have come to expect from all of our eats thanks to Food Network's brigade of chefs. While I am happy to indulge in "fancy" food, as my son calls it, I am usually more satisfied with something that has a "down home" feel. I'm talking about dishes like fried okra, corn on the cob, cole slaw with pulled pork, fried chicken with potato salad, fresh green beans, and pretty much anything with cornbread. These foods seem to nourish the soul because they connect us to other times and places where family was the center of the home and home was the center of the world.

I remember fondly pulling carrots from Mom's garden, rinsing them with the hose and eating them on the spot. The same fate awaited the sunny yellow pear tomatoes we plucked from the plant and popped in our mouths, their midday warmth sweeter than candy. English peas, went this way as well. Looking back, I'm surprised my brother and I left enough to be picked and shared, but there always seemed to be plenty. These foods, fresh from the garden, were the heart of summer dinners at our house and still hold strong associations for me with every bite. These associations are not just for garden fare, but for food that comes from a simpler time when kids peddaled their bikes swiftly to be home for lunch, and moms yelled "Wipe your feet and wash your hands," when the door slammed without even checking to see who came in before setting a soft-bread sandwich filled with peanut butter and jelly, juicy tomatoes with salt and mayonnaise, or even pimento cheese on the table next to a glass of ice cold milk, which created a satisfying lunch meant to fuel the hours of running, skating, dreaming, and playing left before dinner.

We all Scream for Ice Cream

Ice cream is one of those foods that grows on you with age. My mother pointed this out to me during one of our marathon phone calls, and I’m beginning to believe it. As a kid, I enjoyed homemade peach ice cream and root beer floats. The occasional trip to Braum's yielded my favorite - rocky road - double scooped and pressed into a cone (the pointy-tipped kind that tasted like a cookie), but if given a choice between ice cream and some other sweet treat, I usually picked "other." More and more, though, I am discovering that I really like this cold, creamy dessert.

Recently, as we meandered around the mall, Jeff bought us all chocolate-dipped cones at Dairy Queen. These old-fashioned yummies were fun to eat, especially since the soft-serve inside was a twist of vanilla and chocolate together. Even the squat little sugar-wafer cone was good with the melted cream gathered in the bottom. While it tasted good, more importantly, the cone was just plain fun to eat. It made me feel like a kid again in the Oklahoma heat, slurping at the tip to catch any melted drippings. Obviously, the nostalgia factor is a real player here.

Last weekend as tall and shaggy accompanied me to the grocery, Jeff stuck his head out the door and asked for some ice cream. This presented a bigger task than you might think since there are so many kinds to choose from. I read labels for moose tracks, bunny tracks, and train tracks! Every kind of variation on chocolate was available from chocolate ice cream to mint ice cream with chocolate chips to death by chocolate which had a chocolate base, chocolate syrup swirls, chocolate chips, and crumbled pieces of chocolate cookies. Fruit flavors were abundant as well in variations of peach, strawberry, cheery, and apple pie. On top of the regular ice cream choices, there were at least 10 flavors of gelato and another ten sherbets. None of this even reckons the gourmet cartons located across the aisle from the regular stuff or the myriad ice cream pops and sandwiches nearby. Ultimately we brought home two cartons - birthday cake (vanilla ice cream with ribbons of butter cream frosting and pieces of cake running through it) and cherry royale (chunks of black cherries and chocolate chips in a cherry base).

To add to this yumminess, my son whipped up a chocolate cake which is, of course, the perfect complement to ice cream, especially the cherry. Mmm... moist cake, sweet frosting, cold creaminess, cherry bits - who could ask for more? So, the last few evenings we have feasted on the classic cake and ice cream combo, and with every bite I kept thinking, "I didn't realize I liked ice cream so much." Just about then a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake commercial popped on the television screen - what timing.

So, next weekend, when I am preparing for our final musical of the season (Tommy), I'm planning not an ice cream cake, but an ice cream pie that I made several years ago from a Sandra Lee recipe. Gooey Mud Pie includes a chocolate cookie crust and layers of ice cream, hot fudge, magic shell, and whipped topping. The recipe calls for coffee ice cream, but my notes show I used butter pecan since Jeff isn't a coffee fan. Of course, anything that goes well with chocolate - like mint, or the cherry in the fridge - would be fabulous. I can already taste it now!

Lessons Jenny Craig Forgot

My cousin recently found a CNN article that says research shows fatty foods are as addictive as cocaine. I believe it, and tonight's dinner fed the addiction. We had a deluxe (as my Grandmother would say) potato casserole and bacon-wrapped shrimp. My shaggy son wanted to know what we were celebrating with the fancy food, and I responded "Eating."

Let me start with the casserole which I found in my new cooking buddy, Best of Taste of Home, but of course I didn't follow the directions exactly. (You didn't really expect me to, did you?) The casserole starts with boiled potatoes cooked to fork tender. Then dress-ups like sour cream, cheese, butter, green onions, and cream of chicken soup are added to the spuds before baking for a lengthy 40 to 45 minutes. As my potatoes cooked, I rummaged the pantry for a can of soup, but found nothing suitable for the dish. I don't know how I could be out of all cream soups, but I was. (Perhaps someone lives in our attic and eats our food while we're at school.) Since I was soup-less I decided to use a jar of white pasta sauce - garlic and parmesan variety. I also added a good dose of salt and pepper because they make everything better. In the end, this dish was wonderful. Chunky potatoes, rich sauce, steam rising from the casserole when I took it from the oven - all the things I like to see. I'm betting it will be even better after it sits in the fridge over night. (I'm contemplating dishing it up with a scrambled egg for breakfast tomorrow!)

The shrimp dish came from the same recipe collection, but again I didn't quite do what I was told (bid surprise). First, I had smaller shrimp than called for. The bigger ones are a time saver since you don't have to wrap as many bacon slices, but the smaller ones are much less expensive in the grocery. I routinely buy the medium-size shrimp in 1 pound bags on sale for $3.95 while the large tiger shrimp run upwards of $7.95 a pound. For that much of a difference, I can spend an extra ten minutes wrapping bacon. The recipe also instructed me to include a fresh basil leaf in each little package. Alas, I just started over with my basil plant and didn't have enough leaves to even begin this task, so I decided to sprinkle them all with Italian seasoning and a little lemon juice. After they cooked until the bacon was crisp, a little barbecue sauce and goat's cheese went on top before a couple more minutes in the oven. While I am a fan of goat's cheese (love the creaminess!), it did not add anything here. I couldn't really taste it because the herbs, lemon, and barbecue overpowered it. So, next time I will skip the cheese completely. In addition, I think the Italian herbs, a good dose of garlic, and fresh lemon is all the shrimp really needs, so I'll probably skip the barbecue sauce as well.

Overall, the meal was wonderful. A nice glass of wine finished off the plate well, and Jeff did the dishes. Ah....bring on the addiction. (Photos of tonight's dinner are posted below/right.)

Chips (Sans Ponch and John)

All the interesting flavors of chips make my mouth water. At the grocery my son's mission was to choose a savory snack from among the Kettle chips because they were on sale and I had a coupon. (What could be better than that?) His selection was honey mustard, which was a good choice indeed. These are like having chip and dip all in one, only better since you don't have to worry about dripping. (Hey, who cares about the sticky crumbs? I mean, everyone should be able to lick and wipe his fingers on an old pajama t-shirt during movie time, right?) I shouldn't be surprised that I like this flavor, since Kettle chips are one of my favorite brands, even though I only buy them on sale. They are thick enough to be sturdy, but thin enough to have a lighter crunch. What a combination! I wanted to eat the whole bag but reigned myself in after a large handful. Luckily, I only have to share them with the child since the husband is not a fan of flavored chips. (He is a purist - ruffle cut chips with whipped cream cheese and chives dip.)

While my all-time favorite is probably sea salt and vinegar (especially in the Cape Cod brand), I'm game to try pretty much anything on a chip. Early in the school year Pringles coupons were bountiful, so my son and I systematically ate our way through the multiple flavors. Surprisingly, ketchup isn't bad, especially when coupled with a dill pickle flavored chip. (Heck, skip the burger and just make the flavor combo in crunchies!) The hotter varieties are alright, but one fire flavored chip tasted pretty much like the next, so why have so many variations? Another tasty flavor is Lay's brand limón. These little beauties are plenty tart and salty at the same time. I like to pick them up at convenience store pit stops when we're on vacation, and I make sure to get a good-sized drink to help ease the pucker.

One of the most interesting chip flavors I've ever had was green olive. Several years ago a colleague of mine showed up at lunch with half a bag of olive flavored chips. She explained that she was part of a test marketing group and a potato chip company had sent her four varieties to pass around and try. She had hosted a chip and martini party the night before (which I was not invited to, much to my dismay), and these were left. Knowing what a fiend I am for salty, crunchy, deliciousness, naturally she brought me the remainder of the bag, which I promptly devoured instead of my nutritionally sound tuna salad sandwich. Alas, I have not been able to locate these lovelies again, and my colleague never really explained how I could become a taste tester, too. (Some people just hog all the best jobs!) When I came home and relayed this saga to my family, my then 10-year-old-son was crest fallen that I had not saved a single morsel for him.

Ever mindful not to make the same mistake twice, I made sure the boy got a taste of those honey mustard chips today when I opened them. Of course, now that he has ignored them for the last ten hours, I think they're fair game.

Lunch Outing

We held the infamous yard sale today, but didn't do too well. When we closed up shop at 12:30 we had $83 to show for our efforts. I suppose this is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, but it is not what we had hoped. The boy, on the other hand, had a good day – ending up with $30+ by selling old toys for a buck or two apiece. All the little things sold, but not many of the larger furniture pieces, which is disappointing because we thought they'd be the first to go. Still, $83 richer meant we could splurge on lunch out, and my son (who loves Pei Wei almost as much as I do but wanted to be frugal) chose Panda Express in an effort to get something more interesting than a burger without breaking the bank. The kicker is I think it cost nearly as much to eat there as it would have to go to Pei Wei.

The two-entree plate seems to be the best deal, so I had orange chicken (Panda Express's signature dish) and the new honey sweet shrimp, which was quite good. While it was not rolled in coconut, the batter had a distinct sweetness that tasted like coconut milk. The orange chicken, too, was good but lacked the fire and interest of Pei Wei's orange peel dishes. Jade had orange chicken and mandarin chicken, which comes with a dark savory sauce that complements the tender bits of meat. I think he likes mandarin chicken even better than the citrus dish because it is so tender it practically falls apart when you touch it. While the entrees were actually better than normal for Panda Express, the fried rice was barely warm and the bill totaled $16 bucks and change for two of us. The two-entree plate runs $5.75, but tack on another dollar if you have shrimp. In addition, the "regular" drink is a medium and runs about a buck and a half, so add another $3 for sodas with lunch. By the time we were finished, we weren't sure it was worth the cash, especially when you consider that most of the plate was filled with the not-so-fabulous rice.

But, value or not, we had a good time because we took our plates outside and enjoyed the beautiful 75-degree spring day. Several kinds of birds were flitting through the nearby bushes and we took turns tossing them small amounts of rice. They approached cautiously, grabbing a grain or two in their beaks before retreating to the safety of the shrubbery. Some of the larger birds were bolder, but did not bully or rob from the smaller ones, much to our surprise. Another surprise was watching them deal with the two green peas I tossed over with a little rice. At first they ignored them completely, but when the rice was gone a couple hopped over to investigate. They looked at the peas suspiciously, hopped around them in a circle and went back to the bushes. Finally, another bird hopped out and inspected the peas for several moments before eating one. Once he had picked it up in his beak, another shot out and grabbed the remaining one. Guess the king was waiting for his taste tester!

We ended our lunch outing with a trip to the discount bookstore, one of the best places we know to while away some time. We were careful not to spend too much of our profit, but it was good to have money in our pockets, full stomachs, and volumes of books to peruse.

Morning Mash

Left over mashed potatoes make a wonderful breakfast. I know, you're probably grimmacing this very moment thinking, "Ew...mashed potatoes for breakfast!" But, why not? After all, we eat hashbrowns in the morning. Besides, these weren't just reheated leftovers, they were reinvented. (O.K., only slightly but I work under very tight time constraints for breakfast.) I beat a couple of eggs and added them to last night's yummy German spuds. I also threw in some extra salt and pepper and a little garlic powder. While some butter melted in my favorite large skillet, I made the potatoes into rough patties. Several minutes (about 5 on each side) later, these babies were hot all the way through and had a crispy brown crust. I tossed some grated cheese on top, turned off the heat, and let them sit for a minute or two while I poured juice, doled out vitamins, and pulled plates out of the cupboard. When I returned to my beautiful potato patties, the cheese had melted nicely and a spatula served them right up. Slightly crunchy on the outside, creamy and flavorful on the inside - these beat hashbrowns hands down.

Breakfast is kind of tricky. Americans generally eat "breakfast foods" like eggs, cereal, yogurt, oatmeal, etc., but I'm not always fond of many of these choices. My favorite breakfast involves a croissant topped with a slice of ripe, juicy tomato, thinly sliced smoked salmon, capers, and red onion. (Personally, I think this should be rounded out with a squeeze of fresh lemon into a moderately spicy bloody mary, but the breakfast sandwich alone will suffice if vodka isn't on the menu so early in the day.) I was introduced to this little treasure on our first cruise (ahh... room service) and have had it on each successive trip. Last summer, when my tomotoes were ripe and sweet, I purchased a small package of salmon and rolled it around chunks of garden goodness. It was heavenly - warm flavor, smooth texture, cool on the tongue during a hot July day...everything a person could want in a food.

It's funny how satisfying a bite of just the right thing can be. On any given day my favorite food is anybody's guess. It's all about what I'm in the mood for, how I'm feeling. Food is so much more than physical sustenance - it's an emotional experience. It can transport me to childhood, make me feel rich, give me courage, help me shut down, say "I love you" to someone in my life, and much more. So, sometimes it is important to get just the right thing for breakfast because those tasty morsels set the tone for the whole day. And today I heard "Mmmm..mmmm" all morning long.

A Dinner Hero

Tonight the hubby cooked and cleaned up to boot! I was attached to the computer by the fingertips, so he took it upon himself to rustle up some dinner, which meant something German (read meat and potatoes here). His choice - a delicious combination of German-style Mashed Potatoes (from Best of Taste of Home) and bratwurst. The three of us chowed this down like we were Survivor players who'd been eating bugs and leaves for months.

The potato dish was the highlight of the meal. Jeff peeled, cubed, and boiled some red potatoes. About halfway through cooking, he put in a couple of cubed Granny Smith apples. When the boiling was done, the recipe called for some cider vinegar, sugar, and salt, but he felt the potatoes were too dry and put in some milk for creaminess. In addition, he mashed them thoroughly even the instructions called for chunkier spuds. Meanwhile, he cooked a few pieces of bacon and used the drippings to caramelize a chopped red onion. When all was cooked, he crumbled the bacon into the potatoes and stirred in the onions as well. (The picture went for a presentation of the potatoes, onions, and bacon layered prettily in a casserole dish. This is great for company, but we're more interested in mixing all the flavors together - the easier to devour you with, my dear.) We were in love with these spuds at first bite. The only thing that could have made them better is black pepper and perhaps some garlic in with the onions. Heavenly bites of creamy mashed potatoes were filled with golden chunks of onion and bits of crispy bacon. I could live on this stuff!

Lest I forget these babies were a side dish, the (Johnsonville) brats (which we bought on sale) were good, too. Jeff cooked them in a skillet with enough water to keep them from sticking. They steamed under the lid before he removed the cover to evaporate the liquid and brown the sausages. Originally, I was going to make the potatoes while Jeff grilled the bratwurst, but this worked out well too. They were plump and juicy, slightly spicy and tender. They did not have that lumpy, mealy texture that sausage sometimes does. (This is my first venture into brats in at least a decade, so I was pleasantly surprised and would buy these again.)

Ultimately, my husband stepped in to be a dinner hero tonight, feeding the family with warm, comforting, hearty fare. It is this kind of teamwork that keeps our family running well. I enjoyed the night off from the kitchen and wonder if I shouldn't get "stuck" in my office more often.

Of Dinner and Jelly Beans

I am continually enamored with my crock pot Christmas gift. This morning while hubby showered I tossed strips of cheap steak (Yep, left from the buy one get two free sale), red onion slices, and barbecue sauce makings (ketchup, vinegar, garlic, paprika, chipotle sauce, Caribbean jerk seasoning, molasses, salt, pepper) into the pot and let it simmer all day on low. The aroma that filled the house when I opened the door this evening was heavenly. While Jeff went about chores in the back yard, I pulled out the beef strips and used a couple of forks to shred the meat. Then I added some corn starch to the pot liquor and simmered it on the stove to thicken it up. Finally, the meat went back into the liquid and we spooned the tender smoky-sweet filling over toasted buns. (Remember the other night's buns? For these I spread the butter on the inside and sprinkled on kosher salt and onion powder before running them under the broiler. Much better!) The whole conglomeration was punctuated by some cool and creamy cole slaw. (I like just a little sugar in my dressing because it offsets the vinegar nicely.)

After dinner Jeff headed back out to the yard and left me with the dishes, which is unusual because our deal is that I cook and he cleans up. However, since he exempted me from yard work in favor of fixing dinner, I think I landed the better end of the bargain tonight. Once the kitchen was ready for the white glove test (well, not really), I had a hankering for something sweet. Glancing through the pantry I found the Jolly Rancher jelly beans I've been nursing for a few days and proceeded to pour some out on a dessert plate. I realize this sounds odd, but I've discovered that jelly beans are better when separated by color. I like to have all the blues, reds, pinks, greens, oranges, and purples together rather than eating fruit salad in candy form. (Can you say OCD? I thought so.) In addition, color-coded candy is always fun to arrange into nifty designs. Generally I favor stripped pyramids, funky flowers, and starburst patterns. Once every color has been correctly placed, the eating commences in an organized way that creates new patterns when jelly beans are taken away. This all takes me back to a previous blog about how much I love Easter candy - perhaps because it is often as entertaining to play with as it is to eat. (Think "toot-sweet" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.)

Finally, all this thought of Easter goodies happily reminds me of the holiday dinner I won't be cooking this year. Jeff's mom has invited us to dine at her house on Easter Sunday. Excitement is in the air when a lovely meal is in store and all I have to do is show up and eat! (T-minus 17 days and counting.)

Those Who Are Tardy Do Not Get Fruit Cup

The first rule of good management is that providing food makes workers happy, so today the boss forked over for lunch. Many of our previous fearless leaders have not been as wise as our current principal since they called many more meetings and neglected to feed us so much as a cookie crumb even when the meeting was during lunch. Apparently this guy knows that if you feed them they will come - and we did.

Pizza was the special today, which seems to be a perennial favorite among students and faculty. School contest winners are frequently rewarded with this dish. (Donuts run a distant second on our campus.) Today's varieties included cheese, pepperoni, and sausage - basic fare - from Hungry Howie's, which resides across the street from the school. The pizza was alright, but not nearly as interesting as it could be. I prefer my pies smothered in peppers, onions, olives, mushrooms, and pineapple along with some added feta and parmesan cheese. Now that's a pizza. The crust, too, has to be right. Jeff goes for chewy deep-dish while the boy is fond of stuffed crust. My all-time favorite pizza base is Pizza Hut's pan pizza because it is slightly sweet, a little chewy, with a golden brown crunch on the bottom. In lieu of that, thin and crispy is always good. Hungry Howie's offered up a standard crust that held the ingredients but offered nothing extra in the way of flavor or texture. Still, beggars can't be choosers, so I gratefully ate my share of warm cheesy goodness during the meeting.

It seems to me that many employees could be easily appeased with a free lunch every now and then. It is an appreciative gesture, no matter how simple the fare. This has worked for me during department meetings when an offering of homemade cookies made it much easier for everyone to show up, sit down, and be quiet. (Even English teachers know it isn't polite to talk with your mouthful.) Often, our faculty is happy with a potluck as well, if someone only organizes the whole thing to begin with. Only this morning several English teachers were contemplating the benefits of a chili cook off held last year during AIMS testing. When I mentioned that chili seemed a little mundane, we decided that a dessert contest would provide much more excitement with judging in categories like pies, cakes, cookies, and other goodies. Just the thought of having a dessert buffet (and skipping "lunch" altogether) was enough to make our mouths water. Who could resist a chance to enter a dessert contest and taste all the goodies provided? Besides, winning could mean bragging rights for months to come.

So, I think when jobs get tough, as they frequently do for all of us, we should contemplate improving the situation with food. It brings a sense of camaraderie, comfort, and hominess to people and places we find stressful. Maybe that should be my new philosophy of life: When the going gets tough, the tough make something to share.

Not So Plain Buns

Burgers on the grill are so much better than anything at Mickey D's. Tonight we had Angus burgers with black pepper and blue cheese. These juicy and flavorful patties came from the freezer section at Fry's (Kroger). Normally they run $6 for a two pound box (6 patties), but they were on sale last week and I had a coupon, so I brought them home for $4. Though, I think even at six bucks they're a good buy. These burgers were rich and tender with the added bonus of having other "stuff" (like the blue cheese) already mixed in. (Other flavors were available, too, but these looked the most exotic.) I have to admit that there was not an overtly blue cheese taste, but the burgers seemed better than others I've eaten with a smoother texture. Of course, more cheese only improves things, so we added a slice of provolone to each sandwich. Other standard toppings - ketchup, barbecue sauce, mayo, lettuce, tomato, baby dills - also enhanced the overall experience, but one aspect we changed was the bun.

At the grocery store interesting buns can run up to $4.50 a package. I have a hard time paying that for white bread shaped into sandwich rounds, so I bought the el-cheapo-deluxe off brand of plain buns for 88 cents and performed a little dinner doctoring. When we ate at Native New Yorker awhile back, Jeff had a sandwich with a bun encrusted (sort of) in kosher salt and caraway seeds. Rummaging through my cupboard I discovered kosher salt and sesame seeds - close enough for government work. I popped the buns in the toaster and when they came out slightly crisped, I brushed the top with melted butter and dipped them in a mixture of salt and seeds. This perked them right up. Although, I must caution you about the amount of salt. Jeff said there was quite a bit on his sandwich at the restaurant so I went with a 50-50 mixture, but found it just a little too much in the long run. I think 60-40 or even a 70-30 seeds to salt ratio would be better. Still, the topping added a lot of flavor with very little effort and is something I will try again.

Upon pondering that topping I think other tidbits might be good too. For example, I might skip the salt and use finely grated Parmesan cheese. I also think brushing the top with garlic butter and then dipping it in Italian herbs would be good. For a Tex-Mex burger, maybe a little fajita seasoning would be tasty. I like the idea of adding some different flavors to a burger or any other sandwich, but having the seeds and salt on the outside made it a little messy to eat. Perhaps the inside of the bun is a better choice than the top. It might also toast and taste better by applying the butter and seasonings to the bun before toasting and then running it under the broiler to crisp. Whichever way I choose, this is definately a technique I will use again.

Doctored Dinners

I love trying new recipes for dinner, but I seldom follow them to the letter. Tonight we had Pizza Fondue from The Best of Taste of Home, but by the time I was done, I'm not sure it was really the recipe in the magazine after all.

Let me enumerate. The printed recipe called for half a pound of hamburger, but I used Morning Star Farms meatless crumbles instead. I also added about twice as many mushrooms as noted - after all, if you're going to slice the package up you might as well use them all, and be sure to get good ones (like criminis) instead of the plain white ones. Instead of the fennel, oregano, and garlic powder called for, I used a pre-mixed Italian seasoning plus some pepper and plenty of fresh garlic. Next, the recipe included two small cans/jars of pizza sauce, which I never buy because I think it is just over-priced spaghetti/tomato sauce. Instead, I used a jar of three cheese pasta sauce. I also put in a small can of chopped ripe olives, even though the directions said to use only two tablespoons. (I figure, why skimp on the good stuff?) When it came to the cheese, though, I didn't add quite as much. The recipe called for a total of 14 ounces of cheese divided between cheddar and mozzarella. That seemed like overkill to me, so I added a handful of each of those plus a handful of parmesan. This all melted beautifully and was just stringy enough to require a utensil for eating. Finally, I also added a spoon full of sugar to even out the acidity of the tomatoes. (I find this gives pretty much any tomato-based sauce a smoother flavor.)

So, in the end, I used the idea in the recipe book, but I didn't really make the dish shown. My version was quite tasty, and we gobbled it up with tortilla chips, and there was plenty left over for lunch tomorrow. It would be good spread across toasted garlic bread, too, like an Italian sloppy joe. The recipe is billed as a fondue, and for a party it would be yummy served in a warming dish with breadsticks. The dish has a thick chili consistency that makes it adaptable to many situations, and it's one of those recipes that is easy to personalize. It seems to me that some extra roasted veggies would be good in the mix. (I had some in the fridge; guess I should have tossed them in!) It would also be good made with a Mexican flare - green chilies, a few shots of chipotle, a combination of tomato paste and enchilada sauce, etc.

Whatever you do, be sure to jot some notes in your cookbook next to the recipe. (I know. Your teachers told you to never write in the book, but this one's yours, so it's o.k.) I usually write down what I changed and thoughts about how I might make a different version in the future. This is always helpful several months down the road when I'm flipping through recipes looking for inspiration. My books also carry notes about whether or not the guys liked the dish, and if it would be good for company or a potluck. This information saves me time when I need to come up with a luncheon contribution in a hurry. My notes are often the best part of the whole experience (well, next to eating) because they show my creativity and adaptability in the kitchen. Eventually, I'm sure my son will end up with some of my cookbooks, and he'll have some built in advice to get him started - just like I did when Mom gave me her cookbook all those years ago.

So tonight, try something new and make it your own.

Fabulous Fritters

I just couldn't stand another day of working and not cooking, so I kept it simple with a nice meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. But the real treat came at television snack time - banana fritters. Fritters are one of the best foods ever invented because they're so darn versatile. They can be sweet or savory, made with vegetables or fruit. Truly, who can resist piping hot fried dough?

For banana (and sometimes apple) fritters I start with basic corn fritter batter (egg, flour, milk, baking powder, salt) and put in two or three mashed overly ripe bananas. Then I usually throw in some brown sugar and cinnamon for good measure. This all gets thoroughly mixed into a medium-density batter that is dropped by spoonfuls into hot (375 degrees) oil and fried until golden brown. After draining them for a minute or so on paper towels, I dust them with powdered sugar (yum). Though anything fried like this sounds heavy, fritters really aren't because they're just the right size for one or two bites.

When I was a kid my mom often made corn fritters which we ate with maple syrup, so whenever I make these treats I think about how lucky I was to have a mom who treated us to homemade goodies, and much I loved to eat them. My kid loves them, too. Actually he stuffed a couple in his mouth on the way out the door and called dibs on several more asking me to save them for him until he returned. (He went to a dance at a nearby church with several friends. Ultimately the dance wasn't much fun, but he was happy we left him some sweet fritters.) The hubby was appreciative of these little beauties as well. (Of course, when is he not appreciative of something sweet?)

Truthfully, tonight's dessert was at his behest. He's been watching a few bananas turn brown all week. I suspect he let them go on purpose. After all, you can see when a banana is just starting to get a little too ripe and eat it right away. However, he did not eat any of them. Instead he checked the fruit bowl daily and mentioned the bananas were starting to get dark. Then, after a couple of days, he mentioned they were really too dark to eat on their own. (Note, however, he did not throw them away.) Finally, yesterday he wondered aloud if they might still make good fritters, and today (lo and behold) batter was fried.

Apparently I'm just a pushover when it comes to food. I saw Jeff eyeing the angel food cake in the bakery section, and I've already checked the cabinet to make sure I have a mix. Guess I know what I'll be baking tomorrow. Alas, a cook's work is never done!

Off the Wagon

Writing about food every day can be a challenge, especially on days when I don't cook anything - like today (actually, the past several days). Spring break at our house means one of two things - vacation or home projects. While vacation is definitely the better of the two choices, since we cruised on October break we decided to stay home and work this week. So far we've cleaned out, painted, and redecorated two rooms, bought a truck load of plants, planted some of them, and figured out our federal and state taxes. We were planning a garage sale on the morrow, but alas time worked against us. We're not ready for the sale, and there are plants waiting to go in the ground.

My point here is that we've been bad this week. On Tuesday we ate at McDonalds, on Wednesday I brought home chicken from the deli counter at Walmart, and today we snuck in a trip to Burger King without the boy's knowledge. (He had a friend over while we were raiding the garden department at Home Depot, so we picked up a bite without him, which would probably make him sad if only he knew.) I haven't been to the home of the Whopper in ages, so I was surprised to see a lime-cilantro fish sandwich on the menu, which sounds better than it actually tastes. It suffered from a sufficient lack of lime, I think. However, to the restaurant's credit the food was freshly made and quite hot - even the fries. (This is actually a separate discussion in itself since hot, salty fries are too wonderful to dunk in ketchup or lump in the same category with a so-so fish sandwich.)

On the bright side of this week's food debacle, my son actually ate leftovers today! Yesterday I made chicken enchiladas for dinner, and today he managed to put a large portion on a plate and reheat them in the microwave. This is miraculous, indeed, and all the more so because he put a paper towel over the top to keep it from splattering. (Oh, be still my heart!) I think this little spectacle was meant for his buddy who demonstrated the process by heating up a bowl of Chunky soup. I'm sure it was not intended to show his decrepit parents that he could actually feed himself because that might mean they would expect him to do so more often. I should probably add here that he is capable of cooking many dishes on his own. He has even been known to have dinner (including Mexicali chili mac and a from-scratch chocolate cake) waiting for us when we work late; however, he only manages to comprehend the use of cooking utensils when I'm not home. If I am in the house - even if I'm working - he waits for me to fix a meal. I don't really know where this comes from since he's known how to fend for himself for many years. Of course, his food choices are often lacking in nutritional content. For example, four pieces of toast with jelly, or honey, or sugar and cinnamon are his idea of a good snack - though I must confess that I've been known to eat left over pie for breakfast - this morning, in fact.

Ultimately, we completed many chores around the house and we're ending the week with a sense of accomplishment and a resolve to do better on our Eat at Home Project, even when we're busy. Next time we have home improvement chaos, we'll have to plan ahead with leftovers in the fridge or frozen goodies to keep from spending our dough on take out.

Time for Pie

Tonight we came home from the theater to black bottom pie. I realize this was not on last night's candidate list, but as we ran some errands today we decided to use the gift certificate to Croshaw's Gourmet Pies. Unfortunately, we didn't arrive until nearly 1 p.m., so the selection had dwindled a bit. I had hoped for rhubarb or raisin cream, but both had been sold. There were tempting citrus flavors available like key lime, lemon meringue, and sour lemon cream. Of course, fruit pies were available in apple, cherry, and strawberry, but the boysenberry was already gone. After surveying our choices we all agreed on the black bottom pie which the friendly lady behind the counter boxed up and presented for travel.

Upon arriving at the house, I slid the pie into the fridge and walked away, which wasn't easy considering the boy and I really wanted to cut it right then and there. Still, we vowed to wait until the appointed hour and went about our separate tasks. Over dinner (chicken enchiladas) we contemplated the pie, but decided again to wait until after the show per our tradition. (I'm telling you, it wasn't easy. I was even thinking about that pie during intermission.)

Finally, Blithe Spirit ended and we headed home to that lovely decadent pie waiting patiently in the fridge - and it was worth the anticipation. The crust was light and flaky, crumbling into buttery bits on the plate. The chocolate custard layer was richer than milk chocolate and had a creamy texture that was substantial but not too heavy. Next, the vanilla custard rested beautifully atop the chocolate, hugging it but not melting into it. This layer too left that creamy coating on the tongue. But the topping was the real piece of work on this pie. It tasted like heavy, luscious whipping cream, yet was denser as if it were partially made from the custard inside. In addition, where most black bottom pies have rum in them, this one smacked of amaretto making the top layer taste like a cross between cooked custard and a fluffy syllabub. Of course the chocolate drizzled across the top didn't hurt either. Heavenly!

While I'm sorry to say the play did not live up to my expectations, dessert was not disappointing in the least. It was every bit as good a pie as I could make, only better because I didn't have to. Had we paid for the pie it would have tallied in at $8.99 plus tax, so it isn't likely we'll be buying many desserts at Croshaw's. Still, for anyone who has more money than time, this is definitely the place to go for treats that taste better than homemade.

Another Day Another Dessert

Tonight I am once again considering what to make for dessert. Tomorrow evening we have tickets to Blithe Spirit, which requires something yummy to eat upon returning home from the show. We have always had pie after theater outings, so I began trying to decide what kind to make this month; however, my husband pointed out that we always have pie because we always end up at a late-night diner which has a decent selection of fruity pastry, but not much else in the way of desserts. So, he reasoned, I could pick any kind of sweet concoction I like if we're having it at home (which we are). This is a double-edged sword, since sticking with pie is easier, but opting for something new is more intriguing.

Immediately I opened my new Taste of Home collector's issue, which is basically a cookbook in magazine form, and found 24 pages of desserts in living color! The list includes ice creams, cakes, pies, and candies, but a few of the recipes are early front runners including Lemon Rice Pudding Brulee, Chocolate Cream Cheese Cupcakes, and Cinnamon Chocolate Nachos. Each of these looks like a winner to me, but of course the guys might be another story.

Both of them will opt for anything chocolate over a tangy lemon flavor, and Jeff isn't crazy about rice pudding. Unfortunately, that's probably my first choice, so I'll wait until break is over to make a batch of that which I can share at school. (Taking treats to work at least once a month has made me pretty popular in some circles.) As for the other two recipes, the cupcakes look more traditional. It's easy to imagine myself enjoying these with a steaming cup of coffee after a night out. As a bonus, they remind me of the cream cheese brownies my mom used to make - a scrumptious perennial favorite at our house. On the other hand, the nachos look interesting. They're tortillas baked with a cinnamon-sugar coating and then drizzled with chocolate ganache. It looks like a chocoholic's version of Taco Bell's old Cinnamon Crispas (which predated the current Cinnamon twists and tasted much better). Jade would surely like this crunchy sweet creation.

Actually, now that I'm flipping through the book again other recipes are catching my eye - Chocolate Strawberry Truffle Brownies, Cappuccino Cherry Trifle, and Berry Cheesecake Pie. These all look equally tempting, though to tell the truth the homemade ice creams are appealing, too. Unfortunately, I don't have an ice cream maker. Of course, I could tell Jeff I'm giving him one for our recent anniversary. This would be a win-win situation since he adores ice cream and would jump at the opportunity to make it at home, and I would get a new gadget to play with. On top of that, he'd actually think the gift was for him. This is beginning to sound like the way to go. Hmm...I wonder if it's too late to go to Walmart.

Fast Food Run

I have to admit it; some days are made for McDonalds. At one point in the last 13 hours of painting walls, scrubbing carpet, assembling furniture, and hanging drapes the guys and I gave in to a fast food run, and it was worth it.

Even as I write, Jeff and Jade are still working - putting books on shelves and cleaning up the assorted detritis that comes with any home project. Ours is only half done. We decided to spend spring break working on the boy's rooms. Yes, this is plural because he has a bed room and a "play" room. The "play" room title seemed more apropos when he was younger, which is part of the reason we're redecorating. His rooms said tween, not nearly-ready-to-drive teenager. Today we focused on his bedroom applying gray and crimson paint to the walls, installing a new ceiling fan, putting up shelves and a bed from Ikea. Before we started this morning, Jade cleaned everything out of the rooms sorting all of his accumulated stuff into three piles - keepers, trash, yard sale (which, by the way, is slated for Saturday). This was a huge undertaking for my son the pack rat. (We joke that someday he'll be on one of those reality shows about people who horde things.)

Tomorrow is a new day and we'll tackle his living room formerly known as a play room. ("Gosh, Mom. Do you have to call it a play room? It makes me sound like I'm three!") That, too, will get gray and crimson paint along with some furniture from other parts of the house. The walls will be adorned with some of his drawings and a couple of posters, along with this growing collection of instruments - electric guitar, acoustic guitar, bass guitar, and banjo. (I'm told a mandolin is next on the acquisition list.) He also has space set aside for his keyboard, but lest you think this is purely a music room, there is also a television complete with a Wii. Of course, I'm sure he and his friends will spend a good deal of time in this room. This is the best reason to fix up the space because when the guys hanging out here, we don't have to wonder what they're up to. It's like that credit card commercial: television stand $50, new slip covers $35, frames for the rock posters $20, guitar hangers $40, knowing where your son is, who he's with, and what he's doing - priceless. So in the grand scheme of things I guess ten bucks at Mickey D's is insignicant after all.

Hungry for Hashbrowns

Advertising can be wonderful. After all, watching the television can give people all sorts of ideas about products ranging from the Shamwow to the Snuggie, from the Magic Bullet food processor to the Ronco dehydrator and jerky maker. The best commercials are those that pique our interest and spur us to action - even if we don't buy the advertised product.

Such is the case with an IHOP commercial I saw a couple of days ago. The restaurant was touting its latest creation - loaded hashbrowns. Since I've never met a potato I didn't like, my eyes were glued to the screen and my mouth began to water at the sight of the heaping bowl of slightly crispy hashbrowns smothered in sauteed peppers and onions, crumbled bacon, and country gravy. The thought of this luscious breakfast rattled around my brain, taunting me each morning, until I gave in to it today.

My version is slightly different, but every bit as tempting as the steaming mixture on t.v. While the O'brien potatoes cooked, I sauteed red bell peppers and mushrooms in olive oil. After removing the veggies from the skillet I added some chopped up left over Italian sausage to the skillet and cooked it until it turned a lovely caramel brown. Then, I used the pan drippings to make thick and creamy gravy. By the time the gravy was bubbling, the hashbrowns were ready. I stirred them together with the veggies, sausage, and some grated cheddar cheese before divying up the mixture into bowls and topping it with the hot gravy.

The result of all this cooking, stirring, and bubbling was a breakfast fit for a king. The potatoes had some crunchy bits that added texture to the gravy's creaminess. The bright red of the bell peppers looked good with the golden hashbrowns, and the mushrooms were a nice complement to the sausage. The three of us devoured our portions quickly, making me glad there was a fourth bowl already tucked into the fridge for tomorrow morning - after all, I'm always the first one up.

Ahhh...Pei Wei

The spicy sweet orange sauce unfurled across my taste buds with every bite of wonderfully seared tofu and crisp-tender veggies. The brown rice created a gentle balance to the flecks of hot red peppers, and the mandarin orange tea cooled my whole mouth. No, it wasn't a dream; it was lunch at Pei Wei. Jeff's parents took us out to celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary and I savored every bite of the dish I yearn for most of all.

Jeff, too, had a lovely plate full of Chinese goodness. He tried the new caramel chicken with a sugary-spunky sauce. While the fried rice was doused with the sauce as well, the bits of cucumber and pineapple provided a respite from the fiery heat that built up with each successive bite. Jade had his normal selection of sweet and crunchy honey chicken, plus whatever was left on anyone else's plate. (He is a growing boy, you know.) The in-laws had garlic-scented Mongolian beef (which glistened like smoky quartz in the afternoon sun) and a Japanese teriyaki bowl. In addition to the entrees, we had egg rolls all around with tangy mustard sauce. By the end of the meal I considered licking my plate, but decided that would be contrary to restaurant etiquette. (I'll admit it; if we hadn't been in public, I probably have gone for it.)

Following our lovely meal, we strolled the mall for well over an hour, allowing lunch to settle and making room for chocolate dipped ice cream cones from DQ. These were especially enjoyable since the boy ate the outer coating and proceeded to make funny shapes from the vanilla center. Imagine if you will a 6' 2" shaggy-haired 15-year-old wearing tattered jeans, biker boots, and a black hoodie standing in the mall licking ice cream into a flame-like shape, holding the cone above his head, and pretending it is the Olympic torch. (Why I don't carry a camera at all times escapes me.)

Following our mall escapades we headed to Sam's Club, where we activated a gift membership. This too came from the in-laws. I think they felt sorry for us because a couple of weeks ago we tried to snack our way through food and kitchen stores will little success. However, Sam's Club is known for its weekend tastings. Even though it was a quiet Sunday afternoon, there were still at least five sample stations set up around frozen foods, including one offering shrimp cocktail. (Of course, by this time we were stuffed, but we may have to graze around lunch next weekend.) After meandering the store, I came home with a bargain bag of avocadoes (yum) and the Best of Taste of Home 2010 which promises the 240 most requested recipes complete with photos. (Just skimming it looked good, so I can't wait to read the whole thing!)

All in all, I'd say it was a great day and a happy anniversary for us both filled with good food, good company, and hearty laughter.

Two for One and Other Deals

Today I performed my regular weekend magic trick called "Throw it in the Pot," which entails rummaging the pantry and fridge for anything that looks like it could make a one-dish meal. I started with two packages of boneless, skinless chicken tenders pulled from the freezer a couple of days ago. (These are part of a plethora of meats I recently purchased on sale - paying only $1.57 a pound for these babies.)Each package went into its own crock pot where one became an Italian seasoned rice dish while the other bathed in crushed tomatoes, green chilies, and chipotle sauce. While the two pots simmered I went about my Saturday routine of grocery shopping.

Grocery deals seem to run in cycles. Last week at Fry's I bought a ton of groceries on sale plus used nearly $20 in coupons. This is always fun since some items - like a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl - cost only 50 cents after the coupon is deducted from the sale price. In addition, later in the week we made a pit stop at Albertson's after school to pick up a loaf of French bread and stumbled across nice, medium-priced steaks at buy one package get two free savings. (Yeah, we double-checked the signs three times to make sure.) Then, upon check-out we were handed game pieces for a store Monopoly contest which yielded a box of free cookies from the bakery. (Not the cheap, hard ones, either. These were the large, brown-sugar laden white chocolate macadamia nut variety.) Today I had another coupon that netted a free honey wheat baguette from the Fry's bakery, which tasted great with the crock pot chicken and rice dish. (I shredded the other pot of chicken and saved the spicy sauce for enchiladas tomorrow night.)

I love a good deal and free is always better than cheap, but I've noticed a few things haven't been on sale recently including sodas. Arizona is considering adding a sin tax to sodas and junk food, ostensibly to encourage people to stop eating/drinking them and lose weight. I don't think it'll work, though. Let's face it, as a 45-year-old English teacher I don't have too many vices left. Sodas, coffee, and chips are among the biggest. (Yes, there is an occasional martini or bottle of wine with dinner, but certainly not to the excesses of my youth.) Does the government really think that adding 10 cents a bag to my chips or soda will keep me from buying them or encourage me to diet? (Oh wait, this is the government we're talking about. Never mind.)

Ultimately, grocery shopping has been fruitful over the last couple of weeks. I anticipate deals will wane soon, though, and recur just in time for Easter dinner, so I'll be keeping an eye out for all the goodies my freezer can hold.

P.T. Barnum Was Right

I love spring for a myriad of reasons. The sun shines warmly, but the days aren’t hot. The Lady Banks roses across my garden walls burst forth with hundreds of blooms and a light breeze wafts the delicate scent through the open window. The fruit trees leaf out and promise a summer harvest. But one of the best things about spring is Easter candy. (Yes, I am aware of the deeply serious religious ramifications of this holiday, but those don’t diminish the fun of all the little goodies available at the grocery store.)

The pale pink, blue, and green cellophane wrappers, the iridescent foils on chocolates, the sugared eggs with cut outs and royal icing – I love them all. However, my all-time favorite Easter candy is the marshmallow shaped bunnies and chicks. (Mind you, not the Peeps, but the ones that are the texture of pale orange Circus Peanuts.) I know this is a rather perverse choice given the wide variety of goodies available this time of year. I almost feel guilty that I’m not in love with something more exotic like Cadbury eggs or Dove dark chocolates (which the guys adore).

I think it’s the nostalgia feature. I’m particularly fond of candies I liked as a child including jelly beans (not even the gourmet kind, though the Starburst brand are fruity and flavorful), mallow rabbits (or pumpkins at Halloween), fruit slices in assorted flavors (the thin, almost translucent ones that are a little hard to come by these days), and spice drops (though we haven’t had those in the house since my son choked on one – to the extent that we had to call 911 – when he was little). All these chewy, sweet treats remind me of brightly colored dresses (which my mom made) and ribbon-bedecked Easter baskets.

My brother and I raced around the yard and through the house vying for the fullest basket; though in reality my parents made sure they were equal. After a holiday feast we picked through the goodies looking for our favorites for dessert, and then took the baskets to our respective rooms where I sorted my candy into small piles to be doled out over the course of the coming week while my brother ate all of his. Well, not really. He actually hid the contents so that on Monday when I was enjoying my allotment he could produce an empty basket and puppy eyes in an effort to convince me to share, which I did – every day for the rest of the week. After my candy was gone, he would eat his stash as well without giving me so much as a single bite. Being the gullible little sister, I bought his poor me act every year.

These days I have to contend with those sad eyes from my son, who also loves marshmallow Easter shapes. Last night Jeff brought home a bag of sugary goodies as a surprise. He promptly divided the contents between two plastic containers and handed one to each of us. My son wasted no time eating his entire share, while I ate a few before capping the container and putting it away to enjoy over the course of several days. I’m willing to bet that when I open my container this evening, there will be a shaggy-haired, 6’ 2”, 15-year-old puppy begging for some candy, and being the sucker I am, I’ll probably hand over the goods. Will I ever learn?

Update: When the time came the container was perceptibly lighter than I recall from last night. My son swears it fell off the shelf, popped open, and several pieces fell out on the floor. Of course, he didn’t want to run the risk of returning cat-hair infested candy to my stash, so he ate them. Hmm…

Scenes of a Caffeine Junkie

The cup of coffee taunts me, calls to me from across the room. If only it were mine. How can that woman ignore its steaming goodness so nonchalantly? For 10 minutes she has not so much as looked at the tall, slender cup sitting on her desk.

When her assistant produced it from a drink carrier, she merely removed the lid, sniffed the contents, and placed it on her blotter. Now the agony of the aroma is tugging at my brain, hinting at the chocolate overtones and creamy foam doused in liquid caramel. I don’t think I can stand it anymore! I need a plan.

Maybe I could create a distraction to lure her from the area while I abscond with her java treasure. Then what? She’ll notice the cup is missing, so I’ll have to hide it somewhere. But where? The conference room! I could take it to the conference room and drink it sitting in the dark. No, someone will notice my absence. Let’s see… I could put the lid back on and set it in the bottom drawer of my desk. It’s not likely anyone will actually stage a search for a missing cup of coffee. But, then how will I drink it?

The thought of it just sitting there, waiting, is driving me insane. I must have that coffee! Oh…her assistant is calling her to the reception area. I’ll just walk over to her desk and have a sip or two. … Oh my God, the cup is so warm on my fingers. Mmmm… I can feel the hot liquid coating my throat and radiating outward.

“What? What am I doing? Just leaving this report on the boss’s desk.”

That was close! I can’t believe her nosy assistant walked back in so quickly. Oh well, now that I’ve tasted the coffee surely I can get some work done.
________________________________________________________

How long is she going to leave that cup just sitting there? Why did she have her assistant buy it if she wasn’t going to drink it? At this rate it’ll be cold before she even tastes it. Obviously she doesn’t want it, but she doesn’t want me to have it either or she would have offered it up by now. What a witch! I must find a way to save that coffee from the horrific fate of becoming cold and bitter only to be poured down the drain in waste. After all, starving children in Africa would cry out for even one drink of that lovely coffee. What to do…what to do?

I’ve got it. I need to create a fairly large diversion. Would a flaming ream of paper do it? Probably, but that might also set off the sprinklers and the water would ruin the coffee. Could I jam the copier somehow? She’d just send her assistant to fix it. Oh…oh, I’ve got it! I’ll call her soon-to-be-ex-husband and tell him she’s in the midst of a nervous break down and wants to reconcile, but he’ll have to come over right now! That should create a big enough commotion in the lobby that security will summon her to straighten out the mess, and I’m sure her toady of an assistant will tag along to watch the fireworks. That will give me plenty of time to deal with the coffee.

“Martin? It’s Jen. I just want you to know that Samantha really misses you. She just hasn’t been herself since you broke up. … Well, I wouldn’t call except I think she really needs you. She’s shut her office door and seems to be crying uncontrollably. … No, I don’t know why, but I’m worried about her. … I’m so glad you’ll come right over. I think you may even convince her to take you back if you hurry. … Bye.”

It shouldn’t be long now; after all, his office is right across the street. My lips are tingling in anticipation of that coffee. … Oh, I hear something in reception. … Her phone’s ringing … Boy, does she look angry! Huh, and there goes her assistant hot on her heels like a yapping dog. Here’s my chance! I’ll just pour that coffee right into my trusty Harley mug and no one will be the wiser.
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“No, Samantha, I just can’t believe how low Martin will stoop to get your attention. I should call him up and give him a piece of my mind for lying about me that way. What a jerk! … I think you should take the rest of the day off. Your assistant and I can handle things here. Just go home.”
_________________________________________________________

“Hey Jackie, before Samantha left she said how much she enjoyed that coffee this morning. I think it made her feel like someone cared about her. Could you bring her another cup tomorrow? Great!”

This is Nothing Like New York

Third quarter ended today. Students went home at 12:30 and teachers did a dance on the way out the door to a celebratory lunch marking the coming of spring break and the last nine weeks of school. (Alright, our district is a little strange in that we still have two more days of school before break starts, but those days are technically fourth quarter. No, it doesn't make much sense until you remember that education is run by the government.)

Jeff and I decided to splurge by ignoring the sandwiches in our lunch boxes and heading to Native New Yorker for a break before we sat down to enter grades. Alas, we were disappointed in our choice, but the problems actually began the moment we hopped in the car. As the engine idled we debated where we could eat that met the criteria of proximity, price, and palatability. (Say that three times fast!) I nixed the local Chinese buffet because the food is insipid and just makes me long for Pei Wei all the more. Jeff ruled out fast food eateries on the reasoning that we had only eaten at McDonald's and QuikTrip since we started this project. That left Village Inn, Chili's, and Native New Yorker as options. Ultimately the third choice was settled upon because I had never eaten there.

Our first clue that we should get in the car and go back to our sandwiches was when we heard the hostess telling another couple that she didn't know how long the waitress would be because a group of 30 was being served. As we contemplated the ramifications of this information, we were lead to a booth with a "fabulous view of the parking lot." While our order was taken pretty promptly, the food was slow in arriving. (Did I mention there was a group of 30?) This probably would have been fine if the food had been great when it got to the table.

The menu touted homemade potato chips as a specialty. As I've mentioned before, I'm a fiend for chips of any kind, so I couldn't resist the temptation of the Buffalo Potato Chip basket (a stack of crunchy chips covered in crumbled blue cheese, drizzled with blue cheese dressing, and liberally sprinkled with scallions). The picture showed a heap of chips, with a central mound of cheese, swirls of dressing, and bright green scallion bits scattered across the entire dish. Unfortunately the reality didn't quite measure up. The basket was a good deal smaller and not nearly as full of chips as it appeared in the photo. In addition, while the chips were good, they did not really taste homemade. They were thin and crispy, but no better than a bag of Poore Brothers or Kettle Chips. I have to admit there was plenty of crumbled cheese, but it wasn't very blue. (I mean to say the cheese was fairly bland indicating a lower cost alternative to an excellent, tangy blue cheese like Stilton.)The scallions were also abundant, which helped spunk up the mild cheese, however there was very little dressing drizzled around the chips, and it tasted more like ranch than blue cheese. All in all, the basket is a great idea, but I could do much better with my own chips and cheese at home.

Jeff, too, was disappointed in his meal. He ordered a roast beef sandwich on a toasted bun encrusted with caraway seeds and kosher sea salt. (He had eaten this before at a Native New Yorker in another part of town.) When the sandwich arrived the bun was toasted nearly to the color of chocolate and looked like someone might have accidentally sprinkled some toppings on it. As the waitress passed by, Jeff asked her about the bread to which she replied, "I don't think that's even the right thing." A couple of minutes later she reappeared with a new bun top that had not been toasted at all before apparently being dipped in butter and a plate of the seeds and salt. She then "traded" the bun and left. While this piece of bread did have more toppings, it still was not even close to Jeff's expectation.

Perhaps we are just jaded. Perhaps we expect too much from eating establishments in the realms of quality and service. Perhaps we are just happier eating at home. Whatever the reason for our disappointment, we won't be going back to Native New Yorker again.

Planning Dinner

Life is sort of like fixing dinner; whether or not it's good or bad depends on how you make it. (Oh no, this sounds like a line from Forrest Gump!)

Think about it. There are many ways to go about fixing dinner that can be read as metaphors for constructing a life. You can plan everything out like a gourmet meal taking time to choose only the best ingredients, scouring cookbooks for the perfect recipe, and choosing the right wine to complement each course. Or, you can wander into the kitchen at 6:30 p.m., tug open the fridge door, and peer aimlessly into the cool interior until something strikes your fancy. Yet another option blends these two diametrically opposed approaches with some forethought of dinner rattling around your brain as early as 4:30 p.m. giving you ample time to pick up any ingredients you don't already have and thumb through your file for a favorite dinner menu. Whichever way you go about making dinner might indicate the way you live day-to-day life. At least that's the theory my friends and I knocked around over lunch today.

Friend one - who is single and perpetually runs a little behind the rest of the world - subscribes to the "Let's see what's in the fridge tonight" theory of life. She rolls out of bed each morning unsure of what the day holds. Will she have the kids write an essay? Will she show an interesting PBS special in preparation for a new literature unit? Will she be able to plow through the stack of yearbook deadlines looming on her desk? Only time will tell. Luckily, she has first hour prep, and by the time she idles into school she's awake enough to remember where classes left off the day before and where she's heading now. Still, if something interesting pops up on CNN in the middle of the day, she's not adverse to recapping the event and having a class discussion before assigning the kids a response essay. This quick change, follow-the-moment philosophy of work also applies to the rest of her life. She seldom makes advance plans with anyone, preferring to call up friends and family on a whim. This style makes her life interesting, but also often leaves her on the outside looking in since other people aren't as available on short notice.

Which brings me to friend two - who is married and runs her job, her life, and her family on such a tight schedule that no one would dare to flinch or breath out of turn. Lesson plans are written (I should say typed lest you get the idea she would have any sort of hand-scrawled notes lying on her desk)at least a quarter in advance. Any deviation from her pre-ordained schedule could be disastrous since each incremental step is crucial to the successful completion of any given project or unit. (Heaven help us when we have bus evacuation drills or someone pulls the fire alarm!) She is Wonder Woman incarnate, deftly deflecting any sarcastic bullets students shoot her way while using her lasso of truth to grade three sets of research papers in a single week. Her home life is similarly regimented in an effort to squeeze as much activity out of a day as humanly possible. Her kids are enrolled in karate, ballet, piano, and swim. She shuffles them efficiently among their destinations each afternoon, taking along her "mom bag" (a tote filled with all the things she needs to do coupons to be clipped, permission slips to be signed, family photos to be scheduled, and dinners to be planned) which helps her maximize her time. Whew! She can do more in 24 hours than most normal people do in a week, but she, too pays a price. All this go-go-go means she never gets to see the beauty in her backyard or daughters' faces.

Finally, there is the middle of the road approach that includes enough planning to provide structure and enough leeway to follow anything exciting that comes along. I like to think this is my philosophy of cooking and life. I plan out each quarter, but my notes are written hastily in pen and then marked through repeatedly when I change my mind. I see the big picture of where I want my students to go, but I've been known to chuck the vocabulary lesson in favor of writing poetry in the grass on a spring day. This kind of balance makes my life work at home too. I have specific tasks I attend to without fail - paying the bills, fixing dinner, getting groceries, balancing the checkbook. I've been known to host eight-course dinner parties for 12 people, but some nights I'm content to rummage through the fridge waiting for something to strike my fancy. Theater tickets purchased months in advance bring me pleasure, but so does an impromptu game of pool and dancing to the jukebox.

Truly, I think most people live this way - trying each day to plan far enough in advance to pave the road ahead, but not so far that all you see is asphalt on the horizon. Striving to strike this balance is another lesson I've gained from feeding my family every day. After all, we love those complicated meals, but we sacrifice together time to accomplish them. In turn, that sacrifice helps us realize that frozen pizza and movie nights are just as special.

Avocadoes, I Love You

I think that I shall never see a food as lovely as an avocado. Seriously, I could eat those puppies morning, noon, and night. (Though I think I would probably break out in hives because my mouth starts itching after two of them!)

Today's after school snack consists of smooshed (Yes, it's a word.) avocadoes with a little salt and lime juice. (Hmm...Maybe I like them because they come with the same trappings as tequila.) Of course, light and crunchy tortilla chips just add to the fun and flavor.

Avocadoes are one of those foods that people either love or hate. Some people are offended by the way they look in the bowl. (Jeff likens them to baby poop, but I've never really found this to be a deterrent.) Others take issue with the calorie count, but everything buttery and rich fits that category. Besides, one can point to the anti-oxidants and vitamins as mitigating factors. I can't imagine any negative comment about avocadoes that would keep me from eating them short of, "Mrs. Medlock, we at the Mayo Clinic believe you have developed a sudden and rare allergy to avocadoes which manifests itself in instantaneous death after only one bite." (Yes, those words would stop me in my tracks.)

My husband feels this way about chocolate. He has gone so far as to consider a vacation at the Hershey Spa in Hershey, PA., where people are given chocolate baths, chocolate facials, and chocolate massages among other options. I'm not sure I really want to bathe in my favorite food, though. Not only would it be squishy and messy, but the waste of so many edible lovelies might be more than my heart can take. Of course in Germany people seem to enjoy beer baths with entire spas centered on this activity, and my son says that Dr. Pepper is the elixir of life that ancient alchemists spent their entire careers trying to create. Still, I don't think he wants to bathe in the stuff - ew...sticky.

In the end, I guess we all have a weakness for some particular taste. Funny how some of us love sour, crunchy, salty foods and others are attracted to sweet, creamy, smooth sensations. Funny, too, how our tastes change over time. When I was a kid I never ate anything together. At dinner time food was placed carefully around the edge of my plate, and I would begin the meal with my least favorite item - turning the plate as I finished each thing - working my way to the best taste of dinner. Needless to say, casseroles were not my favorite foods. These days, I mix all kinds of things together on the plate - refried beans are intentionally plopped on top instead of beside the Spanish rice; baked beans are stirred together with potato salad or cole slaw; mayo, mustard and barbecue sauce adorn hamburger buns (among other fixings'), and I never hesitate to pour the odds and ends of several kinds of cereal in my bowl.

As I've grown I discovered that while some tastes are better in their purest form (avocadoes for one), most are improved when coupled with something else. (I'm a real fiend for sweet and salty together. The best example I've ever had of this is a milk chocolate dipped Pringle's chip.) Thus food echoes the wonderfulness of relationships in that the variation and infinite combinations keep it interesting.

A Few Homonyms on Eating

Peeking in the oven
waiting for the dough to rise
waiting for the moment to bake,
to become more than the sum of its parts

Peaks form in the bowl
beating round and round
beating out the rhythm of food,
the rhythm of sweet icing for life

Piqued after dinner
weight is forever an issue
waiting for my brain to stop
beating back the enjoyment of taste

Not So Renaissance Fare

We spent today at the Arizona Renaissance Festival, which has been happening each spring for the last 22 years. (Actually, our first trip to this festival was 16 years ago about a week before we eloped. Thus we always find it amusing, nostalgic, and a little romantic.)

Today's trip included several shows, activities, and (of course) shopping. What it did not include was eating at the festival. We resolved (after a couple of days of falling off the wagon) not to spend our money on the food. After all, it isn't really Renaissance fare at all. O.K., one stand sells the obligatory turkey leg we often associate with Henry VIII; however, not many average Janes and Joe's of the 1500's had ready access to chocolate covered strawberries, multiple flavors of frozen libations, gourmet sandwiches, stuffed baked potatoes, grilled Portobello mushrooms, cinnamon and sugar almonds, Hawaiian ices, pizza, French fries, chocolate covered frozen bananas rolled in crushed peanuts, or hot dogs on a stick. (Mind you, this is only a list of the food I readily remember. There were dozens of edibles for sale every 20 paces.) I'm guessing that normal people of the Renaissance era felt grateful for a crusty roll and a bowl of root vegetable soup with a pint of warm ale. (This reminds me of the Jimmy Buffet song "Cheeseburger in Paradise.")

To keep from blowing our budget on lunch, we packed a cooler of sandwich fixings, sodas, and chips. After watching a guy dressed in Three Musketeers clothing use a whip to put out a candle, attending The Ded Bob Show (a long-time favorite comedy act featuring a skeleton puppet that probably predates Achmed the Dead Terrorist by a decade), watching a family of musician/juggles, spending 20 minutes learning to play a bowed dulcimer, and some jewelry shopping, we had our hands stamped and headed to the car for lunch. The day had turned warm, but opening the doors and popping the top on the convertible relieved the heat. As we munched our various sandwiches (fruit pate and creamy vegetable filling left over from last week along with some deli roast beef and cheese), passed around black pepper potato chips, and sipped cold sodas, we planned the rest of the day's activities which ultimately included Zilch the Tory Steller doing a hilarious rendition of Jomeo and Ruliet, trying our hands at archery, visiting a palm reader, and attending a hypnotist's show where Jeff became one of the star attractions.

All in all, we had a great time (6.5 hours to be exact) at the festival and weren't even tempted to eat at the various booths because we had doled out spending money in advance and no one wanted to part with his or her cash for something so fleeting as a bite of frozen cheesecake. This is the second month in a row we have planned a lengthy family outing that included eating from a cooler. Not only are we no worse for the wear, but perhaps we're happier knowing we could have a snack from some vendor, yet choosing not to. In addition, this little project continues to unite us against the common enemy of wasting money and in unforeseen moments of laughter over shared picnics and canned sodas.

Dinner with Friends

At long last Friday has arrived and Jeff and I had dinner with a couple of compadres. Promptly at 6 p.m. we pulled up in front of our friends' eggplant colored house. (Several years ago it was painted a dark chocolate brown, but the relentless Arizona sun has faded it to the color of a roasted aubergine.) This makes the house easy to spot in the line of beige and desert sand hues, and seems to fit our friends well.

Upon arrival we were greeted, hugged, and introduced to the family dog - a plenty cute ragamuffin creature that one of our cats could eat for lunch - which proceeded to be my best friend for the evening. (It seems small, furry things generally like me, so I guess it's a good thing we don't know anyone with tribbles.) While Trish put salmon on the grill, her hubby gave us a tour of his lush, green yard. Two medium sized trees flanked an in-ground spa and were surrounded by stacked stone planters encompassing colorful ground covers. One side of the house sported a water feature and koi pond with a three step mini bridge leading to a park bench. The other side of the house had a lattice shade structure covered in pale green climbing vines. A small fountain added to the ambience of the outdoor eating area. After the grand tour, we adjourned to the kitchen for liquid refreshment, and then on to dinner seating.

The dining table was a straightforward, square, wooden affair with bar height seating. We took our places around the table laden with a bowls of herb and butter rice, fresh mixed fruit (strawberries, blueberries, pineapple, and cantaloupe), steamed assorted vegetables (broccoli, green beans, carrots, and mushrooms), warm bread, and a platter of delightfully cooked salmon. Our hostess doused the fish with butter and fresh lemon juice before wrapping it in heavy foil and putting it on the grill. The product of these ministrations was a delicious salmon that was pink, flaky, and tender with a slight crust on the bottom. Dinner began with holding hands and saying grace, a warm and welcoming tradition for all who dine with our friends. As we conversed and ate, I found the food so wonderful that I could barely restrain myself from heaping my plate with far more than my share.

After practically licking my dish, I was not even allowed to help clear the table or wash the wares. (Have I mentioned I LOVE eating at other people's houses?) Conversation continued over a lively game of hearts which was accompanied by the brownie cheesecake dessert we brought. (This is really great, and I found the recipe in an ad for Philadelphia cream cheese! Begin by making a batch of brownies - from a mix or scratch - and baking the batter for about 15 minutes. While it bakes, make a cheesecake batter, too. Pull the brownies out of the oven; pour the cheesecake layer on top, and put the pan back in to cook. YUM!) The hours passed quickly and we finally found ourselves standing at the door bidding our friends goodnight and thanking them for a lovely evening.

On the way home we talked of how lucky we are to have friends with whom we can laugh, play, and eat. We also talked of people we'd like to be closer to, and wished they had time for such frivolities. Finally, we reminded each other that making time for joy is what life is about. Taking every opportunity for fellowship and laughter becomes more and more our priority. We have learned not to allow work to rule our lives as much as to use it as a tool to accomplish our goals (both personal and financial). We know work will still be there on Monday - the papers will get graded, next fall's music will be chosen - but we will be better equipped to complete it because we made time for our friends tonight.

Concert Night

On concert nights the boy and I are on our own for dinner. Jeff doesn’t even bother coming home after school only to change clothes, gulp down leftovers, and return to prepare for the show. His routine these days includes a quick trip to Quiktrip when school is over at 3 p.m. to grab a hotdog and drink. Then he spends the next few hours preparing notes, double-checking the PowerPoint, making sure the seating charts are in order, making sure the risers are centered, and endeavoring to keep the microphones operating (which is often a lost cause, but he tries anyway).

Meanwhile, I head home to hang out with our son until the concert starts at 7 p.m. (One of the perks of being married to the director is having reserved seating so we don’t have to show up early when the doors open.) The fact that several hours belong to just the two of us normally means having dinner out before the show, and tonight will be no different. Right now you’re probably asking “What about this whole eat at home thing you have going?” Let me explain. Concert nights are generally hectic at our house because Jeff isn’t there to lend a hand. This evening I have to make a dessert to take to a friend’s house tomorrow, so I’ll need some quality time with the oven, which precludes throwing in a frozen pizza. In addition, my son has to hunker down over some biology notes if he hopes to ace tomorrow’s test. Thus, the stars are conspiring against us to eat at home, though in reality we could have some leftovers or grilled cheese sandwiches.

The truth is I am more inclined to indulge my son’s propensity for fast food when it’s just us. A stop at Mickey D’s yields precious time to hang out with my teenager. After finishing our separate responsibilities, dinner on the way to the concert allows me to hear about my teen’s day and laugh over his various antics. Those thirty minutes we spend sipping sodas and eating fries allows us to connect better when we’re in a hurry. For example, on the night of the fall concert, we stopped at Wendy’s for dinner. Over baked potatoes and Frosties I heard all about a girl in my son’s guitar class inviting him to a Rave. The amusing part of the story was how he used me as an excuse to say no. I’m not sure I would have heard this little tidbit if I had just handed him a sandwich as he went downstairs to get his homework done. That night, and others like it, demonstrated to me the value of a few dollars used to gain meaningful time.

So tonight we’ll hit the chores and the books, but we won’t skip our traditional stop at a local eatery before checking out what my husband’s students have accomplished this quarter.

Stirred, Not Shaken

Cocktail parties are a lost art. Remember when women slipped on a little black dress, spiky shoes they'd never wear to work, and some stunning look-at-me earrings? Alas, no more. The last cocktail party we had was themed around martini tasting - a pastime we engaged in on a cruise last fall. Here's how it works: the bartender (or hostess) chooses four or five different kinds of martinis for everyone to taste. Each variety is faithfully made (preferably while telling jokes, shaking the cocktail, and swinging your hips to the rhythm of imaginary music) and distributed into shot glasses for each person to taste. After working through each chilly sample, guests name their poison which is then prepared full-scale.

On the cruise ship, this entertainment occurred with a large group of people crowded around a circular bar whooping and harassing the goof-ball bartender who had a myriad of lewd, martini-related jokes/trivia questions. However, since our home is nothing like a Royal Caribbean bar, I assumed we would be more civilized. As a matter of fact, during the planning stages of our soirée my over-indulged imagination conjured up scenes reminiscent of James Bond flicks with beautiful, sophisticated men and women laughing throatily while sipping martinis and nurturing a sense of ennui. I realize this is far too much to expect from a group of loud teachers on the outskirts of the Phoenix metropolitan area, but somehow my brain sucked me into this idyllic cocktail scenario, much to my chagrin.

From the very first the party did not live up to my Monte Carlo expectations, especially since no one showed up on time. (Now, I know what you're thinking. Aren't people supposed to be fashionably late to parties? I suppose that's true, however when you're creating finger food and planning drinks all day, you become fearful when no arrives at the appointed hour. On the other hand, their tardiness does provide an opportunity to begin sampling the wares in peace.) Eventually, when everyone did arrive 30-40 minutes later, I was alternating between biting my lip while I wondered what to do with all the food and drinking my second martini in an effort to calm frazzled nerves.

Once people started showing up, it was finally my cue to begin mixing the libations. This part went well, and everyone tasted each drink thoughtfully. In addition, there were ample jokes about how many shot glasses we owned since each round was served up in a different set. (Yes, we bought them - on discount at Ross - specifically for the party, and I'm currently looking for other possible ways to employ the collection.) This only added to my reputation of enjoying a stiff drink now and again. (After all, Ben Franklin said all things in moderation!)

By the time everyone had sampled each type, the noise level had grown considerably. Women kicked off their perky little heels that matched their best trendy jeans and picked through the crudités. Guys plowed through the heartier snacks and were on their second plate filling. Full size martini glasses brimming with flavored vodkas, lemon twists, and frozen cranberries were passed among the partiers who were now headed to the basement for pool, air hockey, and foosball. (I don't remember seeing those in Ian Fleming's fantasy world.)In short, the group evolved into a raucous gathering that did not even remotely resemble the fairytale in my head.

But who really cares. Apparently our friends are not the sophisticated jet-setters we all envision for our parties. Ultimately, though, we laughed and sang - we played games and harassed one another until the designated drivers said it was time to go home. In the silence of the house at the end of it all, Jeff and I clinked our glasses one last time as we enjoyed the steaming spa in the chill night air and agreed that life is, indeed, good.

Project Update

Our project seems to be getting easier as time passes. The convenience of eating out has been replaced by the convenience of frozen food, which at first seemed a little like cheating. However, the goal of the Eat at Home Project was not to cook something every night (although that would be wonderful), but to save the money we used to spend on eating out.

Even the small amount we allowed ourselves ($20 a week – which you may recall is about one third of the amount we averaged last year) is running well under budget. We could have spent $160 so far, but we’ve only spent $87.29 - just over half. In addition, our grocery bill has not gone up as I anticipated it would. In reality, we are even spending less at the grocery store. (I attribute this to eating meat which is a good deal cheaper than vegetarian products.) Of course we’ve been shopping sale items and clipping coupons for several years.

As we progress into eating at home more and more it becomes a little painful to spend any money at restaurants. For example, when we arrived at the mall last weekend, my son announced that he had not eaten breakfast and was hungry. (This ploy was often used in the past to gain lunch at a nice restaurant.) But our solution on this occasion was to fork over only $2 for two of the value menu cheeseburgers from McDonald’s. This was enough to appease the boy, but not enough to damage the budget, and Jeff and I are growing more protective of that $20 weekly cushion. (I must admit here, however, that our son has repeatedly pointed out that we are allotted that amount and should, therefore, spend it. He has even suggested that we would be helping the economy by doing so.) Of course I’m more interested in helping our personal economy right now.

Even if the general economy rebounded tomorrow, I don’t think we’d be eager to go back to our old habits. After all, we didn’t eat fast food because we particularly liked it. Frozen popcorn shrimp in the oven is just as good (and much less expensive) than Long John Silver’s. Tacos at home are better than either Taco Bell or Del Taco because we can build the “grande” kind with plenty of cheese, tomatoes, black olives, smoky chipotle salsa, and sour cream. (And variations like sweet potato tacos are even better!) In addition, the higher ticket restaurants often disappointed us in their bland sameness, not to mention the noise levels.

The only restaurant I actually miss is my perennial favorite – Pei Wei. The food there is never disappointing with sauces ranging from sweet to savory to fiery. I love that any sauce – spicy orange, sweet honey, tangy lemon, and more – can go with any meat (shrimp, chicken, beef, pork, even tofu) and any style (seared, stir fried, breaded). Sometimes pan-seared tofu with spicy orange sauce and vegetable fried rice dances through my dreams. Other nights honey chicken is the entrée of choice complemented perfectly by crab rangoons. When the alarm sounds at 5:30 a.m. I awake to the faint aroma of sesame oil and stir fried onions, which quickly fades from my brain but leaves me yearning for just a bite of deliciousness. (Sigh.) Perhaps Jade is right after all.

Sweet Thoughts

Tonight I am ruminating on dessert. I have to make one. (I know what you're thinking. "Jenny, you don't have to make one; you just want one.") But I tell you truly, I have to make one. Something inexplicable happened. Jeff and I have been invited to a friend's house for dinner on Friday (Yes, I plan to eat and tell!) and were asked to bring a dessert. Honestly, Jeff and I were so excited that someone else is cooking that we gave each other high fives and did a jig around the table. (Don't hurt yourself falling out of the chair laughing at this vision of gracefulness.) So tonight I must start contemplating what we should take.

Our hostess is serving salmon (a light and delicate epicurean delight - I hope), so it seems to me that something decadent is in order. My first thought, of course, is something chocolate, but that seems a little obvious. The next idea I have is to make some sort of cupcake bouquet, (Sandra Lee has a beautiful one on the cover of this month's magazine.) but I don't think four of us really need two dozen miniature lemon cakes covered in butter cream frosting. What about a pie, I pondered. However, I plan on making a butterscotch meringue for this Saturday night's theatrical outing to Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit, so two nights in a row seems like overkill. (Although, if I wane lazy I could use that pie shop coupon Jeff received for Christmas.) Still, the idea of being invited to someone else's house for dinner seems to call for something homemade - after all, I want to be invited back. Cookies are always an option, but that sounds more like something I would send with Jade when he's off to Alec's house rather than something worthy of an elegant salmon dinner. A classic bread pudding made from cinnamon rolls and topped with a buttery vanilla sauce is homey and wonderful at the same time, but not Jeff's favorite. (Though I have to add that if I made one and took it with us, he would eat it just to be polite. What a guy.)

Perhaps a cheesecake is the ticket - rich and creamy, especially filled with chocolate chips and slivered almonds. Actually, the best cheesecake I ever made was of the Neapolitan variety. After whipping up the regular batter, one third was mixed with melted chocolate and another third with pureed strawberries. The batter was then layered over a lovely graham cracker crust before baking. Yum! Another hit at our house was Paula Deen's pumpkin cheesecake (wow), and who could forget the Grand Marnier cheesecake on a chocolate cookie crust. (I seem to be caught up in cheesecakes. Perhaps it's time to move on.)

Unfortunately, some of my favorite desserts - like bananas foster, fried ice cream, and baked Alaska - don't travel well. Can you picture me rummaging through my friend's cabinets looking for the perfect skillet, perusing her kitchen drawers for a sturdy spoon, and igniting a pan full of brandy only to set off her smoke alarms? Yeah, I can too, but I don't think my friend would appreciate it much. (Although, I have a single girlfriend who would probably love for me to cook dinner at her house, but that's another story.)

It seems there is only one good way to solve this dilemma. I must spend the evening with a stack of cookbooks. Alas, it might take two hours of pouring over luscious desserts before I find just the right concoction for the occasion. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.