Someone mentioned foie gras.

When BigGirl was 10 months old, I left her for the first time.  I spent a week in Baltimore for corporate training.  I sat in the airport, waiting for my plane, crying.  The novel I had borrowed from a friend was unable to distract me or lift my spirits.  I carried in my purse a piece of paper with four inkjet printed pictures of FireDaddy, BigGirl, Bo and I smiling together in the warm spring sunshine of my parents’ back porch. 

My week in Baltimore was mentally exhausting and emotionally draining, but good, nonetheless.  I met people from all over, laughed till my sides ached, collected expense receipts, explored the Inner Harbor area, shopped for souvenirs and frequented the hotel lounge with my new girlfriends.  At night, I would call home and miss my baby more and more with each day that passed.  I slept hard every night, a nice escape from the loneliness bottled up inside that hotel room.

That’s when I met Jane.  Jane had just moved to the States from France, where she was formerly employed by the French division of our company.  Amidst an international company conference, she met the American man who would be her husband.  He quickly swept her off her feet and ushered her across the Atlantic to a new life as his wife. 

Jane wore her French nationality like a feather in her bonnet.  Her jet black eyeliner extended beyond the corner of her eye just slightly, and angled up towards her brow, à la Cleopatra.  She kept her mocha hair neatly tied at the nape of her neck in a bun or simple ponytail.  The way she wore her Land’s End company logo button-downs made them look not only feminine, but sexy.  Her black heels flaunted toes that reached a sharp point and industrial-sized buckles and grommets.  They looked like pure couture beside my Mossimo heeled sandals.  Everything she said was music – a beautiful love song, whispered between sheets.

I suppose I had a bit of a “girl crush” on Jane.  I was completely enamored with her.  I hung onto her every word.  I found myself wanting to ask her to tell me everything – tell me again how you met your husband, about your family, about school.  What of the French division of the company? What does your home look like?  I wanted to know it all. 

At the time, my brother lived in Silver Spring and worked in Baltimore.  Sometime midweek, after being dismissed for the day, I left my room at the Hilton Garden Inn, hopped into his Murano waiting at the curb, and headed to dinner.  He took me to a French restaurant he and his wife enjoyed on occasion.

We sat at a cafe table outside, just within the low wrought iron fence.  As my eyes surveyed the menu, early French vocabulary lessons replayed in my mind…poisson, haricots, les frites, jambon… Finally, I chose a lovely skate with capers and brown butter.  It was magnifique.

The night was wonderfully delicious.  The spring night air was cool and helped me stay awake, despite wine and fatigue.  We laughed and had a wonderful visit before I collapsed in their downstairs guest bedroom. 

The next day, surrounded once again by the neutral corporate classroom, I couldn’t wait to tell Jane about my dinner.  I couldn’t remember the French word for skate, and the English name had no meaning to her….which is actually quite funny.  A skate is closely related to a ray…and the French word for skate is “raie”.  I struggled to define the fish with my words and hands until, finally, our minds connected again.  She smiled and reminisced about her mother’s cooking and meals with her family at home.  And, again, I listened with envy and admiration.

I never saw or spoke to Jane again after that week.  But, I’ll never forget her.  She is filed neatly away in a beautiful drawer in my mind marked “France” – alongside images of the Eiffel Tower, Le Louvre, L’Arc de Triomphe, fields of lavender in Provence, charming boulangeries, and bridges crossing the Seine. 

I bought a French guidebook last week.  It was on clearance at a bookstore going out of business.  Someday, hopefully not too far away, that will come in handy.

 

Photo credit:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/scpgt/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Weekend in the Kitchen

Having spent virtually my entire long weekend in the kitchen, I have little to share other than the history of a meal.  As I was slaving away over a hot stove, though, I fell in love with capturing the beauty of a working kitchen.  Really, the colors and textures of food and kitchen prep are quite unique. 

I thought I’d share with you a smidgeon of my photo journal from this weekend (because I’m sure you dying to see, right?). Some photos mark beginnings of the meal – dressing that begins with chopping vegetables, pies that are born from raw crusts, the baby white fluff of marshmallows before they’ve been baked to a golden brown.  There are photos of the process. Mushrooms sizzling in a pan for the homemade mushroom gravy in the Best Ever Green Bean Casserole.  Roasted pecans (the second batch – I got distracted and forgot about batch number one…fed them to le garbaage) for the sweet potato casserole.  Wild rice for My Mama’s Dressing steeping on the stove next to the cooling iron skillet in which my sweet corn bread baked.  And, finally, the reward.  There are many more, of course, but I chose not to include faces in this collection. You may insert your own, if you wish.

Oh, yes.  And, if you look closely, you’ll figure out my “oops” that happened on the day of our family meal…and have an idea for a Christmas present for yours truly. 

 

 

I hope you all had a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend.  ‘Tis the season for dishpan hands. :)

Monday Mentions 3

Welcome to this week's Monday Mentions: Quasi-Diet Edition.

• I just NOW (as in right before I started this post) discovered this site. The pictures are GORGEOUS and make me drool. One day, my home will be beautiful like these pictures.
• In keeping with my weight loss theme of late, this is a podcast series I discovered this summer. I (ahem) am a "little" behind in my listening, but I've really loved what I have heard so far. It's a very peaceful, relaxing podcast to enjoy and I suggest you keep a journal with you while you listen.
• I also stumbled upon this site (thanks to the Over the Top Meme...link, to link, to another link, and LOVED these pictures). For those of you crafty ladies out there (I'm crafty in my mind...), you will love some of these projects. And, it appears for those of us NONcrafty folks, we can purchase some special items here, too.
• Also inspired by my current diet, I'm eating a lot of cottage cheese. Mmmmm...yummy. While, this week, I'm not enjoying this particular variety, one of my favorite cottage cheese products is Rachel's Cucumber Dill Cottage Cheese. It also comes in other flavors and, apparently, she makes yogurt, too. Try them!
• This morning, I really enjoyed this post by WeaselMomma. It's a little sad, a lot sweet, and is hanging out in my heart with me today.
• I cannot wait to make this recipe this week! And, I am still so proud of the great price I got on wild caught Alaskan salmon fillets this weekend at SuperTarget! Sometimes, it pays to shop around.
• Some of my readers have wondered where I find my photos to illustrate my posts. A while back, Melanie tweeted this site out. It is easily the easiest way to search for Creative Commons photos. I LOVE it and use it all the time now.

Psst! Remember - for more mentionable links, head over to the Daily Mish Mash for the motherload of links. :)

The Morning After

I SURVIVED DAY ONE!

Whew! I have to admit, this is a little more like rehab than I ever expected.

Yesterday, after my mid-afternoon sugar (and alcohol) cravings subsided, and I thought the worst of the day was over, I came close to falling off the wagon.

You see, I watched the Gator game.

The stress was overwhelming.

...PLUS, someone kept tweeting about ice cream.

But, I held fast to my conviction and

stayed away from the kitchen. I nursed my sweet glass of Crystal Light for all it was worth. I ate a piece (or two) of Colby Jack cheese. (a treat I rarely enjoyed on Weight Watchers) And, I texted profanities to FireDaddy at the station after every stressful play.

Today, I've actually felt good. After a slow and thoughtful trip to the store, I am now stocked with plenty of plan-approved foods, snacks, beverages, and even some sugar-free candies that taste darn good.

And let me know if I'm the only one who's ever felt this way, but on Day Two of a new diet, don't you feel you deserve a little reward? No...I'm not talking about cheating. Really. I'm talking about progress. Don't you half expect the scale to drop two pounds or so? You're so proud of yourself, shouldn't your favorite pair of pants acknowledge your accomplishment by loosening up around your waist a little? I could SWEAR that I lost weight yesterday. I could SWEAR I look thinner today.

No? You don't think so??

Darn.

Photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kurafire/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

"Dinner" is a Dirty Word

Pain in my butt: it's what's for dinner.

Being a wife and mother has COMPLETELY taken all the enjoyment out of dinner. So much so, in fact, that I'm seriously considering banning it. Quitting dinner all together.

For real.

Some people quit carbs. Others quit meats. Why can't I quit dinner?

Nine days out of ten, all I'd really like to do for evening nourishment is grab a handful of wheat thins (or two), eat a bowl of cereal, pop a bag of popcorn, or scavenge for leftovers in the fridge. But, the world does not revolve around my needs and desires, I put aside my own wishes for the health and well-being of my family. (What? Even if it's McDonald's it's better than starving them, right? Hmmm...jury's out on that one...)

What's more, dinner is a pain in my butt before it is even TIME for dinner. It starts early in the day when, just for a moment, your mind wanders to the future tense. "What am I going to fix for dinner?" This question has plagued my existence since the day I said "I do." I'm 90% sure that I even murmur this in my sleep. In fact, I'm probably thinking about it WHILE I'm eating dinner!

Perhaps this problem is unusually severe for me because I bore so easily when it comes to meals I prepare. I had a friend growing up whose mother assigned a meal each day of the week. (Monday = meatloaf, Tuesday = chicken casserole, Wednesday = Taco night, etc.) The schedule NEVER varied. They even scheduled in a take-out night! I could NEVER do that. I need AT LEAST a few weeks in between repeating menus. (I'm the same way with my clothes...it's part of my neurosis.)

Additionally, FireDaddy has this odd preference for pork. (I blame his Tennessee and Kentucky roots for that.) I, on the other hand, being a Texan, strongly believe in beef (in all forms) as my "go to" meat. So, on the frequent occasion (I guess I don't learn quickly) that I, once again, ask him for dinner suggestions or preferences, his reply is predictably, "Something other than red meat." At that point I feel like throwing in the towel. You see, he also doesn't really "do" vegetarian dishes. If there isn't a meat, at least in a sauce or concealed in a noodle, it will be noted.

But, really, this is just one third of the problem.

Enter BigGirl. She could live off of chicken nuggets alone. That is ALL she EVER wants anymore. I take that back, on occasion she will request spaghetti (with meatballs or meat sauce).

Now, enter BabyGirl. She, in sharp contrast to her father and sister, is like a pint-sized vegetarian in training. She will eat EVERY vegetable and ANY fruit under the sun...but does NOT like meat. Any meat. With the exception of a chicken nugget or two (under intense parental pressure) and beef enchiladas (my girl), she manages to avoid meats at nearly every meal.

I am, however, determined NOT to raise lifelong picky eaters. I am also determined not to cook separate meals for everyone at the table. So, here's my philosophy:

1. If you come to my table, you will be pleasant.

2. If you want to have dessert or anything other than what is served (i.e. small snack later, etc.), you must eat some of everything on your plate. (Usually it at least one bite per years you are old.)

3. If you don't like what is served, you are not REQUIRED to eat anything. However, you WILL NOT spoil my dinner (which I alone worked to prepare, and I alone will clean up afterwards) by whining, crying, or fighting. You also will not have ANYTHING to eat until the next morning. Period. End of story.

This has been working "OK" for me. I understand I'm dealing with little people and nothing is going to be perfect at first. It takes time.

However, I'm about two seconds away from adding a number four to my list. This one applies to FireDaddy, too.

4. If I am the only one cooking and cleaning, then I am the only one who has input in what's being served. If you want input, you need to get your bootie in the kitchen (or even the grocery store!) and help out.

And, if you don't like it, GO SOMEWHERE ELSE AND EAT! I will be just fine left alone with my bowl of cereal, thank you very much!

Now that I've said it, I feel a little better. But, then again, dinner is over for the night. We'll see how I feel tomorrow night around 5 o'clock.

Photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lorna_carlson/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Natalie Told Me To Do It.

If you've read any of my other blog (yeah, it's pretty dusty right now), you know that I love Natalie Goldberg. She's an author and writing guru...and she has taught me a lot. (OK, so maybe not PERSONALLY...but her books have taught me a lot.)

It's times like these when I really rely on her help to pull me out of the bottom of the barrel. You see, sometimes, I'm itching on the inside. I want to write. I feel like I NEED to write. (And, this month, I need to publish.) However, you don't always have the words. Natalie (yeah, I'm on a first name basis with her... in my mind) told me that I can write about anything. If I can't figure it out, start THERE.

But, sometimes, starting "there" would lead me somewhere I don't have the time or energy to go, if you know what I mean. So, sometimes, she tells me to start with JELL-O.

I love JELL-O.

Can you believe that FireDaddy and my girlies DO NOT LIKE JELL-O???

As a child, my brothers and I would be thrilled when Mama would make us JELL-O and serve it for dessert after dinner. I remember her brown glass dish she always made it in. The little, tiny bubbles that congealed around the edges of the bowl. The fun wiggle and shimmer on the surface as we watched her take it out of the fridge, waiting hopefully as she poked it lightly to see if it was really ready.

She served our JELL-O in cute little clear glass Pyrex souffle bowls with fluted edges. We cut out bites with our spoons and swished it between our teeth, turning it into a thick, bubbly liquid. It was a simple pleasure. So sweet and good.

Mama also made us JELL-O when we were sick. She tenderly asked us what color we preferred, red or green, before she boiled the water and stirred, stirred, stirred, dissolving the powder. It made for a nice change of pace from the Saltines, Sprite, Gatorade and beef bouillon (which, I must say, I also love).

The speed set method was a great improvement. Now, instead of waiting hours and hours for our sweet treat, it only required AN hour or so. Jigglers, though, never did anything for me.

Now, my refrigerator is almost always stocked with JELL-O cups. I'd love to say I buy them for my girls, but THEY DON'T LIKE IT. So, I buy it for myself and pack them as a guilt-free lunchtime dessert. Red and green, with the occasional orange. I've experimented with those newfangled flavors on the shelves at Publix these days, but they just aren't for me. I'll stick to my tried and true, red or green, please.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my tummy is growling and I hear some JELL-O calling my name.

You only THOUGHT you were being good...

Unfortunately, sometimes bad things come in good packages.  

Take, for instance, one of my favorite restaurants:  Panera.  I feel all healthy and happy when I order a grilled chicken Caesar salad....until I admit to myself that it is SO not what I want it to be.  

Don't get me wrong...it's delicious!  I could eat their salads tirelessly eat their salads (and sandwiches, for that matter) daily for weeks on end.  (I think, a few years back, I really did.)  Until I read the nutritional information.  Are you aware that it has 500 calories, 28 grams of FAT, and only 3 grams of fiber???  That equates to 15 Weight Watchers points!!!  FOR A SALAD!  (Ever since my season on Weight Watchers a few years back, everything must convert to points for me to appreciate their "value" in my diet.)  Now, for those of you not familiar with Weight Watchers, consider that, currently, for me to remain "on plan" I am allotted 21 points in a day.  TOTAL.  For 3 meals, beverages, snacks, everything.  

Oh, and that 15 points does NOT include a baguette on the side with an extra side of Caesar dressing for dipping...Yeah.  Some things you know are bad, but you do them anyway.  

Bon appetit!

**Author's Note:  Panera, it's nothing personal...I know you're not alone.  You just happen to be the one that I dined upon today.  I still love you.