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Yet another of my mother's collector's items, this fantastic contraption came complete with rusty metal, finger-pinching wooden seat, most likely lead-tainted paint, and an awesome snack tray.
The bonus: it was so rickety the whole thing rattled on the dirt drive and you could hear it coming from a mile away. But Punkin loved it all summer long and had many admiring glances from jealous toddlers and their mommies.
I like to eat. I especially like to eat really really good food. And since I don't especially like eating bad food, and I can't eat at fancy restaurants every night, this means I have to attempt to make myself really good food nearly every day. You'd think this would have made me a good cook, but I will not be so presumptuous. I don't create my own recipes, and I usually stick close to the recipes written by others (unless of course someone tells me to do something different). So I'd say I'm lacking a bit in creative expression. But I love to flip through recipe books and magazines, and long ago my computer memorized the path to epicurious.com. I've recently started browsing food blogs for a greater depth of inspiration, but my search repertoire is still fairly limited. Every so often I come across a recipe (or a website) that just totally hits the spot.
So from now on I'm going to be sharing those little nuggets of inspiration. From the simplest of syrups to the most delectable desserts, once a week I will try to post a recipe or food site that I really love. I'd love to hear your favorite recipes or sources of inspiration, so feel free to leave comments or email me at Queen Zucchini (at) gmail (dot) com.
I stumbled across this recipe on epicurious a few weeks ago while searching for ways to use hamburger meat. I'm always trying to get meat into Punkin's diet since we still eat mainly vegetarian and I want to be sure he's getting enough iron. And in all my experience eating yummy meat, I have far less experience actually preparing it. The following recipe for Polenta Tamale Pie turned out to be simple and delicious. It is by no means gourmet, nor does it have a sufficient serving of vegetables. And if your lucky enough to eat or know how to make real tamale pie, it's probably a far cry from the real thing. It's also so easy to manipulate and add whatever veggies you choose, either in the dish itself, or on the side. I've made a few changes from the original recipe (changes are in purple, and I omitted the chicken broth), but like I said, you can't really mess up this simple meal, so feel free to make lots of changes yourself!
2 1-pound rolls prepared polenta, sliced into 1/3-inch-thick rounds
3 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese (or a mix of cheddar, mozzarella, jack, etc)
Oil 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish. Place half of polenta in dish. Top with sauce and 1 1/2 cups cheese, then remaining polenta, cheese and cilantro. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover with foil; chill.)
Preheat oven to 350°F. Bake freshly assembled pie, uncovered, until heated through and sauce bubbles, about 35 minutes, or bake refrigerated pie, covered, 20 minutes, then uncover and bake until heated through, about 35 minutes.
That's what has taken up residence in my cranium the past 5 days. A pile driver. With big honkin' blocks o' cement being driven through my frontal cortex and out my left eye socket.
Yes, my friends, I am sick. Again. And I'm so done with being sick. I've had the sinus infection to end all sinus infections, and I'm not the only one suffering from it. Veggie's had to miss 2+ days of work and Punkin, while ecstatic that dada has been home every day for 4 days straight, is a little miffed about mama's laissez-faire attitude lately. I mean jeeze, the woman hasn't done a load of laundry in 5 days and he's running out of clean pants and pj's!
But seriously, he's definitely noticed my hands-off parenting style of late and has greeted it with equal, if not more, indifference towards me. That is, he could care less if I'm in the room as far as I can tell. Veggie says I'm being overly sensitive, but yesterday Punkin actually said quite clearly "NO!" when asked if he wanted to nurse at bed time. I instantly realized what it would feel like to have your baby self-wean. Of course, he was happily nursing 30 minutes later and I was convinced we had at least another day before I became completely replaceable.
Never take Sudafed before you go to sleep.
Apparently, about half the world knows this and they're thinking Duh. And then there's me and the other half of the world that assumed taking something with antihistamine in it before bed would be a GREAT idea. Especially if it's the kinda something that the pediatrician says is safe to take while breastfeeding. Yeah, I'm not so sure I believe that anymore. And no, it wasn't the "non-drowsy" formula (I'm not that stupid). And yes, it was the special PE formula, which supposedly means it doesn't have those nasty drugs that are used to make meth. Or so I thought...
So I took some Sudafed PE around 9pm thinking it would help me sleep and clear up the gunk that's been draining into my throat for the past 2 weeks. But at 1am I woke up feeling like I was having a really bad trip, and I'm not talking about a trip to Paris. My chest was tight, my toes and fingers tense, and I wasn't quite sure if the guy lying next to me was my husband, boyfriend, or some dude I really liked and had climbed into bed with (can we say College flashback??). After about 20 minutes of trying to "wake myself up" and deciding that yes, he was my husband, and perhaps I should tell him that something was very very wrong with me, I taped Veggie on the shoulder and said, "I don't feel good. Honey? I don't feel good. No really, I don't feel good. Honey, I DON'T FEEL GOOD."
I won't go into any more gory details, but lets just say a cold medicine-induced anxiety attack at 1am is NOT FUN. Neither is fearing sleep and the whacked out dreams you might have - did I mention it was 1 o'clock in the morning? That's late for mommies. The next day I called a triage nurse at the local clinic and explained what had happened. She was totally unimpressed.
Yup, sounds about right. NEVER TAKE SUDAFED BEFORE BEDTIME!
Apparently I was having a really bad trip. She had even experienced the same sort of thing, but her husband had to find her in the bathroom at 4am with her coat on and walking around in circles looking for the car keys because she just had to get out of the house. I dunno, but that sounds better to me than feeling like you're being suffocated by YOUR OWN SKIN.
Hopefully someone else out there will learn from my silly mistakes...
I came across this excellent website tonight that shares the exceptional photography of the exceptional and the everyday woman. Any woman can submit her photos through their daily, weekly, and monthly "challenges." And today just so happens to be Love Thursday, a day to capture love in its many shapes and sizes. For my first punch at Love, I'm going for a true classic.
Two days ago was my brother's birthday. I forgot. Sometimes I can be a little $h!t of a sister. So today, Love Thursday, is in honor of my big bro and his new wife. And maybe one day I'll get around to telling you all about this picture...
It's the end of August, isn't it? Summer's still here. Well I swear September 1st was just the other day. I can't possibly be expected to think about Halloween now, can I? Ai yaiy yaiy. Between weddings, home improvement projects, runaway dogs, and toddler preschool, I seem to have lost all track of time. Did I mention it's been taking 1 hour to get Punkin down for a nap that only lasts an hour and a half??? I know I know. No excuses.
Well, instead of regaling you with some witty story about my not-so-exceptional life, I'll tell you about my list of projects. My list has now become a book, which soon may grow to novel length but for now remains in a trusty notebook I bring everywhere with me. To the grocery store, the doctor's office, the pub, the nail salon, the zoo, the playground, the gas station (where I sign away every last penny my husband has ever earned just to fill the piddly tank in our once economical compact car).
The list has many parts, or sub-lists, the most important of which is the list of home improvement projects because that list is the most unrealistic, costly, and time-consuming projects that will most likely never come to fruition while we still own this house. Unless of course we never move. It ranges from the somewhat mandatory (replace cracked and leaking shower tiles and rotten wood we will mostly likely find behind them) to the aesthetic (create a usable front lawn from the existing heap of dying trees, prickly bushes, and colossal rocks) to the possibly unrealistic (make a vegetable garden and grow vegetables). Throw in a complete kitchen remodel, basement finishing, backyard leveling and patio, and new windows and a few doors where windows are now, and we've got approximately 10,000 hrs and $100,000 worth of "home improvements" on our dream list. Oh, did I mention the new fence to keep the renegade dog from having the run of the neighborhood??? Oh yeah, and a few minor changes to the living room - like re-tiling the fireplace, painting the walls, and putting in new trim.
Then there's the minor home improvements list, the ones I actually think I can do in a weekend, but still haven't accomplished since I started the list 3 months ago. Like getting curtains for the windows, hanging pictures on the walls, painting the kitchen chairs, or even bringing up a bedside lamp from the basement.
This past weekend I was on the Kitsap peninsula (a gorgeous area between Seattle and the more-famous Olympic peninsula) and I happened upon an enlightening book, in a chocolate shop of all places. It was a book of suggestions and "rules to live by" for husbands and wives...and it was written in 1913. When I picked it up I expected to find archaic and sexist ideas that would make me laugh at the absurdity or feel indignant at what was expected of my great-grandmothers. Instead, I actually found some of the suggestions helpful. Like the one that said don't spend all your money on a big house and fancy furniture just to impress your neighbors. (If only I cared that much about the neighbors - now I just have to learn to like Ikea and all things particle board and crappy). Ah, but I digress - it truly was helpful. Especially the financial chapter. In the Wives version of the book, it said not rely on money for happiness - I've currently been under a spell that left me believing "if only I could afford to make this house perfect, I would be happy." And the same chapter in the Husband's version of the book said several things to the affect of "don't deny your wife any and all access to money; don't make her constantly ask for funds to improve or simply sustain the household, because it takes a lot to do that and some things may actually make her life more livable." Okay, I paraphrased a bit there, and yes, there's sexism in assuming the Husband is the only bread winner and the wife just keeps house and asks for "an allowance," but it just so happens that right now in our lives that's exactly how things are. SO, either I'm living the repressed life of a 1913-era housewife, or some advice is actually sustainable over the years.
My point (before I forget it) is that I plan on applying some of this archaic wisdom to my Book of Lists. From now on I shall try to make minor changes where I used to think only major construction was possible. I will try to do as much with my own hands and limited budget, rather than spending thousands of dollars (that I don't have) to get some professional to do it. And I will look more closely at the rest of my life, not just my house, my walls, my kitchen, and my yard, to see where improvements could be made in the happiness department.
I'll be sure to tell you all how disastrous this turns out to be...
My mom brought the dude into our house about 20 years ago and he has sat by the window ever since. His hair is green with mildew and stains cover his fabric skin, but he has guarded our house successfully all these years. In fact, from the outside it really does look like someone is sitting in the window, which is perhaps why she's never thrown him out. After all, he's protecting the family jewels.
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