Better Than Boob

I finally figured it out.

I figured out how to make Sunday lunch without having to stop mid-prep so that I can look down and see a wailing, blotchy-cheeked mess of a baby, pathetically clinging to my leg, so disconsolate and grief stricken because my affairs in the kitchen have prevented her from having my nipple in her mouth for, like, all of a half an hour.

The answer. The kitchen sink.



A simple idea, but profound in it's execution.



There was all sorts of filling up. Pouring out. Filling up. Pouring...You get the point.

It was downright captivating.



It's like my boobs stopped existing for all of dinner prep.



Ah! See? There in the back is the laundry basket where I grabbed David's underpants and used them as a pot holder the other day. Remember that?

Hey. It happens.


Really, like my boobs weren't even in the kitchen.



Oh right. That's not me.

It's a good thing these aren't my boobs. Edie would LOVE these.



In the end, a happy kid. A wet floor. A sink full of clean dishes. A completed dinner service. Breasts that aren't the size of Idaho.

Life is good.

xxoo YM

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The "Daddy's Away" Default Menu & Thomas Keller's Butter-Poached Lobster

So, the CSFB (Competent but Sexy Finnish Babysitter) is back. But my husband went to Los Angeles. It's like a revolving door of people here. One comes, the other goes...

When I was a kid and my Dad went on a business trip, my mother saw the opportunity to get the hell out of the kitchen for a day and she served us TV Dinners. She used to do this actually on TV trays in front of the TV, which was, as I remember it, a HUGE treat. I really relished how casual and decadent it felt to watch TV AND eat frozen food at the same time.

To this day, the Swanson Salsbury Steak Dinner and the Fried Chicken Dinner with that little pad of chocolate cake, make me feel all warm and toasty inside.

I, of course, do no do TV Dinners. I haven't eaten one in years and not a single frozen chemicalized Swanson morsel has passed over my children's lips. I know this sounds elitist and kind of hypocritical, seeing as how much I enjoyed them myself, but I have to draw the line somewhere and I draw my line in the sand there. And with box mac and cheese. But that just goes without saying.

But when David goes out of town I move to the "Default Menu". My own little version of a TV Dinner. We relax the rules a bit. Let down our hair. We declare a "Pajama Party!!" right around dinner time and whip up a fav off the "Default Menu" and usually invite some friends from the neighborhood.

No need to sit still at the table. The kids can eat in their play room while they paint or watch a little "Max and Ruby" with a bowl in their lap.

I'm a rebel.

Anyhoo, I'm going to share with you a dish from my "Default Menu" It's a crowd pleaser and it couldn't be more simple. I was inspired to do this after reading the recipe for Thomas Keller's Butter-Poached Lobster. I do love butter-poaching lobster and have done it a few times now. The kids think it's wonderful and always gorge themselves, but who wants to cook lobster on "Daddy's Away, Pajama Party Night"?

So I butter-poach some fish.

Here is Chef Keller's original Butter-Poached Lobster Recipe which you can see done step-by-step over at French Laundry at Home. If you want to go the easy and cheaper route, my adapted recipe is below. By the way, if you have a hard time getting your kids to like fish or something besides fish sticks, butter poaching is the way to go. It tastes absolutely decadent and really, nothing like fish. And it also tastes, not surprisingly, like butter. And how can that be bad?

I often serve it with another dish off my "Default Menu", Brown Buttered Corn. Also, simple. But sophisticated and satisfying. And even more butter.

There's a theme here.

Think of us in our pajamas in front of the TV tonight...

xxoo YM

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Thomas Keller's Butter-Poached Lobster
with Leeks, Pommes Maxim and Red Beet Essence
From ''The French Laundry Cookbook'' (Artisan, 1999)

1 pound unsalted butter at room temperature, in pieces
Salt and pepper
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced leek rounds
1/4 medium-size ripe tomato, peeled, flesh cut in small diamond shapes
2 teaspoons minced chives
1 teaspoon each finely diced carrot, turnip and dark green of leeks
Red-beet essence (see recipe)
Par-cooked meat from 3 lobsters at room temperature (see recipe)
Pommes Maxim (see recipe).

1. Place 2 tablespoons water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to very low, and whisk in butter piece by piece. Continue adding until all butter is emulsified. Set aside, and keep warm (the best way is in a thermos); do not allow to boil.

2. Bring a 3-quart pot of water seasoned with 1 tablespoon salt to a boil. Have a large bowl of ice water ready. Add leeks to boiling water, cook 5 minutes until just tender, drain in a sieve and place sieve with leeks in ice water until leeks are cool. Drain, and transfer to a small sauté pan. Place over low heat to reheat. Add tomato, chives, diced carrot, turnip and leek greens. Stir in 1/3 cup emulsified butter. Season with salt and pepper, and cover to keep warm.

3. Place beet essence in a small saucepan. Whisk in 3 tablespoons emulsified butter, and cover to keep warm.

4. Heat oven to 300 degrees. Place lobster pieces in single layer in a large saucepan or sauté pan. Add remaining emulsified butter. Lobster meat should be just about covered. Place pan over low heat, and cook 5 to 6 minutes, until meat is just heated through. Remove knuckle pieces, drain and fold into leek mixture.

5. While lobster cooks, place potatoes in oven 2 to 3 minutes to reheat.

6. To serve, place a spoonful of warm beet essence in center of each of 6 plates. Briefly reheat leek mixture, and spoon onto beet essence. Remove lobster tails and claws from butter mixture, draining well; place a tail piece and a claw on each plate, on top of leeks. Break potatoes in six pieces and place on top of the lobster. Serve.

Yield: 6 servings.

Pictures courtesy of Carol at French Laundry at Home. Thanks Carol!

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The Yummy Mummy's "Daddy's Away, Default Menu" Butter-Poached Fish
Serves a couple of adults and four to six kids

2 Tablespoons of water
2 Sticks of unsalted butter
6 Fillets of Swai (or another buttery white fish)
Salt Taste
Chives (cut small)
Lemon wedges

1. Place 2 tablespoons water in a small to medium size saucepan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to very low, and whisk in butter piece by piece. Continue adding until all butter is emulsified. Do not burn the butter.

2. When butter is melted, add the fish fillets. Cook about 3-4 minutes on each side depending on thickness and heat but be careful not to over cook and fry the fish. You can ladle some of the butter over the top of the fish to get that buttery goodness everywhere. If you feel the fish is nearly done, turn off the heat and just let it sit for a minute in the warm butter.

3. With kitchen scissors, cut small pieces of chive over the fish. Salt to taste. And plate with lemon wedges.

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86 More Tortillas to Go & Why You Should Never Use Your Husband's Underwear As A Potholder

Edie. I mean, Kahlia.

Still no sign of the CSFB (Sexy but Competent Finnish Babysitter), who I'm sure is living it up on the beach or something and barely even remembering that I exist or that work is piling up or that I need a shower. Badly.

How do you Mom's without sitters ever get to take a shower? Are you that smelly? Seriously, do you just over-perfume to mask the smell? Tips, people. I need tips. My pits are like rotting cabbages.

First, let me tell you something interesting that happened today while I played the role of dutiful mother. Lucy re-named her sister. Her name is no longer Edie.

It's Kahlia.

Lucy spent the whole day bestowing Kahlia with gifts, like a Betty Boop necklace she found at the bottom of the toy box, and walking her around the house, holding her hand, stroking her hair and speaking to her in a wispy baby voice as if she were fragile china and might break at the slightest elevation in volume.

Kahlia actually gets better treatment than Edie, so Edie went with it. Later, Edie sticks a form in front of me, hands me a pen and asks me to make it legal. Okay, that last part wasn't true, but she relished being Kahlia and followed Lucy around the house letting her pet her head like a dog and put little presents in her pockets.

The best part was when Lucy decided to help Khalia board a plane for Croatia. There was a protracted discussion about seat belts. Some snacks. And a flight attendant named Phyllis, who had a limp and required an imaginary Diego band aid to get through her service.

Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up.

So that, in a nutshell, was my day.

Oh! I am writing a food/humor/parenting column over at Imperfect Parent. The folks at Perfect Parent.com wouldn't hire me.

Strange.

So, check it out because I tell the story of this morning's breakfast where I make Breakfast Burritos, but I lose the pot holder and so I grab the nearest cloth, which happens to be David's boxer briefs, out of the laundry basket and I use them as a pot holder/dish towel and actually make breakfast using his underwear to keep the skin from being singed off my hand and I eat breakfast with them draped over my shoulder, but not only do I not notice, no one else does either.

Really, not having a shower today is not the biggest problem I have.

Anyway, if you are thinking, Breakfast Burrito because your husband purchased $70 worth of carb free, fat free, dry as communion wafers tortillas and had them shipped across the country, burning countless gallons of fossil fuels and endangering the environment...

...Right, that was my husband. Well, then this is the recipe for you.

xxoo YM

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The Yummy Mummy's "We Gotta Eat $70 Worth of Tortillas" Breakfast Burrito

Make an omelet. Or even a frittata will work. Not too thick, since you'll have to cut a slice and roll it in a tortilla. You can do your favorite omelet here but it should complement the guacamole. I made a tomato, green onion and cream cheese one. It rocked.



Make the guacamole. Avocados, a little garlic, a pinch or two of salt, a healthy squeeze of lemon juice and a little finely chopped cilantro, if you have it. Tomatoes are optional depending on whether you have them in your eggs.


Get out one or two of the 300 tortillas you have stacked in your freezer. (No idea what I'm talking about? Read my June 3rd post.)




Slather a warm tortilla with guacamole. Add some baby spinach, onion strings, a dab of salsa, whatever floats your boat. Add a slice of omelet. Roll gently in wax or parchment paper. Cut through the middle for easy eating.

These burritos are also great for a breakfast "make your own" where you simply put out the components and let the troops assemble their own.

But use a pot holder...

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Lucy and I Had a Heart to Heart Yesterday

About vaginas. Hers actually.

She was asking me questions about it and I was trying to remember all our plumbing and how it works and explaining babies and going to the bathroom and how it's all pretty complicated down there. And she was listening to me intently and then she looked at her vagina and then me and said this:

"My vagina is a long, dark tunnel with snails and a tiger."

Which I think is a damn good description of a vagina. Mine certainly has a tiger. Anyway, someone please call Eve Ensler and get this kid in the "Vagina Monologues".

No CSFB (Competent but Sexy Finnish Babysitter) so I leave you with a short post and a dish I made last night from Bon Appetite when my best friend from high school, Mary and her Mom, who was like my second Mom growing up, came for a visit yesterday. It was great to see them and this dish was quick and tasty.

A couple notes about the recipe - I put a little too much heat in the cabbage. Okay, way too much heat. I nearly set Mary and Rita's sinus cavities on fire. But I whipped up a second "no heat" batch and it was just lovely. You don't need lots of heat. It's sweet and vinegary and a nice compliment to the steak without the jalepenos. So, be light handed. Also, if you prep ahead, (cutting all the garlic, ginger etc.) the dinner takes all of ten minutes to get on the table. Oh! and make extra cabbage. It's divine and goes quickly.

I'm posting the recipe with only a little fiddling because the kids will be up any minute. I'll post again this weekend!

xxoo YM
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Asian Flank Steak with Sweet Slaw (adapted from Bon Appetite)

Prep: 30 minutes; Total: 1 hour

Servings: Makes 4 servings

Ingredients

1/4 cup dark soy sauce
5 tablespoons olive oil
5 teaspoons minced peeled fresh ginger, divided
1 garlic clove, pressed
1 1 1/2-pound flank steak
3 tablespoons sugar
3 tablespoons seasoned rice vinegar
2 red jalapeños, thinly sliced into rounds (optional)
5 cups thinly sliced Napa cabbage (about 9 ounces)
3/4 cup chopped green onions, divided

Prep

Prepare barbecue (medium heat). Mix soy sauce, oil, 3 teaspoons ginger, and garlic in resealable plastic bag. Add flank steak and seal bag; turn to coat. Let stand at room temperature 30 minutes, turning occasionally.

Stir sugar and vinegar in small saucepan over medium heat until sugar dissolves; remove from heat. Add jalapeños and remaining 2 teaspoons ginger. Place cabbage and 1/2 cup green onions in medium bowl.

Pour vinegar mixture over and toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper. Let stand while grilling steak, tossing occasionally.

Grill steak until cooked to desired doneness, about 6 minutes per side for medium-rare. Transfer to work surface. Let rest 10 minutes. Slice steak thinly against grain. Sprinkle 1/4 cup green onions over slaw.

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This Stay at Home Mom Stuff is Pretty Easy

Just joking. Wanted to see if you were paying attention.

The CSFB (Competent But Sexy Finnish Babysitter) took a week off and it’s just me and the children. All week.

Did I mention it was just us?

Right.

So, yesterday, I dropped a whole pint of blueberries all over the floor of Pathmark in the check-out line when there were like a hundred people in back of me and Lucy was trying to climb up the stroller and ride it like "Thunder the Horse" and then I stepped on the blueberries and smushed a whole bunch of them into the floor.

And then, getting on my hands and knees, I tried to pick up a few berries in my reach, but there were so many and the mess so huge, I did that thing where you pretend what just happened never really happened and Lucy, now on the roof of the stroller, is madly punching the keys on the credit card machine and Edie is grabbing candy off the shelf and stuffing it into her shirt. So, I get Lucy off the stroller and get all the packages of candy back in the candy bin and I'm trying to load the groceries into the bottom of the stroller and some woman in back of me tells me that one of my kids could get hurt - thank you Mistress of the Freakin' Obvious.

I have to resist the urge to slap her smartly about the ears.

And then I realize my credit card is missing. It's not in the wallet where it should be, so I do what any self-respecting crazy woman would do and I dump the whole bag of toys, diapers, cell phone, keys and extra underpants onto the conveyor and sift through it as if I were sifting through sand looking for gold. The hundred people behind me start to shift anxiously back and forth. And there is sighing. You know, what I mean, people are sighing deeply, so that I can hear them. They want me to know they are pissed. I look up and one lady has turned to another lady next to her and is shaking her head in disgust. The second lady purses her lips and says, "uh- huh".

Great. Strangers are bonding over their intense hatred for me.

So, I say, "Crap! My card is missing!" because I think they may like me more if they know this terrible thing has happened to me, but this statement just brings on it's own repercussions - Lucy starts saying "Crap!" really loud over and over again. "Crap. Crap. Crap. Crappety Crap..."

Then, she starts singing it in a song. "There was a crapper had a crappy, ee-i-ee-i-o...with a Crap Crap here and a Crap Crap there..."

This just really pisses off the masses.

Then, I see something. On the floor under the smooshed blueberries. My card. Good freakin' lord hallelujah, my card. I apologize profusely, put all my junk back in the bag and pay for the groceries. We start to leave. I let Lucy ride askew on the front of the stroller. I know it's dangerous but frankly, I'll do anything to get us out of this store. People are happy to see us go.

We get through the first set of doors and as I turn back, I see that we have left two neat blueberry wheel marks through the store, documenting our presence and leaving a lasting marker of our departure. I don't care.

I should have. And maybe on a different day I would've grabbed a mop and cleaned up after us, but this wasn't that day. I keep walking. I pretend it isn't happening.

Keep your head high. Just keep walking.

Safely outside, I hear something coming from the lower compartment of the stroller where Edie is sitting. A crinkling paper sound. She is weirdly quite and content. I'm suspicious. Then, I see it. Edie has stolen a bag of Skittles, has torn open the package with her teeth and is now sitting with her bare feet propped up an hanging out of the stroller, throwing back Skittles like a bulimic, with her orange-tinged tongue and green lips.

Lucy sees it too. "Hey! Edie stole the Skittles."

She's not pissed so much as envious that she didn't steal the Skittles herself. I think, "I should use this as a moment to teach our values, about how we don't take things that aren't ours."

This is a nice thought. Then, the real me kicks in.

I resolve myself: Today the universe provided us with some freakin' Skittles. Hurray for us. It's like winning the lottery, only it's a Skittles lottery. And that's something. I made the Skittle Queen share them with her sister and be generous - there's the lesson - and then, we went and got Ice Cream from the Mr Frosty truck. What the hell.



Then, after we ate ice cream, I made dinner - fried chicken. That's right, dessert before dinner, folks. And Skittles. Someone give me a culinary award. Or better yet, Parent of the Year.

And then, Edie pooped in the potty for the first time ever and we sang the "Proud of You" song and then, we read books in the big bean bag, all laying on top of one another and packed a picnic and took our cold chicken to the playground and ran around with friends with our drumsticks in our hands.




It was a good day. This stay at home mom stuff is pretty nice after all. Not easy. But definitely nice.

xxoo YM

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The Yummy Mummy's "Ain't Got No Babysitter" Fried Chicken

• 6 C vegetable oil
• 2/3 C all-purpose flour
• 1 T. salt
• 1 tsp. cayenne pepper (optional)
• 2 tsp. paprika (optional)
• 3 eggs (or in a pinch, water will do)
• A couple pounds of Chicken pieces (drumsticks are a favorite)
  

Preparation

1. Par-boil the chicken. This means you don't have to worry about pink chicken. You can do this step ahead and store the chicken in the fridge until dinner.

2. Heat oil over medium heat in a deep fryer, a deep cast-iron skillet on the stove or even better a wok.

Kitchen Note: The boiling oil gives me all kinds of heart palpitations with little kids around. Keep them out of the kitchen. You can do this recipe right before dinner when your lurver gets home and can keep the kids busy.

3. Combine the flour and the peppers and paprika in a bowl. (If you don't have these, it'll still taste fine. Don't sweat it) . Leave the salt out of the flour. I add the salt at the end.

4. In another bowl, break eggs and beat until well-blended. (If you run out of eggs, just wet the chicken with water. Both are fine.)

5. Check temperature of oil by dropping a pinch of flour mixture in pan. If the oil bubbles rapidly around the flour, it will be the right temperature.

6. Dip each piece of chicken into eggs; then coat generously with the flour mixture. Drop each piece into the hot oil and fry for about 10 minutes or until the chicken is a dark golden brown.

7. Drain chicken on paper towels and salt the pieces while they are still hot and glistening with oil. Serve warm or stick them in the fridge and bring a few drum sticks to the playground for a fun, portable summer snack.

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The Yummy Mummy's "Never Buy A Jar Again" Marinara

I fantasize that all my readers look like this. Only without the hair rolls.
And only if they're chicks.

Here is the conversation we are having right now:

The Yummy Mummy: I have something for you to try. Marinara. Homemade.

Skeptical Blog Reader: Not out of a jar?

The Yummy Mummy: No, this is something you make from scratch and it tastes soooo much better than...

Skeptical Blog Reader: Yeah, this is nice, Yummy-Mummy-Wack-Job. But here's my deal - while you are sunning your size 2 hot model body around the pool and your children are being raised by Guadalupe, Jean Marie and Sven, the international clan of nannies, I have real problems....a mortgage, twins with chicken pox, a husband who lays on the couch and plays with his penis way too often and a dog that pees on my carpet. So I'll be opening my jar of Ragu. Thank you very much.

The Yummy Mummy: Did you just call me "Yummy-Mummy-Wack-Job"?

Skeptical Blog Reader: Focus, Wack Job. I can't make your homemade sauce.

The Yummy Mummy: Look, I know you've got stuff going on. Me too. Although at least my husband can keep his hands out of his pants for hours at a stretch. That's something. C'mon, won't you give it a try?

Skeptical Blog Reader: I know you're not really a size two, you know. I just said that.

The Yummy Mummy: Just make the sauce.

Skeptical Blog Reader: Bitch.


xxoo YM




The Yummy Mummy's "Never Buy A Jar Again" Marinara
(adapted from Rocco Dispirito's Mother's recipe)

Serves 4

3 cloves garlic, crushed (you can use the pre-chopped kind to save time)
1/2 yellow onion, peeled and chopped fine
3 tbsp olive oil
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes (San Marzano brand, if possible)
1 tsp sugar
1 cup chicken or beef stock (home-made is better, if you have it)
red pepper flakes to taste (optional)
salt to taste

Also optional: Basil, Parsley

1. Cook the garlic and onion in the olive oil in a skillet or cast iron fry pan over a medium-low flame, about 10 minutes or until garlic is tender and onions translucent, not brown (this is called “sweating” because it will draw out a lot of moisture and flavor). Add the chili flakes to taste, if you want them in.

Kitchen Note: If you are doubling this recipe, use a stock pot instead of a skillet. Doubling is a good idea because you can make sauce ahead and freeze it or plan a leftover meal (see these yummy meatball sliders) the next day with the sauce, which always tastes better on day two.

2. Add the crushed tomato to the onion and garlic. Pour the stock into the pan and add the sugar. Stir and bring to a simmer. Taste and season with salt and cover. Go play with the kids and let the sauce simmer on low heat for about one hour, if you can, although it will taste nearly as good if you make it on the fly and have to take it off the stove sooner. The sauce should be fairly thin, but not watery and very smooth. If it is too thick, add some more stock. If it is too thin, uncover and simmer for 3 minutes. You can finish this with sprinkles of finely chopped basil or parsley, if you wish.

Goodbye Ragu!

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Recipe Deal Breakers: A Mom's List

If you read about food, then you probably read last week's NY Times article, Recipe Deal Breakers by Kim Serverson. Kim is a witty, smart writer and really pokes fun at how idiosyncratic cooks can be. I thought it was hilarious and one of those "I wish I thought of that" kinds of pieces.

That said, Miss Kim really kicked up a dust storm among foodies by showing how some home cooks won't cook certain recipes because they have "deal breakers", like I won't do any recipe where I have to truss a chicken or whisk eggs or make a recipe inside a recipe. That kind of thing.

The foodies went freakin' beserk. Like cats in the deep end of a pool. Amazingly, there was a contingent of foodies who believed that people who had deal breakers were just home cooks who were uninspired, lazy and lacked adventure. They thought these folks just weren't trying hard enough.

And to this I say, "Oh right, you don't have small kids."

And then, I nod my head knowingly but in a really patronizing way and stick my nipple in the baby's mouth and wipe the Coq au Vin stains off my dress with back of my hand.

Here's an excerpt of my response to this discussion on Ruhlman:

...I have some deal breakers. Sue me. If I didn't we (my husband and 2 kids, ages 3 and 1) would never eat. Here's one - If I can't breastfeed while doing it, and I can breastfeed and do almost anything, I don't do it.

Seriously, sometimes my kitchen is so crazy that getting a fantastic-tasting dinner out and getting the kids and their friends seated around the table at the same time without someone needing to go to the bathroom or someone else falling off the bench and hurting themselves or pulling pans off the fire to negotiate a sharing issue, that making it happen sometimes comes down to whether I slice the garlic into slivers by hand or whether I throw my hands in the air and reach for the jar of pre-cut garlic.

I sense the foodies are shaking their heads in sorrow now.

Still, I'm there at the farmers markets picking out the best organic vegetables and fruits and in the kitchen, cooking three meals a day from scratch, including a hot breakfast every morning and some pretty imaginative snacks for the kids twice a day. I try new techniques, dishes and flavors often. I read about food everyday. And at least 3 times a week we host dinner parties or pot lucks with different friends and neighbors, usually with a bunch more kids. Maybe all this wouldn't happen if I didn't have a few built in deal breakers to help me along.

The way I see it, I'm living the cooking life.

So, to the question: "What the fuck is wrong with people?" I say: "Not a thing." We are having fun and not worrying about the parsley. We are making the kitchen fit our lives.

That’s really not such an outrageous thing, is it?

To be clear, some people's deal breakers on the NY Times site were like really stupid, like "I don't like fish". But who am I to judge, I got my own deal breakers. Here they are:

This is me. And my kids. And some other people's kids. Seriously. It is.

The Yummy Mummy's List of Recipe Deal Breakers


1. It Must Have One-Handedness Capabilities

If I can't cook one handed, I don't do it. Unless I know David will be home to supervise the kids. Too often I find myself holding Edie in one hand with my nipple in her mouth and wielding a cleaver with the other. Especially week nights. I am talented at this and can do quite a few techniques one handed, but things like boiling oil conjure up gruesome images of us in the burn ward and makes me physically ill when I think of what could happen. That's enough...new topic.

2. It Must Not Include Boiling Things To Death

I won't boil a lobster alive. Although I'm fine if someone else does the dirty work and drops him in the pot and covers the lid quickly so I don't have to witness the carnage and all that fussing and trying to crawl out of the pot and I can cover my eyes and pretend it isn't happening, then I'm completely fine. Hypocritical, yes, but the lobster boil must get done somehow. I do slice the little guys down the middle with a cleaver and feel a little less existential pain doing it this way, but there's no indication the lobster likes that it any better or appreciates my existential battles.

3. It Must Be Kind of Indestructable

If the recipe is too fussy, it won't hold up. If it can't be pulled off the fire so I can negotiate a hair-pulling fight over a princess doll and still have the meal come out, it won't work for us.

4. It Musn't Have Too many Dishes, Pots and Pans

I'm convinced some recipes are written by lonely people who have lots of time for clean up. I look at any recipe and immediately reduce the number of pans in my head before I start or wash them out as I'm going so I only have one or two or three, not ten, to clean at the end of the meal. If I don't feel the recipe writer has a sense of what will work for me in the kitchen, I have little hope the dish will work for me either. No matter what's in it.

5. I Don't Eat or Cook Insects

I know this is the latest trend in some parts of the world. I saw Bourdain eating his bug on a stick from some street vendor in Okinawa or some place. Okay for him. He is a manly, lust-worthy God of Food. But I refuse to eat or cook locusts as part of a meal no matter how cool I may seem.

6. Everyone Must Be Able to Eat It

As part of my "I Only Cook One Meal" philosophy, I make sure whatever I cook is within the realm of whatever everyone in the family can/will eat, while still trying to stretch them and introduce new flavors. This means nothing too outrageously spicy for the kids (although a little heat is okay), so I don't cook Kung Pao chicken, for example, because David and I like it, but the kids won't eat it. Scratch that dish off the list. And nothing too carb-heavy for David's new diet and exercise regime, which by the way, is totally annoying but really working. I caught a glimpse of him in the shower this morning and his body is absolutely gorgeous. And lust-worthy. Sorry, no pics. But his diet thing is still an annoying pain in the ass.

7. No Offal. Ever

Tried it. Like dryer lint in your mouth. Wrote a post about it. Never again.


There you have it. Deal breakers. Got any?

xxoo YM


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I Got Me Some Love From "Art of the Pig"

NTSC from Art of the Pig gave me this lovely award for "creativity, design, interesting material and contribution to the blogging community". Now, I think NTSC is blowing some wind up my skirt as my contribution to the food blogging community is...Oh I don't know...scant. Or non-existent. Unless you count long expositions about how the peas look in my daughter's poop.

But I do love a good award. And I'm keeping it.

And he did call me "hysterical" on his blog which I love, except if he meant "hysterical" in that kinda crazy, screamy, woman pushing a grocery cart and yelling at passersby definition of the word, which although sometimes fitting, would just be mean. But NTSC isn't mean. He's too busy cutting up cow heads and turning them into sausage to call me names.

So, I think he means the good kind of hysterical. I'll go with that.

Seriously, I do love being recognized by someone as fiercely passionate about food as NTSC at Art of the Pig. If you haven't been there to visit him (and you love to read about food) the guy is like, curing ham in his kitchen and making prosciutto by hand. Although I want to note that we live just three measly train stops apart and nary an invite for even a bite of head cheese or home made salami...ahem. Not that I was angling for an invite or anything.

Three express train stops away. Three.

This all said, the mantle is now thrust upon me to recognize some of you out there. Here are my picks:

The Winners

IB Kid (Sous Chef Numero Uno/Evil Chef Mom's Daughter) I don't know what IB is or why she's writing a blog about it, but this kid's got her mother's smart lip and she says "freakin" a lot and at a young age she has her own strong, ballsy voice...and I think that deserves an award.

Izzy Eats - Lynn would never feed her kid fast food, even if she was stuck in an airport at midnight. See, Lynn would have known in advance they'd be stuck for hours and she would've prepared for it by packing a five course dinner into her carry on and making home-made tofu in the airport bathroom by using her pantyhose as a sieve. She's one of the Mom's who's really great at this. Oh! and Lynn - some old woman screamed at me on the bus for breastfeeding Edie. She said I was a bad influence on the school age kids on the bus. I'll need you to kick her little old lady ass for me.

Zsohars in Africa - After finding out I had a following in Botswana, I found Jennifer, an American nutritionist and her American doctor husband who live in Africa and work with HIV positive children. Her blog is a mix of the everyday, some fascinating and often hilarious cultural observations (check out her fantastic May 21 post about big and small houses and mistresses) and poignant posts about the children she works with. This chick is the real deal.

Care Taker For The Elderly - Now, I want you all to go to this site and give my Aunt Red some love. She' s a brand new blogger (remember when you guys were newbies?) and her blog is about what she does everyday - taking care of people during the most vulnerable times in their lives and when they are at their sickest. And she is amazing at it. Aunt Red has some lovely and poignant stories about "her people" and she tells these stories with unsparing truth and dignity. I adore her and you will, too. Make sure you leave a comment and say "Hi! because she doesn't have a clue about how to use Google analytics and she won't even realize you've been there.

And last but never least...

Red Cook - At first look at Kian's site, you might be a bit intimidated. He is a master Chinese cook but he is also my neighbor and I can attest - he has very nice legs. See? Now, he's just one of us. He also makes some amazing ten course meals and God bless him, he invites me to them. Don't worry about how to incorporate Bitter Melon into your meal plan. Just go to his site and learn the proper technique for stir frying from the master. Once you learn the technique, there is an infinite supply of dishes and flavors in front of you. And the stir fry is a real ten minute meal - tasty, impressive and super-healthy...oh! and just think how much fun the kids will have trying to impale each other on the chopsticks.

Now, this is the part of the show where the accountant from Bamberger, McMillen and Luxemborg comes out in a bad suit and reads you the rules...

The Rules:

For the Arte...

1. Pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award with their creativity, design, interesting material, and also contribute to the blogger community, no matter what language.

2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog.

3. Each award-winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.

4. Award-winners and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of "Arte y Pico" blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

5. Display these rules on your blog.

I don't really care if you pass on the winged trophy chick or not. Just know I'm sending you some love.

xxoo YM

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My Dear Husband Has Lost His Sweet, Low Carb-Obsessed Mind

A large box came in the mail yesterday. Fedex. Turns out my husband ordered 10 packages of whole wheat, low carb, low fat tortillas. From Santa Freakin' Rosa, California.

That's right. David had 100 tortillas shipped 2 day express mail across the country from La Tortilla Factory because he couldn't find a low carb, low fat tortilla anywhere in New York City. Okay people, it's not like we live in the rainforest and have to eat bug larvae for dinner. Is he saying there isn't a single whole wheat, low carb, low fat tortilla anywhere in this city?

The tortillas cost $31.34. The shipping cost $39.06.

It's a good thing my husband rocks. Otherwise he and his $70 box of tortillas would be sleeping on the couch.

xxoo YM

PS Just to be completely fair - David swears he never meant to ship the tortillas express mail. Like he had a tremor or something and hit the button by mistake. It happens. I guess.

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