Roasted Pumpkin Seeds

I cook in Lucy's pre-k class every Monday. Last week we roasted pumpkin seeds. This week we make pumpkin pancakes. Before that, we made meatballs. We cook everything on an electric flat top, circa 1970.

The group, which changes every week, has about 20 minutes to make a snack for all 20 kids and teachers eat, too. The snack will sit 15 minutes before it is passed out. We have a hot pot, electric flat top, microwave and a hot plate to cook on. There is a fridge.

Picture it, six eager 4 year olds gathered round a boiling oil spurting frying pan, and dipping their fingers into raw meat and eggs. It's not a cooking class it's a tragic episode of Grey's Anatomy.

Some things about 4 year olds and cooking:

1. When cooking in a pre-k class you are always just one recipe step away from everyone losing their shit. Believe it or not, just cooking pumpkin seeds in oil and dousing them with salt is like a huge endeavor for a group of kids.

Even though, the temptation is to do something amazing and complicated with the kids, like making head cheese or flambeing something, or adding an extra step like beating egg whites until they're stiff (for pancakes), they can just hold it together long enough to put a few ingredients into a bowl before they start hucking hot, oily pumpkin seeds at each other with spatulas.


2. Kids pick their noses and cook at the same time. They just do. Do not question or leave the frying pan to grab the kid a tissue. Someone will nearly set themselves on fire half way to the tissue box.

3. Most 4 yr olds cannot recognize garlic and onions by sight or smell. No judgments on other people's kids, just sayin' I baffled them with my fresh produce.

One kid was able to identify Worcestershire Sauce as "barbecue", so that's something.

4. There's always one kid... There is definitely one kid in the group that is DYING to touch the hot griddle. DYING. I see her leaning in, putting her face super-close to the oil and dangling her fingers over the heat, sort of playing with the idea of slapping her whole hand onto the flat top.

This is the kid who is going to grow up to have unprotected, drunk sex with rock stars in bad hotel rooms. I kinda love her.

5. Someone will cry. It might be me. In the girls bathroom. It's junior high all over again.

6. Prepare for your kid to secretly hate that your being nice to other people's kids. Or not so secretly, as Lucy informed every kid in the group that she gets to do every step of the dish and do it first because I'm her mom and she's done all this before.

And that's when you realize the problem kid in the cooking class is the one you brought into the world. And so I'm not just cooking with the kids and preventing them from scorching themselves with burning oil or making sure they don't impale themselves on a fork. No, I'm making sure my daughter doesn't go all Kim Jong iI on the more good-natured, better-raised children in her class.

7. There was an episode with cheese... I look away for one second to shut off the flat top after the meatballs are done. To provide a safe environment, of course. I am ever-vigilant.

But I took my eyes off the container of grated cheese. What was I thinking? For one second. One measly second. Next thing, I know 6 little fists have plunged into the cheese, shoving it in their mouths, throwing it in the air. There is a snow bed of cheese on the floor. It is a blizzard. A cheese orgy. There is fighting. Jockeying for position next to the container. Someone is shoved. A herd mentality has formed. One kid slips on cheese and risks being stampeded by the cheese freaks. There are nearly tears. Cooking in pre-k becomes a cage match of death.

Then, the head teacher, Lisa, steps in and in a nano second, order is restored. She shuts off the lights and the kids drop the cheese. They look at her and immediately put their hands on their heads. I do, too. I am in awe of her powers.

I crave that kind of power in the world.

8. I convince myself the teacher thinks I'm a crappy parent... I like to torture myself.

9. I pick raw meat out of a child's hair... Hey, it happens.

10. The kids want me back Well, yes. Of course. But Lisa will be picking cheese out of her radiators until March.

YM
___________________________________________________________________________________

Roasted Pumpkin Seeds on an Electric Flat Top in a Pre-K Classroom

1. Remove seeds from pumpkins. You'll need two pumpkins for most humans but four if you are providing snacks for 20. Pumpkins look big but some are not so fertile in the seed department.

2. Separate as much pumpkin gunk as you can from the seeds by hand.

3. Take seeds and put them in a nice big bowl and add cold water. Most of the seeds will rise to the top and the gunk will sit at the bottom. Remove with a strainer.

4. I wash the seeds again in a strainer just to get any remaining gunk off. (If there is gunk om the seeds, it will mold over, so you want it off)

5. Spread seeds out over a tea towel and let them dry out overnight.

6. When you are ready to cook them, use a cast iron, regular fry pan or if you are in pre-k, a griddle. Heat pan. Add olive oil. I like my seeds nice and oily, so don't be stingy. Add the seeds and cook them until they start to turn a nice golden brown on one side and tumble them over to cook on the other side. This will take 5-7 minutes.

7. Remove with a slotted spoon to a paper towel. Let the excess oil drain. Sprinkle generously with salt or any other herb, spice mixture you like. Can be saved in a plastic container for a week or so, but are better eaten warm and immediately.

Continue Reading...

The Vegetable Soup Rich People Make When They Own A Country House

This scrumptious vegetable soup was one of our first lovely Autumn meals in our new...wait for it...country house. Hooot!

David hates it when I tell people we have a "country house". Right now, he's freaked out and his skin is crawling, but he doesn't know why.

When he hears me talk about our new "country house", he actually cringes and jumps in and explains to people that the house is a fixer upper, a run-down, unloved, ugly thing that needs our undivided attention to reach it's full potential, an investment, something that will eat up copious amounts of our free time. We closed on Monday and he already refers to it as our little "Money Pit".

A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of twittering about "our country house". I was trying to get into the spirit of the country. I have to get into the spirit of the country because, well, I'm from the country and did everything I could to get out of the country, only to marry someone I thought would never leave the city and have him convince me we should be buy a house surrounded by carpenter bees nesting in our siding, an exploding deer population that eat every plant in their wake, nights that are pitch black and have strange eerie scratching sounds coming out of the backyard and no concierge.

That's right. Not one single person down stairs to pick up my packages or keep robbers and murderers from breaking into our apartment.

But I was trying to get into the spirit...


So, I was fantasizing about the gorgeous farm stands loaded with local produce and wine country in New Paltz, where the house is, and The Culinary Institute of America right down the road, the actual green house in my house where I can have a garden year round and grow lemon trees - Can you believe it? Lemon trees - and the amazing light from the cathedral ceilings and the space, the space, the space and the good restaurants and rockin' chefs, and the idea that we might have a yard full of egg-laying chickens next Spring, the scads of grass-fed beef that you can find everywhere and my happy rock climbing husband who is excited about having a house nestled in the Shawanagunks, the best climbing in the Northeast.

And weirdly, we have more sex in the country. Must be the air. But the best thing - no more camping in a tent, so we can be near the nature. Thank you, Jesus.

I was getting excited. So, I twittered about it. The spirit moved me, so kill me.

This prompted a call from David. He actually stopped working to call me from the office and tell me to stop calling it "the country house", lest people mistakenly think we are rich.

So, we've been working on names for the house ever since. How to describe our little "homestead", "shack", "hut", "Camp Foster" without making it sound like we own the Kennedy Compound. We are in New York after all and "country house" is synonymous for weekending in the Hamptons.

But I do this exercise for David. Frankly, I like having a "country house." I look forward to a parade of ants trooping through my kitchen and flying bugs the size of grapes getting tangled in my hair. I look forward to the really gross bathrooms that cry out for renovation and the kitchen tile that is beyond repair. I look forward to the kids having a city life and a country life. City friends and country friends. I look forward to long Sunday Suppers with a full clamoring table in a proper dining room. I dream about designing a gourmet kitchen. I look forward to losing myself in a garden and cussing at the woodchucks.

I just look forward. And despite what our bank accounts look like, we are rich.

I will take pictures at "the Casa" or whatever we are calling the house next weekend and give you a tour. Until then, try this soup, as you say "Good bye" to our lovely Autumn.

xo YM

_____________________________________________________________________________________



There are just enough lovely fall vegetables still hanging around the farmers market now to make this divine soup. There was a similar recipe in Gourmet a month or two but it was for a "stew". I can tell you that we don't eat stew here, the kids will turn up their noses at stew, but they will devour soup. So, I keep my broth soup like, but feel free to chunk it up with tomatoes, if you prefer a stew.

So, this soup is lovely, completely vegan, and deliciously simple. I gave you some ideas about vegetable quantities and such but really just go nuts at the farmers market and pick veg that looks good and that you like. Then, eyeball the quantities. Like zucchini? Add more. Despise eggplant? Leave it out.

Just enjoy this last taste of Fall.

The Vegetable Soup Rich People Make When They Own a Country House

* 1/3 cup olive oil
* 2 onions, chopped
* 2 celery ribs, cut into slices
* 3 carrots, cut into slices
* 4 garlic cloves, chopped
* 1/2 cup water or chicken broth
* 4 fresh tomatoes, chopped
* 3 handfuls of green beans, trimmed and cut pieces
* 2 red bell peppers, cut into chunks
* 2 small zucchini, cut into slices
* 1 smallish eggplant, cut into chunks
* 3 medium boiling potatoes, peeled or un-peeled, and cut into 1-inch pieces


Heat oil in a pot over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add onions, celery, carrots, and garlic and cook until pale golden, about 10 minutes. Add eggplant and water and cook, until eggplant is slightly softened, about 10 minutes.

Stir in tomatoes and bell peppers, then reduce heat to low and cook, uncovered, stirring occasionally, 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, blanch green beans in a saucepan (about 3 minutes). Remove with a slotted spoon. Bring water up to a boil. Do the same with the zucchini and remove. Bring water to a boil. Add potatoes and do the same. Drain and remove.

Add all the blanched vegetables to stew and simmer, stirring, until all vegetables are very soft, about 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Continue Reading...

Kale Chips

This is exactly the kind of dish that my friend Lara, who is a vegan, describes as "the kind of food that you would laugh at me for eating."

And she's right. I do like to mock the vegans. I have to because I now am surrounded by vegan friends. I must have done something very bad in my former cooking life because now most of my best friends are vegans.

These people, incredible, loving, wonderful people that they are, have no real appreciation for my short ribs or pork belly or pork cracklins or for that matter, lobster with drawn butter or a great hunk of aged cheddar or Saint Andre or just a humungous knob of butter in just about any sauce. In fact, they are repulsed by it.

What? Repulsed by butter? I don't get it. How is it even possible that people don't like butter? Butter is the definition of awesome. It says so in the dictionary. And bacon. Don't get me started on bacon. I'm flumoxed.

But yet, I love these people and so, I have been trying to perfect my vegan kitchen repertoire. Because I didn't actually have a "vegan kitchen repertoire" and because if I didn't get one, we'd never be able to eat together. As much as I want to, saying, "I have a box of saltines in the cupboard for you to munch on" doesn't make for good friendships.


So, here's what I found out about veganism...you need to use a lot of olive oil (fat) and salt to make it taste good. If you see "fat free vegan recipes" out there, run for the hills. They will taste like communion wafer. Unless you don't have a very good palate and then, I suppose you'll put anything in your mouth.

And I think as a general rule, you should stay away from "fake foods" if you are a vegan novice (like me) fake bacon, fake cheese, fake butter. It's like some foreign land of products that you - as a non vegan - will have no idea how it shapes up in a recipe. And fake bacon is just wrong anyway. On so many levels. It's blasphemy, really.

My strategy has been to just do wholesome dishes with good fresh ingredients and just use what you are allowed to use from the pantry. But it feels a little like cooking in some game show where they give you a bottle of ketchup, a head of iceberg and 2 bunson burners and ask you to whip up a gourmet meal for six dignitaries from Sweden.

This is where kale chips make their entrance. I'm not a huge snacker, as you know. Snacks generally set off the carb-meter around here and most of you remember that David is generally opposed to carbs and I'm pretty sure that pumping your kids with organic crackers is still pumping them with crap even if it's organic crap.

That said, I also do not want to eat a snack that's not really a snack, but just boring, healthy leaves cloaked as a snack, with some hippy telling you how awesome it tastes and how good it is for you, but it really tastes like cardboard and dandelions. My taste buds are all over that kind of deception. When I do snack, I want it to taste great.

I am surprised - gobsmacked even - that a snack made of kale can actually taste good. Our friends Chuck and Corey, vegans of course, fall all over kale. They would french kiss the kale if they could. They don't try to disguise it in their cooking either or hide it in a sauce. They just put it right out there. Big buxom heavy leaves in their pasta, for instance, for all to see. Not one ounce of kale shame in that family. Their two fantastic kids age 4 and 2 inhale the stuff as if they've sprinkled it with chocolate and unicorn dust.

This is the exact opposite of me - I have kale shame. I see kale as a dark, hairy, unwieldy, bitter monster with a weird after taste that I hope never finds it's way into my farmer's market basket, for fear it might choke out anything delicious in the kitchen.

So, I have tried to find some love in my heart for kale and it has happened with kale chips. The preparation is easy. And the snack-pay-off is high. These taste great. Just rip the leaves into jagged shreds, coat and bathe them in olive olive and salt. (I do believe the kale is just a means of transport for the oil and salt, but still...) And bake for 10 minutes on a flat baking tray. They crisp up so beautifully it is surprising and they are so light in your mouth that they nearly disappear into a whisper on your tongue.

Tomorrow, I will make these for Lucy's pre-school class for their snack. This will be real test. Will 20 four year olds eat kale chips as if they've been given a bag of potato chips? We'll see. Lucy hasn't even been able to bring herself to try these yet.

But Lucy's teacher asked me to bring in a kale leaf for Charlie the class guinea pig, so I'm guessing if he'll eat it and half her class will try it, so will Lucy.

Lucy might not model me, but she'll surely model the guinea pig.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Kale Chips

Ingredients

1 bunch of Kale
olive oil
salt

Preparation

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Tear kale off the heavy stem. Rinse well in water and dry as best you can with paper towel. Rip the leaves into jagged pieces. Each of these will be a "chip". They need not be perfect. They can be a variety of sizes and shapes.

Put the kale in a bowl. Pour in some olive oil - eyeball it, a glug or two - and get your fingers in there and work the oil into the leaves until they are all shiny and covered. Add more oil if necessary. You don't want them wet, but definately glistening and tinged with oil. Sprinkle with salt and toss gently to evenly coat the leaves.

Lay the kale pieces out on a baking tray. They should not be over-lapping or they will steam instead of bake. Each should have it's own little place. Put tray in oven and bake about 10-15 minutes or until the kale is crisp.

Best if eaten warm but not necessary. Try not eating the entire thing.

Continue Reading...

Sucka! Udon Noodles with Broccolini, Chicken, Cherry Tomatoes & Butter Beans

So, Lucy told me yesterday she thinks I like Edie more than her.

These were her exact words. She had her sad face on when she said it. She has a sad face. It doesn't come out very often but when it does, it's powerful, mind-warping stuff.

Then she said that she knew this was "for real" because I get mad at Edie more and so this means, in some world where the uncontrolled expression of anger equals love, I like her sister more.

So, I learned three things from this discussion: (1) one or both of my kids think I love one of them more than the other, (2) I yell a lot at one particular child, (3) And somehow this is a good thing. A ringing endorsement of my adoration.

Of course, this just boosts my current belief that I am like the most painfully confused parent on the planet.

Now, it is important to bear in mind that David is quite sure I am being played and that Lucy knows exactly how to manipulate me and drive me bananas and she is using her God-given right as a daughter to drive her mother completely insane. Or get extra attention. Or make me give her cash. Or whatever is going on in that cunning brain of hers.

He reminded me - with his calm, motivational-speaker voice - that when kids this age express what they're feelings, they often don't get the details right. Good point. Then, he muttered something about mothers and daughters and crazy people and then, something about headless chickens. The rest of the time he was telling me what a sucker I was.

Pep talk over. I still felt like shit.


Truth is, after the "week of going to school without David" last week, I noticed how much easier it was for me to separate from Edie. Because of the extended breast feeding and the weaning, which was rough on both of us, Edie and I have this long history of intimacy, a clear understanding of our place in each others life, a close unbreakable bond that is expressed over and over throughout the day and the success of having weaned and gotten through this tough "giving up the boob thing together."

I feel quite sure that Edie knows how much I love her and what her place is in my heart. I can urge her to get into the class room a little harder, a little more assuredly - I can be tougher on her - because I know that she is sure I won't abandon her.


But when Lucy was having a tough time making the transition to school without David, I wanted to pull her in and tell her she didn't have to go to school. I wanted to save her from her sadness and tears and show her that I would save her. That she was that important to me, so important that I would break the rules for her.

I wanted to do this because I have abandoned her. We have that history. Edie was born when Lucy was 17 months old. Lucy went from being my one and only, to being the one who's demands were not as urgent as the new baby's. And it was David who jumped in and healed that wound. He showered her with extra attention. Slept next to her at night, doted over her, made her feel special. This cemented their bond. She knows no rejection from him. She never had to wait for him to finish up with the baby. Or stood by as he took the baby's needs ahead of her own. She is sure of him.

And, of course, I'm still trying to make up for this with Lucy every day. Even though she has no memory of any it. Even though she doesn't demand any sort of repayment or penance. Even though she probably doesn't care anymore what happened when she was a baby.

Because, well, I like to create problems that didn't exist before, and never actually solve them, but just worry about them incessantly and carry them everywhere on my back, like a big sack of rocks, and torture myself for the hell of it.

And I explained all this to David in the car last night on the way back from the country, while the kids slept. And he told me all my heartfelt concerns were, well, hooey. That I was projecting my fears onto the children. That this was about me, not them. He was using his motivational speaker voice again. And then, he said a lot of nice things about how we love our children - both of them - everyday and ways in which Lucy gets more than Edie. And it was good to remember that.

And then he told me that he was really happy he didn't have to live in my head and that it must really suck being me and having to deal with all these crazy thoughts all the time. Then he quoted his shrink. And suggested I go back into therapy.

Then, he thought we should have sex. Because apparently sex will make me feel less guilty about having stunted my childrens sense of well-being. And of course, I have no idea when I'm being played by a member of my own family, so I thought that sounded like a great idea.

Sucka!
_____________________________________________________________________________________

The first time, I made this dish, I got the idea from Vegan Yum Yum (a really fantastic vegan food blog) and did a version of the recipe as a vegan dish. But, um, yeah, it needs chicken. Just sayin'. So, here is the omnivore's version. If you are vegan, just take out all whispers of the bird.

I named the dish "Sucka!", well, because you know why.

I love using udon noodles instead of Italian pasta for many dishes. I find the noodles are satiny and slippery and delicate. Kids love slurping them up. Also, the butter beans, which are a gentle, sweet little bean, do not feel at all like large bugs in your mouth the way lima beans do and they provide extra texture to the dish which makes it special for a quick week night meal.

You heard me...lima beans feel like cockroaches in your mouth. Again, I'm just sayin'. See? You don't want to be inside my head.

Sucka! Udon Noodles with Broccolini, Chicken, Cherry Tomatoes and Butter Beans
Makes enough for 4 people

Ingredients

2 bundles Udon Noodles
Oil, about 2-3 Tbs
A knob of butter
Chicken, two breasts, skin on
6-8 Stalks of Broccolini, depending on size
1/2 tsp Red Pepper Flakes
Salt and pepper
12-15 Cherry Tomatoes, quartered
1 15 oz. can of Butter Beans, drained and rinsed
2 tsp of whatever Italian herbs you have on hand, rosemary, thyme, oregano
Balsamic Vinegar, for drizzling
A 1/2 cup of chicken stock or pasta water
Parsley, chopped

Preparation

Wash chicken. Heat a cast iron fry pan on high heat. Add a squirt or two of oil. Put chicken pieces, fat side down, in pan. Leave it until it has a nice sear, 3-4 minutes. Flip and sear the other side. Take out of the pan and on a cutting board, start cutting pieces off the bone or if it's boneless, start cutting up chunks. The chicken will not be fully cooked at this point and that's great because it will cook perfectly when we add it to the pasta mixture later. When you have a good pile of chicken slivers, put them aside.

Heat a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add udon noodles and cook for four minutes (or per package directions). Rinse noodles in cold water but save the pasta water. After rinsing, set noodles aside in a bowl and add a little pasta water back in to prevent noodles from sticking.

In the pan with all the nice, hot chicken juices, add a bit more oil and a good size knob of butter and scrape up those lovely bits on the bottom of the pan. They'll add flavor. Keep the heat at medium. Add broccolini and coat with oil. Season with a pinch of salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes. When the broccolini starts to turn bright green (just a minute or two), push them to the edge of the pan.

Add the quartered cherry tomatoes. Stir and coat in the spices and oil until they soften up, 1-2 minutes. Once tomatoes are softened, add butter beans. Stir everything together and let them get nice and warmed through. Take the veg out of the pan and set aside in a bowl.

In the still-hot pan, add a 1-2 Tbs more oil, if needed. Add the chicken pieces and let them cook through until they are no longer pink. Add cooked udon noodles to the hot pan, seasoning with salt and Italian herbs. Toss to coat the pasta. Once the pasta is coated and is heated through, add back the broccolini, beans, and tomatoes. Taste and season with more salt or pepper if needed. Throw some chopped parsley on top for bright color.

Plate and drizzle with a little balsamic vinegar if desired.

Continue Reading...