The hottest trend for Spring: NEON Colored Saliva

Reader AKM, who may be the most wonderful person who has ever lived, alerted me to the fact that you can purchase Cry Baby Tears on Amazon. Why I have not looked there is beyond me. No one ever said I was the sharpest knife in the drawer. The last time I found them was in a seaside candy store in Monterey, CA, and the whole thing was kind of charmed, like running into your kindergarten boyfriend and realizing that you share a love for baby hippos and pizza with pineapple on it and that he looks like Morrissey in his prime. I figured there had to be a little bit of special in the air for me to be reunited with my childhood favorite candy. Turns out there just needs to be a little bit o' Amazon.

So while I was sitting here, trying to debate if $23 for candy comes out of the "food" budget or the "fun" budget, and, more importantly, how many Weight Watchers points one box would come out to, I read the comments from other orderers on Amazon. One person noted that they made his/her teeth hurt and tongue bleed. And that is when I remembered the pure, masochistic joy of this candy. Yes, aside from the weird effect it had on my saliva, I distinctly remember eating so many that my tongue bled. And that the mixture of the salty, metallic blood and the tangy remnants of Cry Baby's was oddly good.

Oh, you're stopping reading now?

I grew up during the halcyon days of the late 80's and early 90's. My mom was a hippie parent compared to most around us--she wouldn't let me drink soda until the tumultuous day when my dad and step-mom gave it to me, and the only fruit roll ups I got were these weird ones that were sold in big baskets at the front of the Food Lion and had pictures of fruit on them (they were basically fruit leathers). [Note: I once got tragically and horribly ill on Gushers that I had snuck into the grocery cart, and my mom basically "I told you so'ed" at me while I was puking.] Still, there weren't a whole lot of rules about my food intake. I got to go to McDonald's when I wanted, and my favorite treat was getting to go to Applebee's and order about 15 lemonades and slurp them all down. For instance, every day when I got to my mom's office after school, I bought a Mello Yello and a honey bun. Think about how much sugar is in that. I did that EVERY DAY for years, saving my change and buying it on the sly while my mom did taxes and probably worried about taking me home to feed me a balanced dinner.

Now, there's the obesity epidemic and the president is telling us all how we should and should not eat. We get mad at Paula Deen because she pushes fatty food while knowing the consequences such a diet can bring. And we look at our children, and we all monitor everything they eat. We worry about developing their palates, about making sure they are getting a variety of colored vegetables. I have sat up at night and worried over my son Sam, because he doesn't like soup. SOUP. How will that affect his daily life? What if he gets a wonderful job but is fired for not eating his boss's chili? What if he becomes homeless because of it? What will he eat because HE CANNOT GO TO A SOUP KITCHEN??!?!

I'm not saying we should all go back to not caring what our kids eat. But it does help to think in terms of moderation. Sure, you should expose your kids to a healthy, wide range of tastes. But when I think about those moments of sitting in the back of our SUV on our way to somewhere or the other, munching on so much brightly colored candy that it caused my mouth to declare war on itself, I can't think of a better memory. I kinda hope that my kids have their own special things like that. And if it is a vegetable that they remember so fondly, I think I'd be a little sad.

Top Five Food Items to Bake this Fall

As you can tell, I'm really feeling the Top Five list lately. Why? I love lists. I work best off a list--just ask my boss who keeps them coming all day long (she is out of the office this morning, which gives me ample opportunity to write this). So when planning to enjoy my favorite season, I feel like I have to have one just to get everything done and properly enjoyed. Is that weird? There is something to be said for spontaneity, but I think I may have left that behind at around 23 or 24.

Fall is probably my favorite season. That is a popular feeling these days, as anyone with a Pinterest account can attest. Everywhere you look, people are posting pictures of golden leaves and pumpkins and everything flavored with pumpkin that you can possibly think of. I get it people--as a nation, we like pumpkin. Fall is also a very twee season, I think. Gone is Summer's blaze and the bikini-body-onslaught that defines it and we're not quite to the overall grandeur of the holiday season. Fall is stuck in the middle, being all cutesy and enticing with its sweater layers and homey appeal. There is no pressure in Fall, I don't think. It is a time to enjoy the outdoors but get used to the pleasantness of the indoors again. It is a liminal time, exalting in its being stuck in the middle.

Fall is definitely my favorite time to bake. I love baking year round, and holiday baking definitely has its own attraction, but there is something lovely about being in the kitchen in the fall. The ingredients that abound are amazing tasting with all the freshness of summer but the warmth of a winter fire.

To carve out time to take part in baking (as well as running and very possibly learning to ride a bike--more on this later), I took the step this weekend to start a weekly (or even biweekly) "Cooking Sunday." "Cooking Sunday" is a day for me to assemble meals and put them in the freezer for easy access during the week. This is something I've always thought of doing, but never quite got around to. This past Sunday, I made a huge batch of chili (that we had for dinner, with some of the leftovers stocked in the fridge for lunch this week and the rest frozen), cilantro lime chicken for tacos, carnitas, and chicken kiev. We had the chicken kiev last night, and despite a small hiccup with a (much) longer baking time than expected, it was delicious. And easy. And in fact, I spent a large portion of last night, sitting on my bed, wondering what I could possibly get into with my newly found spare time. Tonight, I plan to use that spare time to make blueberry muffins (which I meant to make on Sunday but didn't because I went to two parties instead!), stir together some homemade salsa, and perhaps, if I'm feeling spry, make some of my truffle cookies for Alice, who keeps looking at me with her huge eyes and saying "Choc-wate....COOKIE!." (I should note that this is a huge step for Alice, verbally, as until very recently, she called chocolate "Fuck cat." As in, when at a restaurant, my grandmother asked if she wanted some ice cream and she yelled, "YES! FUCK CAT!" and I had to say loudly and uneasily, "CHOCOLATE! SHE WANTS CHOCOLATE SUNDAE! HA HA!") Other days I plan to use that spare time to sit around on my couch and do absolutely nothing or to, you know, keep my daughter from becoming some kind of deranged pre-teen outlaw clad in gray jeggings and hair feathers who attacks Tokyo after she doesn't get enough "Likes" on her perfectly crafted Facebook status.

But, without further adieu (or rambling), here is a list of other things that I can't wait to make this fall:

1). Maple Walnut Fudge. I really like fudge, as the good people who staff Kilwin's in Gatlinburg, TN can tell you. Of course, the chocolate variety is my favorite, but I also love my grandmother's peanut butter fudge. And chocolate is kinda "done" too--my mom and I always make a batch to take at Christmas time, using the recipe she got off of the back of a Nestle package when she was my daughter's age. I'm really digging this stuff because it is different and oh so Fall. Plus, my grandmom always finds some great fresh walnuts that she passes on to me during Fall. Here is the recipe I plan to use, although I haven't done any other research to see if I have a different recipe (with pictures--always a plus when making candy!) in a cookbook at home.

2). Sourdough bread. I have been wanting to get a starter going forever, and this just might be the time. I'm really seeing this made into panini or with a big pot of soup. Planning on using the recipe set forth in The Cheese Board: Collective Works cookbook, from the shop/cafe I so adore in Berkeley.

3). Focaccia. Focaccia is delicious, and though I've made it a few times, I don't think I've ever really gotten the hang of it. I really plan to this time around. I feel like I've seen this in a Barefoot Contessa cookbook that is hanging around in my kitchen, although I could be vastly wrong. If all else fails, I will go with Joy of Cooking on this one--just a good basic to get me started.

4). Pumpkin Roll. Every cook in the South, it seems, has a day set by to just make pumpkin rolls. I am a glorious exception, because I will admit that I have never made one. My mom has made many of them in her day, maybe even sold a couple. I have made a Buche De Noel a few times, so I know the rolling technique, so perhaps I am well prepared for this task. Perhaps not. I would really like to find a kind of off-kilter pumpkin roll, maybe with cinnamon cream cheese in the middle. I really adore cinnamon cream cheese on red velvet cupcakes (just enough to say "HMMMMM...."), and feel like it is a natural here.

5). Classic Apple Pie. I have made many, many apple pies in my day, a lot of them for my Uncle Ricky who hides them and won't allow anyone else to have one. I always use the same recipe for his, from an old Better Homes and Gardens cookbook my mom got as a wedding present in 1973. When I make them for my dad, I like to use Granny Smith apples and a healthy slug of bourbon. My late grandmother preferred her apple filling on the top of a thin cheesecake with a vanilla wafer crust. This year, though, I want to perfect the art, maybe with some local apples. I've even considered perfecting a French tart while I'm at it, with a pate brisee crust. And when I do it, the pie will be all mine. No sharing allowed.

Does Fall bring out the cooking bug in you? If so, please share your recipes and secrets!

Let's Talk "Birthday"

Alice turns two a week from today. This is a monumental event. Not really because of the birthday itself, per se, but because at that point, we will officially be in the "Terrible Two's" and I'll be able to explain any of her wild behavior by saying, "SHE'S TWO, FOR CHRISSAKES!!!" Perhaps then whoever I'm talking to will understand a bit and put down the taser and the elephant tranquilizers.

I'll just be straight and say that sure, I remember my kid's birthdays. If you manage to push something out of yourself that weighs over five pounds or so you tend to remember the date(s) you did it. However, it sure doesn't hurt that starting about a month before each one, my mother starts asking, "What you going to do for Alice's birthday?" And I have to start coming up with something to get her off my back. I've started to get really creative. When she asked for about the fourth time while we were at the beach (which says something about her nutty-professor forgetfulness), I said, "Well, I thought about getting some strippers and one of those cakes in the shape of a penis. And I'm thinking of calling Vince Neil and see if he'll do the entertainment." I don't think she has asked since. What's funny is that now my father has gotten into the act. Ya'll, we are at Threat Con Delta when my dad is starting to get curious about birthday parties. I even went, "Seriously? You're asking me about this?" He goes, "Um, yeah," and I say, "Well, ok, um....."

I'm not one of those mothers, as you've probably guessed, that thinks about her kid's birthday parties for a year. My husband used to work with someone who reserved spaces for her kids' parties up to two years in advance. I know of people who get caterers. Nope. Not me. I definitely want my kids to have a special day, but there's a limit, you know? And even if I don't spend the better part of my life obsessing over it, I think I throw a pretty mean party. Here's what I do:

1. Buy some streamers and some plates with whatever character/color the kid likes.
2. Clean the house.
3. Make a bunch of food. People like food. I like preparing food. We're good.

There. Done. There is really not a lot of planning involved. ESPECIALLY when your kid is 2. I mean, what is she going to do? Have a crapload of people over and do body shots? Fly her closest friends to Vegas? SHE'S TWO. She knows very few people outside of our families, and even if she knew everyone in our area code, the fact remains that SHE IS TWO. Give her a spoonful of frosting and a cardboard box with a wooden spoon and she's good for a couple of hours.

I've kind of pulled the whole thing out of my ass, basically just to answer the myriad "What are you doing for Allie's birthday?" questions, but here's my plan. Ask everyone to bring a book since that is her favorite thing (besides, of course, destroying Tokyo). Dress her up in a red dress and striped tights so she looks like Olivia, her favorite character. Make lots of red foods, since Olivia likes red and Alice loves tomato sauce. BOOM. Did I just blow your mind with my party planning magic? Really? Because I literally came up with that shit in the 30 seconds of saying "Uhhhh...." after my mother in law asked what I was doing for the anniversary of my child's birth. Oh, and make this cake. I don't know why I want to do that so badly--I assure you, it is mostly for my own selfish reasons such as I love making Martha's swiss meringue buttercream, I have a lot of gel food coloring that I like using (I keep it in a tackle box!), blah blah blah.

When I was a kid, my mom would bake me a Wilton cake, this (obviously) being one of my favorites. One year she did that and bought me a whoopie cushion. That was the best birthday EVER. Sure, I got gifts every year. But there was no big party. Sometimes I got a sleepover. But that was it. I had two parties that didn't take place in our living room--one at McDonald's when I was four, and another at the Pizza Hut across the road from my house. I am just fine, ya'll. I'm not going to go shoot up a party supply store because I didn't ever have pony rides on my special day. My kids will be fine too. In fact, I'm sure they'll look back and think, "Golly gee whillickers, that sure was fun!" Because birthdays are fun by their very nature. You eat cake, you get gifts, people wear funny hats. No pony rides needed.

My only real issue right now is setting the date. Matt has this thing where he thinks we should do the party on her actual birthday, but that is a Thursday, and I know I'll be super tired from work and from whatever else life decides to throw my way that day (the universe doesn't give you a freebie on your kid's birthday, I'm sorry to report). I want to do it Labor Day weekend where I have some time and everyone can come and not feel stressed about getting back home/to work/etc. That will be a little bit after her actual birthday (like a week and a half), but SHE'S TWO, lest we forget. And I thought we'd do a little something on her day, like I'll make her some enchiladas (thinking of making this weekend and putting in the fridge/freezer so that I get maximum play time with her that day) and maybe a Wilton cake of my own (a small one). Just a little recognition of the day. Does anyone think that is neglectful of me? I hope not.

So weigh in on birthdays, if you like? Big deal or not so much? What was your most memorable childhood birthday? I'd love to hear about it.

Poverty Pasta Sauce

This past Saturday was my daughter's dance recital. She was very excited about this, as well she should have been, given all the work and time she has put into dance over the past year. And because she is my daughter, she knew that with an event such as this one, she would probably get her choice of meal from me before the show. That's just how I do things with the kids--which will probably be evidenced someday when they are all on the show Heavy and talking about how their mom rewarded them with food, thus crippling their lives forever and ever.

At first, Gabby wanted to go out. We were ok with that, but with the timing of things and the fact that driving to get to a decent restaurant would mean nothing fun, we tried to persuade her to eat something at home. It didn't take but just a second before her eyes twinkled and she said, "Oh, Mom. Make me that pasta sauce you used to make when I was little. The marinara from Williamsburg!"

I was shocked at first. Matt and I had promised her anything that we could get in our little town--I expected filet mignon (Gabby definitely knows her way around a nice cut of meat) or crabcakes or homemade pad thai, chock full of shrimp. But she was asking for homemade, long-simmered marinara. I enthusiastically said yes and went to the store for the ingredients.

And really, the pasta sauce is much, much more than just sauce. When Matt and I were in college, we had very little money, which I guess goes without saying. We got student loans to pay for rent, Matt worked a student job in the Modern Languages department, and I worked long hours in a coffee shop and waiting tables. On top of our regular bills, we paid for Gabby to attend a private preschool run by a W&M alum that was close to our apartment, and we had a host of student baby-sitters to watch Sam for the short times when neither Matt or I were home. We stretched every dollar as far as it could go. But there were definitely times when the dollars refused to stretch any farther. Times like when my brakes went out, or when we had to buy a new sofa or when our rent was raised. And every time that that happened, we would go into lockdown mode and I would make a pot of pasta sauce.

The pasta sauce would sit bubbling on the stove and we would remain amazingly optimistic. Of all the crazy shit that we have done in our lives together, that is what I am most proud of, I think. We would literally have no money to our names, but we would remain happy with our kids and our books and a big bowls of carbohydrates. Sometimes we would make the pot of sauce last a week until someone got paid, every meal some iteration on marinara. Mostly, it was eaten greedily with different shapes of pasta, but there was the odd time when I would make a pizza crust and cover it all with some kind of cheese left in the refrigerator. And there were late night sessions--Matt and myself baking bread and then dipping it happily into the sauce while we alternated between sips of 7-11 coffee and sips of Mountain Dew to keep ourselves awake to finish one last paper.

As I prepared the pasta sauce on Saturday and the smell filled the house, all of this came flooding back. And I thought of Gabby, so young during that time. We were so happy to have her all to ourselves, sleeping down the hall from us in her tiny bedroom with the Hello Kitty comforter. At the time, we wanted everything perfect for her. Hell, we still do, and find ourselves rushing around like mad trying to make sure that she has the right shorts, the perfect shoes, a perfectly balanced meal with no sugar and plenty of vegetables. But those times spent in that tiny apartment with the pasta sauce--this is what she remembers. The times when we were at our wit's end and facing a very uncertain future--somehow she remembers this with love and happiness.

I once read an article about a woman who had been a single mother to a son while struggling with clinical depression. She talked about how she remembered her child's early years with a kind of embarassment because she felt that, given her own struggles, she could not possibly have given him what he needed. When he was grown, she asked him what he remembered from those years, and he listed off a littany of happy stories about trips to the zoo, camping out in their living room together, trips to the grocery store. She was amazed that that is what he remembered. I felt the same way with Gabby on Saturday. Kids are amazing that way--they don't need perfection, they just need parents who adore them and try their best. Even when their best isn't that awesome.

Morgan's Poverty Pasta Sauce
Makes a blue ton. I'm thinking about 9 or 10 cups. This stuff also freezes very well.
1 tbsp. olive oil
3-4 onions, chopped
1 tbsp. sugar
1/2 cup dry red wine (you can forego the wine if you are really in the soup, and I've done that. But it is really better with the wine, and there is always $3 Chuck.)
1 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil (or just the standard kind you used before)
1 tbsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
1/2 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper (don't be tempted to leave this out. It will not make it that spicy, but it will give you a nice depth of flavor that is too awesome to leave out.)
6-8 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 (28 oz.) cans crushed tomatoes, undrained
1 (28 oz.) can petite diced tomatoes (if you like it chunkier, feel free to use the regular dice)
2 (6 oz.) cans tomato paste

Heat the oil in a very large pot. Add the onions and cook until light golden brown, about 20 minutes. Watch these because they can go from nicely golden to bitter black pretty quickly. Add the wine and cook for a minute or so. Then dump in all of the other ingredients. Wait on the sauce to come back to a boil and then turn it down and cover the pot. Let simmer for about 2 hours, stirring every now and then. Watch the texture--when it gets to what you like, take it off. It is your sauce after all!

On Saturday, I purchased all the tomatoes, a bottle of wine, some pasta, a big head of romaine, parmesan, and some Alexia garlic bread (that is divine, I should point out) all for the low, low price of $21. We ate this stuff all weekend, and having chicken parm tonight. So it stands the test of time! And the smell of the house while it is simmering....that is priceless.

Weight Watchers Update

So I lost .4 lb. last week. I was actually kind of expecting a gain because we spent the weekend doing everything that Sam likes to do (Gabby went to Florida with a friend, so Sam got the joy of an all weekend party) and evidently that includes a LOT of pizza. In fact, if I ever see pizza again, I'll probably puke. Unless that pizza is topped with pears and gorgonzola and arugula. In that case, bring it on. At any rate, I was relatively happy with the loss because it proves that even in the face of less than ideal food options, I can still lose.

But I'm back on it this week, trying to do my best and tracking everything. Since I an enjoying following Danica's Daily so much, I decided to try some of the recipes that she writes about. I made this shredded chicken, and finished it off today for lunch in some mad delicious tacos (what pizza is to Sam, tacos are to me). I also made this slow cooker chicken dish for my husband while he was sick because it seemed like good comfort food (and yes, don't cook it too long--I caught mine before it got mushy, and it was pretty good). The family has all been pretty good about trying all this with me, and in fact, I don't think they've noticed at all that things have been getting healthier around the house. However, last night, Matt was working late, and I was at home with the kids. Gabby asked me what was for dinner as I was setting the table. "Um, well, it's macaroni and cheese," I said. "But with cauliflower. A lot of cauliflower." Because I was making this super cheesy low fat cauliflower mac and cheese. She gave me The Look, which means that I had overstepped my bounds in trying to make the family healthy. Screw with the mac and cheese? After it is a well known fact that I adore the stuff and could heal any number of broken hearts/bad days/nuclear wars with it?

But yes, yes I did mess with it. So we sat down and tried it with some steamed broccoli on the side. And it was pretty damn good. The girls adored it--Gabby had two big plates and Alice had two toddler sized servings. Sam, who will not eat macaroni that doesn't come out of a box, had a small portion and a bowl full of plain whole wheat penne and steamed broccoli. We were all pleasantly surprised by how happily we noshed.

(I will say that I made a couple of changes: I used twice as much pasta since I was using penne and it is bigger and less able to mix than elbow macaroni (I fixed that by using the recipe builder in Weight Watchers to figure out points), and I used Cabot 75% Reduced Fat 1% cheese instead of 2%. I added maybe 1-2 tbsp more cheese to make up for the fat discrepancy--he he. I also used panko bread crumbs.)

After dinner, I decided we needed a snack to eat today (Matt and I were both planning long work days), so I made these Low-Fat Banana Bread Cookies. We all are huge banana bread fans--the kids have been known to polish off a loaf on a rainy Sunday afternoon. So I was excited to find something that promised that flavor profile but in something small and portion controlled as well as low-fat. They were super easy to make and put together while supervising baths, homework, and Alice. I pulled them out of the oven, and the kids ran to try them (Alice yelling "COO-KIE! COO-KIE!" the whole time). Sam ate one and declared them delicious and said they were the best cookies I've ever made. Which makes me wonder about all those super fattening cookies I've been making.... At any rate, they are very good. Chewy and fruity, with just enough banana flavor. I used dried cherries, and really, I could eat dried cherries in anything, but I liked the touch they add here. I had a good deal of extra points last night after dinner and ate two of these with a cup of 1% milk and felt like a queen for 7 total points. So, so good. Matt is also a big fan and ate them greedily last night, but only after making me promise that I would never, ever stop making them.

I hope your week is going healthfully if you are on WW or not. Here's to success on the scale this week!

Weight Watchers Wednesday: Pizza, Pizza

Pizza is one food that my whole family can agree on. Now, not the same toppings. Getting any group of people, no matter where the people are from, how much money they make, what political party they identify with or how they feel about Obamacare to decide on pizza toppings is IMPOSSIBLE. My family is no different. Sam is a plain-Jane kinda guy--cheese or maybe some pepperoni (with no burnt edges!), whereas Gabby and I are definitely in the "more toppings, better pizza" camp. Matt and Alice are somewhere in the middle. But despite this, I know that if I make a pizza crust and throw some stuff on it (or better yet, let the kids throw their own things on it) I can get a meal on the table that everyone will eat.

And you would think that this would be counterintuitive to the whole Weight Watchers thing. However, since I restarted the program, I have found myself going to pizza more and more as a meal choice. For reals, you say? Yes, pizza. The truth is using a bit less cheese and a whole lot more veggies can turn the ultimate no-no into something you can feel really good about. And something that calms those cravings.

First off, let's start with the crust. Crust is really overlooked, I think, in the making of the American pizza. In many cases, it is an afterthought, merely a vehicle for lots and lots of gooey cheese. And while that kind of pizza has its place (when you are throwing back a few beers at the ballpark, for instance), I feel that if you are making something that will tame your cravings and give you some nutrition, every part has to be at its best. I have found the following crust recipe to be easy to churn out at a moment's notice and delicious:

Morgan's Pizza Crust
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 tbsp. of yeast dissolved in 1/4 cup warm water (I put this in a 1 cup liquid measure)
1 cup cold water & 1 tbsp. olive oil mixed (I wash out the same 1 cup measure to mix this)
1 tbsp. honey

Blend this all together either in a stand mixer with a dough hook or in a bowl with a wooden spoon (you may notice that if you are doing this by hand, you need a bit more water. In that case, a couple of teaspoons of cold water will do the trick). Let rest for 20 min with a kitchen towel over the top. Knead and roll out and let rest for another 10 minutes. Place dough on a pan or pizza stone sprinkled with cornmeal. Spread with your toppings. Bake at 425 for 25 min.

Once you've made the crust, the world is your oyster. Be creative with your toppings. And although cheese is delicious, think about other things you can add. I have found the following toppings to be delicious:
--caramelized onions, a bit of mozzarella, goat cheese and a good drizzle honey
--dried figs, caramelized onions, and Stilton
--pesto, roasted vegetables (a mix of zucchini, yellow squash, mushrooms, peppers, onions and asparagus), a bit of mozzarella
--mashed black beans, fire-roasted salsa, spinach, cilantro and a mix of monterey jack and reduced-fat sharp cheddar
--chopped pears, arugula, and blue cheese with a good glug of balsamic vinegar on top
--and the old reliable--roasted tomato sauce that you can make on Sunday and keep in the fridge for a few days, sliced fresh mozzarella, torn basil (especially good with a light Caesar tossed on top--yummo)

And there is always this--the child labor pizza. Buy a bunch of healthy toppings, make the crust and then let the kids make their own individual pizzas. Sometimes I double the recipe for the crust for this so that there is plenty in case someone wants to make an extra. Pineapple always goes fast when we do this. You might be surprised to see what your kids add. Sam shocked the crap out of me last time we did this by adding fresh mozzarella and broccoli to his pizza and then eating the whole thing!

Generally, these pizzas weigh in at about 4-5 Points Plus per slice. Which sounds like a lot. But the crust is hearty and filling and the slices larger than what you would find on a restaurant pizza (I usually follow an old Weight Watchers cookbook of mine and cut the pizza into 6ths rather than 8ths). With a big salad, one slice can be super filling. If you have the extra points to throw around, two slices is definitely a feast. Last night I did have the points, and found myself only able to get through one and a half slices before getting totally satiated. I ended up using my extra points on some Edy's slow churned ice cream. And you can always bring a slice for lunch the next day--mine is waiting on me in the fridge and I'm super excited!

If you have tried this, I'd love to hear your topping ideas in the comments!

On Growing Up

When I was 8, my mom bought me a whoopie cushion for my birthday. She bought me other things too, but the whoopie cushion was the definite draw. My best friend, Melissa, and I spent my entire party taking turns blowing it up and then sitting on it. We would then explode into uproarious laughter. Every.Time. There is actual video of this. I flit around the video screen, wearing a purple flowered dress with a lace collar, my hair in a French braid, my face obscured by gold rimmed glasses and buck teeth. I am sublimely happy.

When I was 11, it snowed on my birthday. Buckets actually. My birthday fell on a Friday that year, and my mom has promised me a slumber party. I was determined to have the party. My mom tried to tell me that none of my friends would be able to come because the roads were bad and they could not make it up the hill to our house. I sulked. Within an hour, my mom had negotiated her way out of our driveway, and we were driving down the road in a four wheel drive, picking up my friends. We had to drive up the huge mountain where my husband's parents live now, a huge mountain that is known far and wide for the amount of its snowfall, to get a friend. My mom did it. She secured us all in the back of her Four Runner and headed back down the mountain. We stayed up all night, at one point having a screaming contest, and at another utilizing every blanket/comforter/sleeping bag in the house to make a tent that encompassed my entire bedroom. My mother just may be a saint.

When I was 19, I celebrated my first birthday away from home. I was a freshman in college. Matt did every thing he could to make it awesome--we went out for lunch and dinner, he bought me books and a new journal, every thing was amazing. However, that night, we realized that he had forgotten the "cake" aspect of the day. I told him it didn't matter--I had had a dessert at dinner--but I could tell he felt bad about it, and to be honest, the whole thing made me miss home a bit. We were sitting in my dorm room, studying and talking about this when someone knocked on the door. I got up to answer it, and there stood three girls from my hall, holding an entire pecan pie with a candle in it. I laughed and thanked them. It turns out they had stolen the pie from the UC dining hall, as well as a fork which they then gave to me to eat the pie with. It was amazing. I felt blessed and amazed, and I didn't miss home a bit after that.

Last night, on the eve of my birthday, I made my own birthday cake. I was going to forego the cake this year, given that I am on Weight Watchers, but the kids were not about to let that happen, and I was not about to have shortening spackled monstrosity from the grocery store sitting on my table. So I found a recipe from Cooking Light (that is still like 9 points, natch) and last night I made it. I have to say before I go any further, the frosting is RIDICULOUSLY good. And this is from a girl who has made a ton of frosting in her day. Anyway, after making the cake batter, I looked around. Alice was sitting in the living room, watching Ni Hao Kai-Lan and not destroying something for the first time of the night, Sam was in my bedroom because he likes my sheets (never mind the fact that he has his own flannel sheets), watching something on Cartoon Network and doing a word find he brought home from school, and Gabby was in her room, doing God knows what, but probably something that has to do with using her Kindle to blind a rival girl in her class. It was quiet for the first time all night. So I pulled down the mixer bowl and sat in the floor and licked it up. I had paid special attention to making sure everything got in the pan to bake because I am bad about licking the bowl, and I didn't have the points to spare after a supper of yummy bean burritos and guacamole. But as I was licking, I thought, "It is a good thing I didn't leave much in here, because I could make myself sick doing this." And as soon as I thought it, literally the second it hit my mind, I thought, "Oh my God. That is something my mother would say." Or my grandmother. At least someone well over 40. And, yes, it sounds like something that if I said it to Gabby, she would roll her eyes at my oldness.

And then I looked up from my glinting silver prize, and I gazed around the kitchen, and I thought, "I really need to wash down these cabinets because there is a lot of stuff on them that I never see. The dishwasher, especially, could stand a scrub down."

And at that moment, I realized that I am old. That I am a grown up now. I sat there and stared at the cabinets and resisted the urge to grab my new sponges that Matt had bought the day before and go at them. The old me would have thought, "God, these things are dirty! Good thing nobody sits in the floor of the kitchen to see them!" But me, the responsible grown up, literally sat on her hands to keep from doing something so that I could enjoy the quietness of the house and not start a big project right before the kids' bedtime.

(And I have to admit, that typing this, birthday or not, makes me want to scrub them the second I get home).

I am one of those people who clings hard to her adolescence, who despite the three kids and the job and the closet full of high heels and business casual still sees herself as a young'n of sorts. And that's not going to change. Just the other night, my husband and I sat on our couch and talked dreamily about our "next adventure," what we might want to get into in five years, where we could go and see next. Our voices were hushed, so as not to wake the sleeping 16 month old in the next room, but had all the dreamy quality that we had when we were in high school and discussed the great expanse of life before us. But sitting there, in that kitchen floor, clutching my bowl of reduced-fat cake batter, I felt grown up. And it wasn't all together a bad feeling.

I am 28 now--have been officially for 4 minutes, as I was born at 12:40 on January 18, 1983. I don't know what my 28th year holds for me, nor do I know what the rest of this life holds for me. I don't know where I will live, what I will end up doing, how many degrees I will have. All I know is that I am starting to feel comfortable in my own skin, and if that is what being grown-up means, I welcome it. I see myself today and I am happy with what I have accomplished and what is still out there. And if there is a better birthday wish than that, I don't know it.

*Although, I should note that it is super nice that my coworkers just took me out for a lovely lunch at my favorite lunch spot (strawberry poppy seed salad FTW!) and I came back to a very spring-y bouquet of flowers from my mom. That was pretty rad.

Weight Watchers Update and Boozy Banana Bread

Today I attended my first Weight Watchers meeting since college. I really wanted to rededicate myself to the program and decided that after the holidays, I would move my online membership to the full Monthly Pass membership where I would have more accountability and a chance to get support on the weight loss journey. I knew that I had gained a bit of weight during the holidays, and I had gotten away from making healthy habits--instead I was creating unhealthy ones to replace the healthy ones that I had made. That, my litttle croquembouches, is not good.

I did not, however, think that I had gained 15 pounds. Yes, folks I have. I tried to tell myself that this is a combination of wearing my shoes and a bulky sweater (I had forgotten to take those things off until I saw a lady stripping beside of me at weigh-in), and the fact that it is almost that time of the month and I woke up this morning feeling bulky. But that is still a lot of weight gain. That is a lot of butter, ya'll. And a lot of sugar. And a lot of cheese. And a tad bit of champagne. The other part of it is that this is after a week of being *relatively* good food-wise (bringing my lunch, preparing recipes from Cooking Light at night). So lord only knows how bad it was before last week.

At first I was very discouraged. I wanted to cry and maybe run out of the building and into the McDonald's across the road where I would down a very large hot chocolate. Those 15 pounds were 15 pounds that I had worked off before, ran off, and was so proud to have removed. And I put them back on because a lack of control. And if there is a trait that I ABHOR in others, it is a lack of self-control and self-awareness. So, in essence, standing there in the cold church gymnasium, I felt like I was becoming someone I hated.

But there was the voice of the meeting helper person, and she was smiling a lot and telling me that it was great that I was there in the first place, and would I like a magazine? and that I should talk to this other girl who was new last week and about my age. And I thought, "Fuck it." It is in the past. I ate too much over the holidays. I made too many treats, and I licked too many spoons and now I'm paying for it. I know this--I know that I have a predisposition to be heavy because of family history and a love for the more creamy, satiny things in life. So I gained some weight? I knew it would happen. I just got what was coming to me. And now I am fixing it. I can't do any thing more than what I am doing right now. So I'm not going to worry. I will lose 5 pounds, and then I will lose 15, and then at some point, I'll hit my goal weight when I lose 25. And it will have been all the better for the slip-ups and the mistakes and the times when I learned just how much is too much.

At any rate, I went to Weight Watchers. I am now toying around with the online stuff, actually tracking my meals for once (yeah, I had been paying the online fee, but only sporadically checking stuff and tracking it), and feeling slightly proud of myself. I would add a picture because I look cute today in my new sparkly cardigan and ruffly shirt, but the building is literally FILLED with oldsters because the College for Older Adults restarted today in the building. The whole place smells like meat loaf, ya'll. I went down to take a picture this morning, and there were about 20 old ladies in the bathroom, talking about what medicines they take and the side effects. One lady goes, "Sometimes I just can't....go." And she said "go" the way you or I might say "genital warts" or "pubic lice." Le sigh.

It has been a while since I shared a recipe, and longer since I shared a healthy one, so I'll show you what I made last night. I swore I would never use a different banana bread recipe after I made this peanut butter one because it was so, so good. Well, rules (and swears) are made to be broken. I made this bananas foster bread last night. Why? Because it has booze in it. And booze is freakin' amazing. I will cop to a couple of changes--1) I used bourbon instead of rum or cognac because I just like bourbon in ANYTHING and because I didn't have any rum handy (not a big rum fan, actually), and 2) I did not make the glaze, which would make it more delightfully boozy because I have kids that I thought might like a slice and I didn't want to liquor them up. The booze in the recipe is cooked on the stovetop first before baking, so you get a lot of the alcohol burned out before you even bake it. So I think it is pretty kid friendly, with changes. If Matt and I let them have ANY. It was truly very good. And for 5 Points Plus and 194 calories, it makes a nice breakfast with yogurt and fruit. Plus it has flax in it. Have you ever known something to have flax in it and be bad for you? Flax makes you smart, ya'll!

I hope you are having a healthy day. Feel free to post healthy recipes or lunch ideas!

Divinity

So last night, I did it. Something I have been planning to do for about three years now but haven't. Something I have been scared out of my mind to do for about half my life.

I made divinity.

Divinity, for those of you not from the southern part of the US, is a fluffy white candy eaten mostly at Christmas time. It is basically just straight sugar, but in a beautiful, cloudlike package. A lot of people mix nuts in it, or food coloring, or sometimes, they spread it with peanut butter and roll it up for a peanut butter roll (I, actually, hate it with the peanut butter. To me it is just too much sweet, and a bit akin to buying a gorgeous purse and then putting it inside of a free carry all you got at the grocery store). Divinity is also famously tempermental. You cannot make it when it is raining or humid or in years when there is a Republican in the White House (I'm just joking about that last part...or am I?). A lot of people flat out refuse to make it because of a bad experience when it didn't work out for them. And a lot of people just don't want to make it. In fact, I don't think I've spoken to a person under the age of 70 who regularly makes it/likes making it.

But I like a challenge. And my dad likes it and I really wanted to stir some up to surprise him with on Christmas Eve. And I have this desire at Christmas time, to just make as much candy as possible. This is a byproduct of having grown up with my grandmother. My 86 year old grandmother is making candy as I type this, feverishly preparing for my aunts and uncles and cousins to arrive to her house. Every year, she makes about 7-8 different types of candy...fudge, divinity, seafoam (divinity made with brown sugar, which is her favorite), peanut butter rolls (ick), millionaires, molded heath bars, peanut butter balls and probably other things that I just can't think of now. And when you think that each of these recipes makes at least 50 pieces of candy....it is a lot of sugar up in the hizzy. She packs it all up in Christmas tins that she has accumulated over the years and stores it in her laundry room. She says that it is because it is colder out there, but well, I don't know. Maybe she wants us all to throw in a load of towels when we abscond with a millionaire? Anyway, she has it there for the taking and it is just like a heaven of candy--all right there for the taking. When I was a kid, I used to get so excited just thinking of it--the variety, the smooth chocolate-ness, the smell of the tins.

So every year I try to recreate. Last year, I failed miserably because a huge winter weather system knocked out our power for a week, and none of my projects came to fruition. I made peppermint bark gift boxes for my kids' teachers, but that was it. But this year, I am determined. So I bit the bullet and made the divinity.

And it was a little tricky, but nowhere near as hard as I thought. Perhaps I just got very, very lucky. The hardest part was molding it into pretty little puffs. You are supposed to use two spoons to kind of twirl it onto a piece of wax paper so that it comes out looking like the top of a soft serve ice cream cone. Yeah, mine...not so much (as you can see from the picture--that is one of the pieces I made sitting on my desk just now). Also, that is one of the latter pieces I made because you can see that it was starting to get stiff as I twirled it out--that is why you see a couple of bumps on its side (that and having been contained in a ziploc bag for the trip to work this morning). The first pieces (and actually about 70% of the batch) were smooth and puffy wonderfulness.

I used the recipe from Screen Doors and Sweet Tea, which is probably my favorite cookbook in my collection, and only used less than Joy of Cooking. Seriously, if you have a free afternoon, get this cookbook, a nice glass of tea or wine and settle into a comfy chair. The recipes are divine, but the writing is even more amazing. Anyway, I have adapted it here in case you are interested in creating your own candy bowls:

Divinity

3 cups granulated sugar

1/2 cup light corn syrup

1/2 cup hot water

3 egg whites

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

DO NOT CONSIDER MAKING THIS UNLESS YOU HAVE A CANDY THERMOMETER. Combine the sugar, corn syrup, and hot water in a heavy saucepan with a lid. Cook over medium heat and stir constantly until the sugar dissolves. Let the mixture come to a boil. Once it is boiling, turn the heat to low, cover the pot, and cook for 5 minutes. Then remove the lid and continue to cook until temperature is 270. Do not stir. (Note: the recipe didn't say this, but I cranked up the heat back to medium after removing the lid. Otherwise, I might still be in my kitchen waiting on it to hit 270. As it was, it took long enough for me to clean all my kitchen counters, and do a few dishes.)

While the mixture is cooking, beat the egg whites, salt, and vanilla extract until stiff peaks form. Make sure this is in a large bowl. Once sugar mixture is at 270, pour the mixture slowly into the egg whites. You want to have your mixer on while you are doing this. Once the sugar mixture is in the egg whites, turn the mixer up to 11 and beat it (JUST BEAT IT!). It is done when the mixture is glossy white and holds its shape (i.e., you can move the beaters and still see where they were).

Then it is twirling time. It might help here to have a willing compatriot because this stuff hardens fast. Using two spoons, dip it out and twirl individual pieces onto wax paper. Then, leave out to harden for an hour.

Voila! You have divinity.

Lastly, if you intend on making this, the first rule of divinity is you talk about divinity. You have to tell everyone within a 50 mile radius that you are making it so that they will know to stay out of your way. And also so that if they hear you praying frantically to some higher power, they will just realize that you are making candy, and not, you know, going into labor with an alien baby.

Now go make candy!

Winter Wonderland OOTD and Weekend Wrap Up

First things first:

Shirt: Lands End Canvas

Sweater: J. Crew Nonno Cardigan (last year)

Pants: Merona Collection

Boots: Merona

Necklace: American Eagle (fireball knock-off)

Hair: Hell

This is about the time that you are getting really sick of these pants, huh? Yeah. I wear them a lot. But it's not my fault! It is totally the fault of Mother Effing Nature, who is number one on my Shit List right about now. Why? Well, folks, the wind chill was 1 degree when I left the house this morning. ONE DEGREE. Or, in terms that my husband understands, ASS FREEZING COLD. We have about 6-8 inches of snow around our house, depending on where you walk. The wind has blown it everywhere. And underneath the snow, it is a layer of ice. Which is freaking WONDERFUL. Except that it is not.

When I was a kid, I loved snow. I loved the winter, I loved the ice, I loved it all. And I never understood why my mom didn't like it. But now that I am old and have to go out and scrape the car to get to work while my kids sleep all snugly in their flannel sheets that I have to work to pay for, I understand. Oh, Mother, I understand. And I regret that time that I made you drive me to the Kingsport Mall in 12 inches of snow, stopping to call the mall on a PAY PHONE to make sure that it would stay open for us, so that I could buy Where in the USA is Carmen Sandiego? to play on my computer. I'm sorry, Mom. If it helps, I bought you something nice for Christmas. Hint: it is fleecey. Because I'm sorry about the cold.

ANYWAY, I wore this stuff because this sweater makes me happy. In fact, that is why I'm posting this outfit in the first place, because, let's face it, it is not much to write home about. This cardigan is amazing, and probably one of the best purchases I've made in a long time. It is wooly and substantial, and I wore it on its own in the fall to protect against a wayward wind. And this morning, it actually kept me insulated and warm under my coat while I scraped the car. I adore it. Of course, I bought it last year at Christmas (and got it on sale to boot) so it is no longer available, but this looks similar, and I may or may not order it with a bit of Christmas cash given to me by my employer (not calling it a bonus this year, but rather a "gift"). It is funny, though. I ordered this because it was on sale and because I liked a cami that I thought might go well with it. Well, the cami is now at the tailor to be taken in a bit and I've more or less forgotten about it, but the sweater lives on as a piece that I will wear for years. Funny how that happens.

On Saturday, I took the kids to a birthday party, and went to my favorite candy/baking supply store to stock up on candy melts, molds, and sanding sugars. Fun, fun, fun times, and no, I'm not kidding. Then the kids and I made a massive grocery store excursion so that we would be prepared for the snow that was supposed to hit. And it is a good thing we did. On Sunday, we were snowed in, so I made truffles and caramel corn and raspberry pinwheel cookies to put in the freezer. I also made lasagna roll ups, which were delicious. We watched Christmas movies, and I didn't change out of my pajamas all day. We were still snowed in yesterday, so I did a bit of cleaning, roasted a chicken, sporadically checked my work email, made and decorated gingerbread men with the kids, and molded my first batch of peppermint bark suckers, fittingly, in my new snowman mold. I was going to make my very first batch of divinity EVER, but had no vanilla extract. Let me tell you how much I wanted to make it: I almost went out in the DRIVING SNOW to go buy vanilla extract. Matt ended up not letting me because the hill where we live was frozen. But the moral of the story is: do not get between a woman and her vanilla extract.

My kids are off from school again, and let's face it, will probably never go back. They will probably end up working at a carnival somewhere with their awesome elementary school educations. The sun is shining now, but it is still bitterly cold. I am the only one in our part of the office now, because I am the only one who was insane enough to get out on the road this morning. But we were out of toilet paper and VANILLA EXTRACT, and well, grades are due today and our cadre of professors are having a hard time accepting that fact so I am here to provide assistance. And to internet shop. And well, I have to admit, it is nice to get out of the house just a bit. I am going to make a short day of it though, methinks. We are going to have Christmas parties the next two days here at work, so productivity for everyone is at an all time low. Which is a real drive for all you soon to be college graduates out there--working in education is good for this very reason. Very, very good.

And if you are reading this, and you live in Minnesota or Canada or something like that, and you think I am horrible for complaining about our weather, I apologize. But I used to live in CA, and I will never, ever get used to this again. It is horrible. The end.

Alice Loves Pineapple

Last night, per the request of my older children, I made teriyaki chicken and rice. I sliced a fresh pineapple into spears as an easy side dish. Alice ate her dinner of chicken and rice and a bit of pineapple very, very well. In fact, I was busy cleaning up the table and discussing with Matt just how well she had eaten when she decided to jump up in Sam's seat and pick up his fork and start eating his leftover rice. Then, the plate of unfinished pineapple spears caught her eye. She managed to efficiently climb up on the table and start eating the spears. She managed to eat two of them before finally getting her fill and climbing off the table and off to do something else destructive.

ETA: Please disregard the fact that Sam doesn't appear to be wearing pants. He was supposed to be getting ready for a bath when he heard us laughing at Alice and decided that he wanted to be part of the fun.

Weekend Wrap Up and Weight Watchers Update

Wow, that's a lot of w's.

This weekend it snowed. Quite a bit actually. I didn't even know that it was going to, but then I got up on Saturday morning, and the ground was covered. Matt, who had to go to work, was not pleased with this. To be honest, after the debacle that was last winter, I wasn't real tickled with it either, but decided to grin and bear it for the sake of the children.

But here's the thing. I was exhausted on Saturday. So it is almost like the snow was sent to keep me from doing anything meaningful and to just sit around and focus on what is important--my kids, my laundry, my kitchen. So, I made the best of it. The kids and I put on our fleeciest pajamas, and I made pluckin' bread (which is a cinnamon-y pull apart bread that I always make when the kids and I are stuck in the house together for any amount of time) and a batch of cookies for the freezer. I cleaned a bit and we played. And rested. And watched the strange TV shows (When Vacations Attack, anyone?) that they like to watch. It was very fun. Matt came home, and I prepared a batch of latkes, and we turned in early.

On Sunday, it was more of the same. I was a bit more adventurous in the kitchen, preparing my own recipe for salted caramel cookies (and I will try to post the recipe sometime, if I can read it. It is laying on my countertop, encased in a thin layer of sugar and caramel drippings and may be completely illegible), and a batch of Martha Stewart's chocolate almond crinkles. The kids and I played with the Wii Fit and I did an inhuman amount of laundry. Matt arrived home and brought Mexican food, so we sat around and ate enchiladas and then went to bed. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

However, in the course of all this, I realized just how much I have let myself really go, healthwise, in the name of work and stress and eating things to "reward" myself. I am feeling much bigger, and un-toned. My skinniest pants (the Gap Forever Skinnies) are now uncomfortable in a size 6. And I am feeling...worn. Just worn. Last night, I laid down to go to bed at around 10:00 and awoke feeling awful. My stomach was rolling and I just felt really sick. I went into the living room, and laid on the couch and watched some 48 Hours Mystery on TLC and just generally felt wretched. And I just knew that it was all my fault. I started feeling it all coming back--the shame I felt when I was a size 14, that look in the dressing room mirror when the size 16 pants didn't fit, that feeling when I caught a glimpse of myself in the a full length mirror and wanted to throw up. And this too, the stomach pain from overdoing it AGAIN, the sluggishness, the constantly being sick or needing to stay home from work because I wasn't treating my body correctly.

I can not do that again. Will not do that again. Ever.

I am a person who is going to struggle with her weight her entire life. My father's family is big, and my body type is such that I am a lot like them and tend to pack on the pounds like them. I have to accept that. And I have to remember that although that is something that I have to remember, it is not something that defines me. I am an active person who knows how to eat. I know what to do. I am strong, and I like to run (albeit very slowly). I want to show my kids my strength and have them be proud of me for not only what I can do with my mind, but also what I can do with my body.

So I have decided to rededicate myself to Weight Watchers with the new program. The whole thing just hit me at *just* the right time. Just as I was rebelling against the faux-food and ickiness that I associate with WW at my weakest moments (and paying the consequences for this rebellion, I might add), they were rolling something out that is much more in line with what I consider my own personal eating credo--fresh, in season, and homemade. No more fake cheese or fake bagels or counting points on an apple. And I can do that! I feel really, really good about it. This morning, I made myself some whole grain toast and added a bit of natural peanut butter and some all-fruit jam (just a taste). I had it with my 1% milk, and I felt good. I just ate some almonds as I typed this, and I feel even better. I also brought myself a can of soup (Progresso Hearty Tomato--not one of their WW soups, but still just 220 calories for the whole can and SOOOO good) and a couple of pieces of flatbread that I made yesterday. Just getting the stuff out made me feel better about myself.

And I started thinking last night. I love to bake, and I often feel that WW is pinging me in because of that. But then I realized. I love to bake, but what I love the most is sharing my treats. So this morning, I packaged the cookies from yesterday up (leaving a few behind for my kids and husband who love the holiday cookie jar) in cello bags from the dollar store and brought them to work. For the few folks who ventured out in our winter wonderland to come to work, they were a nice treat. And I loved seeing everyone's faces. I am never going to stop baking--I know that. And I want to enjoy my treats every now and then. But sharing them is undoubtably the most awesome thing about it all. And I'm going to do better about that.

I know this is long, but I hope it reaches someone who may be falling off the WW bandwagon too. Really, we all deserve better than what we think we are "rewarding" ourselves with. It is time to realize that.

Thanksgiving

Now that the food is gone and things have calmed down, I managed to upload my pictures. And I absolutely love this one of Gabby and wanted to share. I love that look on her face that is all "Where do I start?" My Gabby is such a good eater, and I love that about her. This sums up th holidays nicely for me.

Giving Thanks

I just realized that the underwear post was my 100th post. Seems fitting, I would say. But anyway, HUZZAH. If I were very good at this whole thing, I would have a fun, commemorative giveaway or something. But I'm total crap, and we all agree on that. So let's just keep it simple.

I am off today, so I am sitting at home, considering all the housework I need to do and wearing my night gown. The kids are not up yet, even Big Al who has decided that she will refuse to go to sleep if you even THINK of trying to get her to before midnight. Seriously. I struggled with her last night, and we finally both fell asleep in a hapless heap at around 12:30. She is still asleep in there, and I swear, when I looked at her this morning I wanted to be mad at her for her exploits. Because not only did she stay up that late, but she rolled around to nurse A LOT. Homegirl must be getting a tooth. Anyway, because of it, I am still sleepy. And my boobs hurt. But then I looked at her this morning--her mouth was open and a little spot of drool was on the corner of her chin, the dark hair she got from her father was mussed and fuzzy and her pajama shirt was pulled up around her chest--and I thought, "What an amazing little creature." Not in an ooey-gooey, helicopter mom kind of way, but in a total awe of just how much I enjoy her. Just being with her--in her presence. And how much I enjoy the other kids. Despite Sam mooning me about 3 times last night and Gabby getting into this giggle fit and starting to talk in a weird voice that no one could understand and just getting terribly annoying. I am incredibly thankful just to have them in my lives--just to know them. Much less to be their mom. And sometimes I consider a life where I wear La Perla lingerie and have the time to just sit down and read a magazine every once in a while, and I wonder what it would be like. But today, and really everyday, I am oh so thankful and almost giddy at the thought of spending the rest of my life caring for and loving them.

So now that I've made you completely sick, I'll tell you what I am planning for Thanksgiving dinner. I make dinner every year--have since I was 20 years old--for just our family. We invite others sometimes (this year I have invited my mother and father in law and my grandmother), but basically it is just for us. I make it come hell or high water because it is that important for us all to just sit around and eat together and give thanks and enjoy each other. It is not a formal affair--the kids and my husband wear their comfiest clothes and I use our same place settings that I use every single other day of the year, albeit with bigger plates. I did buy a table cloth this year at Target but mostly because I didn't want to have to scrape and coddle the dining room table where SOMEONE who shall remain nameless has made a mess of things at her particular spot. I make everything from scratch, and the only rule is that dinner is done when I get it done--I refuse to put a time on it. So I fix some snacks early in the day and let everyone graze a bit until I get it out on the table.

Here is this year's menu:
Snacks: chips with caramelized onion dip, stuffed mushrooms
Roast turkey with gravy
Cornbread dressing (yes, I live in the south, and it is dressing, not stuffing, and there is no sausage. That is just crazy talk. And I make my cornbread in a cast iron skillet, which is the only way that it should be made and there is NO SUGAR. Lord, you Yankees and your sugary cornbread...gettin' me all riled up...)
Mashed potatoes (if you have ever met my son, you know that his favorite story to tell about himself is when he ate a whole pot of mashed potatoes himself on Thanksgiving. He was 1 and it was adorable and if I close my eyes, I can still see his fat little face inhaling the potatoes.)
Sweet potato casserole (with both marshmallows and pecans because I can't decide)
Creamed corn (what we call "Skoby's Corn" because the recipe is from a restaurant that used to be in Kingsport, TN and was amazingly good. It is basically creamed corn made with half and half and a whole lot of fresh ground pepper.)
Spinach with gruyere (this is my first year making this, and it is a substitute for mac and cheese, which I have always made. I feel like our tastes have grown a bit, so I am trying it out. It is from last year's Real Simple magazine.)
Sherried green beans with wild mushrooms
Honey yeast rolls with honey butter
Bourbon cranberry sauce
Desserts: Pumpkin Pie with maple whipped cream and sugared pecans
Cherry Cheesecake

So that's it. It seemed like more food when I was making the list--now that I see it typed out, I'm wondering if I shouldn't add something. Oh well. I am super excited because Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and it is also the "kick off" to the baking season which culminates (I feel) at Valentine's Day. My birthday is in there too, and I always make myself a wonderful, chocolate-y cake. This year, I want to keep an eye on my weight so it is going to be tougher, but I am still excited about all of the goodies to share with others.

What are your holiday traditions? Do you cook or go to eat with other family members? I am actually going to another Thanksgiving celebration tonight and then another on Saturday at my MIL's. I have to say that I am looking forward to my own the most though! Is your meal a formal affair or do you eat in elastic waist pants?

If you follow me on Twitter (@pbpickledginger), you will probably get to see a few pics as I put everything together. My husband always takes pictures of me cooking on Thanksgiving, and they are so fun, so this year I am going to ask him to put them on Twitter (A side note--probably one of my favorite pictures of myself EVER was taken on my first Thanksgiving that I made. I am holding the uncooked turkey and smiling this huge grin and you can see my tiny apartment kitchen and on the counter, there is a cookbook and a copy of the Norton Anthology of English Literature. Sam is holding on to my ankle. That pretty much sums that part of life up better than anything ever could.). This might elicit and eye roll, but I'm sure he'll do it because I always make him sweet potatoes and put both marshmallows and pecans on them because he can't decide either.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Weekend Wrap Up and Menu for the Week

This past weekend FLEW by, but it was a pretty good one nonetheless. On Friday, I went to Target and bought all my stuff, plus a new pair of black riding pants that I am wearing right now. I really like these pants--they are a lot like the Mossimo ponte leggings that I also own, but more work appropriate because they are a bit more substantial and have a button waistband and back pockets. Kind of like the best of both worlds. I have to say they are terribly comfy. I am currently wearing them with my black riding boots, but the length is good, so I am looking forward to being brave and trying them with a pair of ballet flats. Now finding the perfect ballet flats...that will be another discussion for antoher day. TJ Maxx was a let down, but it is really hit or miss with me, so I wasn't that disappointed. I stopped at Starbucks for a light frappucino and headed home.

When I got home, the best thing happened. The kids were at my mother in law's, and my husband was there, and we were totally ALONE. Amazing. I had no idea our house could be so quiet. Matt and I are hardly ever in our house totally by ourselves--if we get his mom to watch the kids, it is because we are both at work or because we are going somewhere together. Plus, we called to check on the kids, and his mom said that if we wanted to pick them up IN A COUPLE OF HOURS, we could stop and pick up pizzas and all eat together up there. SCORE. So that is what we did.

On Saturday, we took the kids to see Megamind and out for lunch. We ate at Red Lobster, and Alice entered the world of the Kid's Meal when I got her her own chicken tenders and a side of broccoli. I usually just share with her and order her an extra vegetable side, but she sometimes looks at Sam's chicken tenders longingly, so I decided to just go ahead and get her her own. She was way, way excited. She proceeded to eat her chicken dipped in ketchup. Like a lot of ketchup. Homegirl looooves sauces, it appears. She ate her ketchup, as well as Sam's, who hates any kind of sauce. The funny thing about it is that when we left, Matt looked at the back of my lavender sweater, and noticed that Alice had actually slung the ketchup and flecks of it were all over my back. He said it looked like blood spatter analysis from Dexter. Nice. We went by Old Navy and I got the kids some clothes and Alice a new coat and Matt bought some khakis and button downs. Then we went to the movies. The movie was cute and funny, and Alice made it almost all the way through before she and I made our exit to the back of the theater where she had fun walking up and down the steps. Not many people were there, and the ones who were commented on her being good. HA!

On Sunday, Matt worked a bit (his work life increases exponentially around the holidays), so I stayed home all day with the kids. The kids and I were going to go shopping, but Sam wasn't feeling it, and I wasn't feeling being in the car for 3 hours with them and it was rainy, so we stayed home. The kids were, in a word, WILD. Halfway through the day, Sam took his Megamind toy from McDonald's that he had begged for the night before and decided it was his robot hand. He didn't put it down for the rest of the day and made all manner of strange sounds with it. When I asked him to take it off, he would say, "BUT IT'S MY HAND NOW!!! I can't take off my hand!" Sigh. Alice, in true Alice fashion, dashed around the house all day, gut extended. She managed to dump a bag of M&M's from Gabby's room all over the floor in the living room, carry a box of macaroni into the bathroom and dump it into the bathtub and then find a chicken tender in the top of the trashbag and stick it in her mouth. Those, folks, are just the highlights. I will probably find about 10 million other things she did today when I pick up a bit more. The scary thing is, she was by my side almost the entire day. I have no idea how this child does it and why we find it all so endearing. She also scared our poor miniature schnauzer, Hinkleton, so bad that he refused to come out from under the dining room table for about 30 minutes. Hinkleton is probably spending his Monday placing an ad on Craigslist for himself.

When Matt (finally) got home, I took a l-o-n-g bath, listened to the Black Keys and exfoliated/scrubbed/buffed/polished myself. I had planned on getting the house straightened up, but that didn't happen--in fact, it probably looks worse right now than it did on Sunday morning. Oh well. I did a bit of shopping for Gabby and myself with our Give and Get online codes and made homemade marinara sauce and garlic bread for dinner. I FINALLY got the kids to sit down by allowing them to make their Christmas lists. I told them to write it with pen and paper so that I could divvy it up among relatives, but Gabby said she just couldn't do that, that it was silly and she would just make it on Amazon "like any NORMAL human being." Kids these days. Sam, of course, was delightfully old school, writing to Santa that he had been "mostly" good and that he had two arch enemies (two girls in his class who like to hug him) and that he couldn't be expected to be "all the way good" under those circumstances.

So, since I took the time to make this meal plan yesterday, I'll share it.

Sunday: spaghetti with Ina Garten's marinara, garlic bread (we were supposed to have a salad, but I was just way too lazy. Yup, too lazy to open up a bag of salad greens and whisk some balsamic and olive oil together. It's official. I'm total crap.)
Monday: chicken tortilla soup (with that crockpot Mexican chicken I made a couple of weeks back)
Tuesday: burritos (with the rest of that chicken), spanish rice
Wednesday: potato leek soup from Masterpieces of French Cooking, which I desperately want to use more
Thursday: My mom will *possibly* be here, and if she is, we will eat with her. If she doesn't think she will get back in time, I am going to put some pork in the slow cooker and fix pulled pork and broccoli slaw.
Friday: probably eating with mom again. If she is tired (she is going to be helping my grandmother get her house holiday ready during this time), I am going to make PW's chicken scallopine for all of us.
Saturday: definitely eating out and going to a Christmas parade. This is a big family tradition with my mom and me, so we will probably go to this same pizza restaurant we always go to and then go buy candy making supplies for the holidays. I feel my hips widening...

Hope everyone's Monday is going well, and perhaps a bit better than mine. I just realized this morning that my father in law drove off to West Virginia (where he is going to be for the rest of the week) with my purse/wallet in his car. AWESOME! It has all my money and cards inside of it. Hopefully, he can overnight it to me. Sigh. Plus, I cannot find the witch hazel towellettes I have been using on my face anywhere and I am all out. I went to two drugstores this morning, and it looks like I will have to go BACK to Target. I love Target, but would it be possible for any other store to just TRY to have what I need? Just for convenience's sake? Lord.

Sick.

Last week, my son came home with a cold. I didn't think much of it--he only had a stuffy nose when he woke up in the morning, and was slightly more laidback when he got home. Never complained that much or seemed that sick. Matt made the comment that he was betting the cold would sweep through our house and make us all sick. I laughed him off. Sam was, after all, not even sick. If anything, he was more manageable, tamed by the tiniest wisp of a cold.

On Saturday night, I spent the evening making hot dogs and hot fudge cake at the elementary school's Fall Festival. And I came home feeling poorly. I thought it was because I had spent the last 4 hours on my feet, making hot dogs and misguidedly wearing a sweatshirt from my alma mater in the hot elementary school kitchen. I watched some tv and then went to bed. Matt, who had stayed home with Alice, said he was feeling a bit sick too. But he always says that. In Matt's mind, he is sick from November until April. I'm not even kidding. He has one long "cold" that goes on between that time--every sneeze, every sniffle, every headache is blamed on the plague that he gets, without fail, every year.

But then yesterday we both woke up sick. None of the kids, thank goodness, seem to have gotten it. Sam has long since returned to his normal self, running around in his underwear yesterday and trying to lick his armpit (and yes, he can do it, which he considers something to be very much proud of). Matt, I guess, is used to being sick on some level. Not me. I don't get sick that often (I do have allergies, which suck), but I have a fairly awesome immune system and bolster it with running and drinking a lot of that Trop50 stuff (seriously...try it. I really like it, and it is a very healthy alternative to my daily OJ habit).

The thing is, being sick just annoys me. I want to plead and yell and remind the world that YES, I HAVE SHIT TO DO. I need to work, and I need to exercise, and I need to cook and I need to remind my daughter that no, it is not polite to tell someone that you don't like them because they are loud even though, yes, I did say that honesty is the best policy. So I try to ignore being sick, which makes me feel even worse. Here I sit, at my desk, wrapped in a pashmina, WEARING FLATS and an old Old Navy cotton v-neck sweater that I didn't even know that I owned (When did I think it was a good idea to buy a cabled sweater? The mind boggles.) and just wishing that I could be at home in bed, which I very well could be because I have a flexible job and a laptop. But I'm not. I refuse to give in to the cold. I will go about my daily business and just pretend that everything is normal (except for the flats thing--I walked in this morning and at least three people commented on how "short" I am) even though I look like a zombie with chapped lips.

My husband, who does not have the deathwish, I mean, resolve that I have, is only working half a day and is on his way to pick me up for lunch and to give me medicine and Kleenexes. Which is amazingly sweet, I must admit, especially from someone who has convinced himself that his body is a battlefield, populated only by enemy forces whose only wish is to smother him in his own mucus.

At any rate, I didn't post the menu yesterday because I felt icky, and I should have posted it last night when I was up between 2:00 and 4:30, but it was much more worthwhile to lay on the couch and watch Keeping Up the Kardashians and moan. So here it is:
Saturday: Loaded Potato Soup
Sunday: Smoky Beef Stew with Blue Cheese and Chives, Spicy Autumn Crisp
Monday: Thai Honey Chicken, rice, broccoli (Oh sweet vitamin C!)
Tuesday: caprese paninis, fruit
Wednesday: Baked Ziti with Gorgonzola and Spinach (will be having a small portion of this with a big salad)
Thursday: Prosciutto, Pear, and Blue Cheese Sandwiches, sweet potato fries
Friday: spaghetti with homemade marinara, salad, garlic bread
Treats: pear clafloutis (have you seen the pears at the market? They are gorgeous.), oreo cheesecake cookies (these are for my kids and my husband because we were gifted a very big thing of oreos for Halloween, and they are tired of just eating them as is. I actually am not a huge fan of oreos, as I have spoiled myself making homemade ones.)
Breakfasts: Ellie Krieger's Cheddar Apple quesadillas because I have a whole bunch of apples and a whole bunch of cheddar left over from last week and from my grandmother visiting Amish country and bringing me back the spoils. You would be amazed at the food items that I end up with because people know I cook. For example, just in this past week, I have inherited:
*2 lbs. of pecans
*3 Mason jars of honey (with comb)
*1 pound of pepperoni
*2 butternut squashes
*3 sugar pie pumpkins
*1/2 lb. farmer's cheese
*a bag of nameless, faceless apples from some guy's farm
*some really salty cheese made with green onions that my oldest daughter may be obsessed with

Hopefully I will feel like doing some stuff with all of that. Thanksgiving is only two weeks away. Oy.

I hope everyone is well, and has had a good (non-sick) weekend. When I get my crap together, I am going to be doing some shopping this week, so I will be posting some reviews of things. Until then, stay away from people with colds! Especially if they are cute 7 year old boys. Those guys are the worst.

Blech.

Aside from wearing my awesome pants and getting my hair cut, this has truly been the suckiest week. Just generally, things have blown, and I really don't want to get into it. Let's just say that I'm feeling like a pretty despicable person and I'm also sleepy and tired and just...sad.

I got up this morning, and it is literally SNOWING at my mountain abode. Well, snow mixed with rain, but when I was driving to work, the snow would freeze together in chunks and when the chunks hit the windshield, they would fly back in bigger, amalgamated chunks. Crazy. Now, for about half of my FB friends list, this is something to be excited about (namely, the SAHM's who don't have to get out in this and have absolutely nothing to do but stare out their windows and sigh) and they are all saying cutesy stuff about "Oh, I'm going to make some hot chocolate and snuggle with my baby!" and all I wanna do throat punch them. Yup, you don't want to be near me today, people. It is supposed to snow tomorrow too, which means that the morning run I was planning as a goodbye to this hellacious week is probably not going to happen. Sigh.

And I really need to run, because this is what I'm making tonight:

Yup, that's what you think it is. Pasta, ya'll, swimming in cheese sauce in an almost 2-1 ratio of cheese to noodles. And not just any cheese sauce. No dainty-do "blue cheese" or "parmigiano reggiano." CHEDDAR, ya'll. The extra sharp stuff, orange and sticky. Ribbons of it, melting as I shred it. Melting me as I consume it. And there is no crust on this, no breadcrumbs. No bits of ham, no peas. No sirree. Just cheese and pasta baked in a casserole and then consumed greedily. Sure, I'll make a big green salad with some idiotic idea of caloric balance. Sure, it is more to use up the romaine before it dies than to do anything else. But who gives a damn about romaine when you've got this?

And today, I can honestly say that I don't give two flying craps about how many calories I consume. For the past 3 years or so, I have vaguely considered calories every time I opened my mouth. Not tonight. I refuse to. I might wake up miserable in the morning, but you know what? It will be totally worth it. I will run, and next week, I will eat a healthy lunch every day and not order out one time and I will start a strengthening routine at 6:00 each morning (I was planning on doing that anyway--not just because of the cheese flavored orgasm I'm planning tonight).

Sometimes you just have to. Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind. And I have heard people say that about many aspects of their lives, and for the first time, I'm really feeling like it is true. In more ways than one. But I'm going to start with this pasta.

Sunday Meal Planning (SPOOKY Edition)

It is 5:32 in the morning. Alice has been up for an hour. I have no idea why. But she is sitting here, chilling like a villain on the couch, watching Franklin. I have tried reasoning with her. I have tried begging her to please go back to sleep. No dice. In this day of tricks and treats, Big Al is delivering the trick of the day. Perhaps she did not get the memo that ole mom spent the previous night pushing her in her stroller around two hilly neighborhoods, escorting her children on a neverending search for candy.

At any rate, I thought I would go ahead and post this week's menu. I actually completed it on Friday and did the grocery shopping yesterday. I am on top of things. I thought that would be a good start to SuperMom week, which is what I have declared this week to be. What is SuperMom week, you ask? Does it involve a cape? I wish. This is the week in which I will instill a weekly cleaning schedule, prepare a few meals to put in my freezer (on top of the normal daily meals) AND go running at least 3 times. And look totally cute doing it. When I mentioned SuperMom week to Matt, he just sighed and said something about every week being SuperMom week. Hrrrmm. A compliment? Or something sinister? The mind boggles.

Saturday (yesterday): Beef Daube Provenal and egg noodles (of course, given the spirit of the day, I called this Stew Made from Mutilated Monkey Meat and Little Hairy Piggy Feet) Note: This was, in a word, delicious. We ate it greedily and happily after a night of trick or treating in our neighborhood.
Sunday breakfast: Pumpkin waffles with trail mix topping and whipped cream (For the trail mix, I took our pumpkin seeds from two jack-o' lanterns and roasted them. Then I combined them with whole, unsalted almonds and just a touch of maple syrup and roasted them again. Then I tossed them with dried cranberries. We have a lot, so this will top yogurt and be lunch box fare this week.)
Sunday: roast chicken, scalloped sweet potatoes (because they are orange...and festive), and rosemary garlic bread (to keep the vampires away), pumpkin cobbler
Monday: Beef with Snow Peas, brown rice
Tuesday: French Onion Soup, baguettes (made with caramelized onions that I am caramelizing in the slow cooker tomorrow and croutons that I made with leftover bread yesterday)
Wednesday: Kitchen Sink Quesadillas, guacamole
Thursday: Make-Your-Own Pizzas (honey goat cheese for Matt and myself with, again, caramelized onions from the slow cooker and whatever conglomeration the kids come up with on their own), make your own salads
Friday: Date Night!
Saturday: elementary school fall festival (which means I'll spend the night making hot dogs and nachos for others). I will be taking a big batch of chili and a cake for the cake walk.
Treats: caramel corn and caramel apples (the kids are making these tomorrow--er, today-- and they will be lunchbox fodder this week), truffles (making these and taking them around as we visit family members who put together treat bags for the kids)
Breakfasts: I am making homemade apple butter in my other slow cooker tomorrow for biscuits and toast this week. We are also restocked on cereal and yogurt.

I mentioned that I am putting stuff in my freezer this weekend. I will be adding a batch of crock-pot Mexican chicken, a batch of enchiladas (making two batches of the chicken--one will become enchiladas and the other will go in as is) and a batch of Oatmeal Almond Chocolate Chunk Cookies. My kids recently sold cookie dough for their school and we have loved being able to pull out a tub of it and bake 1-2 cookies as needs/tastes dictate. We are almost done with the dough, so I am making my own for the same reasons. These look much healthier and yummier than the preservative-packed cookies I have been giving them.

Please share your menu. Like I have said before, it doesn't have to be fancy AT ALL. I love getting new ideas, no matter what they are.

Hope everyone has a yummy week!

Meal Planning for a New Life

So I am home from my first day of full-time work in a while. I am actually a lot more tired than I expected, but I feel good. I pretty much did nothing today--just enjoyed my new office and read a couple of manuals and walked around and met people. I wore heels and just generally felt good about myself.

Then I came home. At first I was overwhelmed. Alice wanted to nurse like crazy and was waiting at the door when I walked in. She got all happy when she saw me and started to jump up and down and when I picked her up, she hugged me and then clawed at my shirt like some sort of ravenous wolverine. Thanks, Alice. I nursed her and then Matt came home and I talked to him and then I realized...Sam was starved. It was already time to fix dinner. That came a lot quicker than it usually does!

I was more thankful for my plan today than any other day in recent memory. Here is what I did this weekend:

Sunday: chicken and dumplings, mashed potatoes, honey glazed carrots
Monday: pasta alfredo with broccoli and balsamic mushrooms (had this been last week, I would have made some bread to go with this. I hope I get to the point that I am comfortable doing that in my new life as well. And note that I made this with half and half instead of heavy cream and whole grain pasta. It was a-maz-ing.)
Tuesday: Indian butter chicken with basmati rice and (probably) steamed green beans
Wednesday: manicotti primavera with bread that I'll pick up from Kroger's that day
Thursday: frozen dinners/leftovers (we'll be eating in shifts this night as Gabby has show team and Sam has Cub scouts, so best just to admit defeat in advance)
Friday: Mexican food from the restaurant down the hill post costume party!
Saturday: Halloween dinner TBA
Breakfasts: Cocoa Puffs (for Sam), Special K (with real strawberries and blueberries for Matt) and apple pie oatmeal for the girls and myself
Treats: Pumpkin Creme Pies and brownies (and I'll just tell you--if you check back onto one of these lists in 28 days or so, you'll see that I will also be baking brownies then too). I'll be taking these into the office and packing them in lunches to make my habit more figure friendly.

So yes, I should have done this yesterday, and in the future, I'll plan for that. But what say you, oh fearless readers? What have you planned for this week? Anything awesome? And feel free to post "I am going to stand over my sink eating Lean Cuisines all week." Because that is fine too!

Weight Watchers...Friday?!? (Kinda)

This is a bit of a cop out post because I am in a mad rush today to get everything done that needs to be done. Therefore I can't promise that I'll be that funny/entertaining. I have that interview today, I have to bake and decorate cupcakes to take to Gabby's cheerleading party/sleepover tonight (they are in the oven as we speak!), I have to take the kids to get Halloween costumes, and somewhere in there I have to do all my normal stuff--get dressed, feed Alice, get her to my mother-in-law's, do some laundry, clean out the dishwasher and not drive off the side of the mountain in the process.

But...but. I have these two great recipes to share with you. That is about all I have to share with you as far as WW Friday goes, because my scale is out of batteries, and everyone has been in such a mad rush around here that no one has gotten around to buying and changing the battery in the thing. It is funny--I got on it on Wednesday morning and it said "E" and then clicked off. And I'm going "E for Excellent Weight Loss, Morgan? or E for Exactly Too Many Brownies, Fat Girl?" I've tried coming up on it unawares and pouncing on it, but all I get is E. So, you know. I have to get around to that.

But yesterday, around having my last day at work and having a sick child and going to parent/teacher night at school, I made two very awesome things. The first is this black bean and sweet potato chili. This stuff is freaking delicious. And totally vegetarian too. I have been trying to cut back on our meat consumption around here, and I tried this recipe on a whim. And it did not disappoint. Let me tell you how good it was. When my husband was touring graduate schools, he went to look at Columbia so we decided to take our kids to NYC on Columbia's dime. Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, we researched restaurants to take them to for about a month before time to go, and we found this restaurant in Times Square that is supposed to have the best chili ever (I could totally google this right now and link it, but I'm much, much too lazy and frazzled at this moment. Plus, I'm eating cupcake batter out of the bowl, and don't want to get it on my mouse.) We found the restaurant and went in, and yes, the chili was delicious. I got some spicy black bean thing. Well, this chili that I made last night bends that NYC chili over its lap, spanks it, and makes it call it "Mama." I had it with the feta and cilantro on top and holy crap. Spicy, but not overwhelming heat with a full flavor and great full-mouth feel. Plus, Alice ate a DISTURBING amount of it, mostly because she, like her father, seems to have a torrid love affair going with the sweet potato. I pulled out chunks of potato for her to eat off of her high chair, and then spoon fed the beans and tomatoes and corn. She kept making yummy noises and would close her eyes and throw her head back after each bite of potato, which was insanely cute. Future foodie, that one. Just watch.

And if you try it, know that I didn't cook it the full 1 hour and 30 minutes. Probably more like half that. I'm sure it would be even better if you let it go that long, but I just started it, went to get Gabby at dance, came home and tested a sweet potato, saw that it was fine, and ladled it up.

I also fixed these. My son had come home early from school because of a sore throat, and I just felt like he needed a little treat. And since he is as obsessed with pumpkin as his old mom, I thought, "Pumpkin cinnamon buns? Would that make my throat feel better? Yes please. For the child, of course." So I came home, and made up the dough. Now, if you are not a baker, this will not make any sense to you, and you might think me completely odd for saying this, but this dough was sexy. Perfect soft texture, not flour-y or wet or gross or anything. Just perfect. Kneadable. And amazing. And this is something very rare for a low-fat/lightened baked good. In my experience, usually those are a bit more flour-y and shaggy than a full-fat dough. This had all of the silkiness of something full-fat, but in a lightened package. I left it to rise and then went to parent/teacher conferences. When I came home, it had risen beautifully, and was so, so easy to roll and deal with. I would definitely characterize this as a quick and easy recipe because things just came together with an ease that was a-ma-zing. And the taste? Absolutely delicious. It wasn't even pumpkin-y in a "Great. Mom's cooking with pumpkin AGAIN." (Remind me to tell you about the pumpkin cream pasta I made earlier this week.) It was slightly flavored so that you bit into it and didn't immediately think PUMPKIN, but rather Fall. Or warmth. Or coziness. Just a perfect baked good. Everyone in the family liked these too. In fact, Matt may have attacked me with hugs and kisses while I was innocently watching the Phillies and Giants (and developing a deep disgust with both Tim Lincecum and his hair) to show his appreciation for them.

So that's all I got. This weekend, I'll be adding a new feature to the ole blog in the form of a Sunday Meal Planning Post. I'm hoping to post my meal plan for the week, as I need to get better at that since I start my new job this week. I am also hoping that others will chime in and post what they are doing for dinner this week (even if it is "I am going to Taco Bell every night this week to eat XXL Chalupas in hopes of seeing Mariano Rivera") because I would love to get new ideas. Community, folks. That's what it's all about.

Anyway, have a great weekend!