There was a lot of good food at Sunday night’s international potluck. It was a dinner for the Venture Club kids (3rd-5th graders) and their families, and I figured there’d be a lot of North American food with International names attached, like “Hamburgers from Germany.” That sort of thing.

But that wasn’t the case. Lots of authentic digs covered the table: among other things, there was falafel, rice and beans, Swedish meatballs, spicy Indian potatoes (by yours truly), and a yucca and cheese dish. Also, there was a rather blah looking dish of Something Or Other. The only reason I noticed it was because a little girl at the front of the line dug into that bowl with such a vengeance that I was mildly alarmed. I suggested politely that perhaps she’d like to try some of the other stuff, but she just looked at me like I was crazy.

So when my turn came, I took some of the mysterious blah stuff. I mean, how could I not after that girl pounced upon it so enthusiastically? There was chopped onion and tomato and mayonnaise (mayonnaise, really? um, okay…) to put on top.

Back at my seat, I took one bite and had a fit. “What in the world is this?!” Fortunately for me (and maybe not so much for her?), the maker of the mysterious dinner was sitting right beside me. I proceeded to grill her. How? What? Why? How?

Turns out, the blah mystery dish had a name: fatira. It’s an African dish, a common street food, and it couldn’t be more basic and simple to make. (Later, I researched it briefly and learned that it’s common in many countries, or at least the name is frequently used. I’m guessing it’s kind of like enchiladas—in different countries the word means different things.)

I got seconds. So did my husband. On the way home afterwards, we both agreed that it was our favorite dish of the whole meal.

The next day I emailed for the recipe. Last night I made fatira for supper.

(There was also baked squash and green beans, lest you were worried about the lack of green.)

My two girls weren’t too stoked about the dish, but all the boys (and I) went hog wild.

And then my family endured an attack of The Crazies that I can only attribute to the fabulous fatira we had just feasted upon. All sorts of strange and wild things happened, and all to the soundtrack of My Fair Lady, no less.

There was a belly dancing boy in a blue dress:

There was a glitzy poodle-skirted and red bonneted spiderman:

There was a whirling pink dervish:

And there was an elegant damsel with a blue beauty mark and rectangular reading glasses:

They gave a stunning reenactment of the horse races at the Ascot Race Track on Opening Day, too.

I coached them in the fine art of The Dover Line: C’mon Dover! Move yer blommin’ arse! It’s best done at the top of your lungs, and with all of us yelling in unison, the house fairly rocked.

So anyway, I recommend you make fatira.

But then, watch out. All bets are off as to what will happen next.

Fatira
Adapted from Cindy, a long-term missionary to Africa

Cindy claims the fatira is much better with homemade tortillas. I used bought ones, but next time I’ll make my own.

I’ve tried the fatira with ketchup and mustard, but I didn’t much like it. For me, mayonnaise is the way to go. (But some of the kids really liked it with ketchup. To each his own…)

1 tablespoon oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon cumin
1 pound ground beef
6-8 small flour tortillas, chopped into little squares (½-inch by 1 inch, or so)
4-6 eggs, well beaten
salt and pepper, to taste

Condiments: chopped onion, chopped tomato, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard

Sauté the onion and garlic in the oil. Add the cumin and stir briefly. Add the ground beef and sauté till browned and cooked through. Add the chopped tortillas and stir for a minute. Add the beaten eggs and stir till cooked through. Season with salt and pepper.

Top the fatira with the condiments of your choosing.

This same time, years previous: whoopie pies, snickerdoodles, happy birthday, Happy Pappy!

I’ve been taking lots of pictures.

I checked a couple photography books out of the library and have been reading them like novels. I’m learning all sorts of new things, but mostly I’m just learning that I don’t really know anything about photography. It’s kind of invigorating.

I don’t understand half of what I read, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Much of the time, I just look at the pictures. But I don’t just look at them, I study study study them. And then I study them some more. It’s my attempt to learn to see like a photographer. How to move like a photographer. Photography is a dance, really. (And I’m the dancer who is tromping on toes and poking my elbow into strangers’ ribs, forever terrified that I’ll be booted off the floor.)

Even with all my reading and picture pondering, when I pick up my camera and go outside, I draw a blank. What’s aperture again? Um, when is shooting in monochrome effective? Is my ISO speed too high?

That my only human models are my children complicates matters even more. I’m convinced they move into the shadows and flare their nostrils just to provoke me.

But I keep plodding along. My daughter is my most willing, though spazzy, model.

I sat her beside the back door this morning and used a piece of white paper as a reflector to lighten the shaded side of her face. You can see the paper in her eyeball.

Part of my problem is that I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t want my pictures to appear contrived, but at the same time I want an element of surprise, something that stands out and catches the eye, drawing the looker into the picture. Quite by accident, this last picture gave me that—one of her eyes is obscured by her hair which makes the other eye stand out boldly. I like that.

I’ve been doing an excellent job at writing a weekly menu and then sticking with it. Of course, things do get switched around or I’ll add new dishes in, but for the most part my plan gets followed.

It’s such a relief. That half hour of planning on Sunday or Monday (and yes, it does take me that long) frees up my brain to think about all sorts of other stuff during the rest of the week. Like what desserts would best showcase my sour cherries and if it’d be acceptable to make yet another batch of flourless peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (yes, those cookies are always acceptable). And with my expert menu planning, I use up a lot more of my Put-Up Food. Three cheers for empty quart jars!!!

This menu idea is not a new thing—I’ve written about it before—but then I got all loosey-goosey. My menus went haywire, and we lived on things like pancakes and eggs. (Which wasn’t that bad, really.)

But now I’m on The Straight and Narrow again. I’m immensely proud of myself. In fact, my head is so high I have to look down my nose to see anyone else. (Please don’t stick your foot out or toss a nanner peel in my path, kay?)

Seeing as today is Wednesday and the flies are buzzing around my flying fingers and the birds are singing outside and the fire in the woodstove burned itself out and my flourless peanut butter chocolate chip cookie is all—sniff—gone, I thought it might be nice if I’d share some details about my menu planning. It takes such a very lot of skill and expertise to draw up a menu so I’m pretty positive it’d be nigh near impossible for you to figure out how to do it without my profound instruction. And I love to be helpful.

Don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all. Really.

Here’s what you do:

First, take a notebook and write the days of the week, in abbreviated form, in the margin of the page, skipping every other line.

Second, draw a box around the abbreviated days.

Third, write down a dinner idea for each day. You get bonus points if you include breakfast and lunch ideas. In parenthesis, jot down notes for yourself, like, thaw chicken, or make pancake syrup.

Fourth, look at the menu before going to bed at night and upon waking in the morning.

Fifth, cook the food and eat it.

Would it help to see a sample from my menu notebook? Okay. Here’s what I came up with for last week’s menu. I hope you don’t mind that there aren’t any boxes around the days of the week—I’m not computer savvy enough to know how to make boxes (it’s one of my weaknesses)—but you can just pretend they’re there, right?

Mon: curried lentils, rice, pie
Tues: baked potatoes, corn, green beans, squash
Wed: broccoli soup (for lunch), ham-and-egg bake, peas, applesauce
Thurs: in West Virginia
Frid: potato soup with eggs and bacon
Sat: pesto (didn’t have it) and pizza (for supper)

Other ideas are written in the margins: Finnish rolls, cream puffs, peanut pie, beer cupcakes, pumpkin pie, cherry cobbler, beans/tortillas/salsa, etc. I brainstorm pretty heavy on the sweets.

So tell me, do you have any great menu planning tips up your sleeve that are just itching to be shared? Or are you a Menu Winger?

Writing down that menu reminded me that I want to tell you about the egg-and-ham casserole we had for Wednesday’s supper. I think I’ve photographed it two separate time with the intention of telling you about it, but then I let it slide. Shame on me. It’s a simple dish, really. An ordinary dish. But it’s also a gentle dish, good natured, patient, and kind in every way. (Oops. It appears ‘Enry ‘Iggins is speaking through my cassy-roll.)

It’s supposed to be a breakfast casserole. One of those splendid ones that you assemble in the evening and then pop in the oven first thing upon waking, after which you are permitted to shuffle off to do Other Things until it’s ready.

It also works well for supper. Last Wednesday I assembled it first off in the ayem, lived Life for eight hours, and then while I was at my dance class, my husband popped it in the oven. When I got home, famished and sore, supper was ready, hallelujah.

Egg-and-Ham Casserole
Adapted from my Aunt Valerie’s recipe

Other meats can be substituted for the ham. Already-cooked sausage and bacon are my favorites (you don’t need much to get a bunch of flavor), but Valerie also suggests chicken and shrimp.

6 slices bread, cubed
3/4 pound grated sharp cheddar cheese
2 cups chopped ham
3 tablespoons onion, minced
6 eggs
3 cups milk
1 ½ teaspoons dry mustard
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley (or 2 teaspoons dried)
1/4 teaspoon salt

Toss the first four ingredients together in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, whisk the eggs and add the milk and spices. Pour the wet ingredients over the dry and toss gently. Pour the mixture into a greased 9 x 13 pan, cover, and set in the refrigerator overnight (or for about 8 hours). Bake the casserole, uncovered, at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes. Allow to cool for 10 minutes before serving.

This same time, years previous: playing Martha