• Friday evening fun

    Last night I cried my eyes out while reading to the kids. We were nearing the end of our book, a story about a happy family with six rollicking kids. It was a safe story, I thought, cute and well-written.

    And then the little brother crashed his bike, severed his brain stem, and died.

    I cried for two and a half chapters. What I really wanted to do was to put the book down, go to my room, and bawl my eyes out. Instead, I persevered, voice tight, tears streaming down my face, nose running, long pauses, the works.

    My older daughter listened with her head pressed into my arm, her shoulders heaving. My younger daughter, curled up on the chair, cried with her hands over her face. My littlest kept whimpering, “I don’t want to read this book anymore, Mama.” And my oldest repeatedly offered to take over the reading. At one point he suggested we read something funny. “How about Matilda?”

    Losing one of my babies is my worst fear, my deepest heart pain. Just one thought of one of them not growing up is enough to make my eyes start watering. I can’t go there.

    But then I did. With no warning, I plunged right into a grief so profound I can’t even imagine it, and the breath was sucked right out of me. It was awful and ridiculous.

    I feel like I’d for sure shatter into a trillion little bits if one of my children died, but I know better. I would keep going. And so I plowed through the pages, reading about the uncle who told the oldest brother that there was nothing wrong with him for not crying. It’s like each of us has just been handed a steaming bowl of sorrow, the uncle said. Some of us start eating it right away, but others wait till it cools a bit before digging in. Either way, everyone has to eat what’s in their bowl.

    I read through to the very end, even though it was more than I normally read—there was no way I wanted to extend the agony.

    But even after the kids were in bed, I couldn’t shake the achy sad.

    It was a good book, though.

    This same time, years previous: Gretchen’s green chili, shoofly cake, my real name, gripping the pages, ode to the Titty Fairy

  • housekeeping

    In the spirit of full disclosure, I wasn’t making regular rice krispie treats. The ones I wrecked involved, along with rice krispies, marshmallows, and butter, potato chips and Rolos. They should have rocked my world, but alas, I didn’t have enough marshmallows so I cut back on other ingredients to balance everything out. But my guesses were sloppy and harried because I was in a frantic rush to eat rice krispie treats now. The treats ended up being so hard and dry that they rubbed the skin off of the roof of my mouth and three days later I’m still in pain.

    ***

    This warm weather is making me grumpy. It’s stupid to gripe about the weather because I can’t do anything about it, but it’s not supposed to be 60 degrees in January!

    When it’s winter, I want winter. I want cozy fires and snow and lots of hot chocolate and thick sweaters.

    Instead, my kids wear shorts and go outside in bare feet, and one evening we had strawberry daiquiris after the kids were in bed. It’s just wrong, plain wrong (though the daiquiris were good). It makes me feel like the end of the world is nigh, which is not a pleasant feeling to have.

    ***

    I must have a word with you about vacuuming and window washing. Perhaps it’s a confession, perhaps it’s a clarification, but:

    a. I vacuum multiple times each day. The other day I vacuumed four times, I think. (Also, I can never spell “vacuum” correctly.)

    Back when we were living in our small house in town, my husband and I argued constantly over sweeping the floor. I wanted it to be done every night—crunching on crumbs gives me the willies—and he thought I was obsessed and crazy. So, because neither of us had (has) learned the art of Giving In, we argued and fought until eventually, somehow, sweeping the floors became an evening ritual. It was beautiful thing.

    Then we moved to our new house and my husband insisted on installing central vac. I thought he was going overboard, spending all that money when a broom and dustpan worked just fine, but he’s the carpenter and so now we have central vac. And I love it. I just grab the hose off the hook in the hallway, push a button, and zip the pushy thing over my floors and, voila!, they’re clean. It’s addictive and simple and I vacuum all the time.

    Note: The upstairs gets a thorough vacuuming every other week, if we’re lucky.

    b. A reader (Hi, Margo!) noted my obsessive window washing.

    When we moved to this place, we—I mean, my husband—installed a lot of large, easy-to-open windows. Large, floor-to-ceiling windows let in lots of glorious light and attract sticky fingers, fly poop, and splatters (for those above the kitchen counters).

    So, I’ve taken to washing them with some regularity. The ones in the kitchen get washed about once a week. Clean windows brighten the house and my mood, and furthermore, window washing is an excellent task for belligerent children, of which I have four. Yay, me.

    Most days, I feel like my house is falling down around my ears. Clean floors and sparkling windows help me to pretend it’s not.

    What’s your cleaning obsession? (Notice I did not say, “Do you have…” I’m on to you, so ‘fess up.)

    This same time, years previous: flourless peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (look at that! I just made these, adding chunks of the ruined rice krispie treats to the batter), random thoughts

  • five things

    Thing 1: multigrain
    I made a double batch of this mix the other day. I would’ve made more, but I was running out of certain flours.

    To answer all your questions (I hope):

    a. I buy my flours from our local grocery store and Frankferd Farms, a Pennsylvania co-op that ships each month. I placed an order yesterday, and along with the cheeses, salt, and soy sauce, I ordered barley, kamut, corn flour, millet, soft winter wheat, raw wheat germ, quick oats, brown rice, and wild rice. There will be lots of baking in my near future. Brace yourself.

    b. I grind my own wheat in my handy-dandy nutrimill electric grain mill. I also use it to grind up yellow popcorn for cornmeal. I have groats, millet, quinoa, and rye berries in the freezer. I can put all of these through the mill to make flour (I think), but haven’t yet.

    yes, I’m aware that the bowl is too small

    c. I’m beginning to get the hang of this multigrain mix. I’ve added it to waffles, pancakes, and bread. Both the color and texture are light, and the flavor is sweet. I suspect you could add a bit to most homey baked goods, like muffins, cookies, quick breads, and the like.

    Having such a variety of grains in our diet makes me feel sophisticated. It’s invigorating.

    Do you have a favorite multigrain blend that you use for baking? Please, share your secrets.

    Thing 2: the matter with muffins
    My husband and I are having a muffin war, and it’s not as cozy as it sounds.

    He has recently announced that he doesn’t like—gasp!—the muffins I’ve been making for well over a year. They are my very favorite muffins, the ones I serve to everyone.

    ginger, peach, and white chocolate

    I think he’s beyond ridiculous—these babies are good—but then I start wondering if maybe I’m losing my taste buds.

    Have you made these muffins? If so, what did you think? Should I disregard his cantankerous self, or should I find a new favorite muffin?

    It’d be nice to have some reinforcements, not that I’m operating under the illusion that I’m going to win him over, or anything…

    Thing 3: clothes
    Last weekend, my husband and I sent our kids in four different directions and then went clothes shopping for five hours. He was out of everything—socks, work jeans, t-shirts, dress shirts, etc.—and the kids needed odds and ends.

    We hit up the thrift stores first. Right off the bat, I landed a coat.

    I’ve been idly looking for a coat for several years, so I was pretty pumped. My mother, the thrifting queen, found me a coat last week, a nice black one, but she’s in WV and I won’t see her before I head to NYC and that’s what I needed the coat for. Because you can’t really go north to the big city with just a brown vest. So I bought the brown leather coat, and then I went into another thrift store, found a super-soft, gray cape/shawl, and bought it right up.

    So now I have three coats, my husband has clothes without holes, and there is no more money in the clothing envelope.

    Thing 4: Ethiopian food
    I made chicken wat and injera for supper last night.

    It was fab, but I was the only one who thought so. I don’t know what’s wrong with my family.

    Thing 5: published!
    See the little “published!” button up top there under the header? Click on it and you’ll find a running list of my Kitchen Chronicles articles.

    Bonus Thing: rice krispie treats
    I made rice krispie treats and they turned out awful.

    Last night, I sat at the kitchen table and watched while my husband gnawed on a block of failed marshmallow goo and ranted about my ineptitude.

    “I can’t believe you screwed up rice krispie treats,” he said. “You write a cooking column for the paper and you can’t even make rice krispie treats. For crying out loud.”  

    Chomp-chomp.

    “Rice krispie treats are so basic they’re not even included in Cooking One-oh-One. They’re more like Cooking Point Zero Zero One.”  

    Chomp-chomp.

    “These really are terrible. You sure are something else, Jennifer. I’m impressed.”

    This same time, years previous: corn tortillas, grumble, grumble, movie night