• the quotidian (11.18.13)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace



    Cabbage: ready for braising.
    Look who visited us!

    Look what she brought us! 
    (When she heard that we (enlightened husband not included) didn’t know about the Waltons,
    and that I—oh horrors!—had never even seen the show, she took matters
    into her own hands and gave us her entire collection.) 
    Sleeping bags: the solution for when you are banished to the cold outdoors 
    before the winter clothes have been brought down from the attic.

    The Are Teeeeast.

    Washing the dishes. 
    (Kind of.)

    A neighborly gift of fresh venison and a tableful of work. 
    My older daughter was thrilled (no joke) to grab a knife and plunge right in.
    (She has a consistent and passionate love for animals, both dead and alive.) 

    Team effort: the shoeshine boys and my boots.
    Not a good night’s sleep. 
    Five police cars with retina-stabbing flashing lights.  
    They sat there quietly, flashily, for four (four!) hours. 
    (Something about a robbery and manhunt, we later learned.)
  • lessons from a shopping trip

    *The best, most-thoughtful shopping lists are worthless if left at home.

    *Searching for brown socks is futile and makes me angry. Just stay home and shop Amazon.

    *Mannequins are scary. The nasty things repeatedly jolted me out of my deep, outfit-pondering trances. Do retailers realize that filling their store with lots of lurking, icy, plastic women might be counterproductive?

    *Layering clothes, while attractive, means double the money. Can’t do it.

    *Trying on frames for new glasses = a study in all my insecurities, because a) I can’t tell the women’s frames from the men’s, b) I have no idea what looks good on my face, c) I’d like to be big, bad, and bold and go for something huge and expressive but haven’t the nerve, which means that, d) I’m stylishly mediocre, the (re)realization of which makes me, e) depressed.

    *Upon arriving home at 3 pm, battered and lunchless, the solution is simple. First, a peanut butter apple, snarfed. Second, a hard pretzel with slices of smoked Gouda. Third, a cup of coffee with whipped cream, a mini Heath bar, and the newest Bon Appetit.

    The photo has nothing to do with the post, except to serve as
    an example of the exact opposite of how I feel post shopping. 
  • refrigerator bran muffins

    For about five days or so, chocolate cake has been on my brain. Specifically, Amanda Hesser’s Chocolate Dump Cake with Chocolate-Sour Cream Ganache. I found my way to the recipe via an interview that Luisa linked to on her blog, but only yesterday did I find my way into the kitchen to actually bake the cake. It was simple to make, and the ganache was a dream to work with. I was all sorts of excited; if it tasted as good as it felt under my knife, I’d have a real winner of a new recipe.

    Turns out, I don’t really like the cake. My husband kinda strongly dislikes it (the ganache in particular), and I haven’t run it past the kids yet. I suspect they’ll be (at best) ambivalent. So much for a new cake to get all giddy over, sigh.

    My family was much more excited about the muffins I made for breakfast the other morning.

    I’ve had the recipe for years, but I’ve only made them a couple times, which is kind of ridiculous since they’re so fabulously easy, delicious, and convenient.

    The muffins get their bran-ness from bran flakes the cereal, not the grain (as these muffins do). All the ingredients get whisked together and then the batter can be stored in the fridge for up to six weeks. In the morning, plop the batter into muffin tins, pop the tins into the oven, and then go about your business bossing kids, picking up socks, emptying the dish drainer, and making lists (or whatever it is you do to get ready for the day). Twenty minutes later, it’s breakfast time.

    We ate the first round of muffins with butter from the cow that my daughter has been milking. The butter was a gift from the neighbor lady, and oh my, was it ever good. The kids slathered it on their muffins real thick, and I didn’t say a peep. There’s something wholesome about homemade butter that negates the fatty consequences, don’t you think? (Later, I melted down the remaining bit of butter for the waffle batter. When my children discovered what I had done, they were outraged. You wasted it! You can’t taste it in the waffles! I wanted to EAT it! I guess I won’t be making that mistake again.)

    Refrigerator Bran Muffins
    Recipe from our friend Wilma.

    The recipe calls for Raisin Bran cereal, but I used just plain old bran flakes.

    3 3/4 cups (7 ½ ounces) bran flake cereal
    1½ cups sugar
    2 eggs, beaten
    ½ cup oil
    2 cups buttermilk
    2½ cups flour
    2½ teaspoons baking soda
    1 teaspoon salt
    ½ teaspoon cinnamon
    1/4 teaspoon each allspice and cloves

    In a large bowl, stir together the bran cereal, sugar, eggs, oil, and buttermilk. Whisk in the dry ingredients. Store the batter in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to six weeks.

    To bake, fill greased (or lined) muffin tins three-fourths full with batter and bake at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes. (If baking a batch with the freshly-made—not-yet chilled—batter, bake time should be only about 15 minutes.)

    Yield: approximately two dozen muffins.

    P.S. Completely off-topic, but check this out: the infamous Harry Met Sally scene (you know the one)…in real life in the real café. (Thanks, Cup of Jo!)