• the quotidian (1.26.15)

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

    Leftover poinsettias from church: my daughter scored again.

    Iced.

    Wintertime color pops.
    A broken back saves time. 
    (Or something like that.)

    Mellow vs. high-strung.

    Breakfast state of the union.

    One hundred percent phonetic: his journal.

    A serious conversation revolving around potential marriage partners.

    Morning rummy with my boy.

    Coordination.

    (The raised eyebrow helps.)

    What we eat when the kids are gone. 
    Him: fried eggs, pan haus (the neighbors butchered again!), bagel. 
    Me: buttered popcorn with salt and nutritional yeast and seltzer with apple juice.

    Gone parents: a fun read.

    This same time, years previous: hobo beans, in which it all falls to pieces, rocks in my granola and other tales, what you can do, first day of classes, and then we moved into a barn, the quotidian (1.23.12), five things, housekeepingcorn tortillas, grumble, grumble, flourless peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, pink cupcakes in no particular order, capturing the moment, and baked brie.            

  • lazy stuffed cabbage rolls

    I am striking out all over the place when it comes to making meals that my family enjoys. For awhile there I was a dream mom, serving up the honey-baked chicken, the spaghetti and meatballs with vodka cream sauce, the pepperoni pizza, the egg and sausage bake, the mac and cheese, etc.

    But then, all of a sudden, I got sick of it. The meals were too easy! Too predictable! Too boring! Too nice! I missed the weird grains, lentils, and spices, the not-our-standard veggies, the unusual sauces, the from-scratch hearty fare. I missed challenging my family.

    See, if I don’t keep hammering my loved ones over the head with broadening-their-horizons eats, they will invariably turn into club-wielding, nose-picking, grunt-grunting cavemen. A mama’s gotta be careful of these things! So I stocked up on little white beans, red lentils, and fresh spinach. And I started push-ush-ushing the envelope.

    Now mealtimes are pretty much hell. What with all the yell-ell-elling and groan-oan-oaning, one might even go as far as to call them barbaric.

    Certainly, a lesser person would admit defeat and wave the white flag. But not me! Onward ho I go, slinging legumes and roasting cabbages. Certain progeny are beginning to look a wee bit peaked, but that’s okay. If nothing else, at least we’re saving money.

    So, Saturday’s supper. In keeping with my general mission of inflicting massive doses of mealtime misery, I made lazy cabbage rolls. I had high hopes. What with the beef and sauce, the family would be sure to like it, right? And I would be sure to get a little buzz from feeding them their evil nemesis (brown rice) and an entire head of knobby cabbage. It could only be win-win.

    I was wrong. The masses revolted. Which was royally irritating since the meal was most definitely a gold medal winner, at least in my opinion. I couldn’t stop eating it.

    For reals. I’ve been eating the leftovers ever since.

    Yesterday my mother stopped by and I fed her the last of the crock pot cabbage. And whaddaya know? She loved it! I almost didn’t know how to interpret her loud moans of delight, so foreign to me are the sounds of mealtime appreciation.

    “You like it?” I asked.

    “Oh my, yes,” she said. “Yes. Yes!

    (For those of you worried about my wasting-away children: tonight’s supper is pasta with pesto, peas, pickled beets, and applesauce. They will happily consume one-half of the meal. The other half they will simply consume. Then tomorrow they’ll sup at The Grands and pig out on hot dogs. The next night will probably be pizza. Because I am battle-worn.)

    Despite my family’s unfavorable rave reviews, this dish is quite spectacular. The assembly takes minutes (with the addition of the roasted cabbage, which is a fairly mindless step), and the final product is like a rich, very thick stew.

    Lazy Stuffed Cabbage Rolls 
    Adapted from Aimee of Simple Bites.

    1 small head of cabbage, cored and cut in wedges
    olive oil
    1 onion, diced
    1 pound ground beef
    1 egg
    2-3 cups cooked brown rice
    1 tablespoon dried parsley
    2 teaspoons salt, divided
    ½ teaspoon black pepper
    1 quart canned tomatoes
    1 clove garlic, sliced
    1 tablespoon each sugar and cider vinegar
    sage, optional

    For the cabbage:
    Lay the wedges on a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast at 450 degrees for 20-25 minutes, turning the cabbages over at the halfway mark.

    For the filling:
    Put the onion, beef, egg, rice, parsley, black pepper, and 1 teaspoon of salt in a large bowl. Combine, using your fingers.

    For the sauce:
    Whirl the tomatoes, garlic, sugar, vinegar, and the remaining teaspoon of salt together in the blender.

    To assemble:
    Pour half of the tomato sauce in the bottom of your crock pot. Place half of the cabbage on top. Evenly distribute the meat over the cabbage (as you would the topping for an apple crisp—in other words, don’t pack it). Arrange the remaining cabbage wedges on top. Drizzle the remaining sauce over all, and sprinkle with some dried sage, if desired.

    Cook on high for six hours.

    Wear earplugs to the table so you don’t have to hear the kids fuss.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (1.20.14), on the relevancy of growing onions, world’s best pancakes, multigrain bread, moving forward, chocolate cream pie, on thank-you notes, and on not wanting.    

  • the quotidian (1.19.15)

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


    Farmer Girl breakfast: cracked wheat pancakes.
    (But with this leftover porridge in place of the cooked cracked wheat.)

    Have you ever tried Pink Lady apples?
    They’re delicious—sweet and crispbut even if they weren’t, 
    I’d still eat them, simply for the pink factor.
    About a six-month supply: so much cheaper when buying straight from the farmer.
    Roasted cabbage!
    Reading to her cousin, yes, but the real reason for this photo is the pierced ear.
    After getting them pierced in Guatemala, she let them grow closed. Then at Thanksgiving, after hearing her aunt recount piercing her own ears as a child, this girl snuck off to her room and re-pierced her own ear. But just one! She plans to be a pirate next Halloween. 
    After getting bucked off (and the ensuing wild horse chase), some good, old-fashioned discipline.
    For a little boy, from The Grands: the perfect doodling book and these erasable colored pencils.
    Nothing happened. 
    (Yet.)

    This same time, years previous: the things people say, cream cheese dip, the good and the bad, educational thoughts, kind of, cheesy polenta with sauteed greens, snapshots and captionschuck roast braised in red wine, and peanut noodles.