Tag: summer

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Recipe Friday: Comfort Food

I’m in a bad mood.

I feel like Alexander, but instead of having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, it’s been a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad couple of days.  Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but it’s been kind off a rough week.  I’ve  been battling a summer cold going on ten days.  I’ve had a sore throat, a dry cough, and some serious post nasal drip.  I tried to beat it into submission with Vitamin C, Mucinex, and Nyquil, but it just won’t quit.  This cold took all of those measures and doubled down, leaving me waking up scared that I had pink eye because my eyelids were glued shut with gunk.  Thankfully it wasn’t pink eye, just (according to my doctor) the mucus in my sinuses  leaving from my eyes as well as my nostrils.  Wonderful. The sore throat comes and goes depending on how regularly I take a dose of Advil for my root canal. 

Oh, did I forget that part? Yeah, I had a partial root canal last a week ago Wednesday that left the left side of my face feeling like it was sliding down to my shoulder.  Last month, I chipped my crown and couldn’t get in to see the endodontist until last week.  He brings buckets of good news saying, “Oh, well let’s clean this out and treat what looks to be some kind of irritation in your gums. Then come back in three weeks and we’ll put a new crown on!”  My hopes of being able to use my whole mouth to chew were dashed.  I thought I was going to go in there, have them pop the new crown on and I’d be on my way.  I’m forever working against the clock: the girls are only at camp for three hours. The sitter comes for three hours  within the camp time frame.  I have to boogie to and from camp to get to the DDS and then back to get the girls.  Thankfully, I had had the foresight to ask a friend to scoop up my campers with hers.  What I thought was going to be a relatively routine appointment became a novocaine laced, dry mouth inducing two hour drill session.  And all this time, I thought I’d been taking care of my teeth!  In truth, my teeth are strong and healthy.  I just bit down on something the wrong way and caused the crown to chip off.  When I look at it, I can barely tell, but when I touch it with my tongue, it feels like the Grand Canyon.

So, root canal on the heels of a possible cold. And, I was supposed to go out of town for a girls’ week-end, too.  Those plans got scrapped.  Scratchy throat and puffed up face do not make for a good time.  I slogged through the rest of the week, my left cheek resting in my left hand as I went about my routine.  The pain in my face subsided as the pain in my throat gained traction.  Thankfully, the Hubs came home over the week-end and played nursemaid, plying me with tea and urging me to rest.  When he left to go on a business trip Monday, my cold peeped out of hiding and came back with a vengeance.

I kept pumping myself full of Vitamin C, orange juice, Advil, whatever I could get my hands on.  The doctor urged me to rest, but that’s a pipe dream.  I have kids.  Rest and I broke up a long time ago.  I tried to get brawlick on the cold and went to the gym, where I let the Cardio Kickboxing instructor jab, upper-cut and roundhouse kick us all into a sweat induced stupor.  The cure for anything is saltwater, right?

Well, I felt better after having worked out, but there’s this little patch of rough, itchiness at the top (or would that be back) of my throat that won’t quit.  I don’t have time for that!  I kept up the sweat regimen with weight lifting on Tuesday, Zumba on Wednesday and Step Aerobics on Thursday.  I feel like I’m getting the best of it, but part of me knows I do need to rest.  When the kids go down for bed, I’m usually hot on their heels.  However, we decided to break C of her pull-up habit this summer, which means taking her to the toilet several hours after she falls asleep and then again at the crack of dawn.  When it’s lights out at 8, I’m ready to go with them, but I hang on until 10, put her on the pot and then knock out.  Inevitably this past week, I’ve woken up coughing around 4.  I’ll get up and put her on the pot, my only consolation being that by doing this, I won’t have to wash the sheets at 7 in the morning.  Still, I think the only one being conditioned here is me.  Hello, Pavlov’s dogs?

Add to the mix the Sisyphean task of getting my book published.  Every time I think I’m ready to launch, I hit a snafu.  There have been some production issues. There have been some printing challenges.  There have been so many little aggravating sidesteps, I am starting to believe that this part is actually harder than the writing of the text.  I’ve had such good feedback and momentum from FaceBook and Pinterest about Maggie Sinclair. I feel like I’m letting people down when another day goes by and the book is unavailable.  I know, I know, good things come to those who wait. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Measure twice, cut once.  Practice makes perfect.  Patience is not a virtue I possess, but I don’t have a choice.  Still, I’d rather it be exactly how I want it to be than thrown together just to meet a deadline. I’m getting there, and I have to remind myself of everything that I have accomplished thus far.  The irony of that last statement is pretty strong because it is exactly what I tell the Hubs when he’s getting frustrated with his perceived lack of forward progress on his projects.

Like I said, it’s been rough week. My fridge looks like a barren wasteland — I think there’s a box of baking soda, a dried up apple and maybe a swallow of apple juice in the container.  The girls have been clamoring for the pool, ice cream, screen time on their devices, and trips to Target.  My good intentions and my execution are not in sync.  I think I’ve maxed out all the help available to me, and even asking for that was difficult.  You know how I hate asking for help.

I’m not throwing myself a pity part here —  Don’t cry for me, Argentina!  I just need to get some things off my chest.  When I was laid up in the dentist chair, my mouth open wide, no clue what was being done and only able to see the different drill bits out of my peripheral vision, I thought I was going to crack.  The dentist is a really genial, grandfatherly type of guy.  I knew if he patted my shoulder and asked me if I was okay, I’d probably start crying.  Shoot, when he jammed that needle full of Novocaine in my gums and told me what I great job I did, I almost did start crying.  I think I was in need of some kind of comfort, milk of human kindness. What I needed then, and now, is just some comfort. I’m looking forward to the Hubs coming home from his trip and getting wrapped up in his arms.

In the meantime, I’ll probably stuff my face with something that will be a poor, but delicious, substitute and keep pushing forward.

Happy Friday, y’all!

Blondies

via Smitten Kitchen

Blondies
Adapted from How to Cook Everything

Ingredients

8 tablespoons (1 stick, 4 ounces or 113 grams) butter, melted
1 cup (218 grams or 7 3/4 ounces for light; 238 grams or 8 3/8 ounces for dark) brown sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla or 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
Pinch salt
1 cup (4 3/8 ounces or 125 grams) all-purpose flour

Directions

  1. Butter an 8×8 pan
  2. Mix melted butter with brown sugar – beat until smooth. Beat in egg and then vanilla.
  3. Add salt, stir in flour. Mix in any additions (below).
  4. Pour into prepared pan. Bake at 350°F 20-25 minutes, or until set in the middle. I always err on the side of caution with baking times — nobody ever complained about a gooey-middled cookie. Cool on rack before cutting them

Further additions, use one or a combination of:  

  • 1/2 to 1 cup chopped nuts, toasting them first for even better flavor
  • 1/2 to 1 cup chocolate chips
  • 1/2 teaspoon mint extract in addition to or in place of the vanilla
  • 1/2 cup mashed bananas
  • 1/4 cup bourbon, scotch or other whiskey; increase the flour by one tablespoon
  • 2 tablespoons of espresso powder with the vanilla
  • Stir 1/2 cup dried fruit, especially dried cherries, into the prepared batter
  • Top with a vanilla butter cream or chocolate peanut butter cream frostingNew favorite combination of late (added 5/24/14): We’ve gotten on a kick making these again, but I’ve really wanted to increase the toasty butterscotch flavor and have done so by: browning the butter, using dark brown sugar but only 3/4 cup (I prefer these less sweet these days), increasing the vanilla to 1 1/2 teaspoons and the salt to 1/4 teaspoon fleur de sel or flaky sea salt, plus a few flakes crumbled on top. I use 1 cup chopped bittersweet chocolate and 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans as the mix-ins. Hope this provides some inspiration!
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IN: hair recipes ON: July 18, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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Recipe Friday: 4th of July

Well, the day is drawing to a close, but the activities continue in full effect.  Certainly tummies are full, shoulders are sunkissed and arms and legs are getting bathed in bug repellant as families and friends gear up to grab some grass and watch some fireworks.

We had a leisurely day in these parts.  We went for a walk, M and C scooting and biking as the Hubs and I took turns motoring V along on her push trike.  We had out cook-out at lunch time: hot dogs, hamburgers, Salsa Fresca and chips.  V napped, we lazed about before embarking en masse to Target for a sprinkler and then Whole Foods for some yummy dinner bites.

I can never leave Target without coming out with more than I went in for.  I know I’m not alone in that, but why? Why does that always happen? The Hubs is immune to Target’s siren song, but when we went into Whole Foods, he turned into Paul Prudhomme.  As our cart filled with fruits, veggies, cuts of meat and fish, he quipped, “We’re going to feel this in our whole wallet”.  Oy! Never go grocery shopping hungry. You come home with stuff you know you shouldn’t be eating (Hello, bakery bag of snicker-doodles. Nice to see you, quart-sized container of chocolate dotted trail mix) and/or come home with more food that you have room to store. Yes, those are cherries and grapes are just going to squat in the sink until we can find some real estate for them.

Dinner was a smorgasboard of options.  Shrimp grilled two ways for M and C. Pizza for V. Crabcakes and Baja Crab bites for the Hubs. Steak and fries for me (who’s a happy girl?).  As for dessert?   I had my eye on some cupcakes at Whole Foods — you can’t go wrong with cupcakes, but in an unmatched feat of strength, I left them behind.  We’ve got Cherries, grapes, watermelon, strawberries.  Add some ice cream or cool whip, and you’ve got a yummy, relatively health after dinner option that touches on patriotic.

Of course, it doesn’t get any more American than apple pie.  While I didn’t whip one up for today, just thinking about it has given me a taste for that crumbly, butter, sweet goodness.

Happy Independence Day, y’all!

Cinnamon Crumble Apple Pie

via Epicurious

photo by Brian Leatart via Epicurious

 

A thick layer of finely textured crumb topping crowns a tall mound of apple filling.

Ingredients

Crust (personally, I use a storebought crust)

  • 1 1/3 cups all purpose flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar
  • 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 1/4 cup frozen solid vegetable shortening, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • 3 tablespoons (or more) ice water
  • 1/2 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Filling

  • 3 1/4 pounds Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, sliced 1/4 inch thick
  • 2/3 cup sugar
  • 2 tablespoons all purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Topping

  • 1 cup all purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/4 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 6 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
  • Vanilla ice cream

Preparation

For crust:
Mix flour, salt, and sugar in large bowl. Add butter and shortening; rub in with fingertips until coarse meal forms. Mix 3 tablespoons ice water and vinegar in small bowl to blend. Drizzle over flour mixture; stir with fork until moist clumps form, adding more water by teaspoonfuls if dough is dry. Gather dough into ball; flatten into disk. Wrap in plastic; refrigerate 30 minutes.

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 400°F. Roll out dough on lightly floured surface to 12-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Trim overhang to 1/2 inch; turn edge under and crimp decoratively. Refrigerate while preparing filling and topping.

For filling:
Mix all ingredients in large bowl to coat apples.

For topping:
Blend first 5 ingredients in processor. Add chilled butter cubes; using on/off turns, cut in until mixture resembles wet sand.

Toss filling to redistribute juices; transfer to crust, mounding in center. Pack topping over and around apples. Bake pie on baking sheet until topping is golden, about 40 minutes (cover top with foil if browning too quickly). Reduce oven temperature to 350°F. Bake until apples in center are tender when pierced and filling is bubbling thickly at edges, about 45 minutes longer. Cool until warm, about 1 hour. Serve with ice cream.

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IN: recipes ON: July 4, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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Recipe Monday (’cause I forgot to hit “Publish”): Spinach Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing

One thing I love about summer is the abundance of fruits and vegetables.  No other season gets me to eat better than summer, and that’s not just because I’m trying to get right for my swimsuit.  The colors are brighter, the juices are sweeter, and everything just bursts in your mouth.  This past week, I’ve been gorging myself on strawberries and grapes.  The strawberries have been enormous and such a rich color red, you think it will stain your fingertips.  The grapes have had taut skins and sweet flesh that taste great by themselves, and even better when tossed into a salad with a champagne and shallot vinaigrette.  There have been many a salad enjoyed over lunch the past few days.

As for the veggies, we’ve done a lot of kebabs studded with squash, zucchini, chunks of red onion, and tri-color pepppers.  The simplicity of preparation — chops, marinate in salad dressing or salt, pepper and olive oil, and grill — only adds to the appeal.  I’ll grill up the vegetables, add some chicken or shrimp, a salad and some crusty bread – -voila! Dinner is served.

I’m all about ease when it comes to meal times.  While I haven’t quite gotten the girls on board with “just salad” for dinner, they’re coming around to having half their plate be fruits and vegetables.   C thinks nothing of asking for a whole orange, apple slices and a huge scoop of peanut butter as a meal. M swaps the orange out for carrot sticks and V will eat just about anything if the promise of dessert looms on the horizon.  Some nights, when we’ve been ripping and running from day camp to the pool to playdates to errands and back again, fruit salad is the plat du jour for my little ones.  More often than not, everyone is a member of the Clean Plate Club.

As for me, I need some protein in my life on a regular basis.  When I say protein, I should tell the truth and say chicken or steak. I don’t eat cheese.  Beans aren’t going to cut it.  A hard boiled egg will do in a pinch, but I’ve got to be desperate.  I’ll eat salad all day long and twice on Sunday, but I’ve got to have a side of meat to go with it.  My salads are usually topped with grilled chicken.  Occasionally, I’ll do shrimp, if I can nab a few pieces from the leftover tupperware container.  Add to that some baby lettuces, sliced red onion, a few grape tomatoes and I’m good to go.  I’ve left the “kitchen sink salads” behind me in favor of cleaner taste profiles.  Gone are the days when I’d throw every veggie the fridge had to offer into a Corningware baking dish.  Seriously, I was doing “the big salad” way before Elaine Benes.  As my cooking skills developed, so did my appreciation for flavor profiles.  Why dump all the veggies together when you could do a Cobb Salad one day, a mixed field greens with onion and grapes the next, and a Caesar or Greek salad the day after that?  So many options, so many lunches to enjoy.

Today’s recipe is one that I haven’t done in a while, primarily because I haven’t had any bacon in the house in weeks.  Turkey bacon just isn’t going to get it done, by the way.  This salad is great for lunch or for dinner.  Add a crusty baguette and a nice chilled glass of white wine, you’re good to go!

Enjoy and Happy Friday, y’all!

 

(via)

Spinach Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing
recipe found here

Ingredients

  • 3 whole Eggs
  • 7 slices Thick Cut, Peppered Bacon
  • 1 whole Red Onion, Small
  • 1 package Mushrooms, White Button
  • 8 ounces, weight Baby Spinach, Washed Dried And Stems Removed
  • 3 Tablespoons Reserved Bacon Grease
  • 3 Tablespoons Red Wine Vinegar
  • 2 teaspoons Sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon Dijon Mustard
  • 1 dash Salt

Preparation Instructions

  • Cook eggs: cover with water, bring to a boil, then turn off heat and allow to sit in water for 20 minutes. Drain off water and add ice on top of eggs.
  • Fry bacon until crispy/chewy. Remove to a paper towel.
  • Remove 3 tablespoons grease and set aside.
  • Add 2 add’l tablespoons of grease to a separate skillet over medium heat.
  • Slice red onions very thinly, then add to skillet. Cook slowly until onions are caramelized and reduced. Remove to a plate and set aside.
  • Slice mushrooms and add them to the same skillet. Cook slowly until caramelized and brown. Remove to a plate and set aside.
  • Chop bacon.
  • Peel and slice eggs.
  • Make hot bacon dressing: Add 3 tablespoons bacon grease, vinegar, sugar, and Dijon to a small saucepan or skillet over medium-low heat. Whisk mixture together and heat thoroughly.
  • Add spinach to a large bowl. Arrange onions, mushrooms, and bacon on top. Pour hot dressing over the top; toss to combine.
  • Arrange eggs over the top and serve.
  • Enjoy!
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IN: recipes ON: June 30, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , BY: Hilary
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A Little Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing

As you know, I’m a mom. I’ve got three little girls whom I love, love, love.  They challenge me to be the mom that they deserve and the mom that they need.  I do my best to wear many hats in order to fulfill their requests, desires, and needs.  Sometimes, I’m a chef. Sometimes I’m a hairdresser.  Most of the time, I’m a chauffeur.  All the time, though, I’m a teacher. I’m leading by example, whether I’m aware of it or not.  I have to take care in what I say, how I say it and in what I do and how I do it.  In order for them to be good people, I have to show them what that means.

We have our ups and downs.  We are steadily marching towards Big Kid status, as M turns 9 this year and C is hot on her heels turning 7. V is holding things down in toddler-ville, a full blown two year old. It’s challenging trying to find activities that appeal to this spectrum of ages, especially those that don’t involve electronics. We read a lot.  We do lots of “arts and craps”.  We spend time outside.  I recently got M a scooter and nothing gives me greater joy than seeing her whizz down the driveway, the skirt of her favorite dress billowing around her legs like the wind filled sail of a ship.  C comes next, either by her own scooter or with her jump rope ticka-ticking furiously on the asphalt.  V brings up the rear, sidewalk chalk in each fist, her little flip flops working double-time to catch up to her big sisters.  This has been the summer of skinned knees to be sure, but when the heat gives way to crisper air and changing leaves, I think the memories of outdoor play will be remembered most.

Today is an off day for us. We’re taking a break from the pool because M is getting her hair braided this afternoon.  She and C have been swimming just about everyday.  I spent a good chunk of the morning washing, conditioning and de-tangling her hair so that it would be ready for braids this afternoon.  While sitting in the bathroom, the girls listened attentively as I explained the importance of good hair care habits, why we try not to put a lot of heat on our hair and so on.  V sat for a bit, but then got up to empty out the contents of the bathroom vanity.  Once done with that endeavor, she grabbed for the storage basket of extra toilet paper rolls that I keep in the same general area. In addition to the rolls, the basket also had a magazine and soft zippered pouch where I keep my feminine hygiene products.  She unzipped the pouch and up-ended it, showering tampons and pads all over the floor.

“I know what these are!” C crowed, as she grabbed a handful and shook them under M’s nose. “These are tampoons!”

“I know they’re tampoons!” M said.

“Tampons.” I corrected, trying to corral the sanitary napkins with my foot while continuously blowing dry M’s hair.  “They’re called tampons. Those other things are called pads.”

“What are they used for?” asked C as she began replacing the items in the pouch.

“Grown up lady business.” I said.

“Grown up lady business, in the bathroom!” amended M.

“Yes, but what kind of grown up lady business?” C pressed. And just like that, I found myself in the middle of a teachable moment with my girls.  What should I do? Should I gloss over the purpose of pads and tampons? Should I just tell them never mind; I’ll tell you when you’re older? Should I just tell the truth as plainly as possible? How old was I when I had this conversation with my mom? Could I get her on the phone and have her explain it to them?  Tick tock, tick tock.

“Okay,” I said, setting down my hair tools. “Here’s the deal.  What I’m going to tell you is our private business.  That means, you keep it to yourself and you don’t need to share it with your friends.  I’m sure their moms will tell them what they need to know when they ask, so this is just for us.”  And then I launched into a brief anatomy lesson.  In truth, part of it was a review, because they had had some questions about V’s arrival several years ago.  This time, aided by M’s artists pad, I sketched out the female reproductive system. I likened the thickening of the uterus to the feathering of a nest. I explained how the uterus is constantly preparing itself in the event a baby shows up (I did gloss over that part), and how if no baby shows up, the uterus then cleans itself by shedding the nest and starting again.  M was “Mmhmm-ing” and “Oh, I see-ing” while C was listening with furrowed brow.  I plunged ahead, explaining that the pads  were what collected the “old nest” and how you used and disposed of them, the whole time peppering the conversation with “But this doesn’t apply to you right now!” and “This won’t happen to you for a few more years!”

“But what about the tampoons, I mean, tampons,” M asked, “How do you use them?” At this point, I felt as though I was bumping up against more info than they needed, but I’d come this far.  I went into my closet and came back out with the American Girls The Care and Keeping of You book.  I’d bought it years ago in preparation for a moment such as this.  I thumbed it open to the section of changes in your body and together, we read all about menstruation, sanitary napkins and the like.  Again and again, I reminded them that while all of this was good info to have, it wouldn’t be info they would need for a several more years.  Then M pointed to the paragraph that said, “Most girls begin menstruation between the ages of 9 and 15.”

“A few more years,” I repeated, praying the organic chicken I’d been feeding them would help stave off any hormonal accelerations.

I let M read the book a bit more as I finished her hair. C took the info for what it was and went back to playing Barbies with V.  I reminded them that our conversation was just that, our conversation and they heartily agreed.  I put the book away, finished M’s hair and that was that.

While the girls were busy doing whatever they were doing in C’s room, I went downstairs to make lunch, do the laundry, clear the counter-tops and extinguish the dozen or so other little fires that needed my attention.  I called the girls down for lunch, C and V galloping into the kitchen.  M had to be called a few times and when she finally came down, I asked her what she had been doing.

“I was in the bathroom,” she began, “And then I was washing my hands. I saw one of your tampoons in the trash, Mom, and I figured it was just your uterus cleaning itself out. ”

Yes, M, it was just that.

Me and my big mouth.

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IN: ON: June 17, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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Recipe Friday on a Tuesday: 5 Ingredient Lemon Chicken With Asparagus

Gah, I hate the sound of my own voice.  I read this article a few weeks ago that said if you put your hand over your right ear and talk, what you hear is how others hear your voice.  *shudder* I haven’t done it and I don’t think I want to.  I heard myself talking on my outgoing voice mail message and promptly decided to go with the default message instead.  I only bring that up because I’m transcribing this post from a voice memo I made last week.  In the hectic, scary wonderful week that has been leading up to the big reveal of my children’s book, I did manage to eke out a few ideas for my home base here at Hilary with One L.  Of course, most of those ideas came when I was either a) driving or b) as far away from my computer or any other means to write as possible.  I keep forgetting the iPhone has a voice memo app!  When I did remember to use it this week, I felt like a champion. Hands on hips, chest thrust out, I listened to my bright ideas unspooling like ticker tape like, “Look at what I have created! Wait, is that really my voice?”

In any event, here’s what I had recorded.  So, you know how I love tumblr.  My tumble blog  pretty much consists of me reblogging pictures of shoes, the Eiffel Tower, Christian Bale and food.  In one of my post-dinner tumblr time sucks, I came across this gorgeous photo.

photo courtesy of Pinch of Yum

This picture got my tummy to burbling.  Chicken, asparagus, and lemons? All in one pan? Get in my belly!  I clicked around a bit more and found the original post on a website called “Pinch of Yum.” Who couldn’t use a pinch of yum in their life, right?  I read about the author, Lindsay, and how she became a blogger-foodie-photographer.  Then I went back to the recipe to figure out how I could get this photo onto my kitchen table IRL.  As luck would have it, the post was entitled “5 Ingredient Lemon Chicken with Asparagus”.  Five ingredient?! Surely, you jest, Pinch of Yum.  It was too good to be true, but in fact, it was all true! Five ingredients! Ingredients that I have on hand pretty much all the time.

I’m big on proper prior planning, so there are some staples that I will always have for occasions when I have to throw something together. While I don’t keep a weeks worth of recipes at my elbow when I’m making my grocery list, more often than not, I’m making things with what I know I already have.  The grocery list may have a few odds and ends that we don’t normally find in our crisper or pantry.  Recipes that call for three filaments of saffron or 1/8th of a tsp. or cream of tartar just don’t get made.  These five ingredients, though — chicken, lemons, asparagus, flour, butter (and salt and pepper, but that doesn’t count because most folks have that on their table) — I had at the ready. The chicken was even already defrosted *miracle*  just waiting to be turned from raw and slippery to golden and crispy.

I know I’m a little overly excited about this, but bear with me.  It’s the small things that give you the greatest joys.  As we are winding down to the end of the school year, the activities are winding up with end of year parties, swim team, birthday parties, and the like.  Transitioning from one type of routine to another, while I’m working on the book, pressed for time and trying to get everything done has been daunting.  Being able to take something off my plate, no pun intended, by making a dinner that is relatively health, quick and delicious felt like such a huge victory.

Too often I’m running around like a crazy person. I’ve been told that I make it look easy, and while I appreciate the compliment, there is a lot of lever pulling going on behind the curtain. My recent post entitled Salt Water: 3 ways resonated with a number of people. I can’t pinpoint if it was the working out section, the crying anecdote or the beach paragraph,  but I did get a lot of feedback about it. Honesty is important to me. I’m not trying to “Insta-glam” or “Fake-book” my way through life. I’m trying to be as honest as i can about how I’m feeling. Certainly I was hesitant to reveal what prompted my huge cry because I want there to be some privacy in my life and by extension, my husbands’ life. There are some things you don’t want everyone to see and I did wrangle with the potential of The Hubs losing some cool points over it.  My honesty helped several people say, “Whew, I thought I was the only one,” or “Amen!” or “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” That meant a lot to me.  It’s important to let people know that they aren’t the only ones.  While we all lead very fortunate lives, it can be hard at times.

People would comment on how I do everything I do, and I used to say, “Oh, you know, I plan ahead or I do XYZ.” I would be dismissive about it, but now I’m starting to accept the compliment.  Admitting that it is hard can give someone else the chance to just relax and feel connected, if only for a moment, and say, “Thank goodness that someone else understands it.”   I read an article in Glamour magazine by the actress Zosia Mamet. She was talking about the definition of success and how women look at other women as giving up on their potential if they if they are just feeling good about what they are currently doing. For example,  if you’re an executive and not trying to become the CEO, then you aren’t reaching your potential. If you are a mother raising children and you aren’t knocking it out of the park with every birthday party, Arbor Day, Groundhog Day and Winter Solstice party, then you aren’t successful. That really resonated with me.  Mom competition (mom-petition) is real.  Mamet talked about women not supporting each other.  I want to be supportive of other women. Female friendships and relationships are key.  You can’t do it by yourself. Your mother isn’t always going to be there or your partner or whomever. It’s essential to have like minded individuals in your corner, in your community, that you can talk to and share with. In order to have that, sometimes you have to pull back the curtain, show the levers being pulled and risk a little bit of loss of face.

And how does this all relate to 5 Ingredient Lemon Chicken with Asparagus? There are so many thoughts and feelings –all the feels– coursing through and around my brain, that when something small as being able to make dinner without having to think about it because you have all the ingredients on hand, ready to go,  when everything else seems to be really tough and in need of 25 steps, finding something that is pleasing to all the senses is a huge a win.

Happy Tuesday, y’all!

5 Ingredient Lemon Chicken With Asparagus

recipe courtesy of Pinch of Yum

serves: 3-4 (nutrition is for 4 servings)

Ingredients
  • 1 lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts
  • ¼ cup whole wheat flour (all purpose will work, too)
  • ½ teaspoon salt
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1 teaspoon lemon pepper seasoning
  • 1 cup chopped asparagus
  • 2 lemons, sliced
Instructions
  1. Cover the chicken breasts with plastic wrap and pound until each pieces is about a ¾ of an inch thick. Place the flour and salt in a shallow dish and gently toss each chicken breast in the dish to coat. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium high heat; add the chicken and saute for 3-5 minutes on each side, until golden brown, sprinkling each side with the lemon pepper directly in the pan.
  2. When the chicken is cooked through, transfer to a plate. Add the lemon slices and chopped asparagus to the pan. Make sure the lemon slices are on the bottom so that they caramelize and pick up the browned bits left in the pan from the chicken and butter.
  3. When the asparagus is done and the lemons are golden brown, add the chicken back to the pan and rearrange everything (lemons on top) so it looks nice for serving.
photo by hgd via Instagram

photo by hgd via Instagram

Lindsay at Pinch of Yum suggested serving this dish with the following: an extra sprinkle of salt and pepper, fresh herbs, a drizzle of honey, and a slice of whole grain bread. I did not have any bread on hand, sadly, but I did have some brown rice which I jazzed up with some onion powder, salt and pepper.

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IN: hair recipes ON: June 3, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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Salt Water: 3 Ways

Sweat

I work out five days a week.  There are days when I don’t want to. There are many days when I don’t want to, but I continue to go because I know I will feel better, both mentally and physically, if I do.  Sometimes, when I’ve wrangled myself into my swimsuit and topped it with a warm-up suit, I think about how I’d much rather be in my pajamas under the covers.  Sometimes, after I’ve dropped V off in the child care center and I’m unloading the contents of my backpack into my locker, I think, “I could just sit on this bench here and just do nothing until I have to pick up V in two hours.”   Sometimes, I have a poor performance in the pool and think, “That was a waste of time and energy”.  Despite all of those scenarios, though, I know I would feel much worse if I never crossed the Fitness Center threshold at all.  Truthfully, I don’t consider a workout successful unless there is a full on flop sweat coursing down my face. Physical exertion is one of the best ways to move through and beyond a sour mood.  The ordeal that is our morning routine is sure to leave several of us (okay, me) cranky and uptight before we’ve even left the driveway.  When I’m gripping the steering wheel like Homer on Bart Simpson’s neck, I know that once I get situated on the Elliptical or the Stairmaster and get the sweat flowing, I will be in a much better place.  Even as I type this, I’m struck by the thought of being bathed in sweat, the sweat actually cleansing me of negative energy. All of the nasty feelings, critical thoughts, nuggets of self-doubt or what have you are being carried out in rivulets of sweat and evaporating into the air. Poof! Gone, leaving me red-faced and soaked through, but considerably lighter in temperament.  The release of sweat re-calibrates my internal metronome, enabling me to march to my own beat without missing a step.

Tears

The Hubs and I are both in the midst of serious professional growth.  It’s been challenging for me in that I work from home.  There are precious few hours that I can 1) devote to my projects and 2) work on my projects with some semblance of focus.  I am getting up at five in the morning to put in some work before we start our day. I sneak in an hour or two while V naps, and then if I’m lucky (i.e. not delirious and cross eyed with fatigue), I get squeeze in another hour after lights out for the girls. Then it’s to bed and back up for a repeat performance the following day.  It’s a grueling schedule to keep.  I’ve never been much of a night owl; I’m more of an early to bed, early to rise kind of gal.  The cumulative effect of these early morning, late nights began to take its toll on me.  The day came when I could no longer keep it together after manning this ship on domesticity while the Hubs traveled for work. I was tired. I was cranky.  I was feeling unappreciated and overwhelmed.  I was resentful of the Hubs and his ability to just get up, get dressed, and get out the door unencumbered by the petulant whines and cries of three little people each with their own very strong opinion.  I was mad that I had passed another sleepless night and that I was caught in the hamster wheel of Monday through Friday. I flung the covers off, got out of bed. I stewed about what had happened and what needed to happen and I began to cry. Hard, angry, hot tears that caught the Hubs completely off guard.

“I’m just. . I’m so tired,” I snotted and sobbed into the shirtfront of my bewildered husband.  And when the Hubs in a Herculean attempt to calm me offered to go get bagels for the girls, I snapped out of it. I grabbed my big girl panties off of the shelf, stuffed my tears and general malaise up on the shelf in their place and carried on my day.  Despite his best efforts, bagels weren’t going to suffice.  Shelving my emotions was not a solution that would prove to be an enduring one, either.  As we continued in our roles, the feelings ballooned up until one day, I found myself clicking on the television to babysit the girls so I could go upstairs, lock the door and cry.  And cry. And cry. I lay face down on my bed with the comforter balled up in my fists, the corner of our decorative throw pillows catching the onslaught of water sluicing from my face. I cried furiously, thoroughly, in body-wracking disgusting sobs, hiccuping and snorting like truffle pig searching for chanterelles. I cried until I was scooped out and deflated, until the only sound in the room was the raggedness of my breath coming in ever diminished bursts.  It was a cry for the ages. When I peeled myself off of the bed, I saw how the shedding of tears left a soggy, Hilary-sized impression on the bedclothes.  I felt clean, like a slate had been wiped, like someone had hit the re-set button.  While my situation was the same, I was now empty of everything that had been weighing me down as I tried to manage it. With each tear, I jettisoned anger, frustration, fatigue,  and resentment.  I was hollowed out and determined to be replenished with only good things.

The Sea

I love the beach, plain and simple. I didn’t grow up near the beach. We didn’t vacation at the beach growing up or with any regularity as adults. I could choose my vacation destination, however, with the exception of Paris, I’d be going to the beach.  The calming, repetitive nature of the surf coming in to and pulling away from the shore is hypnotic.  I love the feel of the sand between my toes and watching the sugar-like crystals be swept away by the angry fingers of an ocean wave.  I’ve been lucky enough to visit beaches on the East Coast and West Coast, in both warm temps and not so warm temps.  It doesn’t matter, I love it all the same. I’d be just as happy in a rolled up jeans and a chunky sweater, strolling down Chick’s Beach in October as I would be in a bathing suit and Ray Bans laid out getting tan in Costa Maya in August. I’ll take it all and every point in between.

Our immediate family is trying to keep a tradition of a bi-annual trip to Martha’s Vineyard in motion. We’ve been more successful with this than we have been with Pancake Saturday, but I digress.  The beaches on Martha’s Vineyard are both public and private.  The Atlantic is cold and sometimes is met with rocky shores or smooth, windblown sandy beaches.  Whether it’s Tashmoo Beach, Longpoint Beach, the Inkwell or State Beach, it’s of no consequence.  The 12 plus hours it takes to get to the Vineyard are magically erased when I lay my towel down and pop open the umbrella. Everything is right with the world.  I don’t know much about astrology and zodiac signs, so I don’t know if or how my birth sign corresponds to the elements. According to the books, I’m more earth-centric, but given my way, I’ll take the ocean any day.

I remember laying back in the waters in Costa Maya, thinking about this old Foxtrot cartoon I had read.  Over the course of several installments, the Fox family goes to their cabin for the week The husband, Roger, locks the keys to the car in the ignition.  The rest of the family goes about the week while he tirelessly tries to unlock the door with a hanger. Once he successfully liberates the keys, he tries to share his joy with his son who replies, “Mom told me I have to pack.”  The next panel shows Roger floating in the lake, imploring the waters to soothe him, calm him, restore him to his balance.  By the fourth panel, we see his wife yelling, “C’mon, Roger, the car’s packed and running! It’s time to go,” to which Roger replies, “Hurry up, water! Hurry up!”  It’s easily been ten years of more, since I’ve read Foxtrot, but I can’t ever float in the ocean or in a pool without thinking of this cartoon and how we rely on the water to heal us.

What about you? How does salt water cure you?

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IN: ON: May 23, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , BY: Hilary
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From the Archives: In Anticipation of Summer

original post first published June 1, 2012

Image

The girls get out of school in about 5 days.  Then the summer will officially begin.  Oh sure, there are a few camps in the mix, but when those requisite summer activities are completed, it will be a summer of no plans. Shock of all shocks, right?

I’m hoping that me and the three love-bugs will spend many days outside just watching the clouds roll by and waiting for the delicious melody of the ice cream man rolling through the neighborhood.

There will be sidewalk chalk.
There will be bubble juice and every conceivable contraption to make bubbles.
There will be sprinklers and new bathing suits.
There will be trips to the pool.
There will be trips to the playground.
There will be Popsicle stained mouths and dirt stained knees.
There will be bug bites and lightening bugs trapped in jelly jars.
There will be cook-outs with ketchup stained paper plates.
There will trips to the Vineyard, to the grands.
There will be smiles and laughs and happiness.

Let’s get started. . .

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IN: ON: May 22, 2014 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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