Monday, October 1, 2012

Mind-Blowing Mac and Cheese

Dear Reader,

Here is how I spent a recent Saturday afternoon.  A brief warning, this was an activity done with the help of children, so excuse the shaky creative camera work.  Also a note:  My son, the resident food police, was horrified at the amount of fat involved in this macaroni and cheese, but what he didn't know is that the cheese, or some of the cheese I used was of the lower fat variety, and the milk was 2%.  I was trying to make a lighter version of a gooey, crunchy-topped mac and cheese, and I have to say, it was divine. I've listed the ingredients below.  Enjoy!







Mind-Blowing Mac and Cheese


You will need

1 baguette (most of one)
4 Tbs. butter
1 box elbows (noodles - not actual elbows, bleh)
1/2 cup flour
6 Tbs. butter
5 1/2 cups 2% milk
1 tsp. dry mustard
1/4 tsp. cayenne
salt and pepper
1 8 oz pkg. Cabot Extra Sharp 75% fat Cheddar
1 8 oz. pkg. Cabot Extra Sharp Cheddar
8 oz. Gruyere


For Pickle Deliciousness:

1 shallot
Handful parsley
Handful chives
Handful tarragon
Half of a jalapeƱo (I removed seeds for benefit of wimpy kids who didn't try it anyway)
Handful cornichons (otherwise known in my house as, "snack")
Splash Sherry vinegar

Friday, September 7, 2012

Fat Mom's Lunch Fajita for One

Dear Reader,

I don't know if it is the end of summer, the return of election year anxiety, or all of this suburban pudge I have packed on since moving out of the city, but I'm kind of down in the dumps.  A frumpy dumpy mom is what I am, as a matter of fact.  Yesterday I was explaining to my eight year old daughter that her math homework really wouldn't take that much time.  She looked at me in my yoga pants and Aerosmith t-shirt from Target that is now covered in paint from when I decided I could paint the garage, and said, "You know what else doesn't take much time?  Putting together a decent outfit."

If I had the energy or the inclination I might have scolded her for rudeness.  But, she's right.  It takes no more time to put on a casual dress than it does those dorky yoga pants - you know, the ones for people that don't actually do yoga.  After moving I developed some awful thing in my foot - a heel spur and Plantar Fascitis, so gone are the days when I would run five or six miles every morning.  My foot hurt so badly for a while, that I could barely walk, much less run.  But then I went to the Nike outlet in Freeport, ME and bought myself a pair of Nike Icarus running shoes.  They felt different - better even that the fancy orthotics I was told to buy by the podiatrist.  So I ran.  The first day I made it one mile, the second a mile and a half, and on and on until today.  Thanks to those Nike's and the super fun app Zombies, Run! I managed to pound out four miles this morning.  Up hills and everything!  After my shower I pulled on a cotton dress from the J. Crew outlet in Freeport, ME (do you sense a pattern?) went to the regfrigerator, opened the doors and let the icy air waft over me for a minute until I was faced by another problem.  Food, ugh.  See, this suburban pudge I mentioned comes in the form of eight pounds that have settled on me seemingly for good.  No amount of Weight Watchers tracking points or bowls of watermelon have made a bit of difference.  Bleh.  Maybe this is just me now?  Maybe this is me becoming a middle-aged lady.  It's true that I find myself watching Face the Nation most Sundays.  I never did that before.  Perhaps I need to go to the mall and buy myself a nice new outfit at Lane Bryant to cheer me up.  Maybe I'll do that later, but for now, I'm going back to the fridge to rustle up some lunch, and what I feel like is something a little spicy, a little sweet, something healthy but that won't leave me feeling famished in an hour because I have four different cheeses and three kinds of crackers that are actually singing to me the soundtrack to Jesus Christ Superstar a capella.  So I am armed with a little bit of advice for myself.  It's okay to eat my feelings, but not okay to look like I do.




Fat Mom's Lunch Fajita for One

You will need:

One whole wheat tortilla
Green pepper
Mushrooms
Lime
Onion
Garlic
Cabbage
White Vinegar
Mango
Cumin
Chili powder
Cooking spray
Black beans
Orange

First, take off the old college sweatshirt and pajama bottoms.  If you have nothing better to wear then put on a robe, do not go naked as you might scar your flabby body in the cooking process.  Chop green pepper and onion, place in a large bowl with mushrooms.  Mix together juice of one lime, one clove of garlic, a teaspoon of cumin, and a teaspoon of chili powder, and some pepper and pour over the vegetables - NOT on your face.  This is not an acid peel, although lord knows you could use one.  Let sit for a few minutes while you SHOULD be doing some sit ups, but instead are chopping cabbage and mango.  Pour some white vinegar over cabbage and mango, add a little salt.  Place one quarter cup black beans in a small pot with juice of half an orange, let simmer to heat.  Spray a skillet with cooking spray (duh) and toss in marinated veggies.  Cook about ten minutes, then warm the tortilla either in the microwave, in a pan, or under your fat ass, then fill it with the vegetables, black beans, and coleslaw.  Add light sour cream only if absolutely necessary.  Weight Watchers PointsPlus value 3 as far as I can tell.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Spaghetti for Secret Stoners

Dear Reader,

Oh my, it has been a long time since I posted anything.  This was the busiest summer on record, with camp, vacations, family visiting, and the birthdays! Oh my god, the birthdays!  In one week I made four cakes.  That's not an exaggeration.

A banana cake.

A coconut cake.

Plus two chocolate cakes that I didn't photograph because by that time I was totally over cake.  Also I have this to deal with:


I know, she looks super cute, and she is, but it has taken me forty minutes just to write this because she has been sitting at my foot, staring up at me and BARKING VERY LOUDLY since I sat down.  So I had to get up and take her out for a "walk" which consists of her yanking on her leash until she is gagging and wheezing, chasing every single squirrel, not to mention the moths and the butterflies, and only after all of that is she quiet and sleeping so that I can get down to business and answer some of this damn mail that has piled up in my absence.

I want to thank each and every one of you who has written to me either with encouragement or complaints.  You make my life a sunny day.  Not really.  But it is ever so comforting to hear about the misfortune of others, isn't it?

This email arrived way back in the beginning of August, and it is from someone who goes by the name of DoobyDebbie, from whom I do not expect great things.

Heather-
Got any recipes for what to eat when you are stoned out of your mind but told your boyfriend that you quit smoking pot months ago and then didn't even though you thought you were going to but then your friend came over and had a stash of weed that she got in vancouver so you smoked and she left it at your house and you smoked it all yourself after she left and you're super hungry but know that if you crack open the box of teddy grahams he's going to totally know what you've been up to?
Thanks,
DD

Dooby,
I certainly hope you're not still high, but I'm pretty sure you are.  This one is for you.  It may help, but I doubt it.  Enjoy.


Spaghetti for Secret Stoners

You will need:

Spaghetti
Peanut Butter
Red Wine Vinegar
Olive Oil
Tamari
Honey
Crushed Red Pepper
Garlic
Cherry Tomatoes
Broccoli
Newspaper
Eye Glass Repair Kit

First, you need to say something that you would never normally say if you were as high as a kite.  Avoid phrases like, "Dude, you have got to be kidding me," and, "Wouldn't it be cool if your car ran on slushies?"  Try instead, "Did you know that recent studies challenge conventional medical thinking about CPR?  It turns out that prolonged resuscitation for patients does not lead to permanent neurological damage.  No!  In fact, patients who underwent CPR for a long time fared just as well as those who were revived quickly," which I just read out of today's New York Times, or look to your own paper for ideas.  Then ask if he's ever performed CPR, and as he muses, put on a pot of salted water to boil and toss in the spaghetti.  If it is not time for spaghetti eating, say if it is nine o'clock in the morning, tell him that you are trying out a new Asian Breakfast Pasta you read about in Saveur Magazine.  Be careful saying "Saveur."

Just before the spaghetti is finished, toss some broccoli florets into the water.  In a large bowl, mix one half cup peanut butter, one glug red wine vinegar, one quarter cup tamari, one glug olive oil, and two squirts from the Honey Bear.  Resist urge to talk to the Honey Bear, or apologize for squeezing out his brains.  Crush one small clove garlic and add to sauce.  Drain pasta and broccoli and add to the bowl containing the sauce.  Chop some cherry tomatoes.  Do not say, "Fuck it all," and throw the tomatoes in whole.  That would be so obvious!  Patiently chop them and toss them into the pasta.  Sprinkle on some crushed red pepper flakes.  Do not eat pasta directly from the bowl in which is was prepared.  This is very important.  Find a normal, human serving-sized bowl and fill it with a small mound of pasta.  Do not attempt to use a plate.  A plate offers no sides against which to press the fork thereby easily getting slippery noodles to your mouth, and you will just wind up with peanut butter and spaghetti all over yourself.  Use a napkin.  Have something to drink.  Perhaps an iced tea.  When you are finished, clean off your dish.  If you sense he might be on to you, consider if it might just be marijuana-induced paranoia, and pretend to repair your eye glasses, a task requiring such nimbleness and agility, sure to convince anyone of your sobriety.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Summer Birthday Plates Bonanza

Summer birthdays.  My daughter has one.  Unfortunately for her, each summer many of her friends are away and unable to attend a birthday party.  So we end up including a whole bunch of adults, which creates the problems of what to serve? How to decorate?  What sort of plates do you use when half the guests are under ten and the other half are over forty?  Lucky for you I have the answer. These adorable cupcake plates, napkins, and gift wrap are perfect.  Cute enough to satisfy little girls' desires, adorned with yummy looking cupcakes so boys won't have to eat off of Barbie's face, and elegant for the grown ups.  Oh, and there's another reason to love these. My mother Carolyn Bucha did the artwork!  I know you were under the impression that I must be the most awesome member of my family, but my mother is a wonderful artist.  Just look at these plates!

You can buy them on Amazon, so there's no need to drop everything and run to the nearest party store. Just click here!


What to serve on these plates?  Here's an idea.

And now here's this...

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Totally Forgot About Swim Suit Season Garlic Bread Pudding

Dear Reader,

It has been raining for what seems like weeks.  This cold grey weather feels more late September than early June, which perhaps explains my lack of judgment in preparing last night's dinner.  Smart gals plan June menus with an eye toward fitting into a bathing suit at the beach rather than having to wrap yourself in two garbage bags tied together with duct tape.  But I kind of don't care because what I made was so freaking good.  Real good.  I had almost an entire loaf of garlic bread left over from the night before, and maybe I've been watching too many episodes of Chopped, but my mind immediately went to bread pudding.  Holy cow.




Totally Forgot About Swim Suit Season Garlic Bread Pudding




 I had some mushrooms, so I sauteed them in my skillet with a little butter.

 I also had some soy sausage, so I fried that up as well.

I put these things in a dish with my torn up garlic bread.  Everything was looking a little brownish, so I threw in some sliced sun-dried tomatoes because I don't care if it's not 1994 anymore, I still love the damn things.  I mixed three eggs and three egg yolks with two cups of milk, salt and pepper, and poured it over the whole mess.  Then I waited about 45 minutes.  I didn't really just wait for 45 minutes.  I was doing other things during that time.  That would be pretty sad if I just sat and watched the bread sopping up the custard for 45 whole minutes while I cried deep down on the inside that I had nothing better to do.  What I should have done is filled up on carrot sticks or broccoli to avoid the coming feeding frenzy.  I sprinkled on a generous handful of grated parmesan and baked at 350 for about 40 minutes.
I know, it doesn't look like I ate much, but this was the plate I served to my son, who almost gagged literally to death on the sun-dried tomatoes, but otherwise thoroughly enjoyed this dish.

To make up for this decadence, I offer this musical sampling, perfectly distracting for the long slog on the treadmill.  And this dude kind of looks like a musical theater version of my husband.  Enjoy.


Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Suburban Salad

Dear Reader,

I know I have been silent for a while, but with good reason.  I moved!  Goodbye NYC, hello rabid raccoon chewing on my garage door!  There are many ways in which a move can enrich one's life, lessons to learn, new friends to make, but the most important lesson of all is this:  moving sucks.  First there were the heart wrenching goodbye ceremonies for my children in their classes.  My kids were crying, other kids were crying, it was an emotional Hunger Games.  Then the stress of hoping that the people who are buying your house won't suddenly change their minds so that the kids have to go back to school on Monday after all the farewells.  The worry that there might be poltergeists or radon (God, the radon!) lurking in your new basement, and then, once you move in, what the hell is that noise coming from under the living room floor every night at three in the morning?  It sounds like squirrels are bowling under there.  But to every cloud there is a silver lining, and today it arrived in the form of a mouse stuck to a glue trap just outside a previously undetected gap from the garage into the floor of the living room.  Gotcha.  It's amazing how blood thirsty you can become after a few nights lost sleep.

I thought I would miss NYC more than I do.  Of course I miss friends, but in this day and age, people are never really very far away.  For instance, I knew the moment my friend Sophia was egged in the head by neighborhood hooligans, and she lives in London.  I do miss bumping into people that I know walking down the street.  Hell, I miss walking down the street.  But I love my car and it costs less than we used to pay for our parking space in NYC.  Nobody ever tells you that life in the suburbs is a paradise for parents.  In New York mornings began with a 7 AM leap out of bed, hurrying the kids into their clothes, force feeding them freezer waffles and then everybody hustling out the door to wait for the elevator, because you can't take the stairs, not when your neighbor leaves used condoms between the second and third floor landings.   Then rushing down the street for a cab, or to the subway, then rushing down another street to the school, avoiding traffic, then being swept up into a sea of parents and children all funneling into a mouse-infested, lice-ridden old building, kissing goodbye while avoiding eye contact with other parents who might try and lure you into volunteering for mouse turd clean up duty.

This morning, we woke to the sound of birds singing. The kids got dressed and came downstairs for egg sandwiches and french toast, and I'm not making that up.  Then we all walked to the end of the driveway where we said hello to the neighbor, then to the friendly bus driver, who whisked my kids off to their idyllic school which is surrounded by forsythia and has two gyms and two music rooms and where the lunch room has windows!  I then went back to my house and ate a bowl of cereal.  Then stared at the wall until The View came on, which I listened to just for the sound of their voices.  No.  I'm kidding about that.  Except the cereal.  Newman's Own Vanilla Almond with a banana.  Then I found the dead mouse, jabbed my finger at it and said, "Fuck you, you noisy little fucker."  You can take the girl out of the city...

In honor of my new life here in the country, I offer you a salad on account of I've gained about ten thousand pounds because it's too damn hilly here to run very far.  Enjoy.



Suburban Salad

You will need

Glue Traps
Watercress
Butter Lettuce
Vidalia Onion
Blue Cheese
Cherry Tomatoes
Carpenter
Avocado
Mulch
Hard Boiled Egg
Professional Window Cleaner
White balsamic vinegar
Olive Oil
Dry mustard
Salt
Pepper


When woken in the night by animals scampering in the attic, the garage, the nearby woods, or gnawing on your apparently tasty garage door, do not freak out!  Go to refrigerator, remove watercress and butter lettuce, tear into a bowl.  Slice Vidalia onion as thin as the deed for your new home.  Sprinkle on blue cheese, which is the most prevalent cheese in WASP country.  You might find some growing right outside on your blue cheese tree.  Halve cherry tomatoes.  While looking out the window, notice that the lawn guy didn't finish mulching the flower bed.  Realize that you have spent more on mulch, a product which you heretofore did not even know existed, than you spent on three years of nursery school for your firstborn.  Notice the warp on the window sill.  Slice and chop an avocado and add "fix old window sill" to the ten page list of jobs for the carpenter, while resolving to learn how to fix things for yourself.  Surely it can't be too hard to replace a faucet?  Right?  Chop a hard boiled egg and place in the salad bowl.  While staring in the direction of the noise coming from the attic, notice that the absurdly tall window in the foyer is filthy.  Realize that whoever installed this window must have been in cahoots with a professional window cleaning company because only they would be in possession of the tools required to clean it.  Wonder if you could call the volunteer fire department and pretend there is a fire around that window so they might squirt it with the high powered hose.  In a small bowl mix together white balsamic vinegar, dry mustard, salt and pepper.  Toss together and enjoy before setting glue traps.  When finished, empty remaining contents into sink and listen to the sweet sweet sound of the garbage disposal as it grinds up all your scraps along with your worries.

 

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Fat Breanna's Girls Night Sex Fest Queso Dip

Dear Reader,

Another day, another email.  This one comes from someone who calls herself, "Fat Breanna," which is a big part of her problem in and of itself.

Heather-
About a year ago I was coming home after a night out with the girls.  I had drunk about six tequila shooters, cause it was a girls night, and then had lost my keys. So I climbed in what I thought was my window, but was really the window of my next door neighbor, and I climbed right into his bed and woke him up.  I always thought he was hot, and I wasn't shy on account of all the shooters (it was a Mexican restaurant where we were hanging out) so I had sex with the neighbor.  Now I have sex with him all the time when I'm drunk, or when he's loaded, which is almost as often as I am! LOL! I love to party! Anyways, he won't even ever look at me when he's straight.  Like he don't know me from a hole in the wall, and I really like him. Can you help?
-Fat Breanna



Breanna,

You say he "don't know you from a hole in the wall" which is exactly what you are to him.  A glory hole.  You know, one where he can stick his- you get the idea.  I'm not going to tell you that it is impossible to move your relationship from glory hole to girlfriend, because supposedly a man walked on the actual moon, so clearly a lot is possible in this world that may seem, at first glance, entirely impossible.  So.  How about talking to him?  Next time you see him, just say hello?  Start there.  Because you never know, he might be totally dull and not worth your time anyway.  Lord knows there are many many people that you might enjoy fooling around with, but with whom conversation would be no more desirable than a hot poker in the eye.  And find a place to hide a spare set of keys.  Meanwhile, enjoy some Queso Dip.


Fat Breanna's Girls Night Sex Fest Queso Dip

You will need:

Condoms
1 chipotle chile in adobo sauce
1/4 cup cream
1 scallion, chopped
1/2 tsp salt
1 Tbs. cilantro, chopped
1 cup shredded Monterrey Jack cheese
1/4 cup chorizo

First, have condom at the ready, don't count on him having one, because most people don't have one in their pajamas pocket.  Saute chorizo until reddish and glistening, like your nipples when you peel off the pasties.  Heat cream in a sauce pan, add in the shredded cheese, grabbing great handfuls of cheese like you do his hair while he's sleeping, stirring until melted.  When the cheese is melted, add in the scallion, cilantro, salt and chorizo.  Finely dice the chili, being careful to thoroughly was your hands after or else you will leave him with a burning that will never end.  Mix all together and enjoy with chips.  Serves 2.