Dearest Ones,

Even as I write this, poor Ben is nearby doing his pre-back-to-school fifth-grade homework. "Morose" does not even begin to capture his mood. "Maybe school will burn down!" I offered, and his face brightened, but only briefly. There is just nobody who hates going back to school like our Ben. Sigh.

I am in late-August mode: dead-heading the black-eyed Susans; comforting mopey children with buttered toast and sliced-up peaches and card games; canning wild grape jam and pickled green beans; reading this fantastic book; taking down our SUMMER doorway garland; scrambling to finish work that I didn't finish because I wasn't working because we were on vacation. 

Of course, I have been cooking a lot some too. I made:

• This fantastic lime-scented pasta with fresh corn.
• This stunningly beautiful apricot-cherry crumble.
• Pesto.
• This succulent Mexican-inspired salad with grilled chicken and creamy lime dressing.
• And this.

My friend Daniel was unimpressed with that last recipe. "What's next?" he asked. "Buttered bread?" But I'll tell you: sometimes I feel like what I have to offer is a concept--a way to think about dinner, or what dinner could be. Dinner could be mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil, with some bread on the side. It doesn't have to be some big production or some cooked something or a serving platter with meat on it, you know? That's all. So yes, maybe buttered bread next week!

Oh, but I have so much more to tell you. . . 

So much more. . . 

More soon. I hope you are happy and thriving. xo

Classic Pesto

"You don't need to tear the leaves or anything before you put them in the food processor," Michael explained while I was snapping a picture of his hands submerged in a sinkful of water. "Oh, and tell them not to add the butter if they're going to freeze it." I can't tell you how unusual it is for him to be pedantic, and how hard it is to stifle laughter over his basil-scented bossiness. "Also, the original Marcella Hazan recipe calls for two tablespoons of pine nuts, but I use three." I couldn't take it anymore. "Honey, you use three because that's what I do, and I'm the one who actually taught you how to make pesto, Mr. Pesto-making Pesto Head." "Oh," he said, and looked up from the sink. "Okay. Well then tell them about the summer I picked so much basil that I gave myself carpal tunnel syndrome." It's true: he did.

Come July, Michael gets into what can only be described as a pesto-making frenzy, all flailing limbs and ghoulish black-green fingernails and wafting garlic. At our farm-share CSA, the basil-picking policy is "as much as you need." And he needs a lot. The squirrels are outside with cheeks full of birdseed and acorns, thinking ahead to snow and their cozy burrows, and Michael is inside obsessively scooping pesto into yogurt containers and freezing it. Only when he has a giant Ziploc bag full of the frozen green pucks will he rest easy, with visions of a long winter full of pesto pasta and pesto pizza and pesto scrambled eggs.

Which is when I have to say: Ew. Not to alarm you about the depth of conflict in our relationship, but if there is one thing that grosses me out, and there is, it is pesto scrambled eggs. And this is where things get complicated for us, because what I have with pesto could best be described as a love-hate relationship that dates back to my pregnancy with Birdy. Back when she was the size of a grain of sand or a grain of rice or a pinto bean or a jelly bean or a green bean, the smell of garlic was like something from a George Orwell futuristic vision of torture. Other folks would have been in their cages with the rats or underground with the snakes and blackboard fingernails, and I would have been sitting at my own kitchen table, screaming, while somebody pressed cloves of garlic through a press. And that somebody would have been Michael, who mistakenly imagined that the only problem I'd have would be with eating the pesto, not with him making it. Did you catch the word "mistakenly" back there? I know. Because one night of my early pregnancy, Michael made pesto, and I will spare you the details (suffice it to say: barfing occurred) and the aftermath (I had to take our kitchen sink apart to get, barfingly, at the garlic fragments that were still tormenting me from the garbage disposal), but let me just say: I barely recovered from it. Thenceforth, even the way it looked (so green! so pastey!) revolted me, and I don't think I could bring myself to taste it again until Birdy was already riding a bike with training wheels. 

How crazy is that? Me, who had been one of the all-time major devotees of pesto, worshipping at its green and fragrant altar. And even now. I just don't know. My kids love pesto almost as much as their dad does, so we eat it a lot. And about three quarters of the time I love it too: the deep clovey-herbal flavor of the basil, alongside the musky garlic and rich olive oil and funky parmesan. Yowza. I made myself love it just writing that. It is so, so good, and this recipe puts store-bought pesto so badly to shame that you should make it only if you're going to commit to continuing to make it. Assuming you're not pregnant. Or that there's not 25% of you that still imagines that you are.

Classic Pesto

Makes enough to sauce 2 pounds of pasta

Total time: 25 minutes

This is based on a Marcella Hazan pesto recipe. Michael freezes the pesto in small amounts so that we can thaw just what we need: one quarter batch (1 puck) will dress about a half a pound of pasta. The basil will oxidize and turn a little bit dark after freezing, but it doesn't seem to affect the flavor.

1 very large bunch basil (enough to make 2 packed cups of leaves)

3 tablespoons pine nuts (we use the toasted ones from Trader Joe's)

2 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt (or half as much table salt)

1/2 cup olive oil

1 cup freshly ground parmesan (omit for now if freezing)

3 tablespoons softened butter (omit for now if freezing)

Fill a large sink with water and rinse the basil well, then pull of the leaves, spin dry in a salad spinner, and measure out 2 packed cups (if you’re a little short, don’t worry too much).

In a food processor, whir together the basil, pine nuts, garlic, salt. Then, with the machine running, drizzle the olive oil through the feed tube and process until completely creamy-looking.

If you’re using the pesto now, stir in the cheese and butter, but if you’re freezing it, don’t. To use it, put the pesto in a large serving bowl and stir in a couple of tablespoons of pasta-cooking water, then stir in the drained pasta and serve with more cheese for passing.

If you're freezing it, divide the pesto into four small plastic containers (we use empty yogurt containers) and freeze solid, then pop the pesto out of the containers and store in a Ziploc freezer bag onto which you’ve added this note: “Thaw, then add a couple tablespoons of pasta cooking water along with 1 tablespoon of butter and lots of freshly ground parmesan before stirring into pasta.”

Well, hello there! It has been a while, and I hope you're having a good summer.

Since last we spoke, I have made

this awesome cold noodle bowl
and this addictive gingery napa slaw
and this flimmery panna cotta 
and these super-easy dill pickles

Plus, you'll have to click on that last link to read about the baby we're going to have in our house. I am tricky that way.

What have you been making? Anything you'd like to share here?

More soon, but in the meantime please stay cool.

Homemade Burger Buns

My very beloved father-in-law (father-outlaw?) recently cracked me up about hot dogs. We'd been debating getting some from a stand after a long and beautiful walk--only the stand guy explained that there'd been some kind of a "hotdog malfunction." "There might be some ready in five minutes," he said, and we said, "Oh, never mind, that's okay," because, really. What exactly is a hotdog malfunction? I pictured, for instance, all the various times a swimming pool had been evacuated, and I said to Grandpa Larry, "A hot dog is kind of barely functioning as it is." Which is when he explained, maybe quoting Anthony Bourdain, that a hotdog is always an implied-consent situation. "It's gross and made of gross stuff, and that's really just the whole premise of a hotdog," he said, and I agreed. A hotdog yoinked from a boiling trough, slathered with brown mustard and dripping sauerkraut into a damp and disintegrating white bun? Walk me past a Sabrette stand or take me to a ball game, and I'm all over it.

Which is not at all how I feel about hamburgers. And maybe that's because I'm a hypocrite. Or because hamburgers have kind of e.-coli-ed their way out of our forgiving hearts in recent years. Or because we have meatier expectations when it comes to burgers. But I've gotten picky about my burgers and picky about my buns. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I hate buying hamburger buns because they're either wheaty and fine and jaw-droppingly expensive at Whole Foods, or they're cheap and white and as intuitively edible as a flip-flop. ("Is this really something you're supposed to eat?" Ben once said, rolling a fistful of bun into a bright white ball the size of a Tic Tac.) Also, the off flavors gross me out--the way they seem to soak up all the off-gassed fumes from the detergents and air fresheners that are seven aisles over. Do you know what I'm talking about? No? Maybe it's just me.

But it doesn't even matter, because it's fun to make buns however you feel about the boughten ones: homemade hamburger buns are delicious and inexpensive and deeply satisfying to make. Plus, they're gorgeous and show-offy and as nutritious as the flours you choose to use. You won't be surprised to hear that I use a great deal of whole wheat, and the buns that result are full-flavored and sturdy--more than a mere vehicle for transporting your burger mouthwards. You also won't be surprised to hear that I use the no-knead method, here adapted from the recipe for "Soft American-Style White Bread" in Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day. Except, of course, it's not white. And it's buns. You'll be mad if I say these are easy. Which is why I'm not saying it.

Burger Buns

Makes 15 buns

Active time: 20 minutes; total time, including resting and refrigeration: 4 (plus) hours

Figure out what works for you, flour-wise. I want to say start with all white and then add in whole-grain little by little, but I honestly find it harder to go that direction, as one's family (and self) can become quite attached to the earlier squishy versions. I started with half and half and got gradually wheatier and this is, for us, a perfect balance of soft and wholesomely flavorful. I usually make the buns for beef hamburgers, which I always serve with chipotle mayo, but what's pictured here are the absolutely fabulous Bulgur Veggie Burgers with Lime Mayonnaise that I made for a vegetarian friend; they were as good as any burger I have ever eaten.

3 cups warm water


1 1/2 tablespoons yeast (2 packages)


1 1/2 - 2 tablespoons kosher salt, depending on your saltiness preference (or half as much table salt)


2 tablespoons sugar

1 stick butter, melted

7 cups flour (I use 3 cups white, 3 1/2 cups whole wheat, and 1/4 cup each ground flax and wheat germ.)

Milk

Sesame seeds

Pour the water into a large bowl, then sprinkle in the yeast, salt, and sugar, then stir in the butter and flour, mixing with a wooden spoon until there are no dry patches. The dough will be shaggy and sticky and this is fine. Cover it with plastic wrap or a shower cap and let it rest and rise at a warm room temperature for at least 2 hours and up to 5 hours, then--if you can--refrigerate it for an hour or longer before using it. You can shape the buns right away if you must, but even a brief chilling makes it so much less maddening, I find.

Cover two large cookie sheets with parchment paper.

At this point, I sprinkle the dough with flour and then take a knife to it and mark it into 14 or 15 pieces, just so I have a rough guide as I'm grabbing the dough to shape buns. Pull each piece of dough out and shape it into a little bun by rotating it in your hands to stretch its surface, pulling it under to create a taut, rounded top and a gathered-up bottom (imagine that you're giving the dough a firming face lift and tucking all that baggy, extra skin underneath, only in miniature, if you've already made the full loaves). You will want to do this kind of quickly, keeping your fingers moving lightly over the surface of the dough, rather than plunging them inside, where they will stick. If your hands get doughy, stop what you're doing, wash and dry them, re-flour the dough, and try again. As you shape each bun, place it on a prepared cookie sheet.

When all the buns are made, cover them with a dish towel or two, and leave them to rest until they are no longer cold to the touch--15 minutes or so if the dough was only briefly refrigerated, and a half hour if it is was colder for longer.

Heat the oven to 450 (or 425 if your oven runs hot.) Brush the rested buns with milk, sprinkle them with sesame seeds, and bake in the oven for 20-30 minutes, rotating the pans top to bottom and back to front after about 15. The buns should be deeply golden on top, brown on the bottom, and hollow-sounding when you tap them. Remove them to a baking rack, at which point I cover them again with a dishtowel to keep the surface from getting too crusty as they cool.

Leftover cooled buns can be frozen in Ziploc freezer bags for up to a month, and they're still quite good.

Summer Shenanigans

Yowza! Did three weeks pass? They did. Where was I? Oh. I was here mostly, I guess. Eating strawberries with chocolate sauce, and beef burgers and veggie burgers on homemade burger buns, and grilled steaks with chimichurri.

Those are recipe links. I just thought I'd be clear about that.

Oh, what else?

Well, I got my toenails polished, as did Birdy and Michael. Have you ever been to the Pink Polisher nail salon?

I really recommend it. You just ring the doorbell.

And the Pink Polisher himself will let you in.

He's very fancy, but don't be intimidated. He's welcoming, and has a lovely selection of polishes to choose from.

I chose a color called, simply, "Pink." But Birdy picked "Mystery Pink" and loved it.

She was getting all snazzed up on account of the party she was throwing!

Everyone who is anyone was there.

Charlotte played quietly with a ballon, while Strawberry and Squeak enjoyed an uproarious game of Twister. Eebo just ate and ate.

It was a grand party. And to think: summer's only just begun!

(p.s. Birdy made the tiny Twister game from this book which I have mentioned before and which is, criminally, out of print. Still, Tiny Treats, which is not out of print, is another great one for whiling away an afternoon. And speaking of Amazon links, who here bought Waiting for Birdy for 68 cents? That cracked me up.)

Satiny Chocolate Sauce

I do especially love any sweet thing that shepherds a few extra nutrients into those growing little bodies. I don't mean that I stir yams into their flan or take measures with garbanzo puree or carob-spinach brownies; I just mean pudding or ice cream, on account of the calcium and protein, or fruit desserts, on account of, you know, the fruit. That's where this chocolate sauce comes in. I'm not going to make a case here for the healthfulness of chocolate and its antioxidant something or other, although a case can be made for such a thing. But if I make this chocolate sauce, then usually it becomes more or less a garnish to vast quantities of fruit. In the winter, I will cut up oranges and apples and pears and bananas and serve this in a bowl, fondue-style, for dipping--a dessert Ben has always called Frudité. (A few marshmallows or cubes of baguette or pound cake never hurt anyone, it's true.)

And now, well, now we're sitting pretty in fruitville, and, yes, perfect fruit doesn't need anything but a mouthful of teeth to be happily enjoyed--oh, but a little drizzle of chocolate really just takes it up a notch. I took pictures of ice cream sundaes mostly because that seemed like the classic chocolate-sauce vehicle--and partly because, given that this is what the kids were eating for lunch, I wanted it to be a little more substantial--but the truth is that it's usually just the fruit and the chocolate sauce. And the chocolate sauce is rich and satiny, deeply chocolatey and gorgeous, and it takes less than 5 minutes to make.  And everyone will be all, "You made this from scratch?" and you will be all, "I did."

Satiny Chocolate Sauce

Makes about a cup

Total time: 5 minutes

This is our "company" version. If it's only us at home, usually I just put the cream and chocolate in a bowl and microwave it until the chocolate melts, then stir in the vanilla. But it's well worth the extra 11 seconds to make it this way; the moment when the chocolate suddenly goes from grainy to creamy is a beautiful one.

1/2 cup half and half

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon sugar

3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips (about 4 ounces)

1 teaspoon vanilla

In a small pot over medium heat, stirring, bring the half and half, butter, and sugar to a boil. Turn off the heat, dump in the chocolate, leave it for a minute or so, then whisk until smooth before whisking in the vanilla. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature. Store leftovers in the fridge.

Ah, you guys. So much advice on brown rice and iced coffee and Origami Yoda! So many loving words about a stranger's book. And Melanie, it was lovely to meet you in Thorne's. It is a beautiful thing, this virtual community. You are such a huge part of my life. Thank you.

"Beth" who logged in early under "Anonymous" is the winner of Jennifer's book! Beth, will you please email me so I can get it into the mail for you?

Meanwhile, there are recipes for polenta and Green Goddess Potato Salad over at family.com. 

Favorite Board Games post and homemade hamburger buns: on their way.

And I wanted to show you: I bought this box of glass cigar cases at the flea market for $2.

And it's the nicest vase we've ever had. Keep your eyes peeled. xoxo

This and That

I love you guys for wanting an iced coffee recipe. It's, like, coffee? With, like, ice in it? No. I'm kidding. Because the truth is: I happen to have an excellent method. It involves my trusty Melita Coffee Cone--one of those plastic things a filter sits in, and then you stick it on top of a mug and pour boiling water into it. (Although now I just hurt my own feelings by looking it up on amazon and seeing that it comes in porcelain! Oh! Mine is cruddy old brown plastic. Sigh.) I put a lot of dark ground coffee in it and brew the coffee right into my to-go glass: strong and short, that's how I do it. An inch or so of nearly espresso-strength coffee. Then I fill the glass with ice cubes and then with milk. If I'm needing something sweet, then I add a dash of vanilla and a small spoon of agave syrup or sugar. Voila!

But I forgot to say that there's another to-go cup option you can use in a pinch, and it's this:

Can you see that? It's a mason jar, but instead of the metal lid insert, you screw a piece of wax paper under the ring, poke a hole in it, and insert a straw. Voila! It's not as leak-proof as the one below, but it has the added advantage (if you use a skinny jar) of fitting in a cup holder.

Okay, moving on from summer drinks. Wait--not yet. Okay, now. I have some recipes over at Family.com that I'd love for you to check out. One is meat on a stick, more graciously known as satay, that has actually inaugurated a crazy eating-everything-on-a-stick phase at our house (we actually did make that Greek salad on a stick, and it was awesome). And then there are homemade corn tortillas, which are a delight in every way. I'm going to post a related recipe soon for classic Mexican rice, but I keep trying to make it work with brown rice, because I've just completely lost any remaining shred of interest in white rice. So I've been trying to adapt my excellent white-rice Mexican-style pilaf, but with poor results--the brown rice seems so disinclined to cook. Thoughts? I'd appreciate any ideas you have on this front. {edited to add: the actual cooking of brown rice is not the problem--I do that in a rice cooker, which I love. It's the pilaf-style cooking of it with broth and tomato sauce that's not working so well: the rice persists in its rawness for an almost uncannily long time.}

And, finally, another book give-away! My friend Jennifer has just published her first book, and it's this:

and it's here and it's beautiful. It's a memoir about raising her two hearing-impaired daughters, who happen to be two of my favorite kids and also very good friends of Ben and Birdy, and it's moving and real and redemptive in all the best ways. She has given me a copy to give away here, so I'm going to do just that. Leave me a little comment if you would like the book. Don't worry if there are also comments about Mexican brown-rice pilaf or to-go cups. I will figure it all out.

xo Catherine

Smoky Shrimp with Garlic and Olive Oil

This is a recipe was actually inspired by a dish I didn't make: "Portuguese-style pork and clams with chorizo and fried potatoes" from the exquisite Sunday Suppers at Lucques cookbook that I checked out of the library. It's a cookbook that really makes me understand the expression food porn: it's under my side of the bed, and before I go to sleep, I look at the photographs in a drooling stupor of fantasy, thinking about the actual dinner I've eaten the way maybe some people think about their regular old non-centerfold wives. Sigh.

And I could make that dish--I could. Clams are relatively inexpensive, and I love them. And Ben loves clams. And Birdy, well, Birdy is Birdy when it comes to any chicken-of-the-sea type of situation, so clams and shrimp--it's all the same yuck to her. But Michael is allergic to clams. Or was. Or is still kind of. And only because somebody so rudely mentioned that a recipe column may not be the best place to tell my endless stories about barf (What the?) will I spare you the details. Of the two incidents. One which involved Michael not singing his rightful half of a West Side Story duet in the car ("Honey, honey, this is you! Tonight, tonight. . .  Wait, are you okay?. . . . Oh. . . . yikes. . . . ") and the other which involved baby Birdy in the Bjorn. With Michael and his clam poisoning. Enough said.

So these shrimp were my response to all that clammy lukewarmness, and man--as compromises go, this is as good as it gets.  So good, in fact, that I ended up making them, and then making them again five days letter: both times we licked the platter clean. With the smoky paprika and the sherry vinegar, you'll feel like you're eating tapas on the coast of Spain (or so I imagine, having never eaten tapas on the coast of Spain). And you have to serve the shrimp with lots of crusty bread for mopping up all of the lovely, ruddy, garlicky oil (and so that crustacean-haters like Birdy can eat just the bread and oil for dinner: Hello, unbalanced meal! "Pretend the shrimp are sea monkeys!" I said. No, just kidding. I would never.) I could eat them again this second, and if shrimp weren't on the pricier end of our food budget, I would. (Alas, tonight's more of a lentil night. Not that I don't love lentils.)

But I actually think that this exact recipe would be really good with clams subbed in for the shrimp, and Michael swears he's ready to try again. I promise I won't tell you how it goes.

Smoky Shrimp with Garlic and Olive Oil

Serves 4 for dinner (as long as one of those four people is a child who won't eat it)

Active time: 10 minutes; total time: 25 minutes

I really, really recommend using the ingredients below. Sherry vinegar is just so incredibly smooth and deep--you will love it here, and on a salad with walnuts, and drizzled onto a dish of lentil soup. . . And the smoked paprika, well, you know how I feel about it. And the masses of garlic. Do take the time to salt the shrimp beforehand: it seasons them beautifully and also firms them up a bit, which I find a more appealing texture. Serve this with lots of crusty bread for sopping up the sauce.

                                           

1 pound medium shrimp, peeled and deveined (thaw frozen shrimp by running cold water over them in a colander for five or so minutes; I use frozen "Whole Catch" peeled, tail-on raw shrimp)

2 teaspoons kosher salt (or half as much table salt)

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons chopped garlic (5 or 6 large cloves)

1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika

1 teaspoon sherry vinegar (Vinegar! Not the same as sherry or cooking sherry!)

Chopped flat-leaf parsley

Sprinkle the shrimp with the salt and set aside for 10 or 15 minutes.

In a wide skillet over medium heat, heat the olive oil over medium heat until very hot but not smoking. Add all the shrimp to the pan in a single layer (more or less) and sprinkle the garlic over it. Cook for a minute, then sprinkle in the paprika and cook, stirring, until the shrimp are pink and cooked through--around three minutes altogether. Turn off the heat, stir in the sherry vinegar and sprinkle on the parsley, and serve. Sprinklingly.

A Gift to You, for the Summer

Ready? It's this.


I have been making all my summer to-go drinks this way for years, and it just occurred to me to share it, because reusable to-go options can be so cheerless and/or toxic. Not this one, right? It's a large Luminarc glass with a lid, like these (if you don't want so many, look around: it looks like you can buy individual glasses, but the lids you have to get in packages of 6 I think) and a glass straw, like this. (Wow, there are now tons of glass straws online, I see. These were the cheapest I could find in a quick search, though there are some truly lovely ones. Also stainless steel straws. We've broken only two of our four glass straws in six years, which seems pretty good, considering that we have tile floors.) It's all machine-washable. No. That's not right. Dishwasher-safe. And eco-friendly and exciting to drink out of. The only problem is that they're too big to fit in a cup holder--but hey, if having too much iced coffee is a problem, I must love problems. Oh, wait, I almost forget: use an x-acto knife to make a small x in the middle of the lid to poke the straw through. It still manages to be amazingly leak-proof and durable: I've been using mine this way for years, and I can still use the lid for other things (needless to say, these glasses and lids are also a favorite way to store leftovers).

Meanwhile, incredible smoky, garlicky shrimp are here.

Have a wonderful week, and please do stay tuned: I'm going to be doing a massive board-games round-up soon! The fun is more or less nonstop.

We Have Another Trio of Winners!

Thank you again for playing. I so love reading about what it is you want--I feel like the book equivalent of a drunk, wanting to buy another round for an entire bar-full of strangers. "Maybe I should honor *all* the requests!" I exclaimed, and Michael raised his eyebrows. Okay. Maybe not. But giving away books is starting to feel like a vocation. (I'll just have to brainstorm ways to make money at it. . . )

SeeTryFly who, wanted a Robert Saduba pop-up book; I am sending you this. (Which looks so cool and beautiful)
Alissa is getting this. (Which I use every day.)
And Allyson is getting this. (Which is on my wish list too!)

Please email me your address, and I will get those books right into the mail.

Over at family.com, meanwhile, there are pork chops and energy bars. Pawk chahps en enijy bahs.

And here at home there are these (sigh)


And these (sigh)


And also these hirsute children.



Sigh. Have wonderful week!

xo Catherine

More cookies, more books

The flowering of our dogwood plunges me into existential angst: Really? It's been a whole year? I despair over time's fleetingness, everybody's sandals pulled out and outgrown, everybody's front teeth like enormous Chicklets, the violets nodding purplely away: "Yes, yes, the years are flying by." Oh, spring! I love it so much despite my bittersweetness about everything.

Meanwhile, over here, at family.com, I have a recipe for chocolate chip cookies made with all whole wheat flour, and they are simply the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever made. Also, there has been some commentary prompted by the word "log." Our own BillyJoe is back in action! Phew.

The cookies are from this beautiful book, and, speaking of revenue-generating links on amazon: it's time for another book give-away! That's right. You know the rules. Post over at family.com, if you're able (aren't I strict? but please. . . ) and then come back here and leave the name of the one book you most want in the comments (comment only once, please). I am going to pick three winners at random and send them the books they picked. I'll post the winners next Friday (April 23rd). If there's still money left after that, we'll do it again. I suppose you oughtn't enter if you've already won.

But here's another little gift: learning to love you more. Given that this website has already started, turned into a book, and concluded, it seems that I am late to the party, the guy already out in the driveway with his push broom sweeping away the cocktail napkins and magnolia petals, but no matter. It is a strange and moving and inspiringly beautiful website. I am slightly addicted.


Have a wonderful weekend, dear ones. xo

A Few Foolish Ideas

Do you need just one or two more tricks to play on your kids?

Try this "Chore Camp" brochure from FamilyFun. Oh we got Ben so bad with this. "Wow," we said. "This seems so different from the online description. . . " "Yikes," he said. "It really does." I love this quote: "My favorite part of camp was when we got to clean up the mess that the kids in the other camp made while cooking smores." Brilliant.

Or this letter, adapted from FamilyFun:

Bwa ha ha ha. Or this "milk" adapted from the twisted recesses of my own brain.



Dissolve 1 packet of plain gelatin in 1/2 cup boiling water (stir until it's really dissolved), then stir in 3/4 cup milk, 2 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk, and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla. The kids loved it. Besides that it looks exactly like real milk, and so is an excellent trick, it also tastes a lot like panna cotta (crossed with a Jello Jiggler), and so is an excellent treat.

Have you played any good tricks yet? Or been tricked? Michael served me a steaming cup of "tea" that was actually hot water, milk, Diet Coke, and Jack Daniels. Yowza.

Meanwhile, in case you have some matzoh left over, this recipe is INSANE. It is so good it's criminal. Seriously. Toffee Buttercrunch Matzoh. Here. In fact, you should buy matzoh specially and make this, it's that good.

Also, I have an essay over at Brain, Child.

And we're going to do another book give-away next week. Stay tuned! And send me pictures of yourselves with your won book, and I'll post them here!

Happy Passover. Happy Easter. Happy Spring. Happy Life. xoxo

We have a winner!

Or 3 winners, to be precise. Thank you random number generator! Though I will say it is strangely terrible not to be able to send you all the books you want. What wonderful desires you have. I have a new reading list.

AndieD: Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day (which I am going to borrow from you)
Wendy: Making More Plants: The Science, Art, and Joy of Propogation (which I am sending you used because it is $250! Ha ha.)
Laura S: The Wind's Twelve Quarters

Please email me with your mailing addresses, and we will get these books on their way. Plus, I think there will be enough money left to do this again! Should I just pull from here, or should we redo the contest from the start? I can't think clearly.

Meanwhile, fish with brown butter. Also, shoes with brown butter. And cat with brown butter. I am planning to put brown butter on everything I own.

Have a lovely weekend.

xo

Hello, dear blogamists!

Besides the incredible nick-of-time arrival of spring--birdsong, twilit dinners, crocuses, bare-legged children, heaven--lots of other stuff has been happening around here.

Birdy, for example, is heading off to college.

Have fun, sweetie! Use the generic brand of Monistat! Text me!

("I know what kind of cake I want this year!" she announced months ago. "A frog pond with lily pads!" 2 boxes of lime Jell-o, 1 bag of gummy frogs, and 1 flower candy mold later: voila. "You should totally pitch this to the magazine!" she said, and I just might.)

Craney, too, is growing--though he doesn't seem to realize.


And Ben! His hands have gotten so big, he keeps--yowch!--poking his thumb through his ear.


Meanwhile (natch) I've been cooking up a storm.

There is a super-spring recipe for asparagus that is almost literally irresistible. The smell of the butter browning will make everyone in your whole zip code salivate.

And that yummy, yummy coconut chicken soup you order at the Thai restaurant you like? You can make it yourself and it's delicious.

But are you here for the next give-away? Of course. I understand. To recap: when I recommend books here, and you click the links and go to amazon, they give me a small percentage of the money you spend on that visit, regardless of what you buy. It comes in the form of store credit--so let's use it! But first, a few questions.

Who bought Footloose the 25th Anniversary Edition?
Who bought the Holy Bible on Kindle?
Who bought the Blind Melon album?
Who is going to Europe and bought all those travel guides?

I love, love, love that they show me all that! Don't worry, though. I don't know who you are. (Except you, with all the exercise bands: they told me your name. Just kidding!)

This is a simple give-away: leave the name of the one book you most want in the comments (comment only once, please). I am going to pick three winners at random and send them the books they picked. I'll post the winners next Friday. If there's still money left after that, we'll do it again.

Have a wonderful weekend, dear ones. xoxo

And the winner . . .

of this lovely book
is

"lastdogz said...

The best advice...to sing to your child. I was told that singing improves your child vocabulary, and I have to agree, I feel like my 2.5 year old son has a great vocabulary. But more than that, I love singing with him just for the joy of it. I love that he doesn't care if I screw up the lyrics or sing off-key. He asks to sing all the time. It's just such a simple pleasure, so basic. I didn't, however, realize how awfully morbid all the old folk songs I grew up with really are. Check out the full lyrics to My Darling Clementine sometime.
I just posted my first ever comment on family.com. I'm greenmombr there."

Plus, doesn't that happen to be excellent advice? I actually do know the lyrics to Darling Clementine. "Dreadful sorry." Yikes.

Thank you for posting so thoughtfully. Did you get a chance to read through? What an amazing mix, right? It's interesting, too, the split between "take care of yourself" and "take care of your kids." Both important, certainly. I've been thinking recently something along the lines of "Make sure you're raising people whose company you enjoy, since you're going to spend a lot of time in it." I should have entered my own give-away!

Thank you all so much. And lastdogz, would you please email me your address?

I was actually thinking I'd take a picture of the on-line random number generator to show you--but I couldn't get up and get the camera (see reason below), so I thought, "Oh, I'll just use photobooth on the computer!" Um, yeah, Cath. Great idea! Like the computer version of trying to see your own eyelid. Instead, I took a photobooth picture of my great and furry encumberedness.

For a good soup recipe and an excess of self pity, please see my latest posting here.

And come back soon. I'm going to do another book give-away--a book of your own choosing--to use that Amazon credit we all generated here with those awesome book links.

Have a fantastic weekend! xo

Hiding


Where's Craney?


Where's Daddy?
(Note: Michael was playing motel-room hide-and-seek with the kids--and it took them strangely long to see him there.)

Where am I?

Buried in slush. Playing Rummikub. Working hard. On a two-night vacation. Eating Trader Joe's chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds. Reading this book. Watching figure skating. Not sleeping. Cooking, of course:

Here's a recipe for one of those crazily addictive iceberg-wedge salads with blue cheese. Yum.

And one for soft pretzels, which are fun to make--and make a great and nutritious snack for kids, especially if you use some whole-grain flour.

But speaking of the two-night vacation: I networked in the hot tub with a couple of beautiful, amazing women, including Tara Keppler, who co-wrote this book: food for thoughtful parenting: 12 must-have lists for new parents & young families. It's such a lovely book--beautifully designed, clean, small, and full of the kind of compassionate wisdom that can turn your day around. Plus, Tara's own children are so incredibly kind and confident that you know something is going really well in that house; Birdy fell completely in love with them.

Tara gave me a copy to keep and a copy to give away. And so I'm going to do that right now, here. If you can, comment for me over at family.com first (I really appreciate that), then come back here and write the best piece of parenting advice you've ever gotten. I'm going to draw randomly--but I thought that might make it more fun. I will pick a winner a week from now. Thank you for playing along, dear ones. xo

p.s. I'm going to add a few little extra top-secret things to the winning package.