Tortilla Soup with Chipotle Cream

You know those weeks where you feel like Frankenstein? Like everyone else is human and whole, and you're all pieced together from used parts and strangeness, your seams showing, while you clomp around and knock stuff over and grunt out your apologies? Only, somehow, you're more like a teenaged Frankenstein doing bad stand-up comedy, staggering through the world with your padded bra and acne, feeling like everyone is backing slowly away from you, even as you're trying to make them laugh, only they can't understand your jokes on account of your guttural personality and the fact that your neck bolts are kind of distracting?

No?

Me either.

Well, maybe just a little. I don't know. "Off my game" is one phrase that leaps to mind. "PMS" is another. I laugh too loud and blurt out weird stuff, and am simultaneously awkward and needy. If you were here, you'd be inclined to wrap your arms around me and say, "Oh, sweetheart," but then you'd end up getting something on your shirt--yogurt or snot or a hairball--and I'd laugh more snot out of my nose and apologize and… and you'd stay by me. I hadn't intended that as a metaphor for what's happening on this blog, but even as I'm writing, it occurs to me how vital it is, this circling of the wagons that you guys have pulled off around me. To keep the wolves out. Thank you. I'm sorry about your shirt.

The kids, too, are doing it--without even knowing consciously that it needs to be done. Ben's sense of humor is like a hot air balloon, and I'm in its basket, uplifted and admiring the view and a little deafened. We were at a show last night… Here we go again. Even as I'm starting to tell you this story, I'm realizing how awkward and impossible it will be to communicate. Grrrrr vvvvv nnnnhhhhhhhhhhh… ha ha ha. But I will try anyway. We were at this show and Ben and I were waiting for the bathroom, and the pretty woman who burst out of the stall, with her nice sweater and silver jewelry and sleek hair, had in her hand a bowl of stew. "Just enjoying a little dinner in the bathroom?" I said, because I'm so funny, and she laughed and coughed, her eyes streaming, and said, "No, I was kind of choking, but now I'm fine." Later, after the lights dimmed, who should come up stage to introduce the musician? "Oh my god!" Ben whispered. "It's the stew choker!" And at 10-minute intervals for the rest of the night he whispered stew choker and I died every time. I understand that this might not seem conventionally like a way to take care of another person, and yet, also, it is.

Is stew choking a good segue to tortilla soup? I hope so. Because here it is: warming and rustic, ruddy and full of bright flavors and dark flavors and crunch and creaminess. As with many other simple soups, this one is all about the garnishes: lime wedges and the chipotle sour cream, avocado and, of course, the tortilla strips. Feel free to substitute a big handful of tortilla chips in each bowl--it will be a little less exciting to look at, but equally delicious. And honestly? If I, personally, were going to omit one ingredient, it would be the chicken. Crazy, maybe, but true. Enjoy and stay warm.

Tortilla Soup with Chipotle Cream

Serves 4-6

Take an hour, more or less, to make

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 teaspoon chile powder* (I used half ancho, half new Mexican)

1 cup canned tomatoes

1 tablespoon tomato paste

6 cups chicken broth (or 4 cups broth plus 2 cups water)

½ teaspoon kosher salt (or half as much tables salt) plus more to taste

1 tablespoon cornmeal stirred into ½ cup cold water

Olive oil spray

6 corn tortillas

Lime juice and sugar to taste

2 large skinless, boneless chicken breasts (or 3 small)

1 14-ounce can black beans, drained

Garnishes:

Chipotle sour cream (1/2 cup full-fat sour cream whisked with 1 teaspoon chipotle puree**)

Diced Avocado

Lime wedges

Heat the oven to 400.

In a large soup hot, heat the olive oil over medium-low heat, and sauté the onion and garlic until they are getting nice and soft and translucent, around 5 to 10 minutes. Add the chile powder and sauté just until fragrant--a few seconds--that add the tomatoes, tomato paste, broth, and salt, and bring the soup to a boil over medium-high heat. Stir in the cornmeal slurry (this will add lovely body to the soup), turn the heat down, and simmer, covered, for half an hour, stirring occasionally.

ruddy onions

 Meanwhile, spritz the corn tortillas with olive-oil spray (I spray one side and figure that when I stack them they get pretty evenly coated), then stack them, cut them into strips, and spread them on an oiled baking sheet. Bake them until they're golden and crisp, moving them around as you need to so that they brown evenly. This will take around 10 minutes, more or less.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C. Is this annoying--the photos in the middle? (asked Frankenstein)

 Now back to the soup: taste the broth and add salt, lime juice, and sugar to taste until you've got a good, fully, vibrant flavor that you like. Pop in the chicken breasts and keep the soup at a super-low simmer, covered, until the meat is cooked through. Remove the chicken to a cutting board and shred it with your fingers or a couple of forks.

BARFING Yum!

 In a blender, carefully and in batches, or with a stick blender, whir the soup to unify it, then add the chicken back in with the beans and simmer it for another 5 minutes. Taste it, adjust the seasonings, and serve with the garnishes.

This is yummy on other stuff too. Whisk a little mayo, salt, and garlic into it for the world's best sandwich spread.

Little white bowls of garnishes make me excessively happy.

Plus they give everyone an excuse to get all nice and involved.

You know I like a moody photo of a partially eaten meal. Sigh.

* A note about chile powder: I know you know this probably, but if you buy "chili powder," like, McCormick's, say, it will likely be a blend with other seasonings in it, such as cumin, oregano, and garlic--which is fine for this soup, honestly. But I recommend also having on hand some true chile powder--which is just the ground chiles--for times when you want to better control the seasoning of your dish. But, confusingly, this might sometimes be spelled "chili" also. If you read the label, you'll find out. Or if you buy it in bulk from a store like Whole Foods, you'll be able to get the pure chiles.

** A note about the chipotle: I buy a small tin of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce (if there's a Mexican section of your supermarket, you'll be able to find it there), puree it in the blender, and store it in a clean glass jar in the fridge, where it keeps almost forever as long as you don't stick a dirty spoon (or finger) in it. I find this incredibly handy to have around for those times you want to stir a bit of smoky heat into something.

Nobody's Fool

Okay, maybe somebody's fool. Really, I'm just here today to remind you of some of the fantastic April Fool's tricks that I posted last year. If you can't find what you need there, FamilyFun has, like, a million. Nobody does prankster like those guys, is all I'm saying. (And no, the Evil Empire did not hold a loaded mouse up to my head to write that.) I still laugh when I think about sweethearted Ben leafing through the Chore Camp brochure. "It's just not what I pictured, but I'm sure it will be fun."

I also wanted to let you know how we're going to proceed here, and this is in part a result of your fantastic feedback, which I continue to cherish and also find incredibly useful. (I'm thinking that, collectively, we should become a life-coaching team: Got a problem? Let thousands of loving, smart, and compassionate people weigh in with their support of you! How much should we charge, though?)

Okay. What was I saying? Oh right. Mondays here will be recipes, like usual. And then Friday will be grab-bag day: a piece of randomness, a review, a craft, or a new feature called "Mama Lunch," which is a polite way of saying: something delicious that your kids, insanely, might not like. I am also getting and welcoming inquiries from folks (readers all) about advertising here. Family-owned businesses and the like. It is intoxicating to imagine supporting each other in our worthy enterprises, and please do email if this is of interest to you, even though I am currently replying with baffled enthusiasm. ("Great! What should we do next?")

Today's Friday grab-bag: a video of Ben and Birdy's Rube Goldberg Drum-Banging Machine. Ben's been studying simple machines at school--pulleys, levers, and the like--and then he was inspired by an afternoon at his friend Nico's house spent with dominoes, cars, and cans. The cat was my idea. Yes, there is wet food in the dump truck. Ew. And please forgive the quality of the film. But I cannot recommend enough that you try this at home.

Shabbat shalom, darlings.

xo

Shoop (aka Salt n Pepa Shrimp)

Holy pajoli, that was a beautiful outpouring of love and support, and I'm so grateful. Honestly. What would I do without you? I appreciate that so many of you wrote to family.com, and I laughed a little bit about some of the emails you cc'ed me on--many of which said, in essence: You stink, but you should hire Catherine back, even though she's too good for you and I hate you. Smiling isn't going to get my rent paid, but it sure lifts the gloom. To be clear: I am still writing for FamilyFun, which is a magazine that I love. I know it's not like you're going to spot James Franco reading it on the subway, or whatever, but the kids and I get tons of ideas from it. I'm just saying. And to be fair: family.com gave me enormous creative license when I was writing my recipe column for them, and I was very lucky in that way.

That said, I have a little bit of the writing version of that feeling when you take your bra off at the end of the day: ahhh. And you'd think, with my boobs hanging out, figuratively speaking, I'd post something totally crazy here today. Rice-pudding Pot Pie for 100! Pork Parfait! But no. I'm giving you this, which is, like, the world's simplest dinner, and makes for phenomenal gorging provided that one person in your family hates shrimp and so is eating only bread and cheese leaving a glut of shrimp for the rest of you.

The shrimp are addictively spicy and salty, and you'll want plenty of crusty bread for mopping up all the delicious spicy and salty (and oily) juices. I know I always say this, but: do use the full amount of salt. The point here is that you're salting the shells, and you want to get enough salt on there so that your fingers and the shrimp get nice and salty while you're peeling and eating. Does that make sense? If you were using peeled shrimp, you'd want to cut the salt way back, but I'm not sure by how much.

If shrimp don't speak to you, you could always have this meal instead:

Granola and mango smoothies for dinner. It's a classy operation we're running around here.

Salt-n-Pepa Shrimp

Serves 4

Total time: 10 minutes

1/4 cup vegetable oil

2 bay leaves or kaffir lime leaves (optional)

1 pound large, shell-on shrimp, thawed if frozen

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a wide skillet over medium-high heat until it shimmers. Add the leaves, if you're using them, and the shrimp, spread them into a single layer, and sprinkle on half of the salt and pepper. Cook for 3 minutes, then flip the shrimp with a spatula, sprinkle on the rest of the seasoning, cook for two more minutes, and serve.

 

These are the shrimp I like, from Whole Foods.
 
 

Salt-n-pepa.

 

That's the shrimp before you flip them.
 
 
And after.



On a plate. With this bread and the world's yummiest salad: spinach tossed with leftover coleslaw and diced pickled beets.

Ben is a lover of shrimps.

Birdy is a lover of cheese.

Shrimp shells. Sigh.

Thank you so much for stopping by.

xo

Dear Ones,

Over at family.com, you'll find brown-butter whole-wheat shortbread (perfect) and Mexican Brown Rice (imperfect but good), and also, gulp, my last column.

If ever you were going to comment over there, now would be a great time (i.e. feel free to express your feelings). I'm also trying to gauge your interest in ongoing recipes, since I'm thinking of continuing to post them here. (And if you're new to here from there, then welcome!)

More soon, including the promised give-away, which I am getting to, I swear!

xo Catherine

March.

Birdy turned 8 today. "My baby!" I keep crying, and wrapping my arms around her. But seriously. My baby! She is so dear to me, that girl.

Spunky and kind, fierce and fair, loyal and loving and silly. Ben's been home sick, and when it was time to take Birdy to karate--our plan was just to leave him alone for a few hours--his fever was creeping up and up. "How bummed would you be to miss Power Girls?" I finally asked, and Birdy said, "Oh, Mama, I know. I was about to say the same thing--I really don't feel comfortable leaving him." That little brow furrowed with concern. I could bite her. I did bite her. Sigh.

Meanwhile, a lovely ginger-vinaigrette chicken recipe is here, and a less intuitively appealing but nonetheless delicious smoky chickpea recipe here.

Can we talk a little more about books and games?

Malena Watrous, a new friend I've never met, very kindly sent me her novel and I loved it.

If You Follow Me. It's about a young woman's year teaching English in Japan--but really it's mostly about trash, and I laughed out loud every few pages. When I offered her my incisive analysis--that it's about trash--she said that, in fact, she was going to call it the Japanese word for trash, but her editor dissuaded her, so there you go.

I have also recently read and loved Twin by Allen Shaw, and  The Saskiad by Brian Hall. You guys? Any books you think we should all know about?

Furthermore, I am recommending two new games, not because Rio Grande sent them to me to review, but because Rio Grande sent them to me to review and they are awesome.

Dominion boasts "massive replay value" and this is more true than I know how to describe. We opened it two days before Christmas, and I'm not sure that a day has passed since during which we haven't played at least once. It takes around a half an hour, and there are many variations, and we all seem to win sometimes. When you read the description, it's all weird second-person dungeons-and-dragons "You are a monarch, a ruler of the peasants, an eater of the mutton, blah blah," and that's not at all what it's like to play. You're trying to amass resources, and it's more like an algorithm of logic and strategy than a narrative. I'm just saying. Gosh, I am really turning into a gamer. Do I smell like a gamer yet? Maybe.

Now, if you already have Carcassonne, any Carcassonne, you really don't need this one too. But if you don't, then I completely recommend it as it is our new favorite Carcassonne game. Wheel of Fortune is a tile-laying game that is quick, lovely, and wickedly competive, with an element of luck that adds to both the fun and frustration. Again, that distraught woman on the box? I have no idea what she's all about, and whether the featureless gingerbread-man-shaped wooden play pieces ("meeples" they're called, I don't know why) are intended in some way to represent her plight. We are not so much about the story as we are about fitting the tiles together and sneaking into each other's high-scoring situations. It is so much fun.


I am going to do another games give-away next week, but I haven't figured out the method yet. Stay tuned.

And thank you for your responses to the paint chip. I really enjoyed reading them, and, as you know, am always up for a little lively debate. Just for the record, we do, of course, force Ben to wear pink. And we make Birdy wear blue lederhosen and a strap-on.

xo

Smoky Saucy Chickpeas with Spinach

We were eating dinner with friends on Friday, and their son sighed and said, "I love beans. If I could, I'd eat beans every night." I watched Ben and Birdy to see if their pleasant good natures would crack open to emit a geyser of steaming culinary rage and boredom: "Are you crazy? We eat beans every single night! And it totally sucks!" But no. Just a mild: "Wow, you should come live with us, then!" Indeed. We eat a lot of beans. And by "a lot" I mean: a lot. Especially since I got my pressure cooker, which has turned the cooking of dried beans from a maddening exercise in eternity and hard-hearted chalkiness into a few thrilling minutes of steam and tender perfection. If you eat a lot of beans, I simply cannot recommend enough that you get a pressure cooker. (And, as always, if you have any questions about pressure cooking or the buying of a pressure cooker, please feel free to write me. My second career as a pro-bono pressure-cooker consultant is really taking off!)

The thing is, we eat beans in some form or other--with rice, in burritos, as soup, or just the beans themselves in shallow bowls with grated cheese, toasted pumpkin seeds, and a lime wedge--more nights than we don't. Pintos, black beans, lentils, limas--and, of course, garbanzos, or "butt peas," as we have been known to call them. And these are not typically meals that very readily lend themselves to recipes here, as they are not really recipes at all. Cook a pound of pintos. Season them really well with salt. Serve in bowls with tortilla chips, shredded cabbage, and Smoked Tabasco. But this, below, is an actual recipe that I have been making on and off since Birdy was a baby--which is when I got my first tin of smoked paprika. Back then you had to order it from a specialty food company, and then wait for it to arrive by carrier pigeon--but now I feel totally unapologetic requiring that you use smoked paprika in this recipe because you can buy it at the supermarket! From friendly, regular old McCormick's! If you try making it without the smoked paprika, it will be very good, still--tangy, rich, and delightfully nutrient-dense--but it will be missing that flash of barbeque-hued excitement that tricks your taste buds into thinking they might be eating bacon. In other words, you will know you're eating chickpeas, which are perfectly tasty. But.

Smoky Saucy Chickpeas with Spinach

Serves 4-8

Active time: 30 minutes; total time: 30 minutes (canned or pressure cooked beans) to 4 hours (dried beans cooked in a regular pot)

This recipe is adapted from in Paula Wolfert's recipe "Chickpea and Spinach Stew with Spanish Paprika" from the delightful cookbook Mediterranean Grains and Greeens, which I love to look at, but confess to not having cooked from a great deal. I admit that the difference between using to 15-ounce cans of cooked chickpeas and 1 pound dried is significant: the former will be saucier and spinachier, while the latter will be way garbanzoier. If you like, use 2/3 of the cooked peas for the stew, and save the rest for hummus. I used to serve this over couscous or brown rice, but right now I'm in a phase of serving it plain alongside hunks of fresh, buttered bread. It is delicious.

1 onion, finely chopped           

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon kosher salt

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

1 cup tomato sauce or crushed tomatoes

2 teaspoons sherry vinegar

1 bay leaf

2 15-ounce cans of chickpeas, drained, or 1 1/2 cups dried, cooked

4 packed cups baby spinach (or, honestly, some or much more than this to tip the balance towards the spinach side of things)

More olive oil

If you're starting with dried chickpeas, soak and cook them until tender. In a pressure cooker, add a generous amount of salt and give them 14 minutes, then allow the steam to release naturally. In a pot, be sure to muster a generous attitude towards the peas and their stubborn desire to not be soft. Either way, pop in a bay leaf or two while they're cooking.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a wide skillet over medium-low heat and sauté the onion with the salt, stirring occasionally and then more often as it starts to brown, until it's browning and soft, 10-15 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté for another minute, then stir in the smoked paprika and sauté until just fragrant, a few seconds. Add the tomato sauce, sherry vinegar, and bay leaf, taste for salt (you'll likely want to add another 1/2-1 teaspoon) then stir in the drained chickpeas and cook until the flavors are well blended--around ten minutes. Add the spinach and cook, stirring, until the spinach is wilted and incorporated, 2 or 3 minutes. Taste for salt and vinegar--it should be lip-smacking in its tangy goodness--drizzle in another splash or two of olive oil, and serve.  

A Special Valentine

If there's one thing the kids and I can agree on, it's our love of gender stereotypes. Gosh, we do love them. Birdy enjoys nothing more than imagining herself one day weak and underpaid, teetering around on spike heels that she can just make out below her double-D fake boobs and pink whalebone spank-me Spanx. It's okay that pink's not her favorite color because it *is* her favorite color! I mean not actually, because her favorite color is turquoise, but conventionally, because she's a girl! And if the spike heels get in the way of the karate black belt she is working towards? That's a small price to play for the femininely helpless elegance of a broken ankle. 

To say nothing of Ben and his love of the color blue! Which is at least his 17th favorite color, if not his 16th! He loves blue and all things blue because he's a real boy's boy-y boy-boy. He can hardly wait for puberty when his beard will grow in and simultaneously push out of his facial pores all of the pesky feelings like compassion and empathy that might bog him down in his manhood ascendance to the supreme manly state of feelinglessness and domination and also the utterly natural footballish man-love of watching men tackle each other. Luckily there are no feelings to stir up! Phew.

It is all so good and right. And so, the kids and I were not surprised to see this pair of paint chips at the hardware store.

 

Sweet Baby Boy and Sweet Baby Girl. Of course. You would not want your customers to get mixed up, and so it's easiest just to make sure they know which is which, kind of like putting signs on the bathroom doors so you don't end up sitting on a urinal to pee. You wouldn't want to *by mistake* paint a room the wrong color and have everyone turn out transgendered and color-gay and whatnot, and so we were very grateful for the help. But imagine our delight when it turned out that one paint company had gone even one step further! 

And that's just for the boys! Birdy's going to paint her room Magenta Vagina or Vulva Rose. She can't decide.

Excellent recipes for two kinds of beets and butternut galette are here.

xo

Butternut Galette with Roasted Onions, Pecans, and Blue Cheese

Here's my tip of the day: a game that Ben and his friend Ava invented (although it doubtless exists already) in which somebody chooses a word (candy, say), and then everyone has to convert it into a kind of acronym-sentence (Clementines and nectarines dangle yellowly.) We had so much fun playing it over dinner last night, and the kids are really good-natured about indulging my misspelled words, so long as I do the accent to go with my chosen spelling. For instance, for Ben's "jelly," they let me get away with the Slavic: "Jellyfish, eels, lionfish live yundervater."  We sat over empty plates and flickering, dying candles long into the night, so involved were we in our loony sentences. I can't recommend it enough. "It's amazing," Ben said, "how much fun you can have with just words!" Tell me about it.

Butternut Galette with Roasted Onions, Pecans, and Blue Cheese

Serves 4 for dinner, or 8 as an appetizer, or 16 if it's a potluck and you cut it very skinny

Active time: 25 minutes; total time 1 hour +

This is a free-form tart the point of which is to use a super-easy and tasty pastry to convert a random accumulation of cheese and vegetables into dinner. There are endless variations, many of which I have tried: pickled beets, blue cheese, and walnuts (yet another use for pickled beets!); apple slices, roasted onions, and smoked cheddar; thinly sliced potatoes (cook these first in a covered pan with olive oil, salt, and a splash of water until just tender), roasted onions, and cheddar. Oh, and the summer ones! Fresh tomatoes (cut in half, squeeze out some of the juicy guts, then slice), basil, pine nuts, and parmesan; corn, roasted chiles, and Monterey Jack. I am planning this week to make one with deeply sautéed cabbage, onions, and a nutty cheese, such as Parano or Gouda--but I thought this might be a little over-the-top Plebian to photograph. "You vill eat kraut pie, yes?"

1 small butternut squash (around 1-2 pounds--how's that for exact?)

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided use

Kosher salt

A few sprigs fresh thyme or a pinch dried

1 smallish red or yellow onion, peeled, halved, and thinly sliced

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

1 1/4 cups flour (I use half white and half spelt or whole-wheat)

1 stick salted butter, sliced into small pieces

1/4 cup sour cream whisked with 1/4 cup very cold water

3/4 cup crumbled blue cheese (or 1 heaping cup grated cheese such as cheddar or, yum, smoked cheddar)

1/2 cup pecan pieces

Heat the oven to 450 and line two baking sheets with foil. Trim the top and bottom from the squash and peel it, using a very sharp vegetable peeler or a paring knife. Slice it in half lengthwise, remove the seeds and stringy insides, and then slice it crosswise 1/3-inch thick. On one of the prepared baking sheets, toss the squash with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and the thyme, then spread it into a single layer. On the other prepared baking sheet, toss the onion with the remaining oil and 1/2 teaspoon salt, and spread it into a single layer. Roast the vegetables until the squash is very tender and browning, and the onion is soft and brown--around 15 minutes for the onion, and 25-30 for the squash (I always cook the onion too long at this stage and then it burns later, so I'm trying to stop doing that). Toss the onion with the balsamic vinegar, and urn the oven down to 400.

While the vegetables cook prepare the dough: in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade, pulse the flour with 3/4 teaspoon salt, then add the butter slices and pulse until the mixture just forms coarse crumbs. Pour the sour cream-water mixture through the feed tube and pulse again until the dough just starts to come together into large clumps. Turn the dough onto a work surface and gather it gently together, then press it into a disc, wrap it in plastic wrap, and chill it in the freezer while the vegetables finish cooking.

When you are ready to assemble the tart, roll the floured dough out on a floured surface until it is a thin 12-inch circle (it doesn't need to be perfectly thin or a perfect circle!). Fold the dough loosely into quarters to transfer it to an ungreased baking sheet (simply removed the foil and veggies from one you've already used), then unfold it back into a circle. Arrange the squash over the dough, leaving a 1- or 2-inch border around the edge which you will fold over later. Arrange the cheese and pecans over the squash and then, finally, top with the onions and any of their vinegary juices that have accumulated in the pan. Fold the border over the filling, pleating as necessary to keep its shape; the center will be open.

Bake at 400 for 30 to 40 minutes until deeply golden. Cool briefly, then cut into wedges and serve warm or at room temperature.

Oh, hello, February! You are looking very snowy this year. Which I love--the snow, that is. Not the ice as much. The ice, for instance, on our roof. The ice dams. We were joking about the whole curse-built-right-in aspect of "ice dams," only I think it's not enough. So we are calling them "ice fucks."

Anyways. If it were funnier, I'd post pictures of our various leaking ceilings and the buckets and the knotted pantyhose full of ice melt out on the roof. Only it's not funny (except maybe for Birdy saying "Why is there a panty-hoe on the roof?") so I'll post this instead:

That's a picture from this etsy site here, where I bought Ben and Birdy spoons for Valentine's Day. Shhh . . . But aren't they lovely? The ones I got in the mail are even lovelier! Beautifully mismatched and sentimental and gorgeous. The woman who made them emailed to ask if they were for boys or girls, since she has some more masculine spoons (?) for boys, and I started to answer her in a complicated way, and then it was just too complicated, so I wrote simply, "Girls. Thanks." Not that Ben wouldn't love to get a silver spoon with a big, er, truck or football or bow tie or cock on it. But he'll have to settle for a pretty one.

What else? Let's see. Will you check out my recipes on family.com? Brownies here, and Ben learning how to make a salad here. I can't tell you what a revelation this has been. Now every night he says, "Hey, Mama, should I make a salad?" And I say, "Oh, would you?" And he does. We are thrilled.

One last thing. I can't remember if I mentioned this piece, on charitable giving, that I wrote for Whole Living, but I'm linking to it because writing it changed my life.

Hope you guys are all staying warm and dry and happy. xoxo

Hello, dear ones.

I am here today to mention this squash gratin, which is so good (even though I know you're just going to be ogling my bacon) and also this fondue, which is kind of a culinary cure-all, I have found. A celebration via molten cheese. Festivity writ small.

The other thing is that I am totally obsessed with this album. If the love-child of The Smiths and a depressive Balkan accordion sounds appealing, then this is the album for you!

We are wrestling with the weather here--just totally *wrestling.* Water is drip-drip-dripping into the study from the ice dams and we are just shoveling our way into oblivion. Sigh. The good news is that Birdy's been home sick but not too sick. Which means that she's happy to help me procrastinate by doing the Richard Simmons Sweatin' to the Oldies exercise video with me. Seriously. But who can work anyway, what with all the leaking and ice everywhere?

Finally, can I show something off? It's this beautiful new baby of some friends. And the blanket I made him {shrugs modestly} from Salvation-Army sweaters. Cashmere and lambswool. Right?

Stay warm, you guys. And dry.

xo

The World's Best Salad (and how to teach your kid to make it)

I seem to have lost track of Ben, developmentally: for so long, I've been giving him little jobs to help me with the cooking that I didn't realize he'd turned into this actual, competent person who can make a recipe from the ground up and doesn't need to be stuck always and forever with the lemons and parmesan like he's Edward Graterhands or something. And so I taught him to make a salad. And now I can be 15 minutes from dinner on the table, and I can say, "Hey Ben, would you please make a salad?" And yes. He would. Happily.

The learning curve is swift and steep: the kids, they don't know stuff so much at first. They don't know where the mustard is (fridge), where the nuts are (freezer), where the salad bowl is (kitchen island) and how to get it out from under the other bowls (you have to take all the bowls out together, and then put the smaller ones back). They don't know how to preheat the toaster to roast the nuts (wait for the light to turn orange and then to go off and then it's ready), how to taste the dressing (dip in a leaf of the salad), how not to get oil from the measuring spoons all over their hands (measure the oil last), and where the dried fruit is (the cupboard). But then, get this: they can learn all of these things! In fact, and this is different from the way it might be with certain partners, you only have to tell Ben once. Then he learns and knows! He was so cute and excited about the salad lesson that he took notes. And then I realized that that's one of the most important things: write down (or have them write down) the recipe for the salad dressing, and then stick it to the fridge. That way they can take complete ownership of the task without having to ask for reminders, and that works best for everyone.

What I am also trying to teach him, and this is a little more complicated, is how to make a really well balanced salad. For me, that means greens of some sort, other vegetables that are in season, something crunchy, something sweet, something rich, something borrowed, something blue, and a good, sharp vinaigrette (I like to use either balsamic vinegar, which is sweet, or sherry vinegar, which is nutty and rich). I do not always do all of these things: if dinner is already filling or complicated, I will happily dress a bowl of plain arugula and that will be perfect. But because we are so often eating simple, vegetarian meals, I expect the salad to carry a little extra weight, and I think it's worthwhile to roll with the seasons and not try to eat tomatoes in January, when they inevitably suck.

 

I know. I am exceedingly opinionated about salad. Which is not to say, and I know you know this about me, that a bowl of iceberg and Catalina French wouldn't totally do it for me, because it would. It really would. But a big, good, crisp, tangy, balanced salad makes me feel different. Like I'm photosynthesizing, despite the cold and the dark. Like life is burbling to the surface. Like spring is coming, which it is, you can see all over the trees already: the buds sleeping inside their icy jackets, dreaming about the thaw.

The World's Best Salad

Serves 4

Total time: 15 minutes

Greens, washed and dried:

-baby spinach

-sliced up romaine

-torn butter lettuce

-arugula

-baby greens mix

-slivered cabbage and/or kale

Other veggies, in season:

-tomatoes, cukes, bell peppers, steamed green beans, corn (summer)

-roasted diced squash or beets, shredded raw beets, fennel, jicama (winter)

-lightly steamed asparagus or snap peas, sliced radishes (spring)

-sliced or shredded carrots and seeded and sliced cukes (year-round)

-fresh herbs, as available

Something sweet:

-dried cherries

-diced apple or pear

-halved grapes

-grapefruit or orange sections cut free from the peel and membranes

Something crunchy (especially if there's not a crunchy vegetable):

-nuts, roasted at 350 for 4 or 5 minutes: pecans, walnuts, almonds

-pine nuts or pumpkin seeds, toasted in a little oil in a small frying pan for a minute or two

-croutons: bread cubes, sprayed with olive oil and toasted in a hot oven until crisp

-fried chickpeas

Something rich:

-cheese (grated parmesan, feta, crumbled blue or goat cheese)

-cubed avocado

-tinned beans or hearts of palm, rinsed and drained

Optional: something strong or salty

-olives

-sliced red onion

-cooked, crumbled bacon

Dressing 

For a good, basic vinaigrette:

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

1 teaspoon good grainy or Dijon mustard

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons good olive oil (buy it in small bottles, and always make sure it smells fruity and clean; nothing ruins a salad quicker than rancid oil)

Add all the ingredients to a jar with a tight-fitting lid, and shake to emulsify. Taste for salt and acid/oil balance by dipping a leaf in.

Variations:

- This dressing

-use sherry vinegar along with a bit more oil and a pinch of sugar to balance the acidity

-add a clove of garlic, pressed, or a bit of chopped shallot

-use white wine vinegar and vegetable oil, skip the mustard, and add a half teaspoon each of vanilla and sugar (this is my vanilla vinaigrette, and it's what I make when we run out of olive oil)

Assemble the salad: place the greens in a large bowl and add whatever veggies you're using (here Ben used carrots). Dress the salad and toss it (we use tongs for this), then add the other ingredients (here Ben used toasted pecans, dried cherries, and grated parmesan), and toss again. Serve and eat right away.

Waffles. That's all I came to say today. I wanted to be sure and say it before the weekend--but then I didn't want to say anything else. Because I am sluggish and crumpled and cranky and wanting to still be on vacation, playing games and reading and doing puzzles and eating expensive non-everyday sorts of cheeses. Sigh. Love to you, and the happiest new year. xo

Holiday Fun

Okay, beloved, there are some good holiday recipes over at family.com, and I hope you'll go. This chile tortilla eggbake is the perfect Christmas-morning breakfast; and these peppermint patties are amazing and make a terrific gift. If you have made them successfully, would you please post a comment over there? I'd love to balance out the frustration of the chocolate dippers. It is definitely a recipe that takes a bit of patience, but I think it's totally worth it. Speaking of that recipe, I did not ever end up making bar bark, like I wanted to. But I did do this:

 

Yowza. I think I imagined giving them away or something, but we ate them.

Another link: a strange piece of mine over at the fabulous Brain Child.

And, finally, my best holiday wishes to you and your family. May the light find you wherever you are.

xoxo

Okay, I'm going crazy posting, I know! 

I want to first mention that the recipe here for Rosemary Maple Popcorn is so insanely addictive, and would make such an amazing holiday gift, that I practically want to guarantee it. Not that I know how that would work exactly. But seriously. Please try it.

And next up, because you spoke and I listened (I'm talking to you, Jed), here is Recommended Games Part II: The Younger Years. I do understand that you are not all quite ready for The Strategy, and that you have younger children in the house still (sigh), and that Sorry and Guess Who from the previous edition of Recommended Games really might not fulfill all your gaming needs. (I'm assuming you have Uno already. And a deck of cards.) Plus, we had such a good time reminiscing about our favorite old games (some of which we still play). I spared you Mousetrap, despite my children's hearty nostalgia for it, because it is simply to significant a pain in the ass to deal with. It just is. But these are all great, in their own special ways:

Harvest Time
If the idea of a "cooperative board game," makes you want to weep with boredom, well. . . weep away. But we got this game when Ben was very small and very panicky over the idea of "winning games." We played it hundreds of times then, and hundreds more times when Birdy was the same age, with the same panic (and we still play it when our littlest friends are over). It's a sweet little game where you work together to get the harvest in before winter comes--but I'm warning you: you have to put out a lot--a lot of drama and enthusiasm and suspensified horror--or else it is deadly dull. When it's over, you can offer each other the products of your harvest ("Who wants a jar of my famous carrot pickles?") even though you won't find this detail in the rules.

Dwarves and Dice

This is a sweet little German tile game, where you roll the dice and race to spot the dwarf dressed in that same trio of colors. It's pretty and simple, and also Birdy always called it "Gorvin Dice," which we loved for no particular reason. "Dwarf" turns out to be a tricky word for her, given that just yesterday she asked if it was only his helpers, or of Santa himself was a "dorf." That website seems to have lots of lovely little German games. For instance, Orchard, which looks to be a pleasanter version of this old favorite:

Hi Ho Cherry-O

This was another favorite of the early years, and we played and played until I poked a hole in my head with a fork and my liquefied brain dripped out onto the floor. Did I ever tell you how once, when I was doing some consulting for Hasbro, they showed me all their games, and when we got to this one, I announced, "Oh! Hi Hi Boring-O! Believe me, I've played it." Always a class act. Still, this game is all about the little plastic cherries. That's, like, the most exciting thing ever, and so your small children will love it.

Mastermind for Kids

Now this, on the other hand, is an unboring game. It is similar to--but easier than--the regular version of Mastermind, and it requires the same process-of-elimination strategy. It is probably the first strategy game we ever played with either kids, and they loved it mostly because the pieces are shaped like animals and the colors are great.

Slamwich

Slamwich is like a fancified version of that old you-snooze-you-lose card game Slap Jack. But the sandwich theme is lots of fun, and the game cards doubled for Ben and Birdy as the makings of a sandwich shop, that they ran almost continuously from their pretend kitchen. That was actually kind of a long time ago, which makes me feel a little melancholy.

Sleeping Queens
I love Gamewright games (Rat-a-tat Cat is another good one, as is Zeus on the Loose) and this one might be the one we played the most when the kids were younger. It's got a little bit of memory, a little bit of strategy, some silliness, and great art. Plus, it only takes about 20 minutes to play, which makes it good for those useless little windows of time that my life seems to be pocked with.

Mancala
Mancala is a beautiful, beautifully simple game that grows with kids: they can play it before they understand about strategy, but they will play it differently after. Plus, the glass pieces are so pretty, as is the wooden board, and it all has such a lovely, classic feel to it--like it could be a million years ago, and there you are in your cave playing mancala. If you know what I mean. Obviously, don't get this if anyone in your house will be tempted to put the marbles in their mouth or nose.

Jenga
Speaking of classics: right? Oh, Jenga. Michael and I used to babysit kids in Santa Cruz, for whom "Jenga!" was their all-purpose exclamatory swear. And boy did we play a lot of Jenga with them. It's a totally physical game--you need some dexterity, a little bit of a steady hand and common sense--but it's not a heavy strategy one or anything. And it's fun for everyone when all the pieces fall down (Ben and I played just last week at a family gathering, and it was as much fun as ever.) Plus, the pieces double as great, all-purpose building blocks, and get tons of use.

Pick-Up Sticks
Speaking of classic dexterity games. . . we have this exact set, and love it. And the only thing I would say about this game is that very young children can become incredibly frustrated when other very young children insist that this or that stick moved some imperceptible amount. What I'm saying is: I think an adult needs to play to keep things humming along peacefully, and this works for me, since I love pick-up sticks and happen to be incredibly good at it (kidding, though not about liking it)--but if you're looking to lock your kids alone in a room with a game, don't make it this one.

Squeezed Out
Aka Booby Trap. This is a lovely version of this game, and looks very much like my childhood one that I still have and that, in fact, Ben and I just played, given that he's home sick today. You try to extract pieces without the spring moving, and if you pick a truly bad one, then they all fly up, and it's very exciting. Again, not for the extremely faint of heart (it was too much for Ben until he was about 5 or so), given the suspense factor and the possibility of losing somewhat dramatically.

Operation
Speaking of the suspense factor: we spent years playing Operation with the batteries removed, as it was simply too nerve-wracking for the kids to anticipate the awful buzz of their own clumsiness. But later, when they were maybe 8 and 5--or 7 and 4--they played a ton, and enjoyed it. We have the Homer Simpson edition (I'm not sure why, and it appears to be $90 now!), and the buzz is accompanied by "Doh!" along with other classic Homeric exclamations, which is a good or bad thing, depending. If dexterity completely eludes your child still, maybe hold off on this one (or remove the batteries).

As always, please chime in in the comments about your own favorites--or if you have questions.

xo

Oh, so many game wishes! I wish I could buy you all the games you want!

But: Bum ba-da dum. . .  the winner is. . . .

mommyneedsanap

Send me your address (email on the right here), and I will put that game in the mail! Though you won't be getting a nap any time soon with a game like that around! Ha ha ha.

But wait! There's more! I sent out a few emails about this contest, and look what I got back:

Dear Catherine,

Thank you for your email. Normally we wouldn't do this, but because you made me

laugh with the phrase "totally random crack-potness!", I'll send you a copy of

Ticket to Ride for your giveaway

It'll go out to you tomorrow. Can we get a mention on the blog that we donated it

when you give it away?

Best Regards,

Mark Kaufmann

Days of Wonder

Come out and play!

As if I didn't already love those guys enough! So we did a separate drawing of the Ticket to Ride Folks and the winner of that excellent game is. . . 

Sarah, who said "You've sold our family on Ticket to Ride." Please send me your address! 

Thank you so much for playing, guys. I am so excited that there are so many enthusiastic gamers out there. 

xo

Quickie Contest:

Guys, let's just do this right now. Why don't you write me the name of the board/card/family game you want in the comments here (it doesn't have to be one I recommended, but it has to be not electronic in any way, because I'm a pain in the ass like that), and on Monday at midnight I'll pick one and send it out. I'll post the winner here, and you'll need to check back and send me your address if it's you. That way you can get it in time for the holidays, if the holidays isn't Chanukkah. Which you'll get it after.

Also, speaking of Chanukkah: don't forget last year's latke recipe. They really are kind of insanely good.

More soon, darlings. xo