only backgroundI'm a wife, mother and grandmother. I'm opinionated. I contradict myself frequently. Most of all, I love my kids. I believe in them. I fight for them. They're weird and wonderful. If you want to know more, here's a bunch of other stuff from my old site.
Archive for the ‘Food’ Category
Finally! The new Japanese Restaraunt and Sushi Bar have opened near my mom’s house. I’ve been waiting for the grand opening announcement and they finally made it this past week. WHOOHOO!
I haven’t had good Sushi since my last visit to Hawaii. I think Jesse and I are the only ones who really like it although Boomer and Levi like most Japanese dishes. I think the boys and I will have to make plans to visit very soon.
Most of this area is suffering economically so I’m not sure how long this new place will last. Hopefully, it will do well enough to stay here a while. When I finally get there, I’ll be sure to take my Canon camera so I can record my meal properly, just like my friends Alli and Cass do.
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For right now, meaning just today, I am not on a weight loss diet. I have no plans to diet tomorrow, either. I’ve dieted on and off for as long as I can remember, sometimes successfully. I’m tired of worrying about food. I’m tired of craving something that I can’t have. I’m tired of weighing myself.
I realized that if I don’t start on a new weight loss plan this year, this will be the first Thanksgiving and Christmas in almost a decade (nine years, actually) that I’ll be able to enjoy every and any thing I want during the holidays. In preparation for this exciting time, I’m putting in my requests for goodies. You know, my mom’s snickerdoodles or my sister’s strawberry shortcake. Oh, and buttery mashed potatoes, too. I’ve even found a few new egg nog recipes to try.
Of course, I could get on a whole new health kick before the end of the year and eliminate all the tasty fattening things from my diet. But I don’t think so. I think this is a good year to just take it easy and enjoy the goodness.
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Confession: When I met my husband, cooking meant opening a can of soup, adding water and heating on the stove. That was all I knew how to do. The first time I tried to cook chicken, I took one look at the raw meat in the package and could simply not figure out how I was going to get it to be brown and crispy.
My dad came to the rescue, walking me through the steps of making homemade spaghetti sauce. It was damn good, too. That gave me the confidence I needed to start experimenting. And I did.
One day I called my dad, excited beyond belief. I described in detail how I’d browned chicken, added onions, green peppers, garlic and my own homemade sauce. Then, in a stroke of genius, I tossed in a few splashes of wine and simmered. My husband loved and I was truly amazed that I had “invented” this mouth watering creation.
My pride was short lived, however. As soon as I described my recipe, my dad said, “Well, that’s Chicken Parmigiani! You didn’t invent that.”
I was crushed. For a brief moment, I imagined this wonderful dish being named for me. (Hey, I was young!) Once I shook the disappointment I realized that the experience was totally awful. If I could come up with a tried and true, much loved recipe on my own then maybe I wasn’t such a bad cook after all. It turned out that I was a pretty good cook and still am. Now, if I could just figure out how to bake a cake, my family would be thrilled!
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I just wanted to get that out there. Because it’s physically impossible for me to be pregnant. So don’t ask.
I thought that simply eating pickles and peanut butter would carry me through the next month, until I find a new food obsession. But no, it wasn’t to be. Now I’m obsessed with a specific brand of pickles. Nothing else will do.
You see, I was really craving pickles and peanut butter. I told my husband we had no pickles and he said it wasn’t worth the gas to go to town just for that. He was right, of course. So I mentioned that I was going to call my neighbor Tammie to see if she had any pickles. You would have thought I had announced that I was going to stand in the middle of the road, naked, singing the National Anthem. My husband could not comprehend how I could possibly want pickles so badly that I would borrow a jar from the neighbors.
And so, I waited. And waited. And when I noticed that the husband had gone out to the garage, I ran to the neighbor’s house and begged for a jar of pickles. I just love Tammie and BJ. They always have exactly what I need. Like pickles. It turns out that BJ’s dad would only eat Claussen pickles so that’s what they had. And that’s what they gave me. Claussen Tiny Kosher Dill Pickles.
Now, there is no way I’ll ever be able to eat anything but Claussen pickles. Never. I don’t care what is on sale. I must have Claussen pickles. In fact, I don’t even care if I have peanut butter or not. These pickles are wonderful straight from the jar.
Just one problem. Right now the jar is in the back of my fridge, hiding behind a bottle of Juicy Juice. The husband is in the kitchen. He’s been sitting at the kitchen bar, watching TV for hours. He doesn’t know that I borrowed the pickles and I don’t want to tell him. So I have to wait for him to leave the kitchen and preferably go to sleep so I can eat more pickles. I’m getting really tired of waiting.
And, no. I’m not pregnant!
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Today, March 19, is the feast of St. Joseph in the Catholic Church. St. Joseph is the patron saint of workers.
Since as far back as I can remember, we celebrated this day with specially made donuts that my dad or my Aunt Jo would make. Served drenched in honey or sprinkled with powdered sugar, they’d be waiting on the table for us when we got home from school. I still remember the year we returned home to find the donuts on the table, my dad looking very sad and my mother nowhere to be found. My grandfather, my mom’s father, had died that morning. In retrospect, it was an appropriate day for PapPap to meet his maker since he was a very hard working man, a coal miner before there was a Union, who had escaped from Communist controlled Croatia to find a better life. He’d raised 6 children during the Great Depression and ended up with Black Lung disease. I loved my PapPap.
The recipe for St. Joseph Day donuts comes from my dad’s family. I realize now that Italians, or at least the ones I call family, love to celebrate holidays. We tend to celebrate a few more holidays than most other people and always with special food. If anyone else celebrates this feast day (or any other, really) please comment and let me know. And if you try our family recipe for St. Joseph Day donuts, let me know that, too.
St. Joseph Day Donuts
March 19
- 4 eggs
- 1 cup water
- 2 Tbsp. sugar
- 2 cups all purpose flour, sifted
- 2 Tbsp. baking powder
- 1 tsp. salt
- 2 cups oil for frying
Beat eggs well in water. Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir flour mixture into egg mixture. This should be the consistency of pancake batter. Cover and allow to rise in warm place for about 30 minutes. Heat oil. Drop by Tablespoon, 2 at a time, into oil. Fry until golden. Coat with honey or dust with powdered sugar.
Enjoy!
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