When we were little the number of friends we had correlated directly to our happiness. Being popular meant it was imperative to have *everybody* like you. Birthday parties were jam-packed. People would vie to sit next to you at lunch or play with you at recess. You had sixteen ‘BFFs’ on a rotating schedule. And if one pissed you off, made you mad (sorry, this is a family blog says Talia) you were mad for a day but then had another ‘BFF’ waiting in the wings. We used trinkets and bracelets and rings and tokens to mark our territories. We had friends from all walks of life to help us create our empire. Friends from school and friends from camp. Friends from ballet and friends from the neighborhood. Friends of friends and then a few more. As long as we had lots, we were happy.

Whenever I would get in a fight with a friend when I was younger, or cried because my ‘BFF du jour’ told me she wasn’t my friend anymore, my grandma would console me by reminding me that the number of friends we have really doesn’t matter at all. It wasn’t about quantity; it was about quality. I didn’t understand this. It made no sense. After all, she didn’t have a Facebook account.

But then I grew up. And now I get it.

In addition to watching my daughters go through some of the same friendship struggles I endured at a young age, I’ve recently also had the opportunity to evaluate some of my own friendships as an adult. Question relationships of friends with whom I have a history, and reflect on the lasting power of others. I’ve also grown close with new friends with whom I have no history but whom I’ve come to cherish and find we have more in common than the surface shows.

But one thing’s for sure, our time becomes more precious as we age. And making plans with friends we love becomes even more challenging from a logistical standpoint. It takes more effort than ever. Life just gets in the way. But it also means that every now and then, well, we have to trim the fat. Work to improve the quality of the friendships worth keeping and not waste energy on the quantity. So while it’s sad to think of saying goodbye to some, I guess it’s just a part of growing up, no matter how old we are. Gosh, I didn’t mean to be so melancholy…guess it’s just one of those days! Those grandmas…guess they really do know everything.

Best grandma ever.

Here’s to good friends. Whether it’s ten, three or just one.

Grandma’s Banana Bread

*Caution! This one requires measurements!!

Ingredients:

• 4-5 ripe bananas
• 1/2 cup vegetable or canola oil
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 2 eggs
• 2 cups flour
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 3 tbsp. milk
• 1/2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

Directions:

1. Grease two loaf pans and preheat oven to 350.
2. Mix oil and sugar.
3. Add eggs and bananas and beat until large lumps disappear (if only we could do this with our cellulite).
4. Add milk and vanilla.
5. Sift rest of ingredients and dump into mixture.
6. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar on top (or add some mini chocolate chips for kicks!).
7. Bake for 55-60 minutes or until fork comes out clean.
8. Keep one and give one to your BFF.

When we were little the number of friends we had correlated directly to our happiness. Being popular meant it was imperative to have *everybody* like you. Birthday parties were jam-packed. People would vie to sit next to you at lunch or play with you at recess. You had sixteen ‘BFFs’ on a rotating schedule. And if one pissed you off, made you mad (sorry, this is a family blog says Talia) you were mad for a day but then had another ‘BFF’ waiting in the wings. We used trinkets and bracelets and rings and tokens to mark our territories. We had friends from all walks of life to help us create our empire. Friends from school and friends from camp. Friends from ballet and friends from the neighborhood. Friends of friends and then a few more. As long as we had lots, we were happy.

Whenever I would get in a fight with a friend when I was younger, or cried because my ‘BFF du jour’ told me she wasn’t my friend anymore, my grandma would console me by reminding me that the number of friends we have really doesn’t matter at all. It wasn’t about quantity; it was about quality. I didn’t understand this. It made no sense. After all, she didn’t have a Facebook account.

But then I grew up. And now I get it.

In addition to watching my daughters go through some of the same friendship struggles I endured at a young age, I’ve recently also had the opportunity to evaluate some of my own friendships as an adult. Question relationships of friends with whom I have a history, and reflect on the lasting power of others. I’ve also grown close with new friends with whom I have no history but whom I’ve come to cherish and find we have more in common than the surface shows.

But one thing’s for sure, our time becomes more precious as we age. And making plans with friends we love becomes even more challenging from a logistical standpoint. It takes more effort than ever. Life just gets in the way. But it also means that every now and then, well, we have to trim the fat. Work to improve the quality of the friendships worth keeping and not waste energy on the quantity. So while it’s sad to think of saying goodbye to some, I guess it’s just a part of growing up, no matter how old we are. Gosh, I didn’t mean to be so melancholy…guess it’s just one of those days! Those grandmas…guess they really do know everything.

Best grandma ever.

Here’s to good friends. Whether it’s ten, three or just one.

Grandma’s Banana Bread

*Caution! This one requires measurements!!

Ingredients:

• 4-5 ripe bananas
• 1/2 cup vegetable or canola oil
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 2 eggs
• 2 cups flour
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 3 tbsp. milk
• 1/2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

Directions:

1. Grease two loaf pans and preheat oven to 350.
2. Mix oil and sugar.
3. Add eggs and bananas and beat until large lumps disappear (if only we could do this with our cellulite).
4. Add milk and vanilla.
5. Sift rest of ingredients and dump into mixture.
6. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar on top (or add some mini chocolate chips for kicks!).
7. Bake for 55-60 minutes or until fork comes out clean.
8. Keep one and give one to your BFF.

Tonight’s Dinner.

Okay.

My hope is that I’ll be doing neither on Sunday (cooking nor parenting).

My cooking recommendations are as follows:

Breakfast: The Four Seasons

Mid-morning snack: Haagen Dazs

Lunch: The Ritz Carlton

Afternoon Snack: Payard

Dinner: Daniel

And one last before bed treat just because you can: Sour Patch Kids

Cheers!

Another mom who’s probably neither cooking nor parenting this weekend.        Makes me feel like a rock star.

Since this is both a cooking and a parenting blog I should probably offer something up for Mother’s Day.

Okay.

My hope is that I’ll be doing neither on Sunday (cooking nor parenting).

My cooking recommendations are as follows:

Breakfast: The Four Seasons

Mid-morning snack: Haagen Dazs

Lunch: The Ritz Carlton

Afternoon Snack: Payard

Dinner: Daniel

And one last before bed treat just because you can: Sour Patch Kids

Cheers!

Another mom who’s probably neither cooking nor parenting this weekend.        Makes me feel like a rock star.

]]> http://mykitchenchaos.com/a-mothers-day-thought/feed/ 6 http://mykitchenchaos.com/stuffy-old-parents/ http://mykitchenchaos.com/stuffy-old-parents/#comments Mon, 06 May 2013 15:04:08 +0000 mykitchenchaos http://mykitchenchaos.com/?p=4220 My daughter got mad at me the other day for doing this in public:

She was just absolutely mortified. Completely ran away in the other direction pretending not to know me at the mall. Jeez, I was just having a little fun. Aren’t parents allowed to do that anymore or do we have to be the stuffy adults our kids think we are? Plus, if we’re keeping tabs, don’t they mortify us at least ten more times than we mortify them on a daily basis? I’ll answer that. Yes. They do. Like the freak out one had just last Thursday when I took away her iTouch for one measly hour. Or, wait, what about the other freak out when I threw away her art project and got caught red-handed (what, can you really keep everything?) as she was rifling through the garbage. Whoops.

Point is, I do think it’s okay for parents to have a little fun sometimes. First of all, I love me some Biebs and second of all, well there’s no second of all. I just think it’s okay for us to have a little fun sometimes.

But since my kid is pissed at me right now and wants me to behave like the stuffy adult she thinks I am, I’ll make Stuffed Peppers with ground chicken for dinner tonight, just to assuage her.

Stuffed Peppers with Ground Chicken (can also use ground beef or turkey)

Ingredients:

• 1 package ground chicken
• 4 bell peppers – scooped out (keep the tops)
• uncooked white rice (appx 1 TBSP per pepper)
• 1 onion
• 1 handful shredded carrots
• 1 can tomato paste
• 1 can pureed tomatoes (with juice)
• 2 splashes red wine
• few splashes chicken stock
• 3 cloves garlic- minced
• splash olive oil
• pinch nutmeg
• handful of fresh parsley – chopped
• S&P

Directions:

1. Sauté ground chicken in a little olive oil until no longer pink (don’t overcook because you’ll be baking again).
2. Remove chicken from heat, drain, and set aside.
3. Add garlic, chopped onion, shredded carrots to pan with a little more olive oil and a splash of chicken stock and sauté for a few minutes. Add wine and let cook off for a minute or two. Add tomato paste, sugar, tomatoes, spices, S&P.
4. Cook for a few minutes on medium and then turn off.
5. Return meat to sauce and mix thoroughly.
6. Scoop out peppers and save tops.
7. Preheat oven to 350.
8. Put a thin layer of sauce on the bottom of a baking pan and place peppers inside.
9. Put a tablespoon of rice into each pepper and pour a bit of chicken broth in each pepper.
10. Scoop sauce into each pepper and then pour remaining sauce on top of entire dish.
11. Loosely cover with foil and bake for 1 hour.
12. If peppers aren’t done to your liking, remove cover and cook a bit longer.

My daughter got mad at me the other day for doing this in public:

She was just absolutely mortified. Completely ran away in the other direction pretending not to know me at the mall. Jeez, I was just having a little fun. Aren’t parents allowed to do that anymore or do we have to be the stuffy adults our kids think we are? Plus, if we’re keeping tabs, don’t they mortify us at least ten more times than we mortify them on a daily basis? I’ll answer that. Yes. They do. Like the freak out one had just last Thursday when I took away her iTouch for one measly hour. Or, wait, what about the other freak out when I threw away her art project and got caught red-handed (what, can you really keep everything?) as she was rifling through the garbage. Whoops.

Point is, I do think it’s okay for parents to have a little fun sometimes. First of all, I love me some Biebs and second of all, well there’s no second of all. I just think it’s okay for us to have a little fun sometimes.

But since my kid is pissed at me right now and wants me to behave like the stuffy adult she thinks I am, I’ll make Stuffed Peppers with ground chicken for dinner tonight, just to assuage her.

Stuffed Peppers with Ground Chicken (can also use ground beef or turkey)

Ingredients:

• 1 package ground chicken
• 4 bell peppers – scooped out (keep the tops)
• uncooked white rice (appx 1 TBSP per pepper)
• 1 onion
• 1 handful shredded carrots
• 1 can tomato paste
• 1 can pureed tomatoes (with juice)
• 2 splashes red wine
• few splashes chicken stock
• 3 cloves garlic- minced
• splash olive oil
• pinch nutmeg
• handful of fresh parsley – chopped
• S&P

Directions:

1. Sauté ground chicken in a little olive oil until no longer pink (don’t overcook because you’ll be baking again).
2. Remove chicken from heat, drain, and set aside.
3. Add garlic, chopped onion, shredded carrots to pan with a little more olive oil and a splash of chicken stock and sauté for a few minutes. Add wine and let cook off for a minute or two. Add tomato paste, sugar, tomatoes, spices, S&P.
4. Cook for a few minutes on medium and then turn off.
5. Return meat to sauce and mix thoroughly.
6. Scoop out peppers and save tops.
7. Preheat oven to 350.
8. Put a thin layer of sauce on the bottom of a baking pan and place peppers inside.
9. Put a tablespoon of rice into each pepper and pour a bit of chicken broth in each pepper.
10. Scoop sauce into each pepper and then pour remaining sauce on top of entire dish.
11. Loosely cover with foil and bake for 1 hour.
12. If peppers aren’t done to your liking, remove cover and cook a bit longer.

Whenever I ask my kids where they want to go for dinner they say one of two places:Chick- fil-A or Sweet Tomatoes. Chick-Fil-A is a Southern staple…a place out-of-towners wax poetic about when they visit. But if you live near one it’s just another place to get fat no matter how solid their chicken bits are. Add the waffle fries and you might as well keep the high rise jeans I told you to get rid of.

Now Sweet Tomatoes is a fantastic concept in theory. It’s a large salad bar filled with tons of pre-cut fruits and vegetables, soups, sides and low fat ice cream. But the problem with Sweet Tomatoes is that it represents everything about America that disgusts me. Think midnight buffet on a cruise. Think hordes of people cramming into one space, vying for the tuna fish, beef slabs and Alfredo sauce. Eating as quickly and as much as possible so they can get to the next course. Piling mashed potatoes with slathered butter into their faces while accumulating masses of dishes so that their tables look like clearing stations. Do I make myself clear? It makes me anxious. It makes me embarrassed to be American. It makes me sick. It makes me not want to eat there.

Just the concept of ‘All You Can Eat’ is one that should be eliminated from our gastronomic vocabularies. But that’s not really fair now is it? How do I deny my kids the opportunity to eat perfectly prepped pre-cut vegetables simply because I have a problem with gluttonous Americans seeking the Early Bird Special? Does that make me an ageist? A buffetist? I can whine, or I can attempt to create my own little mini buffet. One where each spoon isn’t a petri dish of germs waiting to afflict my family with some unknown virus. One where the concept of a sneeze guard (an absolutely disgusting visual) does not exist. One where my kids’ grimy hands are the only grimy hands touching the utensils.

This thought fills me with control freak comfort. So despite the fact that they’re begging me to go out (something I usually take them up on) I just can’t hack it tonight. Instead we’re headed to the grocery store to pick up a few packages of pre-chopped anything so we can make our own little assembly line.

Tonight’s choice is Chicken Fajitas. They may use up a lot of bowls, but they’re easy and fun to assemble. And whoever cleans up first gets an extra scoop of double chocolate chip ice cream with sprinkles and marshmallows that they can stuff into their little mouths like the gluttons they are.

All You Can Eat Because They’re Grilled and I’m the Only One Who Touched Them
Chicken Fajitas

Ingredients:

• One or Two Packages Thin Chicken Strips
• One Lime
• Liquid Smoke
• Soy Sauce
• One Garlic Clove (minced)
• Red Wine Vinegar
• Vegetable Oil
• Chili Powder
• S&P
• Red and Green Peppers
• One Package Shredded Lettuce
• Whole Wheat Tortillas or Hard Taco Shells
• One Can Black Beans
• One Packet Yellow Rice
• One Tomato
• One Package Shredded Cheese

Directions:

1. Wash chicken strips and put in bowl.
2. Mix up next 8 ingredients (couple of splashes of each wet ingredient, couple of sprinkles of each dry) and pour over chicken.
3. Cover and marinate for at least 30 minutes (better if you do this in the morning before you leave for work or school).
4. Grill chicken (on low) or saute on stove top on medium. I like when the little black lines form from the grill…makes it looks more professional.
5. Cut peppers into strips and saute in a little oil and a pinch of S&P. When chicken is done add to peppers and saute together for one minute.
6. Put all other ingredients into little bowls and line up on the counter.
7. Have everyone make their own fajitas, tacos, salad or anything else they can pile on their plate.
8. Enjoy and save the extras for tomorrow!

Whenever I ask my kids where they want to go for dinner they say one of two places:Chick- fil-A or Sweet Tomatoes. Chick-Fil-A is a Southern staple…a place out-of-towners wax poetic about when they visit. But if you live near one it’s just another place to get fat no matter how solid their chicken bits are. Add the waffle fries and you might as well keep the high rise jeans I told you to get rid of.

Now Sweet Tomatoes is a fantastic concept in theory. It’s a large salad bar filled with tons of pre-cut fruits and vegetables, soups, sides and low fat ice cream. But the problem with Sweet Tomatoes is that it represents everything about America that disgusts me. Think midnight buffet on a cruise. Think hordes of people cramming into one space, vying for the tuna fish, beef slabs and Alfredo sauce. Eating as quickly and as much as possible so they can get to the next course. Piling mashed potatoes with slathered butter into their faces while accumulating masses of dishes so that their tables look like clearing stations. Do I make myself clear? It makes me anxious. It makes me embarrassed to be American. It makes me sick. It makes me not want to eat there.

Just the concept of ‘All You Can Eat’ is one that should be eliminated from our gastronomic vocabularies. But that’s not really fair now is it? How do I deny my kids the opportunity to eat perfectly prepped pre-cut vegetables simply because I have a problem with gluttonous Americans seeking the Early Bird Special? Does that make me an ageist? A buffetist? I can whine, or I can attempt to create my own little mini buffet. One where each spoon isn’t a petri dish of germs waiting to afflict my family with some unknown virus. One where the concept of a sneeze guard (an absolutely disgusting visual) does not exist. One where my kids’ grimy hands are the only grimy hands touching the utensils.

This thought fills me with control freak comfort. So despite the fact that they’re begging me to go out (something I usually take them up on) I just can’t hack it tonight. Instead we’re headed to the grocery store to pick up a few packages of pre-chopped anything so we can make our own little assembly line.

Tonight’s choice is Chicken Fajitas. They may use up a lot of bowls, but they’re easy and fun to assemble. And whoever cleans up first gets an extra scoop of double chocolate chip ice cream with sprinkles and marshmallows that they can stuff into their little mouths like the gluttons they are.

All You Can Eat Because They’re Grilled and I’m the Only One Who Touched Them
Chicken Fajitas

Ingredients:

• One or Two Packages Thin Chicken Strips
• One Lime
• Liquid Smoke
• Soy Sauce
• One Garlic Clove (minced)
• Red Wine Vinegar
• Vegetable Oil
• Chili Powder
• S&P
• Red and Green Peppers
• One Package Shredded Lettuce
• Whole Wheat Tortillas or Hard Taco Shells
• One Can Black Beans
• One Packet Yellow Rice
• One Tomato
• One Package Shredded Cheese

Directions:

1. Wash chicken strips and put in bowl.
2. Mix up next 8 ingredients (couple of splashes of each wet ingredient, couple of sprinkles of each dry) and pour over chicken.
3. Cover and marinate for at least 30 minutes (better if you do this in the morning before you leave for work or school).
4. Grill chicken (on low) or saute on stove top on medium. I like when the little black lines form from the grill…makes it looks more professional.
5. Cut peppers into strips and saute in a little oil and a pinch of S&P. When chicken is done add to peppers and saute together for one minute.
6. Put all other ingredients into little bowls and line up on the counter.
7. Have everyone make their own fajitas, tacos, salad or anything else they can pile on their plate.
8. Enjoy and save the extras for tomorrow!

Your child has a complete meltdown upon arriving at school at 7:45 am. Claims a stomach ache is the culprit. Stomach ache was not present throughout entire weekend. But child also rarely complains of a stomach ache. Child proceeds to hold up entire carpool line requiring not one but three teachers to come over and assist. Do you:

a) Acquiesce and take child home?

b) Remove hysterical child from car and tell her she must go to school?

c) Question your own decision to get out of bed this morning?

I chose answer “B” but am now feeling terribly guilty. I know those Monday morning stomach aches. They are filled with anxiety. They don’t necessarily go away as an adult, either. Kind of like the Sunday night pit after a great weekend when the reality of going back to work kicks in.

What if the kids are being mean to her on the playground? What if she’s standing there alone all day long with nobody to eat lunch with or buddy up with if the teacher asks them to make partners?

And here’s where we cue the mommy paranoia. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about in this world (Iran/Elections/Economy/Honey Boo Boo) our entire day is now spent wondering when we’re going to ‘get that call from school.’

10:30 am and so far I’m in the clear. Except I’ve wasted an inordinate amount of time when I could have been working. This would be perfect water cooler chat. My co-worker would empathize and tell me she deals with this all the time and then we’d each grab some water, talk about the Emmy Awards, high-five each other in anticipation of that 5K we’re training for and go about our day.

But I don’t have a water cooler. And I don’t have co-workers. I have to provide my own kid empathy and motivation (which isn’t working right now) and now my attention is being diverted to:

a) very loud neighbor mowing his lawn for the 80th time since Saturday.

b) email reminders that boots are going on sale very soon at Neiman Marcus! (oooh, cannot wait for this…oooh, should not be doing this…oooh, but they’re so cute…oooh, but it’s not prudent…oooh, but I hate that word…see where this goes?).

oooooohhhhhhhh…….could you resist these? Seriously, could you? Please say no.

c) fear that cell phone will ring any minute telling me to get to school to pick up not sick kid.

And there goes my Monday. Focus, Adina. Focus.

I need a virtual co-worker. Anyone else out there need one? I’ll call you every few hours to see how you’re doing and then we can both go to our refrigerators at the same time and grab a glass of water. Maybe help each other sign up for 5Ks (why do co-workers always do 5Ks together?)

Whaddya say?  Oh, and one more thing. If you were my virtual co-worker I’d make you an awesome spinach salad like the one featured below (see how it all ties together in the end??).

Spinach Salad with Tangy Dressing

Ingredients:

• 1 bag spinach (I also add arugula to this salad)
• 1 can hearts of palm (sliced thin)
• 1 box grape tomatoes
• 1-2 chopped hard-boiled eggs
• 2-3 scallions (diced)

A Monday Dilemma:

Your child has a complete meltdown upon arriving at school at 7:45 am. Claims a stomach ache is the culprit. Stomach ache was not present throughout entire weekend. But child also rarely complains of a stomach ache. Child proceeds to hold up entire carpool line requiring not one but three teachers to come over and assist. Do you:

a) Acquiesce and take child home?

b) Remove hysterical child from car and tell her she must go to school?

c) Question your own decision to get out of bed this morning?

I chose answer “B” but am now feeling terribly guilty. I know those Monday morning stomach aches. They are filled with anxiety. They don’t necessarily go away as an adult, either. Kind of like the Sunday night pit after a great weekend when the reality of going back to work kicks in.

What if the kids are being mean to her on the playground? What if she’s standing there alone all day long with nobody to eat lunch with or buddy up with if the teacher asks them to make partners?

And here’s where we cue the mommy paranoia. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about in this world (Iran/Elections/Economy/Honey Boo Boo) our entire day is now spent wondering when we’re going to ‘get that call from school.’

10:30 am and so far I’m in the clear. Except I’ve wasted an inordinate amount of time when I could have been working. This would be perfect water cooler chat. My co-worker would empathize and tell me she deals with this all the time and then we’d each grab some water, talk about the Emmy Awards, high-five each other in anticipation of that 5K we’re training for and go about our day.

But I don’t have a water cooler. And I don’t have co-workers. I have to provide my own kid empathy and motivation (which isn’t working right now) and now my attention is being diverted to:

a) very loud neighbor mowing his lawn for the 80th time since Saturday.

b) email reminders that boots are going on sale very soon at Neiman Marcus! (oooh, cannot wait for this…oooh, should not be doing this…oooh, but they’re so cute…oooh, but it’s not prudent…oooh, but I hate that word…see where this goes?).

oooooohhhhhhhh…….could you resist these? Seriously, could you? Please say no.

c) fear that cell phone will ring any minute telling me to get to school to pick up not sick kid.

And there goes my Monday. Focus, Adina. Focus.

I need a virtual co-worker. Anyone else out there need one? I’ll call you every few hours to see how you’re doing and then we can both go to our refrigerators at the same time and grab a glass of water. Maybe help each other sign up for 5Ks (why do co-workers always do 5Ks together?)

Whaddya say?  Oh, and one more thing. If you were my virtual co-worker I’d make you an awesome spinach salad like the one featured below (see how it all ties together in the end??).

Spinach Salad with Tangy Dressing

Ingredients:

• 1 bag spinach (I also add arugula to this salad)
• 1 can hearts of palm (sliced thin)
• 1 box grape tomatoes
• 1-2 chopped hard-boiled eggs
• 2-3 scallions (diced)

Ones where random bands play random songs, and people say hello and walk their dogs. Ones where you buy herbs you’ll never actually plant but that look so good in the booth and you think for a brief moment you can totally be organic and start composting and buy a hybrid and be like the laid back lady in the booth with the cool hippie skirt selling the fresh herbs.

But that never happens and you’re back in the Chick-Fil-A drive thru in no time in your oversized gas guzzling SUV.

Ones with summer berries in buckets.

As I reflect on this bounty of berries and come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never compost, I’m currently watching a meltdown ensue as a result of my daughter spilling nail polish all over my office after I repeatedly asked her to not use my office as a spa. The berry colored stain that is now sitting on a second rug in my house (someone really has something against me and my rugs lately) reminds me of better times scouting for luscious berries in Venice Beach, California.

I take myself to this place mentally when situations like ‘NailPolishGate’ occur in my house. If only I had a bottle of Prosecco and a splash of fresh orange juice I’d make mimosas and casually toss one of those plump berries at the bottom of a champagne flute. Plop!

Because it’ll soon be the kick-off to summer, I celebrate berries. I will be berry glad that school is almost over and we won’t have to fight about homework or being late or carpool snacks or bath time. Summer in our house means you are free not to bathe for eight weeks in a row and I won’t care. You can let your hair go bohemian and form dreadlocks and neither make your bed nor fold your laundry and it just doesn’t matter. Well, maybe a little. You can completely ignore your reading list for seven weeks thinking I won’t notice (I will) and still get away with it. But that’s cool because I won’t yell at you until week eight.

I will bribe you with movies and yogurt smoothies so I can work when we are all home together and I am begging for fall and asking myself “how in the hell do people home school?” In fact, I’ll bribe you with one now so you’ll clean up the five hundred towels you used for the spa set-up in the office which now proudly displays a berry colored nail polish stain that will forever remind me of why it’s important to have designated playrooms with cute plastic mats on the floor like in the Pottery Barn catalog.

Spring is for berries. Offices are for computers.

I love Farmer’s Markets. Good ones. Big ones. Ones that don’t have booths selling auto insurance. Ones where people walk around with straws coming out of coconuts eating mangoes on sticks.

Ones where random bands play random songs, and people say hello and walk their dogs. Ones where you buy herbs you’ll never actually plant but that look so good in the booth and you think for a brief moment you can totally be organic and start composting and buy a hybrid and be like the laid back lady in the booth with the cool hippie skirt selling the fresh herbs.

But that never happens and you’re back in the Chick-Fil-A drive thru in no time in your oversized gas guzzling SUV.

Ones with summer berries in buckets.

As I reflect on this bounty of berries and come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never compost, I’m currently watching a meltdown ensue as a result of my daughter spilling nail polish all over my office after I repeatedly asked her to not use my office as a spa. The berry colored stain that is now sitting on a second rug in my house (someone really has something against me and my rugs lately) reminds me of better times scouting for luscious berries in Venice Beach, California.

I take myself to this place mentally when situations like ‘NailPolishGate’ occur in my house. If only I had a bottle of Prosecco and a splash of fresh orange juice I’d make mimosas and casually toss one of those plump berries at the bottom of a champagne flute. Plop!

Because it’ll soon be the kick-off to summer, I celebrate berries. I will be berry glad that school is almost over and we won’t have to fight about homework or being late or carpool snacks or bath time. Summer in our house means you are free not to bathe for eight weeks in a row and I won’t care. You can let your hair go bohemian and form dreadlocks and neither make your bed nor fold your laundry and it just doesn’t matter. Well, maybe a little. You can completely ignore your reading list for seven weeks thinking I won’t notice (I will) and still get away with it. But that’s cool because I won’t yell at you until week eight.

I will bribe you with movies and yogurt smoothies so I can work when we are all home together and I am begging for fall and asking myself “how in the hell do people home school?” In fact, I’ll bribe you with one now so you’ll clean up the five hundred towels you used for the spa set-up in the office which now proudly displays a berry colored nail polish stain that will forever remind me of why it’s important to have designated playrooms with cute plastic mats on the floor like in the Pottery Barn catalog.

Spring is for berries. Offices are for computers.

If I can’t have you…I don’t want nobody baby…

Okay, I’ll admit it. I spend a lot of money on coffee. An obscene amount. Almost every day. Sometimes twice a day. Sometimes twice in the same coffee place.

Financial advisors would admonish me. Self-help books write chapters about me.

But here’s the way I see it. I don’t smoke. I drink wine daily on occasion. Or, on a Tuesday afternoon in the presence of my children when technically it should be considered a medical coping remedy so it should be filed under my insurance. I’m working on that.

Because I’m a freelancer, I spend a ton of time alone. So I think of coffee houses as my office and the people who work there as my extended family. And you’re supposed to spend money on family, right?  Coffee culture is also a great way to meet other people. To eavesdrop. To get fodder for articles. Or to simply feel connected.

They all have their unique vibes, too. Suburban coffee houses are filled with tennis moms, people having ‘meetings’ or businesspeople with spreadsheets. Lots of spreadsheets. Sometimes I play a game with myself and try and figure out where the people work before their meeting actually starts just by the look of their spreadsheets. You can often tell by what they’re wearing. Blue shirts with khaki pants: Home Depot or regional sales. Suits: lawyers. Chicos or Eileen Fisher ensembles: therapists. Then, there are the older guys who meet up for breakfast and talk politics. They’re usually in plaid or short sleeved button downs. Not attractive, those short sleeved button downs.

In-town coffee shops bring out the renegades. The artists. The people with nose rings. Photographers having meetings with clients. Producers making deals. Or hip urban moms who are a size 2 after giving birth yesterday. I have a hard time working at these places because even though the vibe is much more hip than in the ‘burbs and I feel cool by osmosis, it’s way too loud so I can’t concentrate. But every now and then when I need to change my office surroundings I head there.

I’m also very self-conscious about my coffee order. There’s a drink I like called the Salted Caramel Mocha at Starbucks. Have you tried it yet? It’s off the chain. But it’s way too sweet. And filled with calories. 42o to be exact. So, in my nicest voice, I ask them to cut the pumps in half and make it non-fat and leave off the whipped cream. Only thing is, I feel like a jerk when they call out my order:

“Grande, nonfat, 2.5 pump toffee, 2.5 pump mocha salted caramel latte with no-whip.”

So I hide. I actually go outside for a few minutes and return to find my lowly drink sitting on the counter where I can grab it without anyone seeing me and thinking that I’m “one of those drink orderers.” They’re so high maintenance. Right?

Anyway, I know I need to start saving money so I’ll try to start making more coffee a home. Not.

My two favorite coffee houses are The Coffee Bean in Los Angeles and The Cupping Room Cafe in New York City. Worth a try if you’re ever in one of those places. I highly recommend the ‘no sugar added vanilla latte’ from Coffee Bean and just a big phat cup ‘o joe at Cupping Room Cafe (full menu too!).

So what’s for dinner, you ask? Um, I have no clue. After all, it’s only 4 pm and we don’t start thinking about that in our family until at least 6 pm. So no menu for today. But I will leave you with something sinful that goes great with any coffee anywhere in the entire world. Hands down the best chocolate, chocolate chip cookies anywhere.

Not my recipe, so no credit for me. I’m just the messenger today. They’re from Dorie Greenspan, master baker.

DORIE GREENSPAN’S COCOA CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

Dunk this in a half-caf no foam added vanilla latte and you’ll have died and gone to heaven.

• 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cups unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon salt (go for 1 1/4 teaspoons if you really like salt)
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup sugar
• 2/3 cup (packed) light brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 2 large eggs
• 12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chips, or 2 cups chocolate chips or chunks (I used mini semi-sweet chips)
• 1 cup finely chopped walnuts or pecans (I omitted)

Directions:

1. Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
2. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.
3. Whisk together the flour, cocoa, salt and baking soda and keep close at hand.
4. Working in a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter on medium speed for about 1 minute, until smooth.
5. Add the sugars and beat for another 2 minutes or so, until well blended.
6. Beat in the vanilla.
7. Add the eggs, one at a time, and beat for 1 minute after each egg goes in.
8. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients in 3 portions, mixing only until each addition is incorporated.  On low speed, or by hand with a rubber spatula, mix in the chocolate and nuts.  (The dough can be covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen.  If you’d like, you can freeze rounded tablespoons of dough, ready for baking.  There’s no need to defrost before baking – just add another minute or two to the baking time.)
9. Spoon the dough by slightly rounded tablespoonfuls onto the baking sheets, leaving about 2 inches between spoonfuls.
10. Bake the cookies – one sheet at a time and rotating the sheet at the midway point – for 10 to 12 minutes, or until they are set around the edges; they may still be a little soft in the middle, and that’s just fine.  Pull the sheet from the oven and allow the cookies to rest for 1 minute, then carefully, using a wide metal spatula, transfer them to racks to cool to room temperature.
11. Repeat with the remainder of the dough, cooling the baking sheets between batches.

If I can’t have you…I don’t want nobody baby…

Okay, I’ll admit it. I spend a lot of money on coffee. An obscene amount. Almost every day. Sometimes twice a day. Sometimes twice in the same coffee place.

Financial advisors would admonish me. Self-help books write chapters about me.

But here’s the way I see it. I don’t smoke. I drink wine daily on occasion. Or, on a Tuesday afternoon in the presence of my children when technically it should be considered a medical coping remedy so it should be filed under my insurance. I’m working on that.

Because I’m a freelancer, I spend a ton of time alone. So I think of coffee houses as my office and the people who work there as my extended family. And you’re supposed to spend money on family, right?  Coffee culture is also a great way to meet other people. To eavesdrop. To get fodder for articles. Or to simply feel connected.

They all have their unique vibes, too. Suburban coffee houses are filled with tennis moms, people having ‘meetings’ or businesspeople with spreadsheets. Lots of spreadsheets. Sometimes I play a game with myself and try and figure out where the people work before their meeting actually starts just by the look of their spreadsheets. You can often tell by what they’re wearing. Blue shirts with khaki pants: Home Depot or regional sales. Suits: lawyers. Chicos or Eileen Fisher ensembles: therapists. Then, there are the older guys who meet up for breakfast and talk politics. They’re usually in plaid or short sleeved button downs. Not attractive, those short sleeved button downs.

In-town coffee shops bring out the renegades. The artists. The people with nose rings. Photographers having meetings with clients. Producers making deals. Or hip urban moms who are a size 2 after giving birth yesterday. I have a hard time working at these places because even though the vibe is much more hip than in the ‘burbs and I feel cool by osmosis, it’s way too loud so I can’t concentrate. But every now and then when I need to change my office surroundings I head there.

I’m also very self-conscious about my coffee order. There’s a drink I like called the Salted Caramel Mocha at Starbucks. Have you tried it yet? It’s off the chain. But it’s way too sweet. And filled with calories. 42o to be exact. So, in my nicest voice, I ask them to cut the pumps in half and make it non-fat and leave off the whipped cream. Only thing is, I feel like a jerk when they call out my order:

“Grande, nonfat, 2.5 pump toffee, 2.5 pump mocha salted caramel latte with no-whip.”

So I hide. I actually go outside for a few minutes and return to find my lowly drink sitting on the counter where I can grab it without anyone seeing me and thinking that I’m “one of those drink orderers.” They’re so high maintenance. Right?

Anyway, I know I need to start saving money so I’ll try to start making more coffee a home. Not.

My two favorite coffee houses are The Coffee Bean in Los Angeles and The Cupping Room Cafe in New York City. Worth a try if you’re ever in one of those places. I highly recommend the ‘no sugar added vanilla latte’ from Coffee Bean and just a big phat cup ‘o joe at Cupping Room Cafe (full menu too!).

So what’s for dinner, you ask? Um, I have no clue. After all, it’s only 4 pm and we don’t start thinking about that in our family until at least 6 pm. So no menu for today. But I will leave you with something sinful that goes great with any coffee anywhere in the entire world. Hands down the best chocolate, chocolate chip cookies anywhere.

Not my recipe, so no credit for me. I’m just the messenger today. They’re from Dorie Greenspan, master baker.

DORIE GREENSPAN’S COCOA CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

Dunk this in a half-caf no foam added vanilla latte and you’ll have died and gone to heaven.

• 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cups unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon salt (go for 1 1/4 teaspoons if you really like salt)
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup sugar
• 2/3 cup (packed) light brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 2 large eggs
• 12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chips, or 2 cups chocolate chips or chunks (I used mini semi-sweet chips)
• 1 cup finely chopped walnuts or pecans (I omitted)

Directions:

1. Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
2. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.
3. Whisk together the flour, cocoa, salt and baking soda and keep close at hand.
4. Working in a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter on medium speed for about 1 minute, until smooth.
5. Add the sugars and beat for another 2 minutes or so, until well blended.
6. Beat in the vanilla.
7. Add the eggs, one at a time, and beat for 1 minute after each egg goes in.
8. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients in 3 portions, mixing only until each addition is incorporated.  On low speed, or by hand with a rubber spatula, mix in the chocolate and nuts.  (The dough can be covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen.  If you’d like, you can freeze rounded tablespoons of dough, ready for baking.  There’s no need to defrost before baking – just add another minute or two to the baking time.)
9. Spoon the dough by slightly rounded tablespoonfuls onto the baking sheets, leaving about 2 inches between spoonfuls.
10. Bake the cookies – one sheet at a time and rotating the sheet at the midway point – for 10 to 12 minutes, or until they are set around the edges; they may still be a little soft in the middle, and that’s just fine.  Pull the sheet from the oven and allow the cookies to rest for 1 minute, then carefully, using a wide metal spatula, transfer them to racks to cool to room temperature.
11. Repeat with the remainder of the dough, cooling the baking sheets between batches.

Seriously, I’m really trying to figure this out. Take a look at this:

I wonder how long those perfectly aligned holes took to make?

And now look at this:

Looks like it was made in about twenty seconds.

If you were racing somewhere for the rest of your life and needed to throw everything on your back for the next forty years with kids and donkeys in tow, doesn’t the flexible/easy-to-stuff-in-your knapsack/it’s almost Cinco De Mayo so might as well have one tortilla seem a bit more practical than the never-stays-in-one piece/crumbs everywhere/cardboard-like/constipating inducing Matzah? And while we’re questioning the whole thing…they were supposed to be making bread and just didn’t have time to let it rise, right? I’m no expert baker, but who pokes holes in their bread dough? Where did the holes come in? So I’m calling the bluff on this one and am officially going to the sages to ask for a tortilla exchange. A week of Mexican food sounds sooo much more enticing than a week of…Matzah. Plus, we can consider it a way to bring two cultures together. I’m trying here — work with me.

As you may have guessed by now, next week begins the eight-day holiday of Passover, also known in our family as the eight-day period of time when you can’t eat Girl Scout Cookies and better have a handy supply of prune juice ready. But we have come to accept this quirky foodstuff, and if nothing else, we buy it in bulk because it makes us feel like we’re doing what we’re supposed to do. Guilt. The number one purpose of religion. We recount the story of the exodus from Egypt (or we watch Charlton Heston do it so much better on TV) and, like on every other holiday, we celebrate overcoming our adversity by eating an insane amount of food.

Don’t even ask where the chaos fits in. The whole thing is chaotic. From the prep to the expectation that people are really going to sit through a five-hour dinner and be happy about it, to cleaning out every single breadcrumb in your entire house and car, to the concept of trying to tell your children they can’t have Mac ‘n Cheese for a week — it’s a zoo. Which means that the food better be darn good at a Passover Seder or your doomed. Doomed like Pharaoh. Doomed like Yul Brenner. I love Yul Brenner. Here he is:

Can your hair do this?

So my job is to make sure the food tastes darn good. To overcompensate for the cardboard-like staple by making the main dish the real star. You already have the recipe for Chicken Soup. It’s a must. You also have the recipe for BBQ Brisket. That’ll be served too. So for the trifecta, I’ll go with a simple herb roasted chicken served with hash browned potatoes and a broccoli casser…oops, can’t say it! (Remember, I don’t drive a minivan and I don’t make casseroles.) Instead, I’ll make a broccoli dish that comes in a rectangle.

Roast chicken is easy to prep the day before and you can put it in your oven day-of and leave it alone. This is one of my favorite things to make for any guilt-ridden holiday or when family come to town (also a time that induces guilt but I won’t go there).

Happy Passover to all who celebrate! And lucky you for anyone who can eat their Thin Mints for the next week.

Roast Chicken with Dried Herbs

Any vegetable you put in the pan will taste great.

Ingredients:

• One Large Roasting Chicken
• Appx. 2 heaping tablespoons (not that I’m measuring) of the following herbs: Oregano, Basil, Thyme, Sage, Parsley
• Whole Onion
• Few Garlic Cloves (whole)
• Whole Lemon
• Few Carrots
• Kosher salt
• Pepper
• Paprika
• Olive Oil

So here’s a question. If the Jews were in such a hurry to get out of Egypt and didn’t have time to let their bread rise, wouldn’t it have been much easier to make tortillas?

Seriously, I’m really trying to figure this out. Take a look at this:

I wonder how long those perfectly aligned holes took to make?

And now look at this:

Looks like it was made in about twenty seconds.

If you were racing somewhere for the rest of your life and needed to throw everything on your back for the next forty years with kids and donkeys in tow, doesn’t the flexible/easy-to-stuff-in-your knapsack/it’s almost Cinco De Mayo so might as well have one tortilla seem a bit more practical than the never-stays-in-one piece/crumbs everywhere/cardboard-like/constipating inducing Matzah? And while we’re questioning the whole thing…they were supposed to be making bread and just didn’t have time to let it rise, right? I’m no expert baker, but who pokes holes in their bread dough? Where did the holes come in? So I’m calling the bluff on this one and am officially going to the sages to ask for a tortilla exchange. A week of Mexican food sounds sooo much more enticing than a week of…Matzah. Plus, we can consider it a way to bring two cultures together. I’m trying here — work with me.

As you may have guessed by now, next week begins the eight-day holiday of Passover, also known in our family as the eight-day period of time when you can’t eat Girl Scout Cookies and better have a handy supply of prune juice ready. But we have come to accept this quirky foodstuff, and if nothing else, we buy it in bulk because it makes us feel like we’re doing what we’re supposed to do. Guilt. The number one purpose of religion. We recount the story of the exodus from Egypt (or we watch Charlton Heston do it so much better on TV) and, like on every other holiday, we celebrate overcoming our adversity by eating an insane amount of food.

Don’t even ask where the chaos fits in. The whole thing is chaotic. From the prep to the expectation that people are really going to sit through a five-hour dinner and be happy about it, to cleaning out every single breadcrumb in your entire house and car, to the concept of trying to tell your children they can’t have Mac ‘n Cheese for a week — it’s a zoo. Which means that the food better be darn good at a Passover Seder or your doomed. Doomed like Pharaoh. Doomed like Yul Brenner. I love Yul Brenner. Here he is:

Can your hair do this?

So my job is to make sure the food tastes darn good. To overcompensate for the cardboard-like staple by making the main dish the real star. You already have the recipe for Chicken Soup. It’s a must. You also have the recipe for BBQ Brisket. That’ll be served too. So for the trifecta, I’ll go with a simple herb roasted chicken served with hash browned potatoes and a broccoli casser…oops, can’t say it! (Remember, I don’t drive a minivan and I don’t make casseroles.) Instead, I’ll make a broccoli dish that comes in a rectangle.

Roast chicken is easy to prep the day before and you can put it in your oven day-of and leave it alone. This is one of my favorite things to make for any guilt-ridden holiday or when family come to town (also a time that induces guilt but I won’t go there).

Happy Passover to all who celebrate! And lucky you for anyone who can eat their Thin Mints for the next week.

Roast Chicken with Dried Herbs

Any vegetable you put in the pan will taste great.

Ingredients:

• One Large Roasting Chicken
• Appx. 2 heaping tablespoons (not that I’m measuring) of the following herbs: Oregano, Basil, Thyme, Sage, Parsley
• Whole Onion
• Few Garlic Cloves (whole)
• Whole Lemon
• Few Carrots
• Kosher salt
• Pepper
• Paprika
• Olive Oil

Frye Paige Tall Riding Boots, $348

Frye Over-the-Knee Riding Boots $448 (I show another style so you can empathize with my conundrum.)

• One roast chicken
• One or two onions (you can save $.39 if you only use one)
• Few stalks of celery
• Bag of mini carrots that come back home in lunch box every day
• Parsley (fresh is better)
• Huge amount of dill (fresh is best)
• One Potato (diced)
• S&P (Kosher salt, please)
• Few Garlic Cloves
• 2-4 heaping (and I mean heaping) TBSPs (not that I’m measuring) of powdered chicken stock (I use Telma or Carmel)

Directions:

1. Rinse chicken.
2. Put in pot and fill with enough water to cover chicken.
3. Boil and throw out water (I do this to clean all the junk off chicken).
4. Add more water to pot just enough to cover chicken.
5. Add quartered onions, celery, potato, carrots.
6. Put in as much parsley and dill as you want.
7. Throw in a few whole (peeled) garlic cloves.
8. Three pinches of S&P.
9. Add powdered stock.
10. Bring to a boil.
11. Once boiling, immediately turn to low and cover. Let simmer for at least four hours.
12. Turn off stove and let it cool before putting in fridge.

Now, here’s the fun part. You don’t want to lose any broth in the process because it needs to keep its currency value!

1. Grab another pot and put a strainer inside so it sits on top.
2. Dump the soup into the strainer (chicken and veggies will still be in it).
3. Carefully take the chicken out of the strainer and put in  another bowl. Throw away bones.

Soup will now look like this.

1. Chop chicken coarsely and add a dash of S&P. Add a scoop or two of Mayonnaise. (If you live in Georgia or Alabama, add the entire jar of Mayonnaise).
2. Throw in some chopped raw celery if you have any left.
3. Should make approximately 5-8 sandwiches depending on how high you pile it up!
4. Visit Zappos.com.
5. Enjoy boots.

As a non-meal planner, I don’t spend my Sundays writing lists. I’ve never taken one to the grocery store and so I usually forget at least six things when I come home. I stare at those women with the coupons filed neatly in the organizers and I wish I could be like them.  Alas, the problem is always the same: How do you know what you need until you actually see it?

Frye Paige Tall Riding Boots, $348

Frye Over-the-Knee Riding Boots $448 (I show another style so you can empathize with my conundrum.)

• One roast chicken
• One or two onions (you can save $.39 if you only use one)
• Few stalks of celery
• Bag of mini carrots that come back home in lunch box every day
• Parsley (fresh is better)
• Huge amount of dill (fresh is best)
• One Potato (diced)
• S&P (Kosher salt, please)
• Few Garlic Cloves
• 2-4 heaping (and I mean heaping) TBSPs (not that I’m measuring) of powdered chicken stock (I use Telma or Carmel)

Directions:

1. Rinse chicken.
2. Put in pot and fill with enough water to cover chicken.
3. Boil and throw out water (I do this to clean all the junk off chicken).
4. Add more water to pot just enough to cover chicken.
5. Add quartered onions, celery, potato, carrots.
6. Put in as much parsley and dill as you want.
7. Throw in a few whole (peeled) garlic cloves.
8. Three pinches of S&P.
9. Add powdered stock.
10. Bring to a boil.
11. Once boiling, immediately turn to low and cover. Let simmer for at least four hours.
12. Turn off stove and let it cool before putting in fridge.

Now, here’s the fun part. You don’t want to lose any broth in the process because it needs to keep its currency value!

1. Grab another pot and put a strainer inside so it sits on top.
2. Dump the soup into the strainer (chicken and veggies will still be in it).
3. Carefully take the chicken out of the strainer and put in  another bowl. Throw away bones.

Soup will now look like this.

1. Chop chicken coarsely and add a dash of S&P. Add a scoop or two of Mayonnaise. (If you live in Georgia or Alabama, add the entire jar of Mayonnaise).
2. Throw in some chopped raw celery if you have any left.
3. Should make approximately 5-8 sandwiches depending on how high you pile it up!
4. Visit Zappos.com.
5. Enjoy boots.