feeling industrious

Maybe it has to do with the fact that our family will soon be expanding, but we have been on a rampage of productivity around here these last few weeks. I should say that Chris has done most of the hard work, not the least of which is motivating me, but we are pretty excited about a few projects in particular. This weekend, for instance, we've already bottled Chris's first batch of home brew, and we have our first batch of tomatoes processing in the canner as I write! The beer should be really fun--a smoked porter--it's just too bad that I won't be able to enjoy it. I have a pretty strong feeling that none of the 46 bottles Chris filled yesterday will last until March! At least this way he can work the kinks out of the process and be producing perfect beer by the time I can partake. The tomatoes are so gorgeous, and I don't know if they'll look the same when they are done boiling away, but I sure hope so. We had about a 15 lb. collection of red, orange, and white tomatoes which layered beautifully into the mason jars. The orange and white tomatoes in particular are some of the most delicious I've ever tasted, so I keep hoping it will stay warm enough long enough to get at least one more batch out of them. Harvests have been disappointing this year because of the lame weather we've been battling all summer. Those are a couple of the fun, little projects we've been up to, but wait, there's more!

Chris has been spending time out on our dear friends', the Roses, farm, learning how to do a major woodworking project. He's building a crib. A custom designed and built crib of maple and cherry woods that will be our very own heirloom piece of furniture to use and pass along one day. I'll share pictures when it's done, because I know it will blow you away! I guess I should explain that Bill Rose is a professional woodworker, not to mention a general handyman, vegetable gardener, patient teacher, foodie, musician, and a all-around happy, nice guy. And on top of that he's married to a similarly awesome woman, Kim, who also happens to be a professional interior designer. I pretty much want to move in with them every time I go to their farm. We're so lucky to have such great friends.

If you've seen our tiny house, you're probably wondering just where we're going to fit this aforementioned crib. The two bedrooms we currently have are chock full, so luckily we've started finishing the upstairs expansion...finally!!! This is of course the biggest thing we've undertaken recently. We actually aren't doing the work ourselves, we've hired a fabulous contractor who completely understands our limited financial situation, and even specializes in working on a budget. He's fast, efficient, and does quality work, and we couldn't be more excited about having that upstairs turned into a usable space. It will be our master bedroom, but with a semi-separate nursery area on one end. We also can't wait to turn our current bedroom into a formal dining room so we can actually have people over to eat for a change. I know we'll have to re-evaluate the room situation before too long, but it will be perfect for us for a while at least. I don't have myself organized enough to add pictures right now, but I'll post some very soon, sans the long babbling narrative. Cheers!

distracted--that's how I've been lately

Do you ever wake from a dream that was so pleasant you just want to be back in it? I always try to keep my eyes closed and stay still as long as possible, as if I might actually slip back into the same time and place I just left. I've been waking up like this a lot lately. Even in the middle of the night when I'm awoken by a cranky Ella, I still have a smile on my face.

I had a particular dream the other day that was perfect. Unfortunately I don't remember more than one detail from the entire thing, but I remember that altogether it was perfect. It's sad that dreams often get fuzzy in our memories, rather more quickly even than regular information! But this one was perfect and remembering that feeling of happiness that it gave me is enough for me. After I woke from it, and was actually ready to break the spell and move, I leaned over to Chris and said "I just dreamt that we had another girl."

I don't actually know if it's a girl or boy, but we should find out some time in early March...

xoxoemily and co.

malty goodness

I had a taste for malts today. Luckily I told Chris about this fact early enough in the day to make the requisite grocery run for fresh ice cream. Though I love making my own, Haagen-Dazs is more than sufficient for blending with milk and malt powder. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that Chris had cleaned out the cupboards last week and decided that the malt powder we had was too old, so he tossed it (he's so much more efficient and responsible than me). I would have bought malt powder at the store today had I known! Oh well, the fact that Chris is now in transit to the grocery store to get some, (I didn't make him, he honestly volunteered--malts sound better and better the more talk about them) I now have time to write a blog post!

Thinking of malts brought another funny story to mind. A couple years ago my mom and I were out running errands and decided we needed malts. Luckily I have several excellent malt making establishments in my cell phone contacts, so we called up the Malt Shop and placed our order--one coffee chocolate malt for me, one orange yogurt malt for my mom. Since we were already on the road, we got there before they were ready and decided to run into the great little gift shop next door, just for a peek. After a couple minutes we decided we could wait no longer and just took one last look at a nice little cheese board and knife set near the door before leaving. Oh, but this was no nice little cheese board and knife set. I hadn't even touched it, but somehow the knife out on display sensed my presence and fell to the ground, slicing directly through my right big toe on it's way down. Maybe the knife knew I liked cheese, and that I thought it looked like a handy set, but it was scared to be purchased and used. Maybe it lived a wild life like Woody in Toy Story, when no one was looking, and didn't want to leave behind all it's friends. I have no idea why, or how, it happened, but the next thing I knew I was literally pouring blood onto the concrete floor of the store. I sat down on a nearby bench and my mom ran for kleenex. A clerk came over with a look of utter horror on her face and said "can I do anything?" clearly hoping we would say no. I was in shock and didn't know what to say other than "it's okay." I didn't want to sound like an over-reactor after all. What if I need stitches? What if my toe is forever damaged? What are they going to do with that knife now that it's drawn blood in the store? And on top of everything, I couldn't help but think...our malts are sitting waiting for us next door! My mom wanted to take me to the ER for stitches, but I just wanted my malt. So we wrapped up my toe and got up to go--it was already oozing through the tissue. When we stepped outside my mom practically threw me in the car and put my foot on the dashboard, while I continued to wrap fresh tissue around it to keep the blood from staining the vinyl. As my mom came running back with the malts I thought we were in the clear, but suddenly she was nearly blown over by a gust of wind and suddenly bent over double. I rolled down the window and yelled out to find out what happened and she yelled back "It's my contact--something just blew into my eye and I can't see!" Great, now neither of us could drive. She finally made it to the car and we sat sucking down our malts for a good five minutes before either of us could move. I had to keep my toe from bleeding on everything and my mom had to fish out her glasses, but we made it home and lived to tell the tale. If it weren't for those malts I'm just not sure we would have survived.

The malty goodness has returned from the grocery story ready for action!

The sad scarred toe

bootleggers and springrolls

Last night we had the great pleasure of attending the wedding of a dear family friend, Helen. The ceremony was lovely with excellent musical performances from each of her sons, but you can guess where I'm heading with this entry--the reception had stellar food and drinks! Held at the Minikahda club, the event started with drinks and hors d'oeuvres on the upstairs balcony. As we overlooked the gorgeous view of lake Calhoun, we sampled fresh springrolls, cheese and marmalade canapes, avocado toasts, springrolls, cheesetoasts, and some more springrolls. When Chris ordered a Macallan from the bar he was given a juice glass full--what a way to start the evening! The gin and tonics, rum and cokes, and glasses of wine were free-flowing, but the star of the veranda was the bootlegger. I never got a definition of the bootlegger that would satisfy and engineer, but what I gathered in my scientific research was that it included something along the lines of gin, vodka, soda, lemon juice, and mint. It's like a mojito crossed with a long island iced tea and it is dangerously delicious. My mother wasn't sure what she thought of the bootlegger so she had to sample several of them to decide!

People were noticeably hesitant when told to go back inside and find their seats for dinner--why would we want to lose our view or place at the bar?! But grudgingly we went and were pleasantly surprised by the immediate wine service, not to mention places at a table with fun friends and seats near the band. The dinner started with a beautiful homegrown tomato salad with bocconcini (tiny balls of fresh mozzarella), basil oil, shaved radishes, and microgreens with a flavor of anise. It was honestly beautiful, and a perfect combination. I wonder just what homegrown meant, since I didn't see a garden on site with enough tomato plants to feed 200 person banquets every couple nights. I assume they meant local, and I love that concept, though unfortunately it was a bit early in the year for the multi-colored fruit, considering what a cool tomato season we've had so far. The most fun thing on the plate was a tiny, dark green, half-orb with white spots, which I first assumed was just a variety of heirloom tomato I'd never seen before, but it turned out to be a crisp cucumber! I was fastidious about getting a taste of each element on the plate in every bite, and yet I still managed to clean my plate first among my table-mates.

The main dish came next and included a generous halibut fillet encrusted with scallops and lightly drizzled with beurre blanc, seated next to green and yellow beans with baby carrots (the real baby carrots, not just the lathed down excuse for baby carrots found in a pre-packaged bag), and a potato gratin wrapped in brick pastry and topped with some sweet cooked tomatoes. I couldn't remember what brick pastry was when I first read the menu card, but it's much like phyllo--light and flaky and wonderfully crisp when cooked with the right amount of butter! The food was attractive and tasty if a bit overdone and underseasoned. It must be hard to manage perfection at such a high level for such a crowd, though! I don't mean to complain either--I managed to suffer through the plate and even found room for a slice of crusty seeded bread with butter--yum!

Dessert included a small triangle of flourless chocolate cake and a martini class full of fresh berries with lemon curd. It was a great crowdpleaser--even for my mother who stubbornly refuses to like, or even eat, chocolate. I even brought her to Switzerland twice and she won't convert. I know, I don't understand it either. But she felt included in the dessert even if she passed the cake to my dad. She made up for the lack in calorie consumption from cake by imbibing several glasses of champagne instead. Who wouldn't when they serve Veuve Clicquot to everyone!

The party was a hit. We all had a blast, though some maybe aren't enjoying themselves as much today! I always love weddings. And I laughed especially hard when the priest made a joke about what three things a woman sees as she first steps into the church--the aisle, the alter, and him. Not to be confused with the thought "I'll alter him". After sharing in such a beautiful event, I don't think Helen would alter a thing.

long time no sea

We did return from Australia, so why have I disappeared again? Well after we first returned I can safely blame Ella. You simply can't fool a baby into a time change. Especially not a 15 hour time change. She thought it would be fun to stay up eating and playing until after 2 am for days on end, and there was just no convincing her that it would be much more fun to sleep! That really through a wrench into the works. Then we were babysitting for a friend of the family's three kids for a week. That was a fun gig, but it meant being away from home for another week, only two days after we returned. 4th of July was thrown in there too. Then I immediately started teaching a cooking class, which was an absolute blast, but utterly exhausting.

I've been trying to get a cooking class for teens going for years and first I had trouble figuring out exactly how and where I wanted to do it. Then when I decided I wanted to go the community ed route I had trouble convincing people that food actually costs a fair amount of money. This is Minnesota people, food doesn't just grow on trees--at least not most of the year! Then along came West Suburban Summer Schools, the independent school district #287 summer school program for students who qualify for gifted and talented services. I gave it another try and luckily found a closet foodie in the administrative position. Teen Cuisine was finally born! All I had to do was write a curriculum and recipes! Yikes.

I'm not that bad at writing recipes, but I tend to avoid it. It's probably because I'm not a great recipe follower. I certainly can follow one--I know the rules and all--I just generally choose not to. I even used to think I couldn't bake. I didn't like it at all because it meant following recipes. You mess up the measurements in a batch of brownies and you could wind up with hockey pucks--no thanks. But one of the most valuable lessons I learned in culinary school was from the infamous Chef Michelle Gayer of the Salty Tart. She taught me the secret of flavor infusions. They are the answer to personalizing recipes in the pastry kitchen without altering a formula that works. Woohoo! I now LOVE baking. But I digress, we'll return to pastries later.

I decided that there was no way a student could learn how to make real food in the kitchen without using real knives. That is a terrifying thought to anyone who has ever worked in a public school, particularly at the middle school level. We are trained to think of knives in the hands of 8th graders as a dangerous thing, and for good reason I'd say, but I was adamant that they be allowed in my class. The only problem was that the kitchen classroom that we were using didn't seem to have any. Okay, I don't mind bringing mine from home, but that just adds more liability concerns. Here is where the support, or ignorance, of my supervisors definitely came in handy. We just got parents to sign waivers and away we cut! There are few greater ways to show your trust in a 13 year old than to hand them a recipe, a bag of groceries, and a 12 inch Santoku. It truly paid off too. I was thoroughly impressed with their excitement and enthusiasm as well as their quick grasp of new skills. We made about 25 recipes during the week long class, some multiple times, and they became quite fluent throughout the process.

I did learn about a weakness of mine, though. I have become intolerant of people who refuse to taste new foods. I know I used to do that myself, before I became a born-again-eater, and I cringe at the thought. I must now officially apologize to anyone reading this who may have once cooked food for me that I refused to eat, complained about, or made a face at. Why didn't you just throw me out? It is a repulsive personality characteristic that I have a very tough time accepting in people--including my past self. This is not to say that I like all foods equally. Personally I think broccoli only redeems is existence through its nutritional value. Liver, excepting foie grois, tastes just like sucking on a cut finger or a penny. I just don't fancy that metallic quality. But at least I've tried them! I can say these things through experience. And I can also safely say that I will graciously accept them if they are served to me again. Cooking is about sharing love. It is about giving and accepting personal gestures. It is about making people feel good. I hope I got that across in my class. And I hope I get a chance to teach it again--it's the best way to learn.

Here's a favorite recipe of mine--just to share some love with my readers. Semifreddo means "half cold" in Italian and is a simple ice cream that requires no churning. You can find gazillions of different recipes for it, but this is one of my favorites, as well as one of the simplest. Sabayonne is a traditional French dessert--a warm custard, which forms the base of this semifreddo. Any alcohol can be used, so don't be afraid--get creative!

Sabayonne Semifreddo

Serves 4-5

Ingredients:

2 egg yolks

2 oz. alcohol, such as white wine, champagne, marsala, etc.

2 oz. sugar

1 pint heavy cream

Directions:

Over low heat, or a simmering pot of water, whisk together egg yolks, alcohol, and sugar until they form a custard (the mixture should foam and expand, then thicken until it coats the back of a wooden spoon). Be careful not to let the eggs scramble, or curdle along the edges of the bowl. This is your sabayonne. Meanwhile, whip cream until it forms soft peaks. Fold together sabayonne and whipped cream. Transfer to individual molds and freeze until stiff (depending on your containers and the freezer, this part could take anywhere from 45 minutes to overnight). I suggest trying it on yourself before you make it for guests, so you can you make sure it's safe! When you do serve it, throw on some fresh berries--something we do manage to grow very well here in Minnesota--and enjoy!

Even Ella loves ice cream--and sharing it!

Love, Emily

cheerios

As we walked through the local grocery store in nearby Gympie my mother suddenly attacked me from behind saying, "here, take your daughter and her cheerio." It sounds harmless enough, but a cheerio in Aussieland is not a small oaty cereal, but rather a cocktail weenie stuffed into kool-aid red casing. num num. Well, Ella thought so, but my mother wasn't too thrilled with the idea of Ella devouring a cold sausage over her shoulder. Oh the things we learn when we travel.

My mom is slowly losing the deer-in-headlights look about her, and warming up to the pace of life here. We're now at David's house, by the way, which is in the clouds, literally. David is Chris's dad who bought 66 acres in the sunshine coast hinterland along with a beautiful, though quirky house; an "American barn" which doesn't seem remotely American to me, the silly American in town; a pool, though it's mostly empty apart from the goannas; a pond, or dam as they call ponds here; a small gum tree plantation; and any number of native critters. The daily routine here involves checking the water level on the multiple tanks that catch rain-water, starting a fire inside for warmth, starting a fire outside for fun, taking a walk down the driveway which doubles as a rally car race track, taking a bath or shower after the trek back up, checking the water level again, walking up the 4-wheel drive track to the bush lemon tree and the peak of the property (I must admit the lemon tree might be more enticing to me), having a drink, having another shower, checking the water levels again, having another drink by the fire, and going to bed. My mom and Chris get a little antsy, but personally I love the view of the macadamia plantation below us, just beyond the clay stove on the deck. I don't mind just sitting there and staring out for hours on end, so I guess it works for me up here, at least while I'm on holiday.

***

Okay, we just ate dinner, hence the *** interlude. I've also had a couple gin and tonics and several glasses of superb Australian Shiraz, so things might start to get a little hazy at this point. In fact, instead of writing any more, I think I will simply leave you with a few choice pics from the last couple days up here in hinterland and hope you might feel a touch of the sublime life that is lived here.

the view from the front deck of "The Moore Hilton: Hinterland Abode" (the dark trees in the middle are the macadamia plantation belonging to one of his neighbors)

even the kangaroos are cheeky here

Chris got tired at the beach, but luckily Ella came to his rescue

Chris is being silly and telling me that actually that's not the beach, it's the river. Hello, the water there is still salty. We still ate fish and chips there. There are still scary animals everywhere! It's totally the beach. Doesn't he know anything about this place?

woolamaboolama

Obviously I've been MIA for a while. Sometimes I feel bad about it, because I shouldn't have started this project if I couldn't have kept it up, right? But I do want to do this. I want to write. I want to find my voice, and learn how to project it. I just have a hard time saying no, that's the problem. Well, when it comes to anything that sounds like fun at least. Should we go for a drive? Yes. Should we play in the garden? Yes. Should we have a gin and tonic? Yes. Should I stop doing all of that and lock myself inside in front of a glowing box which constantly demands me to think? Gee, that doesn't sound like fun! Maybe if we got a router and I could play on the computer outside, maybe that would motivate me. We only just got internet about a year ago though, so I better not get ahead of myself here! I've already got a blog people, I'm climbing a steep learning curve! Oh well, I'm here again, so you know I'm not ready to give up yet.

Actually, I have been very busy. The end of the school year is always riddled with chaos, and on top of that, two days after it finished we hopped on a plane for 30ish hours of fun with a 14 month old. Chris, being from Australia, has lots of family in Australia. Actually all his family is in Australia. Chris's parents hadn't even met Ella yet. So we packed up her, a bag of diapers, several sippy-cups of milk, and my mother, to venture around the globe for a month of fun. And here I am now, coming to you live from the Sunshine Coast of Queensland.

It's winter here, but the funny thing is that it's pretty much the same as Minnesota weather at the moment, except sunnier. My mother keeps saying that all she needs is the beach, the veranda, and a beverage. The fact that we've been to the beach every day should tell you how awful it is in the miserable miserable place. Ella has decided that the waves are scary, but all she needs is the soft sand and some sunnies and she'll be 'right. Sarvo we ate snags and bickies while pushing Ella in the pram after a nap in the cot...oh sorry, you don't actually know what I'm talking about, do you? Welcome to my world.

Woolamaboolama is actually a nonsense word I made up when I was trying to remember the name of an Aussie town many years ago. All the names here have as many double letters, usually including at least one set of double o's, as possible, so it's not even that far fetched. Here are a couple examples of real towns in the immediate vicinity of our current location on the Sunny Coast.


Noosa.
Coolum.
Caboolture.
Maroochydore.
Mooloolaba.

See what I mean?



Here's the real shocker--my baby has become a Vegemite kid. Chris nearly included a line in our wedding vows requiring me to promise that I would always allow, if not encourage, our children to eat Vegemite. I fully agreed, as I have no concerns with it other than the fact that it tastes like concentrated bullion paste. Who wouldn't want that smeared over toast, honestly? I'll admit there are worse things in the world, though I'll tell you I didn't foresee the potency of the Vegemite diapers. Oh well. It happens to be "One of the world's richest known sources of Vitamin B", which one specifically I don't know, but it sounds healthy, that's for sure. Australians are big on winning national and even international competitions, so maybe I should be skeptical actually. There are bakeries on every corner here claiming to have the countries best meat pies. And I know you've been dying to eat meat pies coated in Vegemite! Seriously, if I hadn't given birth to Ella, you'd wouldn't know she was my kid, yet anyone off the street can glance in her direction and know she's Chris's. Too funny. In all seriousness though, I love that she looks like Chris, acts like Chris, eats like Chris, and is absolutely adorable, just like Chris. And if she winds up with his legs, that's a bonus. I wish Chris's family could spend time with her (and us) more often, but while it may not be a great quantity, there's no doubt that the time we're spending here now is quality. Let's just hope Ella doesn't end up with Chris's hair!


Ella and her gorgeous Gramdma, Dianne, in the hammock on the veranda

the easy gourmet

My mother always tells me never to say I'm easy.  But sometimes I can't help it.  I like things to be easy.  Don't get me wrong--I love a challenge.  But, there's something to be said for having a favorite sweater you can always throw on and feel comfortable and attractive in.  That's easy.  I also find I take the "easy" route when making dinner lately.  Pretty much ever since Ella became independently mobile.  If it's not easy, we'll wind up ordering pizza or eating way too much ice cream.  (Sometimes that happens anyway.)  Easy doesn't have to be boring, though.  Here are a few of my favorite sweaters I like to throw on in the kitchen, so to speak.  

Fresh greens with homemade salad dressing.  When I lived in Switzerland, my grandfather's cousin taught me how to make her signature vinaigrette.  I find it hard to match the ingredients exactly in the U.S., but with some tweaking, I've come up with an easy and delicious facsimile.  I whisk it into a bowl, pour any extra into a jar for later, then toss the greens in--voila!  Mache is my favorite green of late, or anything else fresh from the garden.  The key is in the vinegar. Trust me.  This salad works as a side dish, a topping or a main.  You can add anything you want to the salad and make it an entire meal too.  Go for some roasted chicken, mango, avocado and cashews.  So delicious.

Swiss dressing

kosher salt and fresh ground pepper, to taste

a few dashes of Maggi

1/2 t. dijon mustard

2 T. raw, unfiltered cider vinegar (such as Bragg's)

whisk first four ingredients together until frothy

3 T. olive oil

2-3 T. canola oil

slowly whisk oil into vinegar mixture until emulsified

Stir fry.  I know, it sounds lame, but when I discovered the fresh stir fry noodles in the produce section at Lunds, I was hooked.  I used to be a rice girl...not anymore.  I can't get enough of these.  They're cheap, and easy!!  What a combo.  I never use the seasoning packet, but with fresh garlic and ginger, you can make a killer sauce in a no time flat.  I love to add edamame and shitakes.  It's all about the right fresh ingredients adding real flavor.  Never buy baby carrots in a bag.  They're tough and slimy.  In fact, they're often just large carrots that have been lathed down to a tough core.  Organic carrots with green tops are cheaper and taste roughly a thousand times better.  I'm not making this up people.  You won't be sorry.  Oh, and pepper.  Use lots of pepper.

I would write more now, but I just realized dinner is ready.  Chris got off early tonight and ismaking it.  That's the best, and easiest meal there is!  Tell me what you like, and I'll find some good recipes that fit.  What's in your garden?  Do you have anything in your kitchen you don't know how to use?  Just ask...I do love that kind of challenge!!!

go buffs!

Remember when I mentioned our million or so tomato seedlings? Well this weekend we dug into the garden and got them going. Ella helped a lot by riding in the wheelbarrow and digging in the dirt.

We sowed 30 plants ourselves, gave 20 to my parents, gave 40 or 50 to my friend Cassandra and still have gazillions left, roughly. I am so excited about them I can't wait. I think our next door neighbors can wait though, since they like yards to contain only beautiful things, and we like our yard to contain mostly edible things. It doesn't help that the only strong sun we get is in the front, so that's where the tomato plants found a home. But get this, we planted five different heirloom varieties. The Carbon tomato, and purply-red variety; Dad's Sunset, a bright orange one; the Great White, which supposedly has a tropical, guava-like flavor; the good old Red Grape; and the one I'm most excited about--the Beauty King, a large striped type. Oh yum. I can practically taste the caprese salads right now. I can just see the sandwiches, the salads, the salsas, the snacks and more. And those are just the tomatoes. We also planted orange bell peppers, chocolate bell peppers (they sounded way too interesting to pass up), zucchini, lady finger carrots, st. valery carrots, fennel, fava beans, soy beans, mache, mesclun salad greens, beets, silverbeet, and peas. Later this summer we'll plant sugar-snap peas and brussels sprouts too. And Cassandra's mom graciously agreed to donate her canning supplies to Cassandra, which I know we'll also benefit from!!! Oh heaven. I know veggies don't get everyone excited, but I can't help it. Living through our frigid winters when no fresh produce at the grocery store is actually very fresh, and certainly not local, I just can't wait to stop using Centrum to get my phytonutrients.

yikes

I am so woefully behind on my blog that it's getting to the point when I ponder "fold laundry and drink a gin and tonic, or blog?" The sad thing is, I'd usually rather fold laundry! Work has hit high gear lately; it always does at this time of the year. Concert season, recruiting season, spring-itis season. I would apologize for not writing more often, but at this point, I don't think anyone regularly follows my blog, so I guess it is just an exercise to keep me writing. I even have to prompt my husband to visit the blog. Oh dear. Can I use the word woeful more than once in the same blog? Speaking of which, do you ever find that certain people have certain words? I love that my Fargoian friend, Cassandra, uses the expression "hosed-up" for anything that's gone awry. It does bug me a bit that she pronounces harass like "hair-iss," and bison like "bizon." I guess it helps though that she says them that way with such conviction. And it doesn't hurt that she drives me to work a lot and often buys me brownies. Oh yeah, did I mention that I love Cassandra?

When he first moved to America, Chris used the word "pedantic" all the time. I mean, he couldn't go six hours without using it. I can't even think of an example of how he used it. He just did--all the time. It was funny to me, since I had probably never spoken the word before meeting him. I would chuckle every time he said it, and now I miss the fact that he's given up one of his favorite words. Maybe he stopped using it because the kids he taught didn't understand it--yeah, let's go with that theory.

Now I'm trying to think what my word is. I once wrote an essay on the fact that I lack obsessions and felt bad about it. I am deeply enthusiastic about many things, but I don't obsess. I don't realize I love goat cheese and then decide to buy a different kind every time I go to the grocery store. I don't wash my sheets every Friday night. I don't even have to sleep on the same side of the bed, though I do prefer whichever side is closest to the bathroom. I don't work out very often, or very hard. I don't care about cars. Man, I'm starting sound boring! I bet I have favorite words or expressions though. So, if anyone who knows me is reading this--what are they? I'd love to know! Thanks.

three is the magic number

My mother always says that everything happens in threes. I know that isn't original wisdom, but for someone to live so long (sorry Mama) and keep saying it, it must be true.

The last entry was made after a long and unusually hard week at work. The last two weeks have put that one to shame. You see, Chris has been battling gastrointestinal issues (sorry again) several times this year and we kept thinking it must be food poisoning, because no one else would get it, and it would only last a couple days, then disappear again. It did seem odd to us that he had previously been very healthy and doesn't fit into any at-risk category (unless you could count the fact that he's an alien--one of his favorite American legal terms). But we are not alarmists when it comes to our health. In fact, we both enjoy going out, seeing people, and generally being part of the action so much that we will often hide our ailments until it becomes impossible. This time it became impossible. I ended up calling our dear neighbor friends who send their baby to Chris for daycare and taking off work myself to watch Ella and tend to Chris. I would ask him his specific symptoms, but he would just moan (ala Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally) and say something like "It feels like there are small monsters with pointy sticks living in my belly". It didn't seem life threatening. I couldn't find a sub for work on Thursday, so I had to take Ella to a meeting. Then on Friday I took another day off without a sub, so I went in for full band rehearsal and pawned Ella off on my dad for an hour or so. I was looking forward to my brother Evan coming in from Austin, TX that night, so I was feeling rather light when I got the call from Chris that went something like this "Um, I think I need to go to the hospital". Oh goody. So Ella and I went to pick him up at home right away and found him hunched over like a 90 year old man. The ER is always fun, especially with a hungry baby and a miserable husband. It turned out that he was actually having an appendicitis that had been flaring up on and off for some time, and needed that baby out. Things got much better when they got him on the morphine drip, though. And to prove how crazy he is about hiding his ailments, he actually wanted me to take him REI for the family sale the day he got out of the hospital. Yeah right sweety.

That's one.

I realized I needed to take some more days off of work, since Chris wasn't allowed to pick Ella up, but I didn't realize I'd need to make multiple trips to the hospital. On the following Monday, my grandmother fell late at night and broke her pelvis. My dad took her to the ER, where she was admitted for a couple days before being sent to rehab where she'll now stay for a couple weeks. We brought Ella to the rehab center to say hi and she was a big hit with the lovely lady sharing a room with Grammy. Man babies are good at working a crowd! Though we were very worried about my grandmother's physical and emotional state at this point, she proved herself young at heart by being most concerned over the fact that she hadn't grabbed her compact when she left for the hospital. How was she going to powder her nose now!?

That's two.

My mom has also been battling some health issues and had a scheduled in-patient procedure at the same hospital the same week. Though hers was less eventful, and at least didn't start with a trip to the ER, it still counts. It totally counts. There's no way I can stomach another hospital visit.

That's three.

I feel bad for Evan too. Here he comes home for vacation, away from work, his first trip to the twin cities in about a year, and he gets stuck taking care of people and running errands the whole week. But he's always good at making people laugh. And I think he got in a little extra basketball watching on the TV while he was here, so it couldn't have been all bad. I wish the week had been less eventful for his sake, but it was sure nice having him here during it all.

We had three, which means we're done, right? God I hope so. But here's another number to think about that I can base a future entry on--270. It's the number of heirloom tomato seedlings we currently have under a grow light. We're willing to donate. Any takers? Cheers.

tubamaba? obomaboe? saxomaphone?

One of the most fun, and also most harrowing weeks of my year has just passed. 4th grade teachers and parents dread it. Music staff block it out of their memories. 4th graders themselves cannot sleep with sheer anxiety, thinking of what's to come.
5TH GRADE BAND RECRUITMENT! dun dun dun...

Here's a general script of what I did roughly 175 times last week.

Me: (grinning with enthusiasm) Hi Billy, I'm Mrs. Moore, the band director. I hear you want to try some band instruments!
Billy: (shyly, yet mischievously grinning back) Uh-huh!
(we take a seat in front of a table covered in dozens of shiny new instruments)
Me: (looking over Billy's information card) I see you played the guitar for two months. Was that recently?
Billy: (glancing at mom) Not really.
Me: (smile turning more plasticy by the second) But you want to play drums or saxophone. And you don't have any piano experience. Would you like to try any other instruments while you're here...maybe the baritone or tuba???
Billy: Not really.
Me: (eyes getting wider to add emphasis) You know we don't really have a drum section--in band we have a percussion section--and percussion and saxophone are the most competitive sections in the whole band. You might want to think about trumpet or clarinet while you're here--we can never have too many of those! You could also try some string instruments--there's always room in the orchestra!
Billy: (shaking head) Nah.
Me: Okay, let's start with the bells, then the clarinet, and we can branch out from there if you want.
Billy: Uh, okay.
Me: (pointing at the song "Hot Cross Buns" on the music stand in front of the bells) So Billy, do you know what note this song starts on?
Billy: Uuuuuuuuuuh...an A?
Me: Close--it's a D.
Billy: Oh yeah, a D.
Me: You know the tune "Hot Cross Buns", right? Can you play this for me? I'll show you the first three notes.
Billy: Okay. (he plays the first three notes I showed him and stops)
Me: Remember Billy, you have two instruments to practice in the 5th grade percussion section, so you have to practice every song twice! And do you really love that high-pitched ringing sound from the bells?
Billy: (shrugging) Yeah, it's okay.
Me: Right, keep that in mind then, and we'll go try the clarinet. (eyes discretely rolling as we walk back to the table)
The clarinet is kind of like the recorder you play in general music class, and it's the gateway instrument of the woodwind section, so if you like this at all, it's a much better instrument to start on than the saxophone. I've even set it up right now so you can just make the sound and I'll work the keys.
(Billy makes a nice sound, and I play a fast scale pattern that sounds truly impressive to the average 4th grader's parent)
(smile back in full force) Wow Billy--that sounded amazing!
Billy: (sitting back with satisfied smile) Yeah, thanks.
Me: Should we try the trumpet next?
Billy: Okay, but what about the saxophone?
Me: Let's try the trumpet.
Here's how you buzz on the mouthpiece to make a sound on a brass instrument. (quick demo)
Now you try it, Billy.
Billy: (attempts buzzing, but looks more like he's trying to send steam out his ears. laughing now, he says...) I can't do it.
Me: Sure you can, Billy, it'll just take a minute.
Billy: It's hard, can I try the saxophone now?
Me: Okay Billy, let me get one. (secretly looking for the one with the most destroyed reed)
Now blow really hard on this one--like you're blowing out your birthday candles.
Billy: (turning red in the face and making a loud, uncontrolled honking sound, much like a goose) Wow, that's cool--I LIKE it!
Billy's Mom: (finally getting off the phone) Do you want to try the French Horn, Billy? I love that one.
Billy: Nah. I like saxophone.
Me: (in desperation now) Do you want to try anything else?
Billy: No. I want saxophone. That's cool!
Me: (searching for understanding in mom's face) And it's okay with your mom?
Billy's mom: (looking right past me to Billy) Sure honey, it's your decision, whatever you want!
Me: Oh goody, welcome to band!

Okay, obviously that scenario didn't happen every time (though it seemed at times that I would never get a tuba player), but it's not that far from the truth. I love recruitment because I get to help students pick something that engages them in an aesthetic education in a completely new way for most of them. It is thrilling and rewarding. But it is also stressful and exhausting. My colleagues and I worked twelve hour days all week to get every interested 4th grader in, and I still had 17 voicemails this morning from parents who "hadn't made it to try instruments--when can you fit us in?" Right, I do actually teach most days. And with spring concerts only four rehearsals away, panic is not far off either. I just keep reminding myself how lucky I am to have a job that still excites me. That makes me feel like I am doing something worthwhile. That makes me feel that I am worthwhile. I am so fortunate. And though I joke about the students, I owe so much to them. I have always wanted to be a teacher--to share something I can do with others. To continue learning. To make connections. And I am inspired by my students to do those things every day. Now, if I could just get some of those saxophones to switch to tuba!

Dick and Jane Return

Ella had a birthday.
Ella turned one.
Ella is growing up.
Mama can't believe it!


28 years ago yesterday I was born, and all day long I was thinking, "gee, now I know what my mother was doing 28 years ago!" Ella turned one on March 24th, and my birthday last year paled so dramatically by comparison to hers that it almost drifted past without anyone noticing. I just can't imagine anything as powerful as the emotional tug a child has over his or her parent. I remember eagerly awaiting her (well, at the time-it's) arrival. I remember having her room ready with a crib and changing table, slowing filling it with clothes and toys we were given, and imagining her filling it with her personality. For the longest time I just couldn't figure out how to decorate the room, and since it was a plain white room with wood floors, it was a thrilling blank canvas which to create a whole new baby world! Chris and I aren't much for themes or official color schemes (we even chose different flowers for everyone in our wedding party, much to the chagrin of our florist) but we still wanted something special and intentional. We thought neutral colors would be best, since we didn't know if we were having a boy or girl, and because they are calming. Chris always gives me a hard time about pretending to love all colors equally yet always buying things in green, so instead of pretend-arguing about it, we chose green as an accent color, painting a wide horizontal stripe of it around the room. But we still couldn't figure out what to hang on the walls. It's a small room, with two windows and two doors, so hanging the beautifully hand-made quilts we were given didn't fit, plus we wanted to use them. Framed posters or photos seemed contrived and too grown up, and baby directed art seemed contrived and too hokey. Then we had a breakthrough.


I'm not much for antiquing, but there's a fantastic antique store in Minneapolis called Hunt and Gather that I happen to love. I have found everything there from an Elmer Fudd hat for my baby brother Erik, to a rocking chair for my hubby. I had a feeling I could at least find something inspirational there for a nursery. Sure enough, Chris and I went looking and stumbled upon authentic antique Dick and Jane flash cards. There was a wide bowl full of them on the floor--not the best place for a giant pregnant lady to browse, but with Chris' help, a worthwhile place to venture. There we dug and dug until we found the perfect combinations of words for three wall-hangings. We superimposed them over beautiful hand-made paper, which is of course green, framed the three groups, and hung them with striped green ribbon from the picture rail in Ella's room. They had the perfect balance of adult and child-like touches and fit in the room! Every day and night when I sit in the rocking chair feeding Ella, I look at them and feel pleased with the calm, yet whimsical touch they add to the room. It seems even more exciting now as Ella is really starting to talk. I can't wait to one day hear her read them out loud to me. My mother even got Ella a board book set of Dick and Jane, but I must say, as much as I love the art, the stories leave a lot to be desired!

Global Warming, Global Shmorming

Here in the Arctic North we know that global warming doesn't exist. It just man-made propaganda to sell more "green" technologies and products. In fact we've got proof: on April 1st it snowed right here in our hometown. It gusted and flurried, sleeted and accumulated. Obviously if there was such a thing as global warming we would all be wearing swim suits right now instead of Sorels. Right?

Okay, so I'm a little late for an April Fools Day joke, but this whole global warming debate does get annoying. Ever heard it called Climate Change instead? Maybe it's because I'm married to an Australian, who grew up under the hole in the ozone, that I am more concerned than some of my neighbors. Anyway, enough serious stuff. We got so sick of the crummy weather that we decided to pretend it didn't exist and plant seeds for our garden! Don't worry, they will live safely under a grow light for some time yet. But within hours they were already sprouting--how hope-inspiring is that!?! We bought a whole mess of heirloom seeds from the Baker Creek Heirloom Seed Company, which is truly amazing--you must check it out! We started with 5 types of tomatoes, a couple peppers, some carrots, peas, soybeans, fava beans, fennel, zucchini, five color silverbeet (aka. Swiss chard), mesclun mix, and spicy micro greens. We have more seeds to plant later in the season too, these were just the ones that needed that helping hand to get started. It makes me so excited to think of going out into the garden with Ella and picking our dinner! I think that growing anything edible is a huge motivator in the kitchen. Even if all you can handle is a basil plant in the window, go for it--you'll at least have the best pesto in town!

I'll update as things grow and we actually get to taste these deliciousnesses. It'll be fun to pull together some fresh ideas for our fresh veggies!

Ella's ready to get the heck out of dodge

Red Grape Tomatoes, Dad's Sunset Orange Tomatoes, and Chocolate Peppers

Our little sprouties have sprouted!

solo date night

Ella's been teething lately, at least we think so, which means getting her to sleep through the night is unheard of. Last night she did pretty well, but she's also a nap-resister. Big time. So today she slept some in the car, and that was it. She only just went to bed for the night too, and I'm hoping she might even stay asleep until the morning, and I do mean that literally--like anything after midnight. I just dropped Chris and Elliot off at a scotch tasting event at The Muddy Pig in St. Paul and my dad's going to pick them up later, so I am already indulging! I thought about calling a friend to come hang out, and then I thought I'd rather not have to share my New Glarus Wisconsin Belgian Red. Oh yum. Yesterday I ate some Wisconsin cheese (I'm blanking on the name of it at the moment; maybe Sartori or something???) that was aged in the New Glarus Raspberry Tart Ale and it was delicious, but I decided today I'd rather drink my beer than eat it. Wisconsin has an amazing selection of beer that is not distributed in Minnesota, New Glarus being one. I just love it when my brothers have to drive through Wisconsin and, of course, load up the car on the way through. And to top it all off Chris gave me an early birthday present, one of my favorite movies--Danny Deck Chair! Perhaps the guilt of going to a scotch tasting sans wife and baby was eating him up a bit. And though I feel a touch lame saying it, I can't wait to curl up in bed surrounded by just-out-of-the-dryer laundry to fold, my glass of red, maybe even some ice cream later on, and my movie. Anyway, sorry this is so short, but I better get started!

frugal foodies

This week has been busy, and though we're now on spring break (thank you thank you thank you, finally!) we've still got a lot on our plates (pun intended), which is why sometimes it's just easier, and occasionally even cheaper, to eat out!

If you haven't been to McCormick and Schmick's happy hour than you have no idea how incredible a burger can be. It's not really that the burger is the best I've had, though I do love it's simplicity and the fact that it is consistently well-prepared (never a touch more than medium rare), but it's the fact that it costs the same as a bottle of pop from a vending machine that really makes it stand out. The value is incredible! It's brilliant really--the minimum drink order of $2.50 is always covered by at least one $5 beer, maybe two if the mood strikes, so the establishment certainly doesn't lose money on the deal. And boy does it draw a crowd.
On our most recent trek to the $1.95 1/2 lb. burger and fries meal we were sad to find the bar completely full. It's happened before, but with a hungry Ella in tow, waiting for the office party to clear out wasn't appealing. Luckily we didn't find ourselves waiting long because an incredibly kind and thoughtful manager took pity on us and set us up in a secret corner of the dining room. We felt like royalty. Which brought back to my memory the night of our wedding. Well, not really our wedding, just our marriage. What's the difference, you ask? Well, we had to legally get married before our wedding because of issues with Chris' visa. Marrying an immigrant is no easy task, so it's a good thing he's really cute! The night we legally got married we wanted to celebrate, but without making too big a deal. My dad had called for a reservation at McCormick and Schmick's downtown and we showed up sporting nice clothes and giant grins. The host took our name and my mother's arm before showing us to our table. He commented to her on how happy we all looked and asked if we were celebrating something. When she told him that indeed we were celebrating something quite special he acted shocked. (They probably don't get a lot of 5 member wedding parties). Then when he handed me the menu he played it so cool it took me a moment to realize that plastered across the top it said "McCormick and Schmick's would like to congratulate Chris and Emily on their wedding day, May 18th, 2005". My dad had no idea either, even though he had given them that information on the phone! Throughout the night staff members congratulated us, surprised us with special treats and drinks, and truly made the night a grand memory for us. To be honest, I rarely rave about chains, but this restaurant does what many chains fail to do--they hire and train their staff to sincerely care about the their job, and the people they serve. The staff, as far as I can tell, are taught the rules, but are also encouraged to use their own judgement, because sometimes breaking rules is better for everyone. And I promise you, we will go back!

Earlier tonight we went to the Midtown Global Market with my dad and brother Elliot. It's a fun, urban, multicultural approach to the food court. Where else can you buy a Halal lamb shank, then turn around and buy Swedish rice pudding? They often have live music, and the market happens to contain Michelle Gayer's Salty Tart, the bakery that reminds us all why we have taste buds. But tonight we were headed for La Sirena Gorda, aka. The Fat Mermaid, for seafood tacos. I say seafood, not fish, because they also offer calamari, and their specialty, octopus. The recipe, I was told, comes from Acapulco, and is called "The octopus of love". It was incredible! Tender and flavorful, I truly fell in love with it. It cost slightly more than the aforementioned happy hour burger, but it was still affordable at under $10! I love deals like that. Even though I shared some of my saffron rice, beans, and tortillas with Ella, I still feel stuffed. The only down side of the evening came when Chris started to take pictures and was quickly stopped by a security guard. Apparently they want everyone to come see it for themselves--so go!

jeans and pudding

I have a favorite pair of jeans. Most people do, right? But I’m usually more of a funky-green-chinos-that-don’t-fit-well-but-suit-my-personality kind of girl, so this may be surprising to some of you. My outrageously faddy, though not remotely fatty, brother and sister in law helped me pick them out in Australia 5 years ago. They are the softest denim ever, even straight out of the wash. They are loose through the legs, super low rise, and snug in the butt (a quality I need to look for in pants more often according to the French woman who helped me in the dressing room). “I see zee problem…you have no butt.” She said so kindly. So these jeans are perfect. Just one problem—in Australia I wasn’t working. I was cooking instead. And eating. By the end of my six month stay there I was unable to button the jeans without the risk of a hernia! I’ve had brief periods in my life since when they fit, but more when they didn’t. Of course having Ella didn’t do much for me in the snug-butt-jeans department. But miracle of miracles—they fit again! Which leads me to constantly wonder if I’ve broken a seam without realizing it and people are just too scared to point it out to me. Oh well. I warned Chris when he married me that I would probably get fat and at some point in my life never return from it. I never want to be the kind of person who plans their life around their appearance. I wouldn’t be any good at it. It’s been several years since I bought a tube of mascara, so I think I’m pretty hopeless in that department anyway. Instead I want to cook and eat what I want, stay active in ways that suit my life (which does not mean 6am body pump) and hope that the happiness radiating through me will keep me in decent enough shape that I might be able to wear those jeans at some point again. And if not, I’m okay with that too.

Here’s a favorite recipe from Australia which probably contributed to my pants-issues. I also like to make this one for friends when they’ve just had a baby and the extra calories are the last thing on their radar. The flavor is heavenly and after you eat this cake you don’t need to use chap-stick for a few days! Haagen Dazs recently came out with an ice cream flavor made after this delicious dessert and they did pretty well, but nothing beats the real thing. Dig in!

Sticky Toffee Pudding…
(sorry for the Aussie measurements, I'm just too lazy to convert right now)
cake ingredients:
170 g dates, stoned and chopped
1 t baking soda
300 ml boiling water
60 g unsalted butter
3/4 c brown sugar
2 eggs
170 g self-rising flour
1/2 t pure vanilla extract
sauce ingredients:
200 g brown sugar
1/2 c heavy cream
250 g butter
1/2 vanilla bean, split
directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and butter an 8" square cake pan. Mix dates and baking soda, pour boiling water over mixture, and let stand.
Cream butter and sugar, then add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each. Folk flour in gently, then stir in date mixture and vanilla and pour into prepared pan. Bake for 30-40 minutes until cooked when tested with a skewer.
To make the sauce, bring all ingredients to a boil (be sure to scrape vanilla seeds into the pan and let the bean boil in there as well). Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove vanilla bean. Pour a little sauce over warm cake and return it to oven for 2-3 minutes so sauce soaks in. Cut cake (pudding) into squares and serve with extra sauce.
note:
I often bake the cake most of the way, pour sauce over it, then let it cool and reserve it for later. When I'm ready to serve it I just pour extra sauce over, bake it a bit more and serve with more sauce! Yumtastic!

birthday city!

Grampy, post onion rings

We've had a weekend full of birthdays here. My grandfather turned 87 on Saturday, my grandmother turned 92 today (!) and Ella is turning 1 tomorrow. We tried to get Ella to join us a little earlier so that she could have the same birthday as her great grandmother, but she wasn't having it. It's okay, it's cool that hers is unique. My grandma might even remember Ella's birthday this way too, which would be pretty special since she continually forgets my mother's. For the first several years of my mother's life she actually celebrated on her due date instead of on my mom's actual birthday. Yikes. And my mom's birthday is cool too since it's the same as Elvis', a fact she likes to boast about, though never without also pointing out that it wasn't the same year! My mom is actually far more like Priscilla than Elvis when it comes to her ageless look.

Ella and her Nanamimilalatutululunoni, and cake

My grandpa's name is Ray and my grandma's name is Mae. When they got married she apparently emphasized the words in an interesting way when she said "I, Mae, take Ray." It came out more like "I may take Ray." He especially likes to tell that story. And he loves the fact that my mother's name is Alison Mae, I am Emily Mae, and Ella is Ella Mae. It's a good thing my grandmother wasn't named something like Josephine; that would have never worked.

Birthday girl Grammy

When we asked what they wanted to do to celebrate their birthdays they said "we don't want dinner or anything fancy, just get us onion rings from our favorite restaurant!" Ella also got to dig into a carrot cake, which she liked as much for the taste as for the attention it garnered. She probably had more sugar this weekend than in the rest of her entire life! In fact, the next night when we offered her ice cream for the first time, she really wasn't interested. Instead she followed Nanamimilalatututlulunoni (or should I say Charlie) into the kitchen and asked for some cheese. I love that girl.

Ella thinks she struck gold

you can leave your hat on

Ella got a new hat and I think it's cute.

Chris also took some cute pictures of her nakedness peering over the tub before her bath, but they didn't turn out. Sorry to let you down with a great title and only fully clothed pictures.

nanamimilalatutululunoni vs. mummum

Okay, I'm a bad mother. I accidentally left "Ne-ne" at my parents house. Ella and I stopped over there this afternoon and we had Ne-ne with us (aka. Nellie), but I forgot to grab her when we left (I also almost forgot Hobart, but shhh). I think I leave something there every time we visit. Nellie is, of course, Ella's stuffed Koala (thank you Uncle Jason!). The thing she carries, calls, and cuddles day and night. I was afraid I'd have to drive her over there in her sleeper to get it or bed would be out of the picture, but clearly, as I'm now writing, I managed to get her to sleep without marsupial aide.

Ella and Nellie

And old photo of Ella and Hobart vying for Nanamimilalatutululunoni's attention, and lap space

So the other crisis is that my mother has no name. Well, actually she has a lovely name, Alison, but she can't decide on a name for Ella to call her. It's the first time in her life she gets to pick her own name and she seems to be overwhelmed by the power in her hands. Nana isn't her favorite because of the association it holds with bananas. I think they're a wonderful, versatile, and nutritious fruit, but my mom has never liked them. Argh. Mimi doesn't work because it's already been done--I think she sees it as one of those trends that she just can't support, like slap-bracelets or Rachel Ray. Lala is a personal favorite of mine, because I think it most accurately captures her personality, but she's been bullied out of that one by my dear brothers who think it makes her sound a little crazy. Tutu, ala Obama's grandmother, is a favorite of hers, but we all think that sends the wrong message to a toddler (not to mention a teenager)! The list goes on and the debate continues. We keep telling her to just pick something because Ella's starting to talk and thinks my mom is the coolest thing on earth, but doesn't know what to call her. Meanwhile, my mom thinks I'm sending "mixed messages" because I refer to myself as "Mama" while Chris calls me "Mum". He can't help it. It honestly sounds ridiculous when he tries to say "Mama". Like one of those computer voices from the 80's. So I've become "Mum-mum". I can deal with it. It's actually seriously cute. And I call my mother "Nanamimilalatutululunoni". That's a bit of a mouthful for Ella though. Chris thinks that maybe we should just call her "Charlie" and tell her she missed her chance. Any ideas?

good work mama

So things are tense at work right now. Budgets are being cut left and right and being an elementary band director, though tenured, is not the most secure position to be in. Reflecting on my life choices is only natural at a time like this, and I think especially of the advice my mother gave me...that I didn't follow. I shouldn't really call it advice though, she gave me 5 rules the men I dated had to follow, and I chose one who broke them all.

1. He must have brown eyes, since she has brown eyes and none of her four children do. She damn well deserves a brown eyed grandbaby at least!

2. He must be from Minnesota, so he'd never take me away from her. Oops, Queensland is almost Minnesota, right?

3. He must not be a musician.

4. He must not be a teacher. I majored in music education and she knew I wouldn't make a fortune out of that degree alone!

and 5. (this one's my favorite) He must have a slow metabolism, so that when I get old and fat I won't be mad at him for being able to eat as much as he wants and still stay thin.

So instead of heeding my mother's warning, I married a blue-eyed Australian saxophone player and teacher who has the metabolism of a teenager on the swim team. But underneath it all I think that my mom really wanted me to marry someone like her. Someone who thought I was a real gem. Someone who thought my choice to be a music teacher, who happened to have green eyes and a full belly, was a good thing. And I did that. I learned a lot from my mother. That's why I married Chris. Good work Mama.

what a weekend

Something funny happens to Minnesotans when the temperature rises above 40 degrees. And that's Fahrenheit for all you Aussies. People start running around in shorts and sandals, or if you're my brother Elliot, a bathrobe and slippers. We spread picnic blankets on the asphalt, since there's still snow on the grass, and bask in the sun. We switch to Maibocks, wheat beers, and lagers. It's practically summer after all!

So here's a photo of me giving Elliot a haircut in front of my parents house. It was a gorgeous day and Elliot truly was in his bathrobe and slippers, even though it was 3pm. I love the fact that there's not a trace of green on the tree behind us, yet we're acting like it's May! Ella so desperately wanted to walk on the tiny wet patch of grass poking through the piles of icy snow, that Chris actually took off her socks and let her go for it. She wound up deciding the blanket was a better bet.

On Saturday night we got together with our good friends the Gels for some laughs. Mostly over our brood of babies. Dave and Jen have twin girls, Abby and Lily, just five weeks older than Ella. They are a gorgeous, hilarious family and you can check them out here. As talented as that family is, I think the greatest accomplishment of the night was getting two assembled pack-and-plays into our bedroom, which is only 12' x 10' and already has a queen size bed and two dressers in it. Yes, I earn my domestic goddess status for that one.

pollyanna

It's time to watch Pollyanna again. The weather is still cold, Ella still isn't sleeping well, I still need to lose 10 pounds...but, what's that you say Pollyanna? You're glad that the sun is shining? You're glad that I get to spend those extra minutes with Ella (even if they are in the middle of the cold, dark night)? You're glad that I don't have to spend money on new clothes? Yeah, me too! hmmm.

Well I'm trying. It's that time of year again. Chris asks me every few days why it is we live in the arctic north, which I'll admit I sometimes wonder myself when I have to scrape my windshield yet again. The students at school are getting both antsy and droopy from lack of outdoor exercise. And Ella has a cold. It must be rough to have an entirely full nose that you don't even know how to blow! Poor thing. I guess I should be glad at least that it hasn't hit me yet...I say as I knock a few times on my noggin! A trip to the Y tomorrow morning won't kill me either. Maybe next week I'll have a real excuse to go shopping! I'd be glad for that!

Any time now spring, we're ready for ya'.

baby food

Ella's happy food face

As Ella nears her first birthday I realize she eats better than most people 10, 20, even 30 times her age. Tonight for dinner she had potatoes mashed with mache and egg yolk, with chunks of fresh pear on the side. The pear was so ripe and juicy that it didn't need any cooking, even though she has roughly 3 millimeters of tooth to eat it with! I know in a way I'm lucky that she likes food. That she was born with an adventurous palate. But I also feel like it can't all be luck. It must matter that I ate varieties of whole foods while I was pregnant. The fact that I make her food can't hurt either. Seasonal, organic fruits and vegetables taste so much better than jarred mush that she can't help but start her culinary life happy. I've found a few combinations that are staples for her and for us on those days when cooking from scratch sometimes seems impossible:
--The mashed potatoes with egg yolks are great tasting and you can add cheese and/or any pureed vegetable you want. I usually make enough to last for 3 days.
--Baby Christmas Pudding (my baby-friendly take on an Australian speciality) which includes prunes, dried apricots, and raisins stewed with a vanilla bean, then pureed and mixed with cinnamon and cardamon. This is not only delicious, it's packed with nutrients, keeps babies regular, and mixes well with yogurt and fruit purees or can be spread on toast.
--Ground turkey or chicken breast cooked with cumin and turmeric. This not only tastes fantastic (seriously I have to keep it away from Chris), it is full of protein and the naturally healing properties of turmeric.
I could go on for ages, but there's a good start. Don't be afraid to try some of these ideas and to add new twists. They take no time at all and are well worth the effort. The only thing Ella won't eat so far is avocado, and trust me, I'll keep trying! Dig in!

Ella's not-so-happy avocado face. hee hee.

what's on the menu

Well, here goes. My first blog entry. My first blog!
Come enjoy what's cooking...

Ella went to bed just over an hour ago, we're in the midst of a dizzying winter storm, and dinner is on the stove. I'd love to say I'm cooking something deeply romantic and cozy, like cassoulet or boeuf bourguignon, but I'm cooking for Chris, and it's his request. As delicious as this meal is, he'll never get a cookbook deal just because of the title! Tonight we'll be dining on "Chicken Chris Surprise!"
Chris invented this one-dish-meal while living in his shoebox size apartment in Paris. He shared a community kitchen down the hall powered by the most unrealiable fusebox known to man. He lived on a floor with people from China, Italy, England, France, and god-forbid--Tasmania!
Chicken Chris Surprise is a comfort food designed to feed a man with a serious metabolism. A Foodie on a budget. An Aussie living in Paris. Or Minnesota.
So what exactly is Chicken Chris Surprise? I know you're dying to know. It's a braised dish of lardon (bacon), merguez (spicy sausage), chicken, potatoes, peppers, onions or leeks, herbes de Provence, and wine. When it's nearly done, creme fraiche is swirled in to pull everything together in a creamy cloud of goodness (there wasn't nearly enough fat in the dish before). Not the prettiest dish, but seriously delicious.
Speaking of which, it's calling me with it's rich earthy aroma. I'm hungry--gotta' run!