Archive for November, 2009

I can’t believe I married a man who does not like mushrooms. You know how relationships have deal breakers… this one is cutting it close.

Isn’t EVERYTHING better with mushrooms?

CRAZY GOOD MUSHROOM RISOTTO

4 cups chicken broth

2 tbsp olive oil

15 ounces of mushrooms approximately

1 shallot diced

1 cup Arborio rice

1/3 cup white wine

2 tbsp chives chopped

2 tbsp and 2 tsp butter

3 tbsp fresh Parmesan cheese

salt and pepper

In sauce pan warm broth over a low heat

Heat 2 tbsp of olive oil in a large sauce pan, stir in mushrooms and cook until soft, about 3 minutes.  Remove mushrooms and their liquid – set them aside.

Add on tbsp of oil to pan, and cook shallots for 1 minute.

Add rice and toast until pale and sandy feeling.

Add wine, and stir until absorbed.

Add 1/2 cup of chicken stock, stir until absorbed.

Add the remaining chicken stock 1/2 cup at a time until each one has absorbed into the rice. About 20 mins.

Remove from heat, add mushrooms, butter and Parmesan cheese.

Salt and pepper to taste.

*Note to self

Clive Owen is not a deal breaker…  I bet you he likes mushrooms…

I spent Sunday trying to get a lot of things taken care of and feeling like i accomplished nothing. The house is no cleaner, the laundry is still in a pile and I have been carrying around a new book in my purse for four days.

I have read the first paragraph twice.

Once before falling asleep on Friday, and the second time while hiding in the bathroom.

I had 10 seconds of privacy…

I love new books… I could spend hours in a book store adding to my collection of unread and re-read titles.  The newest ones always get ‘purse time”. They become my travel buddy,  for those imaginary moments of free time.

I think it’s an old habit i picked up from my university days riding on the sky train pre i-pod.

Carrying around a disk-man just wasn’t practical- even if you had the expensive ‘no-skip’ one – it STILL skipped, and no pocket big enough could hold it.

But i digress… what’s new?

Sunday…

Finally, after errands and coffee, I managed to leave the hubby and a sleeping baby in the car and run into the supermarket with Miss Olivia. We gathered the few items needed for dinner and the odd box of cookies -because you never know when you will need a cookie.

As we made our way to the check out,  my phone rang.

It was the hubby.

He suddenly had a major cake craving. As a supportive wife, it was my duty to take appropriate action.

I picked out a chocolate truffle tuxedo cake.

As the baker began boxing the cake she asked “would you like it personalized?”

I couldn’t resist…

*Note to Self

Maybe tonight will be date night – cake and a new book at midnight?

I love pizza.

But i am supper picky about it.  I need specific tasting sauces, cheeses and toppings.  Prego is not an option.

PIZZA DOUGH

2 1/2 cups flour

1tbsp yeast

1tsp salt

1tsp sugar

1 cup warm water

1 tbsp plus 2 tsp oil

SAUCE

1 tbsp oil

1/2 onion minced

2 cloves of garlic minced

1 can tomato sauce

1 cup water

1 tsp garlic salt

1 tsp oregano

cornmeal

Parmesan cheese

SECRET INGREDIENT

smoked mozzarella (in the deli section)

Preheat oven to 450F

Heat oil in sauce pan,  saute onion, garlic add remaining ingredients and simmer 20mins.

Mix sugar and water and yeast in a small bowl and set aside for 10 mins for yeast to activate.

Mix in one cup of flour and salt in a separate bowl, stir in yeast and oil.

Add remaining 1 1/2 flour gradually, and knead dough.

Let dough rest for 10 mins.

Roll out dough and place on a cooking sheet lightly covered with cornmeal.

Sprinkle Parmesan cheese on dough

Spread sauce on pizza.

Cover with toppings and cheese.

Bake 15 mins.

*Note to Self

Last night it snowed for a bit outside. Olivia, was very excited.

Ridiculously.

Excited.

Later that night she started to get upset because she wanted “Ho Ho” to bring her her brother for Christmas.  Weird part… she said she missed him.

So how is this for weird…

I went jogging my usual route on Saturday. During the last 15 minute stretch I always run through a forest section that cuts me back to my street.

This is not the weird part.

That Saturday as Seamus (AKA That Bastard Dog) and I were running along the path I started to notice all these white pieces of paper speckled along the trail.

Ignoring the first few, we marched on until one in particular caught my attention.

It was a picture.

In fact, they were all pictures. Some were blown into the bushes, others on the foot bridge, and a few more scattered up ahead.

Struck by curiosity I picked a couple of them up. They were family shoots, originals from the 40’s, and 50’s – some maybe a bit earlier. A few names and dates were on the back, but no actual information about where they came from.

It was one of those weird moments when you ask yourself –now what? I stood there wondering, should I leave these lying here or pick them up knowing I have no idea who they belong to or what to do with them once I had them.

I looked around – like I was going to get caught with my hand in the cookie jar- and decided to turn around and get the others. Back up the hill, I literally peered around a tree and saw a man and his son picking up a picture. I assumed they grabbed that first batch and returned home.

At home, now sweaty and gross, I still had those other pictures resonating in my head. I kept wondering if the man had taken them or not.

I needed to know.

I grabbed Miss O. and my other neurotic dog (don’t ask) and took them for a walk back to the forest.

Usually I love walking with my kids. On this particular day Olivia needed to pick up

Every.

Single.

Leaf.

My brain was going a mile a minute about the fate of these weird pictures and Olivia was walking in reverse. Meanwhile the neurotic dog who really belongs in therapy, decided to quit walking all together.

I can only imaging the look on the people’s faces as they drove past a sweaty crazy lady, who was dragging a 100 pound dog, toting a leaf carrying 3 year old under her arm, and walking a 100mph.

After an eternity, I was back in the forest…

At the base of the foot bridge I picked up a stack of three photos (I assume the man and his son had left them there) and continued on. At the other entrance a woman was collecting the remaining few. I picked one up a few feet in front of her and instantly she looked at me and handed me the others, saying she didn’t know what to do with them, but if I was picking them up I should take all of them.

I was weirdly elated.

So now here I am with some person’s family photos.

Now what?

Here is a sampling…

*Note to self

What made Saturday even weirder- ten minutes after I got home, the second time, there was this dog in my backyard playing with Seamus (ironically this new dog listens…you mean they can DO that!?!) I walked him around the neighborhood, talked to the neighbors, waited to see if he would pull me to his home, or if I saw a person looking for him – all to no avail. I decided to take his photo, perhaps email the local vet, and figure out what to do with him.

5 minutes later he was gone – Vanished from my backyard.

I loved being in Brownies. Wearing the brown dresses, dancing around a mushroom, getting gold sparkles sprinkled into your hair, camping!

I loved it.

Except for one thing.

In Brownies, the girls are divided into little groups. Each group had a name  with a corresponding patch which they wore to identify which group they were in.

There are six : Elf, Gnome, Fairy, Pixie, Sprite and Imp.

More than anything in the world i wanted to be a Fairy. I wanted the patch with the delicate, skinny little fairy,  fluttering her wings.

I was Gnome.

Do you know what the Gnome looked like…?

…Do you see what its holding in its left hand?

Story of my life.

BROWNIES

1/2 cup butter

1/3 cup cocoa

2 eggs

1 cup sugar

1 Tbsp corn syrup

1 tsp vanilla

3/4 cup flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350F – Grease a square pan

Melt butter, mix in cocoa and mix until smooth

Add eggs one at a time, sugar, syrup and vanilla

Add dry ingredients, beat well

Pour into a pan and bake about 20 mins.

sooo good

*Note to Self

There was nothing hot about a gnome… When you think about that Roaming Gnome, do YOU think hot?

I didn’t think so.

Tinkerbell was hot… She was fairy.

So the other day i did one of those really bad things that make you approach the hubby like a guilty child.

I scratched the car (not just any car… the custom painted, super shiny car)

And it wasn’t one of those, “oh look at that, i wonder how that happened???” type of scratch. But a “fuck, i can’t hide that” kind of scratch.

Which, by the way looks WAY worse now that i rubbed my fingers across it.

While hoping it was just a random line of dirt, intellectually knowing that it wasn’t, i rubbed away all the road grime and highlighted the right bumper area like a giant arrow pointing to the offending scar that proclaimed “I DID THAT”.

My first option was to wash the car. But who are we kidding, a randomly cleaned car would have instantly admitted my guilt.

My only other choice was to come clean. The hubby always said, if i told him about this kind of stuff upfront he wouldn’t get mad. I hardly believed that, but at least i had something to retort.

“You did WHAT?!”
“You said you wouldn’t get mad”
“I did?”
“Yes”
“Oh, i did, your right. Thats okay, its just a scratch, no big deal, how about a latte?”

Ironically hubby didn’t say anything. Which usually means “not good” when not good means “you totally broke the car.”

But he let it go. He was being totally cool, and let it go.

How cool was that? I spent days thinking of all the apologetic story lines, the it wasn’t really my fault one, or the i didn’t see it in my mirror one, or the some bastard did it and drove away one, and of course, the  I’m sorry one… But i didn’t need them.

The hubby was a hero, after ten years together he wound up surprising me once again.

Well… that was until i left the house the other day and he shouted as i was getting into the car

“Don’t hit anything.”

Nice. Not so surprising after all.

*Note to self

It’s not THAT bad…

I have a small obsession with Indian food.

And by obsession, i mean i crave it nightly. If I had money, i would immediately hire an Indian Chef… who would also bring me chai tea in bed with nan khatai’s…

I would also not hesitate to hire a driver, a housekeeper and a masseuse.

I digress…

CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA

1 cup yogurt

1 Tbsp lemon juice

2 Tsp ground cumin

1 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

1 Tbsp minced ginger

1 clove of garlic minced

1/2 tsp salt

3 chicken breast cut up into bite sized pieces

SAUCE

1 Tbs butter

1 clove of garlic

2 Tsp ground cumin

2 Tsp paprika

1/2 Tsp salt

2 Tbs sugar (or to taste)

1 (8 oz) can tomato sauce

1 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro

In a large bowl combine, yogurt, lemon juice, cumin, cinnamon, cayenne, ginger, garlic ande chicken. Marinate at least an hour.

Heat oven to 350

Place chicken pieces on a greased cookie sheet – discard the marinade – cook until done about 15 minutes

SAUCE

Melt butter in a large pot, saute garlic, cumin, paprika and salt about 3 minutes

Stir in tomato sauce, cream and sugar

Simmer on low until sauce thickens

Add chicken pieces simmer for 5 more minutes

Add cilantro

Serve over rice

*Note to Self

I would also buy Clive Owen…

Oh, Did I mention, I am a runner?

I am not here to gloat the fact that I burnt 300 calories this morning. Or suggest that I should be in a Nike commercial somewhere, but I should.

Yes, I have gone running a total of 4 times. This means I only have 23 more runs until I am a 5k pro and 14 more days until the Santa Shuffle, by which point, I should be able to run for 25 minutes consecutively.

The last time I did something for a consecutive 25 minutes I was shooting a 9lb 10oz baby out my lady parts. (Or as my mother would say, my “ya ya”.)

Ironically, both are painfully similar in feeling.

I hate to admit it, but I think I am starting to enjoy running. Blasphemy I know. But something has to be said about for accomplishing one thing in a day, when everything else seems endless.

Take laundry for example.

By the time you get 10 loads finished, folded and put away, you have 8 more loads to do. I attempted hanging out naked all day, saving myself hours of laundry, but it started to confuse the dog.

Speaking of the dog…

Seamus.

Oh, sweet, special Seamus. If ever there was an animal that could aggravate me to no end it would be Seamus, and yet, somehow I love the fuzzy bastard…

Today, i decided to include Seamus in on my run. My nice brain thought, “boy wouldn’t that be great, him and I alone on the road. Run/walking and sharing a moment of harmony…”

Clearly my nice brain isn’t the rational brain.

I spent the following half an hour, either being dragged down the street during my “walk” segments or screaming “Whoa, Seamus, whoa – Seamus you asshole, WHOA” during my “run” segments.

We have some kinks to work out, mainly the Seamus factor.

The Seamus factor means when all normal dogs do A, Seamus invariably does Q.

To date, he owes me ten pairs of underwear, four pairs of shoes and so far today… a rattle and something pink. I’m not sure what it is yet. I’ll let you know in an hour…

Whether Seamus continues to run with me is up in the air. Listening to him snore right now under my feet, like nothing ever happened, is a little irritating, especially while I am sore and sweaty.

I think a certain kind of rhythm needs to happen between us; perhaps we should go away on a bonding retreat and reconnect over a Costa Rican Adventure…

*Note to Self
I don’t trust Seamus enough to catch me during a trust activity…

So we survived Halloween… I can tell because Ms. O is no longer asking me every five seconds “Can we Halloween today?”

The mere fact that it didn’t rain  was a miracle.  We tucked the little pumpkin snugly into the wagon, Olivia had her bucket in tow, and the family – also in costume – loaded up to roam the neighborhood.

The first five houses Olivia and i ran up together – somebody had to carry the baby’s bucket for her…

We knocked forcefully and yelled “TRICK OR TREAT” like  pros.

By the 6th house, Olivia turned to me very seriously, raised her right hand and signaled STOP!

“Mommy, you stay there. Mommy you do not come to the door, stay there mommy…

Mommy.

Stay.

There.”

And off she went. I got ditched by a 3 year old. Very degrading.

And she wouldn’t budge either, at every door  “Mommy stay there okay.”

“…Okay”

At one house she marched up to the door, pounded her little heart out, and yelled “TRICK OR TREAT.”

When the door opened, the stranger handing out candy, crouched down tilted the bowl in her general direction, cooed how cute the little witch was, and offered to let her pick out a treat.

Olivia reached in, took out four candies, and  said thank you as she grabbed another one before running off.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders.  It was like a little light suddenly went off in her head :

Trick or Treating became serious.

It wasn’t long before she started using her stature and the cute factor to push her way through the older kids and score more candy.

I stood back and watched like a proud mother.

I had officially passed on the trick or treating torch, and it was like a sudden rush of excitement. Yes, i could no longer go to the door and physically trick or treat, but at the end of the day, i knew, all that candy would still be mine.

*Note to Self

One piece of candy for you…ten for me

PS - Also note,  I added a tutorials link at the top of the site. I was hard at work making shrunken apple heads for the outside decor, that i thought  other crafty might appreciate the link.