I do ask your indulgence as I take some time to gather corn allergy materials together - I'm working on a post that has my various resources and responses from companies. In the meantime, a warning: Pampers apparently has a new formulation for one kind of diaper wipe, and this includes DAIRY. Caveat emptor, folks.
Now, then, the Eldest. I spend much time rhapsodizing about the wee toddles, that the Eldest tends to get short shrift in this blog. And a bit in real life, which is one of my chief regrets right now. He's a fascinating, loving little fellow, and I wish I were better able to celebrate that in him these days. Thus, we've been reading together. Thus also my attempt at reviving the 5 minute dinner (see below for a recipe), so that I can spend some time focusing on him after school. My thanks to Auntie A, whose birthday gift gave us some good cafe-mommying time, otherwise known as Love in the Time of the Scarlet Fever. (Hey, it's a good book, thus I can plunder the title for my entertainment. Move on.)
We're reading Mr. Popper's Penguins together, and I'm sad to say that the book is interchangeable in his heart with any number of Mr. Men books. Alas, Roger Hargreaves, you have done us wrong. Sort of. I did have a brief affection for Mr. Bump and Little Miss Busy, but I think I'm over it now. Still, the Eldest persists in his affection for the little books, and Mr. Popper and I will simply wait it out.
But as for visual media, well, our free cable disappeared some months ago. Since, we've consulted our budget, which politely declined to support proper cable, and furthermore suggested that we might want to cancel TiVO, as well. We did so, and the pain has since lessened.
Recently, someone sent this link to a Boston working mothers group that I belong to. The Eldest saw me watching it and was fascinated. This is Dove's latest PSA, folks, and it's wonderful. Coincidentally, it comes just as the Eldest is in love with Five Guys Named Moe's song, I Like 'Em Fat Like That (listen to it here). Courtesy of the SIL-ly, you know. The idea of real beauty, in all of its shapes and sizes being played out before the kiddo is immensely pleasing to me.
Especially, of course, as I'm a fan of this blog, a community written affair celebrating the wrinkles and sags of the mama body. Wouldn't show it to the boy, but happy to lay a bit of groundwork....
So, does the one-on-one thing work? I think it does. So does the more relaxed one-on-two thing, where I'm just occasionally doing dinner things, rather than spending an hour grumping about people needing me for silly things while dinner burns. Relaxed me is good. Relaxed me with just him is also good. But he's still a bit fragile around me, so while I treasure the successes, I know that they don't magically undo a year's worth of snappishness on my part. Still, on Saturday, when I blew a nice vein in his hand, he took it in stride as he used to, working with me, rather than dissolving into tears. The old relationship is there, lurking, evolving.
*****************************recipe time!
Fish Curry (serves 4-6)
adapted from Almost Vegetarian Entertaining, by Diana Shaw
I prepped for this the night before, pre-cutting the potatoes, measuring the spices and it was very fast and very very delicious. The Eldest had seconds, and I had lunch. And I'm making it again tomorrow!
2-3 Tb veg oil
2 large onions, chopped
1 leek (if you have it), chopped and rinsed well
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tb peeled sliced fresh ginger (will mellow in the curry)
2 hot peppers, seeded and sliced (I skipped this)
1 Tb ground cumin
2 tsp ground coriander
2 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp cumin seeds (whole)
1 tsp mustard seeds
1 large potato, cubed
1 large/2 small sweet potatoes, cubed
1 can diced/crushed tomatoes or 2 fresh, chopped
1.5 cups/1 can light coconut milk
2 Tb fresh lime juice
salt, pepper
1 lb white, firm fleshed fish (I used cheap frozen tilapia, which is mild tasting - worked beautifully)
Heat oil and add onions, leek (if using), garlic, ginger and hot peppers (if using). Saute until onion starts to brown (5 min?), then add spices, excepting salt and pepper. Saute some more, perhaps 8 minutes total. Add potatoes, stirring to coat with spices. Add tomatoes and cook, stirring until they start to turn into sauce - maybe 3 minutes).
(Note: if you use crushed canned tomatoes, this is roughly the same amount of time as if you use diced - the consistency is different in the end result, is all.)
Add coconut milk, lime juice, salt and pepper. Stir. Then add fish. Simmer over med-low heat, perhaps 8 minutes until fish is flaky.
Serve over cooked rice. Note: fish can be replaced with chicken, preferably cut up. Try it and let me know if it works!
Showing posts with label wheat-free. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wheat-free. Show all posts
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Thursday, October 12, 2006
culinary homerun for the temporally oppressed
Did you make it past that title? The previous fire-breathing post? Well, then, kudos to you.
Peace is insinuating itself into our household, as I slowly remember what it feels like not to want to whack my brother's head against the wall, I accept that yes, the babes is now officially allergic to corn, and prepare to mourn the passing of the strawberry. My articles are written, edited, my very first invoice submitted (ooh, I feel professional!), and I can even giggle over the exhausted man.
For those of you who cannot imagine this, here is a brief clip:
baby: bweaah!
bleary father: (inserts binky)
baby: (spits out binky) bweaahh!
bleary father: (inserts binky)
baby, now truly offended: (spits out binky) BWEAAAAHH!
Now, imagine this going on for a good five minutes, while I wonder why I haven't been called in. Why not? The man was too tired to do anything but repeat the sole action his foggy brain produced as the Appropriate Response to the Situation. Oy.
Yes, now we begin to breathe. And giggle. The Jewish autumnal holidays coming to a close...in short, there is light at the end of my tunnel, and possibly even a chance to install locks on the toilet seats.
The babes has moved into what we call 'gremlin mode,' as he learns to open things and fling them about - or, worse, thoughtfully insert small items into unusual places. From whence, of course, they rarely return. (courtesy of the mice or the babes' imaginative choices? You decide.) He has long since figured out how to climb the stepping stools to either dangle himself by his hands from the bathroom sink, stand proudly on a table, or generally make me gasp and dive. Naturally, the Eldest finds this all wildly amusing, and eggs the kidlet on. Secretly, so do I.
Briefly, then, as I rush off to clean mountains of dishes, assemble school lunch and cook my weight in Succot food, here was tonight's main dish. It assembled in ten minutes flat, and was much too good for what is usually waffle night around here.
Chicken Salad with Lemon and Fennel? What Fennel? Seeds
(adapted from Cooking Light)
serves 2
1.5 Tb olive oil
1 lb boneless chicken breast, cut into strips
salt
black pepper
4-5 Tb rice cooking wine
1.5 Tb lemon zest
juice of one lemon (a good juicy one, not a dry one)
.5 tsp fennel seeds
2 crushed cloves of garlic
salad greens
avocado, sliced
dressing: mild vinaigrette, mine was olive oil and rice vinegar, a bit of mustard, honey, curry powder and crushed garlic. Salt and pepper. More oil than vinegar, everything else to taste. (Annoying recipe-writing, but true..)
Dump chicken, salt, pepper into a wok/skillet and stir a bit. Add oil, then heat, sauteeing until chicken is nearly cooked - perhaps 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add garlic, sauteeing briefly (1 minute?), then rest of ingredients. Cover, reduce heat, simmer 5 minutes.
Let cool, then toss chicken with greens and avocado and a bit of dressing. Dress lightly - the chicken and its flavorings are the focus here, not the salad dressing.
Results: the salad vanished, and I never got seconds. Yowza.
Note: the fennel seeds disappeared. Didn't really taste them. My suggestion is to consider omitting them entirely, or figure out a way to play them up. Perhaps by adding finely sliced anise/fennel to the salad?
************************
Bonus Recipe!!!
Lemon Crunchies
(slightly adapted from the Kid-Friendly Food Allergy Cookbook, by Leslie Hammond and Lynne Marie Rominger. Loaned to us courtesy of the MIL. Page 157.)
1.25 c. margarine (yes, I really mean it)
1 tsp dry egg replacer (Ener-G Egg replacer worked fine, but the egg replacer is optional)
2 c. sugar
2.5 c. rice flour
1.5 c potato starch
1 tsp baking powder
2 tsp powdered vanilla (brutally expensive)
.25 tsp salt
2 c flaked coconut (hard to find allergy friendly)
1 Tb lemon zest
1 c dried cranberries
2 Tb soy milk, more as necessary to achieve correct texture for dough
Using a cake mixer, cream margarine, egg replacer and sugar. In a separate bowl, sift together the rest of the dry ingredients. Add to margarine mixture, mixing until you have a smooth dough - ading soy milk as necessary to achieve this.
Remove from cake mixer and stir in lemon zest and cranberries - by hand.
Heat over to 350 F. Roll cookies into balls, flattening slightly with your palm. Bake 10-20 minutes, depending on size of ball (tsp quantity of dough = 8-10 minutes, larger ball of dough is longer). Cool slightly before moving to a cooling rack.
Note: cookies were a bit crumbly. Next time I think we might try 2 c rice flour and .5 c sorghum. They were, however, delicious and not greasy, as I'd feared. I ate most of the first batch - the lemon zest adds a lively flavor. Delightful!
Peace is insinuating itself into our household, as I slowly remember what it feels like not to want to whack my brother's head against the wall, I accept that yes, the babes is now officially allergic to corn, and prepare to mourn the passing of the strawberry. My articles are written, edited, my very first invoice submitted (ooh, I feel professional!), and I can even giggle over the exhausted man.
For those of you who cannot imagine this, here is a brief clip:
baby: bweaah!
bleary father: (inserts binky)
baby: (spits out binky) bweaahh!
bleary father: (inserts binky)
baby, now truly offended: (spits out binky) BWEAAAAHH!
Now, imagine this going on for a good five minutes, while I wonder why I haven't been called in. Why not? The man was too tired to do anything but repeat the sole action his foggy brain produced as the Appropriate Response to the Situation. Oy.
Yes, now we begin to breathe. And giggle. The Jewish autumnal holidays coming to a close...in short, there is light at the end of my tunnel, and possibly even a chance to install locks on the toilet seats.
The babes has moved into what we call 'gremlin mode,' as he learns to open things and fling them about - or, worse, thoughtfully insert small items into unusual places. From whence, of course, they rarely return. (courtesy of the mice or the babes' imaginative choices? You decide.) He has long since figured out how to climb the stepping stools to either dangle himself by his hands from the bathroom sink, stand proudly on a table, or generally make me gasp and dive. Naturally, the Eldest finds this all wildly amusing, and eggs the kidlet on. Secretly, so do I.
Briefly, then, as I rush off to clean mountains of dishes, assemble school lunch and cook my weight in Succot food, here was tonight's main dish. It assembled in ten minutes flat, and was much too good for what is usually waffle night around here.
Chicken Salad with Lemon and Fennel? What Fennel? Seeds
(adapted from Cooking Light)
serves 2
1.5 Tb olive oil
1 lb boneless chicken breast, cut into strips
salt
black pepper
4-5 Tb rice cooking wine
1.5 Tb lemon zest
juice of one lemon (a good juicy one, not a dry one)
.5 tsp fennel seeds
2 crushed cloves of garlic
salad greens
avocado, sliced
dressing: mild vinaigrette, mine was olive oil and rice vinegar, a bit of mustard, honey, curry powder and crushed garlic. Salt and pepper. More oil than vinegar, everything else to taste. (Annoying recipe-writing, but true..)
Dump chicken, salt, pepper into a wok/skillet and stir a bit. Add oil, then heat, sauteeing until chicken is nearly cooked - perhaps 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add garlic, sauteeing briefly (1 minute?), then rest of ingredients. Cover, reduce heat, simmer 5 minutes.
Let cool, then toss chicken with greens and avocado and a bit of dressing. Dress lightly - the chicken and its flavorings are the focus here, not the salad dressing.
Results: the salad vanished, and I never got seconds. Yowza.
Note: the fennel seeds disappeared. Didn't really taste them. My suggestion is to consider omitting them entirely, or figure out a way to play them up. Perhaps by adding finely sliced anise/fennel to the salad?
************************
Bonus Recipe!!!
Lemon Crunchies
(slightly adapted from the Kid-Friendly Food Allergy Cookbook, by Leslie Hammond and Lynne Marie Rominger. Loaned to us courtesy of the MIL. Page 157.)
1.25 c. margarine (yes, I really mean it)
1 tsp dry egg replacer (Ener-G Egg replacer worked fine, but the egg replacer is optional)
2 c. sugar
2.5 c. rice flour
1.5 c potato starch
1 tsp baking powder
2 tsp powdered vanilla (brutally expensive)
.25 tsp salt
2 c flaked coconut (hard to find allergy friendly)
1 Tb lemon zest
1 c dried cranberries
2 Tb soy milk, more as necessary to achieve correct texture for dough
Using a cake mixer, cream margarine, egg replacer and sugar. In a separate bowl, sift together the rest of the dry ingredients. Add to margarine mixture, mixing until you have a smooth dough - ading soy milk as necessary to achieve this.
Remove from cake mixer and stir in lemon zest and cranberries - by hand.
Heat over to 350 F. Roll cookies into balls, flattening slightly with your palm. Bake 10-20 minutes, depending on size of ball (tsp quantity of dough = 8-10 minutes, larger ball of dough is longer). Cool slightly before moving to a cooling rack.
Note: cookies were a bit crumbly. Next time I think we might try 2 c rice flour and .5 c sorghum. They were, however, delicious and not greasy, as I'd feared. I ate most of the first batch - the lemon zest adds a lively flavor. Delightful!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
all sorts of shapes and sizes
I am hanging up on the ever-patient magid to write this post...today, a recipe. But first, a pair of stories:
We are driving in the car, listening to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. This is a favorite in our house, and we even have a video tape of the production, with Donny Osmond as Joseph. The Eldest loves it, loves watching the story explode into light and color and music. Thus, the CD playing in my car.
Suddenly, This is the part where they start taking off his clothes, I am informed. Wha? I say, cleverly.
This is the part where they take off his clothes so that he can go to jail, the Eldest explains.
Not all of his clothes, I protestweakly, not really sure why I'm protesting at all. He has the wrapping skirt thing that he wears in jail.
Yes, all of his clothes, the Eldest informs me, sternly. And (giggles) he has nai-nais!
Nai-nai is our family code for breasts, a quasi-discreet choice for those of us who choose to nurse our children longer than society really wants to think about. Of course, how discreet the code can be, when combined with a toddler determinedly lifting one's shirt...well, that's a post for another day.
I consider Donny Osmond. Do you mean nipples, perhaps? I ask the Eldest.
Nope. He has nai-nais like you! They come out of his chest, and the Eldest makes curving, cupping motions to show me. To my delight, the Eldest seems to be wholly aware of the gender-bending he's describing. It occurs to me that he could, if he chose, characterize this as male, but that he's tickled by the idea of it being transgressively female. He loves the idea of rules being bent - and this is no different.
Yes, yes he does, I agree. But no milk...
The Eldest, giggling till, stops and looks at me, surprised and disappointed in the Joseph who can't make milk.
*************************
Years ago, when I was a new mother, I spent a lot of time in toy stores, trying to buy the perfect toy, the toy that would make all things right, make all of us happy. It was a difficult time, when we were new to the Eldest's pair of diagnoses, and I was grasping at anything to tell me how to parent, show me how to bring happiness back to our lives, to keep it there.
I do not miss those days.
One day, I was in a store looking at a shape sorter. I must have this, I thought. How else will my baby learn to sort shapes? And then, deep in my cloud of mindless commercialism, I paused. This? This is the crucial and must-not-miss thing that will teach my kid this lesson? What the hell happened to me? And I walked away.
Four years later, I was standing in Babies R Us, trying to figure out what to do with some store credit. I bought diapers, wipes, a set of binkies (pacifiers) and finally, found myself staring at the same shape sorter. Unlike the rest of the toys, this had no batteries, didn't promise to increase the babes' IQ and oh, what the hell. Kismet?
To my delight, he had no interest in it for months. Instead the Eldest used it, lining up the shapes, sorting them by colors, by shapes, doing disappearing tricks so that three by three by three became two by two by two, then one... It's magic! he proclaimed. Eventually, the babes rescued the toy, and learned the joys of taking in and putting back. Each time, though, by yanking off the sorting top to get easy access.
I sat down with him. Together, we pushed circles through the holes in the lid, then squares and finally stars. Each time, he yanked off the cover to see the block, lying in the container. Insert, check, insert, check. Finally, I turned it over to him. He picked up a circle, pushed it in. Then he picked up a triangle, tried to fit it in, failed and considered the matter. He looked at the cover and yanked it off. See? Easier this way. I grinned and let him be.
*****************************
Here is the cake I made for the babes' birthday dinner. It was splendid, and I'll be making it again tonight, for Rosh Hashana.
Many-Bowled Cranberry Cake (Four, to be Precise)
serves 6-8
Cranberries:
2 oz soft butter/margarine
1/2 c. sugar
1 Tb grated/zested orange peel
10 oz cranberries, fresh or frozen. Chopped is nice.
2 Tb orange juice concentrate
2 Tb water
beat butter and sugar together, mix in orange peel. Spread mixture over the bottom of a greased cake pan (not springform - this will leak). Sprinkle cranberries on top. Mix juice and water, then pour over cranberries.
Cake:
1 c. gluten free baking flour blend (your choice)
1 tsp egg replacer
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp xanthan gum
1/8 tsp salt
1 stick unsalted butter/margarine
1/2 c sugar
2 eggs, or 2 Tb ground flaxseed, plus 1/2 c water, boiled in microwave and let cool
1/2 tsp vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix flour blend, egg replacer, baking pwder, xanthan gum and salt. In a separate bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add eggs to butter-sugar mix, mix until smooth. Add vanilla, then slowly add dry ingredients (be prepared - the flour will puff up and make a bit of a mess unless you add it slowly).
Spread batter over cranberries.
Bake for 25 minutes, checking with a toothpick. (My cranberries were still slightly frozen when I popped the cake in, mine took about 40 minutes to bake.) Let cake sit for 5 minutes before turning it out onto a serving plate.
Recipe from Living Without, fall 2006 issue. This recipe is or is potentially: dairy-free, egg-free, gluten-free, nut-free, etc. And yet, somehow it is delicious!
We are driving in the car, listening to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. This is a favorite in our house, and we even have a video tape of the production, with Donny Osmond as Joseph. The Eldest loves it, loves watching the story explode into light and color and music. Thus, the CD playing in my car.
Suddenly, This is the part where they start taking off his clothes, I am informed. Wha? I say, cleverly.
This is the part where they take off his clothes so that he can go to jail, the Eldest explains.
Not all of his clothes, I protestweakly, not really sure why I'm protesting at all. He has the wrapping skirt thing that he wears in jail.
Yes, all of his clothes, the Eldest informs me, sternly. And (giggles) he has nai-nais!
Nai-nai is our family code for breasts, a quasi-discreet choice for those of us who choose to nurse our children longer than society really wants to think about. Of course, how discreet the code can be, when combined with a toddler determinedly lifting one's shirt...well, that's a post for another day.
I consider Donny Osmond. Do you mean nipples, perhaps? I ask the Eldest.
Nope. He has nai-nais like you! They come out of his chest, and the Eldest makes curving, cupping motions to show me. To my delight, the Eldest seems to be wholly aware of the gender-bending he's describing. It occurs to me that he could, if he chose, characterize this as male, but that he's tickled by the idea of it being transgressively female. He loves the idea of rules being bent - and this is no different.
Yes, yes he does, I agree. But no milk...
The Eldest, giggling till, stops and looks at me, surprised and disappointed in the Joseph who can't make milk.
*************************
Years ago, when I was a new mother, I spent a lot of time in toy stores, trying to buy the perfect toy, the toy that would make all things right, make all of us happy. It was a difficult time, when we were new to the Eldest's pair of diagnoses, and I was grasping at anything to tell me how to parent, show me how to bring happiness back to our lives, to keep it there.
I do not miss those days.
One day, I was in a store looking at a shape sorter. I must have this, I thought. How else will my baby learn to sort shapes? And then, deep in my cloud of mindless commercialism, I paused. This? This is the crucial and must-not-miss thing that will teach my kid this lesson? What the hell happened to me? And I walked away.
Four years later, I was standing in Babies R Us, trying to figure out what to do with some store credit. I bought diapers, wipes, a set of binkies (pacifiers) and finally, found myself staring at the same shape sorter. Unlike the rest of the toys, this had no batteries, didn't promise to increase the babes' IQ and oh, what the hell. Kismet?
To my delight, he had no interest in it for months. Instead the Eldest used it, lining up the shapes, sorting them by colors, by shapes, doing disappearing tricks so that three by three by three became two by two by two, then one... It's magic! he proclaimed. Eventually, the babes rescued the toy, and learned the joys of taking in and putting back. Each time, though, by yanking off the sorting top to get easy access.
I sat down with him. Together, we pushed circles through the holes in the lid, then squares and finally stars. Each time, he yanked off the cover to see the block, lying in the container. Insert, check, insert, check. Finally, I turned it over to him. He picked up a circle, pushed it in. Then he picked up a triangle, tried to fit it in, failed and considered the matter. He looked at the cover and yanked it off. See? Easier this way. I grinned and let him be.
*****************************
Here is the cake I made for the babes' birthday dinner. It was splendid, and I'll be making it again tonight, for Rosh Hashana.
Many-Bowled Cranberry Cake (Four, to be Precise)
serves 6-8
Cranberries:
2 oz soft butter/margarine
1/2 c. sugar
1 Tb grated/zested orange peel
10 oz cranberries, fresh or frozen. Chopped is nice.
2 Tb orange juice concentrate
2 Tb water
beat butter and sugar together, mix in orange peel. Spread mixture over the bottom of a greased cake pan (not springform - this will leak). Sprinkle cranberries on top. Mix juice and water, then pour over cranberries.
Cake:
1 c. gluten free baking flour blend (your choice)
1 tsp egg replacer
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp xanthan gum
1/8 tsp salt
1 stick unsalted butter/margarine
1/2 c sugar
2 eggs, or 2 Tb ground flaxseed, plus 1/2 c water, boiled in microwave and let cool
1/2 tsp vanilla
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix flour blend, egg replacer, baking pwder, xanthan gum and salt. In a separate bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add eggs to butter-sugar mix, mix until smooth. Add vanilla, then slowly add dry ingredients (be prepared - the flour will puff up and make a bit of a mess unless you add it slowly).
Spread batter over cranberries.
Bake for 25 minutes, checking with a toothpick. (My cranberries were still slightly frozen when I popped the cake in, mine took about 40 minutes to bake.) Let cake sit for 5 minutes before turning it out onto a serving plate.
Recipe from Living Without, fall 2006 issue. This recipe is or is potentially: dairy-free, egg-free, gluten-free, nut-free, etc. And yet, somehow it is delicious!
Thursday, September 14, 2006
a quickie (menu-style!)
Dinner tonight was an exemplary effort - I made something out of, well, pantry. Here it is, before I forget what I did - but first, an appetizer:
With the babes tentatively taking steps, new accomplishments are unfurling themselves, in truth being but modification on previously acquired skills. So his stair climbing + standing + shifting weight while upright = ability to climb on a little push along car. The Eldest at first greeted this with a certain territorialism, made the sharper by a general angst about being invaded.
Ten minutes and several 'let him have a turn, kid. How would you like it if a bigger kid grabbed something from you?s' later, the babes was climbing on and off the car quite competently, having figured out how unfold his leg once his bum hit the seat. And the Eldest seized an opportunity.
Would you like a ride? The babes beamed, and the Eldest pushed him slowly, gently around the room. The babes fell off at each turn, but determinedly climbed back on the car, grinning with delight. Sensing A Proud Mama Moment, I leaned back and let it wash over me.
Five minutes later: don't grab his legs - would you like it if I grabbed your body and held you still?
Main Course:
Lemon-Garlic Bok Choy:
fistful of cloves of garlic, smashed with the side of a knife.
drizzle (2 TB?) olive oil
kosher salt
black pepper
baby bok choy
lemon juice (2? Tb)
Pour oil into wok, heat. Saute garlic, then add bok choy. Let brown a bit, tossing in wok. Cover and turn off flame for 2-3 minutes. Bok choy will have gone from bright green to dark green at the leafy tips. Take off stovetop altogether, add salt, pepper and lemon juice. Toss.
*************************
Frizzled Broccoli and Tofu Pasta
2 crowns broccoli
fistful of smashed garlic cloves
1 inch ginger, sliced into matchsticks
vegetable oil
rice pasta (asian, not faux wheat pasta - also called rice threads), possibly also called bifun
1 block tofu, firm or extra firm
salt
black pepper
soy sauce (I used tamari)
mirin (rice wine)
zest of one lemon, chopped a bit
Part One: Heat 1 Tb oil in a wok. Add garlic, ginger and saute briefly. Then add broccoli and saute perhaps 5 minutes. Broccoli should start to have dark patches showing. Add 1/4 cup mirin and cover, let steam itself to tenderness. While still bright green, remove from heat and dump in serving dish.
Part Two: in a bowl, cook the rice threads. This can often be done just by leaving them in very hot water for 15 minutes (the package I had said ten minutes - it was wrong).
Part Three: pour 1/4 c. oil into wok, heat. Cube tofu, pressing to squeeze out extra liquid. Add to wok, and fry until golden brown. Toss with rice threads and broccoli, adding salt, pepper and soy sauce to flavor. Add lemon zest and serve.
************************************
Sorry that I don't have more precise measurements! But it was all delicious, though I think the tofu-pasta could use a little something. If anybody makes it, let me know how it goes. And hurrah for the Eldest who finally, reluctantly tried a bok choy and looked astonished. Finally, he waved a fist in the air, thumb up. It's good, then, I asked. He nodded, emphatically...but declined to help himself to any more.
Step by step, we build a palate, no? Tomorrow, we test out figs. Also tonight, granola bars! More on that as we see how they store and hold up in backpacks.
Dessert: a bit of food for thought.
I read this, on Doulicia, and then fumbled an answer to this. Not depressing to my eye, but certainly a pause for respect and for thought.
I get told a lot that I'm this extraordinary person, that what I do is amazing, blahditty blah blah. Deep down, I know that what I do is based on two things: first, sheer stubbornness. This is my family and I will feed them, no matter what idiocies their immune systems throw at me. And from pride, this will be good food. Second, a very specific kind of naivete. Naturally, I shall explain..
Most new parents, high on pregnancy and the headiness of taking that plunge, don't think about the possibility that the child may have a medical oddity, that this fragile group of cells may not quite divide right, grow properly. They cling to the naivete that everybody is beautiful on their wedding day, that they will hold a tiny, perfect baby (somehow without the vaginal conehead - that never makes it into the fantasy), and they will glow with the joy of new parenthood.
They deliberately block out the reality behind the ultrasound, the bloodwork, the AFP. Me, I get that. Bodies work, don't work, almost work - I know that now, deep in my bones. But I draw the line at admitting to myself that children die.
Oh, I know that they do. A dear friend lost her first daughter to leukemia. I grew to know her while we were both in the hospital, I visited her, I was in and out with the Eldest while her daughter fought the leukemia. And I was there the day the doctors told her it was going to be terminal. I remember that small wooden box, with a pink blanket... and then I stop remembering and refuse to think about it. I tell stories about Isabella with her mother, but otherwise I stand firm. Where my family is concerned, whatever happens, we'll figure it out. It's an attitude that assumes that there will be an outcome to figure out, a consequence or fallout other than simply
ending.
This attitude has kept me calm and functional through too many real crises, and it's the same stubbornness that made me mutter, returning home from a certain tomato festival that, no, I was not giving birth that day. The fact that I didn't only serves to reinforce my certitude. Bad cosmic move, people.
Bumpy parental road, yes. A silent room where a child's voice is not - absolutely no. May I remain ignorant, surrounded by naive compatriots. And, refusing to think about my blank spot, may I continue to embrace the bumps in my parenting road because, at the end of the day, I have them.
**********************
Enjoy the meal, all. And a happy anniversary to the FIL and MIL! I hope that the offspring gift arrives in a timely fashion, to beautify your home and all it represents for two seasons, if not more...returning year after year.
With the babes tentatively taking steps, new accomplishments are unfurling themselves, in truth being but modification on previously acquired skills. So his stair climbing + standing + shifting weight while upright = ability to climb on a little push along car. The Eldest at first greeted this with a certain territorialism, made the sharper by a general angst about being invaded.
Ten minutes and several 'let him have a turn, kid. How would you like it if a bigger kid grabbed something from you?s' later, the babes was climbing on and off the car quite competently, having figured out how unfold his leg once his bum hit the seat. And the Eldest seized an opportunity.
Would you like a ride? The babes beamed, and the Eldest pushed him slowly, gently around the room. The babes fell off at each turn, but determinedly climbed back on the car, grinning with delight. Sensing A Proud Mama Moment, I leaned back and let it wash over me.
Five minutes later: don't grab his legs - would you like it if I grabbed your body and held you still?
Main Course:
Lemon-Garlic Bok Choy:
fistful of cloves of garlic, smashed with the side of a knife.
drizzle (2 TB?) olive oil
kosher salt
black pepper
baby bok choy
lemon juice (2? Tb)
Pour oil into wok, heat. Saute garlic, then add bok choy. Let brown a bit, tossing in wok. Cover and turn off flame for 2-3 minutes. Bok choy will have gone from bright green to dark green at the leafy tips. Take off stovetop altogether, add salt, pepper and lemon juice. Toss.
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Frizzled Broccoli and Tofu Pasta
2 crowns broccoli
fistful of smashed garlic cloves
1 inch ginger, sliced into matchsticks
vegetable oil
rice pasta (asian, not faux wheat pasta - also called rice threads), possibly also called bifun
1 block tofu, firm or extra firm
salt
black pepper
soy sauce (I used tamari)
mirin (rice wine)
zest of one lemon, chopped a bit
Part One: Heat 1 Tb oil in a wok. Add garlic, ginger and saute briefly. Then add broccoli and saute perhaps 5 minutes. Broccoli should start to have dark patches showing. Add 1/4 cup mirin and cover, let steam itself to tenderness. While still bright green, remove from heat and dump in serving dish.
Part Two: in a bowl, cook the rice threads. This can often be done just by leaving them in very hot water for 15 minutes (the package I had said ten minutes - it was wrong).
Part Three: pour 1/4 c. oil into wok, heat. Cube tofu, pressing to squeeze out extra liquid. Add to wok, and fry until golden brown. Toss with rice threads and broccoli, adding salt, pepper and soy sauce to flavor. Add lemon zest and serve.
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Sorry that I don't have more precise measurements! But it was all delicious, though I think the tofu-pasta could use a little something. If anybody makes it, let me know how it goes. And hurrah for the Eldest who finally, reluctantly tried a bok choy and looked astonished. Finally, he waved a fist in the air, thumb up. It's good, then, I asked. He nodded, emphatically...but declined to help himself to any more.
Step by step, we build a palate, no? Tomorrow, we test out figs. Also tonight, granola bars! More on that as we see how they store and hold up in backpacks.
Dessert: a bit of food for thought.
I read this, on Doulicia, and then fumbled an answer to this. Not depressing to my eye, but certainly a pause for respect and for thought.
I get told a lot that I'm this extraordinary person, that what I do is amazing, blahditty blah blah. Deep down, I know that what I do is based on two things: first, sheer stubbornness. This is my family and I will feed them, no matter what idiocies their immune systems throw at me. And from pride, this will be good food. Second, a very specific kind of naivete. Naturally, I shall explain..
Most new parents, high on pregnancy and the headiness of taking that plunge, don't think about the possibility that the child may have a medical oddity, that this fragile group of cells may not quite divide right, grow properly. They cling to the naivete that everybody is beautiful on their wedding day, that they will hold a tiny, perfect baby (somehow without the vaginal conehead - that never makes it into the fantasy), and they will glow with the joy of new parenthood.
They deliberately block out the reality behind the ultrasound, the bloodwork, the AFP. Me, I get that. Bodies work, don't work, almost work - I know that now, deep in my bones. But I draw the line at admitting to myself that children die.
Oh, I know that they do. A dear friend lost her first daughter to leukemia. I grew to know her while we were both in the hospital, I visited her, I was in and out with the Eldest while her daughter fought the leukemia. And I was there the day the doctors told her it was going to be terminal. I remember that small wooden box, with a pink blanket... and then I stop remembering and refuse to think about it. I tell stories about Isabella with her mother, but otherwise I stand firm. Where my family is concerned, whatever happens, we'll figure it out. It's an attitude that assumes that there will be an outcome to figure out, a consequence or fallout other than simply
ending.
This attitude has kept me calm and functional through too many real crises, and it's the same stubbornness that made me mutter, returning home from a certain tomato festival that, no, I was not giving birth that day. The fact that I didn't only serves to reinforce my certitude. Bad cosmic move, people.
Bumpy parental road, yes. A silent room where a child's voice is not - absolutely no. May I remain ignorant, surrounded by naive compatriots. And, refusing to think about my blank spot, may I continue to embrace the bumps in my parenting road because, at the end of the day, I have them.
**********************
Enjoy the meal, all. And a happy anniversary to the FIL and MIL! I hope that the offspring gift arrives in a timely fashion, to beautify your home and all it represents for two seasons, if not more...returning year after year.
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