August 22, 2007

Let Me Organize You, One Meal At A Time

I value efficiency above almost everything except jewelry, and so although I frequently write about Publix, I try to limit my visits there by planning my menu for the week on Sunday and making one enormous grocery run.

“But I’m so unorganized! I can never think of anything to cook!” my friends wail when they hear of my anal-retentive, yet successful plan.

That’s where I come in. This week, I’m furnishing you with four recipes that are in frequent rotation at our house. This should give you plenty of time to print them out, assess your grocery needs, and put Anne Glamore’s Type A Meal Plan into action.

You’ll see that most of them are a variation on meat and starch, so if that’s not your bag, proceed to the next blog.

Below you’ll see recipes and commentary on Pork Lo Mein, Bowties With Peas and Prosciutto, Bulgogi and Chicken Piccata Pasta Toss.

Two of this week’s meals are Asian-ish, so you can buy one big hunk of ginger and grate enough for both nights while you’re at it. I didn’t provide a seafood recipe, but I usually serve it once a week. And I never make enough dinners as there are days in the week– something always comes up.

************************************

I think this recipe originally came from Cooking Light. I’ve made it a kabillion times. It’s not a stir-fry as much as it’s just noodles and pork. I use more pork, and a whole package of vermicelli. I only use a handful of snow peas because I’m the only one who eats them. Don’t cook the pork too long– keep it tender.

Kids are perfectly capable of peeling and grating ginger and mincing garlic if they want to eat. This is a fair trade. (Boys are particularly good at peeling and deveining shrimp, too, because it involves ripping off legs and pulling out guts, but more about that if we do a seafood dish.)

PORK LO MEIN

Trim fat from pork and cut pork in half lengthwise. Cut each half crosswise into 1/2 inch-thick slices; set aside. Combine pork and next 4 ingredients (pork through garlic) in a large zip-top plastic bag. Seal bag, and marinate in refrigerator 20 minutes. Place a large nonstick skillet coated with cooking spray over medium-high heat until hot. Add pork mixture; stir-fry 1 1/2 minutes or until browned. Add snow peas and bell pepper; stir-fry 1 minute. Stir in vermicelli and broth; cook 1 minute. Remove from heat; stir in sesame oil. Makes good leftovers if Porter does not live at your house.

********************************************************

I’ve published the next recipe before, but I figure basil season is almost over (unless you live in this drought-stricken area, where we are growing fried basil) and you better try this while you can steal basil from your neighbor’s garden for free instead of paying $1.99 for it at Publix.

Bowties with Peas and Prosciutto

1/4 C olive oil (or less) (or add a little butter)
1/2 C finely chopped onion (more or less)
12 oz frozen peas
6 oz prosciutto cut into strips (more or less)
10 fresh basil leaves, chopped
1 LB bowtie pasta
1 T olive oil or butter
fresh grated Parmesan (the real thing)

Saute the onion (in a skillet big enough to hold everything including the pasta at the end) in the oil or butter until lightly browned. Add the prosciutto and basil and saute until the prosciutto changes color. Add 2 cups of water to the pan to deglaze it (pour water in and stir everything around, scraping up the browned bits of stuff from the bottom of the pan so they’ll melt into the liquid). Add peas, salt and pepper. Cover and simmer until peas are tender.

Meanwhile, boil a whole lot of water and cook your pasta. Drain it and add it to the prosciutto mixture and stir everything gently so the pasta soaks up some liquid. Put it on plates and top with FRESHLY GRATED REAL PARMESAN and pepper and enjoy.

Serve with bread and a salad or do like I do and serve alone and say, “Here’s dinner. Put your napkins in your laps and quit grabbing bowties with your fingers before we’ve said the blessing. After we’ve said the blessing I expect you to use a fork.”

Don’t go buying any fancy-schmancy prosciutto for this; the packaged brand is perfectly fine. The trick to this is cooking the onions slowly until they are barely browning, but if someone’s going to be late for soccer, by all means just crank up the heat and sear the hell out of the onions. It’ll still eat.
***************************************************

I feel like I’m letting you watch me go to the bathroom when I share this recipe; it’s that private. My sisters and I grew up eating bulgogi, which my mom learned to cook while she and my father were stationed in Korea. It was a childhood favorite. When I had kids, I made my mom’s recipe, served it excitedly, and everyone gagged.

Undaunted, I waited a year and made it again, but instead of putting it over rice, I wrapped it in lettuce and introduced it as “Chinese tacos.” Everyone was a year older, and thus more polite, but they still just picked at the lettuce and excused themselves one by one.

My mom’s recipe was too sweet, which makes sense when you realize she was cooking in the 70’s. My sisters and I experimented with a number of other versions, and finally hit upon this one, which my boys beg for.
You can make a cucumber salad, too– seed and chop a cucumber and douse it in a little soy sauce, rice vinegar and sesame oil, then top with toasted sesame seeds.

BULGOGI

1/4 Cup soy sauce

1 Tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons sesame oil (Asian food aisle)

1 bunch scallions (green onions), chopped

1 Tablespoon minced garlic (maybe 4 big cloves)

1 Tablespoon minced fresh ginger

3 Tablespoons toasted sesame seeds (350 degree oven 3-5 min)(do extra for salad)

1 lb flank steak sliced thinly across the grain ( We get at least 1.5 lb now)

veg oil

Stir soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, scallions, garlic, ginger and 2T of the sesame seeds until sugar dissolves. Add steak and toss to coat. Marinate 15 minutes (or all day in the fridge. I do in a ziplock). Heat veg oil in a heavy skillet or wok over high heat til just smoking then add steak in a single layer. (Be careful to just add the meat, not the marinade - you don’t want to steam the meat). Saute, turning occasionally, until browned and cooked through (5 mins). Sprinkle with remaining sesame seeds. (I always forget to do this and it doesn’t matter). Serve with rice or lettuce.

*******************************************

I have many chicken dishes. Lots use chicken parts. Around here, we love chicken parts because they are cheap and cook up real nice.

I’m going to spare you from the parts THIS WEEK and let you eat some white meat, but let me warn you, chicken parts will be coming if this post is a success and you beg for a repeat.

Here is a recipe for Chicken Piccata Pasta Toss from the Food Network. For legal reasons you need to go to the site and print out your own copy.

I don’t think you need to add so many capers, and I’d add the lemon juice a little at a time to taste. I used about 3/4 of the lemon juice. Here’s where you can use up the rest of the box of chicken broth you started when you made the Pork Lo Mein.

****************************************

Okay, readers, let me know if you actually do this and enjoy it. I’m happy to share some meal plans here and there, but not if only two of you are actually using them and the rest of you are just reading them and ordering take-out.

_________________________

Edited to add:

I had so many requests for the Beef Balls In Red Wine Sauce that I’m linking to it here.  While you’re reading the recipe, you can refresh yourself on the rules for the Doorknob game!  I think it’s best to make them a day ahead, and they freeze well also.

Personally, I’d wait until the temperature falls below 103 to make them, but that’s your business.

August 21, 2007

Happy Anniversary: Your Son Is An Ass

Today is our anniversary.  Bill and I are going to celebrate sometime, but not tonight because we have Open House (2 parents, 3 classrooms to visit) and Finn’s soccer practice.  We’re trying to fit dinner, homework and baths in there, too.

This morning Bill left me a note on the counter that sent shivers up my spine.

Honey:

Happy anniversary!  The bathroom tub leaked all night.  It’s a big leak and filled up the whole tub.  I wasn’t able to fix it (I know that surprises you!)

Your Hunk Of Love,

Bill

I managed the morning routine with the boys.  With pre-teen Finn, I never know if I’m going to wake up to solicitous, shoulder-massaging Finn or a barbarian.  This morning it was the latter. 

I walked into the den to find Drew sobbing on the sofa.  I went to the kitchen where Porter was eating a stack of waffles.  He explained the reason for the weeping with anchorman-like precision.

Drew couldn’t read Bill’s note because it was in cursive. Finn refused to read it to him and snarled, “You need to learn to be a better reader if you’re going to survive third grade.” 

Next Finn held the tortillas hostage and wouldn’t allow Drew to eat one for breakfast, saying, “I might need these to cook something important.”   

I poured coffee for me and some for Porter, read Drew the note, handed him a tortilla, then called Finn in for a stern lecture on the value of brothers and not acting like a turd. 

I resigned myself to being late for work again, and called the plumber, making sure to tell the company to tell him to call for directions.  While I got dressed, the phone rang; the (male) plumber was lost.

As I was walking out the door, the tree service drove up to cut down some dead trees and limbs.

I made it to work and sent Bill an email in response:

Happy Anniversary, honey!

The leak is fixed.  Who knew a small metal washer cost $132? 

The tree men are going at it.

Your oldest son was an asshole this morning.  Can you please talk to him?  Call me for details.

I’ll handle the two 3rd grade teachers tonight at Open House and you do 6th grade.

Maybe I’ll see you there!

Love You Tons,

Anne

Who says life isn’t romantic after kids come along?

August 20, 2007

Help A Clueless Soccer Family

The minivan, the suburbs and the fact that David Beckham bears an uncanny resemblance to my own sexy husband might have led you to conclude that I’m a typical soccer mom. I fit the demographic, except that until now, none of the boys has played much soccer.

Recently Finn joined a competitive soccer team (Long story. Summary: my resentment that soccer takes up 5/7 of our week and forced me to reschedule drum lessons has been replaced by grudging acceptance. The other families seem hip and soccer has more action than baseball, fewer concussions than football, and a point, which I fail to see in basketball).

None of the Glamores knows a thing about soccer, except that I am aware of the hotness of the aforementioned David Beckham, which I have witnessed first-hand, and his alleged talent, which I have not.

At the game yesterday the referee kept calling “off-sides” and I thought that meant that the ball rolled out of bounds and had to be thrown in by the other team. Sadly, I soon learned that this innocuous term has a complicated meaning having to do with where people are when someone kicks at the goal. I think.

At dinner last night we ascertained that no member of our family, including Finn, understands the “off-sides” rule.

If I lived in Nashville, I could run over to BusyMom or Lindsay’s and ask, because it seems they’ve been living soccer for the last decade.

Since I can’t, I turn to you, readers. I know there are plenty of you out there who can explain this so we can understand it. Best explanation wins.

Play ball!

I don’t want to pick on soccer so early (I haven’t even met the hirsute coach) so you can read how I reacted when football threatened to take over our lives (and DRUMS) here.

August 16, 2007

A Venn Diagram, The Union Of Which Is A Joke

Two completely unrelated topics have been on my mind lately, but last night I realized that if I were to make a Venn diagram of them just for kicks, the intersecty part would contain a joke that my mother used to tell.

It’s fiery hot here.  The temperature has been above 100 for nine days in a row, breaking all sorts of records and launching the weathermen into a state of frenzied excitement about the milestone.  We watch wearily, dripping sweat and praying for a balmy 95 degree day.

Speaking of fire, Bill took the boys to get their soccer uniforms and the Bananarama remake of the Shocking Blue song “Venus” came on the radio.  My genitally-obsessed boys came home singing “I’m your penis, I’m your fire…” until I told them I saw enough penises on a daily basis and did not want to hear about them in song.

There’s been some chatter on various blogs lately about Southern accents, and I confess that I have one.  My boys learned to say “milk” as a two-syllable word (”mee-ulk”) and it wasn’t until someone remarked on it that I thought to monitor their conversations and prevent them from sounding completely Deliverance-like, although we can do that if you want.  I’ve also been told I do a mean imitation of Carley, Will Ferrell’s wife in Talladega Nights, and I must say, I’m not really acting when I say, “Y’all come to dinner! I’ve been slavin’ over this food!”

Really, I suppose that MetroDad would be the best judge of the thickness of my accent, as he was gracious enough to take the boys and me to lunch when we were in New York recently.  Once we sized each other up and determined that neither of us was an axe murderer and we were, in fact, both music-listening, New Yorker reading, grammar-fanatic foodie travel parent bloggers, we had a wonderful time.

Alternatively you could check out our movie again and see if I sound more like Scarlett or like an anchorwoman (albeit one who finds a nasty surprise in her bed).

All this musing on penises and Southern accents compelled me to construct my first ever non-required Venn diagram.

Figure 1 demonstrates that the part I told you about the heat was merely informative and not crucial to the column.  But still– 104 degrees.  I thought you should know.

Next you see that the union (that’s the part where the circles overlap) of penis talk and southern accents is my mom’s joke.

Most of you didn’t know my mom.  Her picture is in this post.  More importantly, you must know that she had a classic Southern accent, and dropped her r’s, so that the word “bard” would sound more like “bahhd” and it would take her a while to say it.

My Mom’s Joke
(told for years after the event had dropped from public consciousness):

Mom: (giggling naughtily at the Thanksgiving table) “Do you know what John Wayne Bobbitt said when his new girlfriend wanted to make love?”

Family: (shocked that Mom would say “make love” )”No, what did he say?”

Mom: (drawling more than ever) “He said, ‘I’d love to honey, but it’s haahhhd to get haahhd when your dick’s in the yaahhd.’”

That was the only joke I ever heard her tell, but Lord, she loved to tell it.

August 14, 2007

Bow Chicka Wow Wow

Hell.  The the Axe effect has struck our house again, but this time the outcome was worse, thanks to my big mouth.

Last Friday I was running errands with the boys, and as Finn and I strolled across the CVS parking lot together I heard him singing “Bow chicka wow wow” under his breath.  I bought sunscreen and Finn bought some body spray after I nixed his request for back-to-school cologne.

He grooved to the “Bow chicka wow wow” again as we walked into the eye doctor’s office to get his contacts checked.  And again on our way into Publix.

I don’t know what that song makes you think of, but I imagine naked bodies undulating in a hazy 1970’s style den with green shag carpeting.

“Finn, where did you hear that?” I finally asked him, worried that he’d been over at a friend’s house watching all sorts of naughty things.

“On an Axe commercial,” he said nonchalantly, kicking a rock across the asphalt as we walked.  “You should see it.  There’s this girl wheeling an old lady in the grocery store, and she sees this guy, and she, like, hurls the wheelchair and starts dancing around and stuff near the boy because she likes his body spray.  It’s hilarious.”

He laughed while I fumed.   As soon as we got back into the minivan I peeked in the CVS bag at his body spray.  It was Axe phoenix scent.  Unfortunately, I’d momentarily forgotten that some toiletries specifically marketed to boys are not rated G or even PG.  He’d been sucked in by  the Axe commercials again while I wasn’t paying attention.

Once we got home, I pulled him into my room for a quick chat.

“Finn, you’ve got to get a new tune,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because that “Bow chicka wow wow” music is how you describe the cheesy songs they play in pornos,” I whispered.

“What’s a porno?” he whispered back.

Damn.  I couldn’t believe he didn’t already know what a porno was and I was the one who’d brought it up.  Please come here often for parenting tips, or at least to learn what not to do when attempting to raise boys.

Anyway, having raised the issue, I was determined to see it through.

“Well, Finn- -and this is not information that you should share with your brothers or your friends–”porno” is short for “pornographic” which is a kind of movie that is poorly written, with stilted dialogue, to the extent there is any dialogue, and a weak plot, to the extent there is any plot, because the main focus of the movie is naked people making googly eyes and so on and so forth.”

“Googly eyes like you and Daddy sometimes make at the dinner table, or googly eyes like where you’re trying to make a baby?”

“Both,” I said.  “And the movies have terrible music, and the way people describe the music in a pornographic film is “bow chicka wow wow.”

“No way,” Finn said.

“It’s true,” I confirmed.  “So sing something else, dude.  I don’t need everyone in the Tiny Kingdom thinking you sit around watching pornos all day.”