Death and New Life in the Kitchen. An Easter Tale.

We've been raising sea monkeys in our kitchen since Santa brought a kit for Christmas. The first attempt never really got off the ground, and after a month we conceded defeat and mailed in to the Amazing Sea Monkey Company for a refill pack of eggs.

The second attempt resulted in a successful hatch. Just as we'd given up on ever seeing the tiny little critters, close inspection revealed Topper, Sinker, Cinco, Tap, and Centro, and a couple others.

Aside: the names were mostly based on the location of a sea monkey at the moment it was being referenced. "Topper" was the sea monkey closest to the top, "Sinker" was the lowest, "Cinco" was the 5th one counted, and so on. They usually shifted enough that we never really needed the full 7 names.

We were enjoying our little sea monkey community, curious about the one with an extremely long tail, wondering how big they would grow.

Imagine my shock when I came into the kitchen for breakfast last week to discover an empty habitat. I have to admit that even as the grown adult in the room, I was fairly disappointed, and immediately began to go through stages of mourning. Denial, anger, loss. It was all there.

Exhibit A: Empty Habitat

An explanation came when I called my husband at work. His reaction: "There were sea monkeys in there?" In efforts to find the source of a slightly swampy odor in the kitchen, he assumed it must be dried sea monkey corpses and stagnant water, and tossed the water. And, of course, the sea monkeys. Apparently we hadn't shared the daytime joys of watching Topper, Sinker, Cinco, Tap, and Centro with the night crew (my husband). Uh oh. My reaction: "Want to talk to Oscar?"

We remedied the whole situation today with a new pet. We made sure we picked one that was big enough for Dad to see. So far so good. Matt's lesson from all this is that when you're in a house with kids, never throw away mysterious containers of water. He tossed a tooth left out for the tooth fairy at his nephew's house a couple years ago. He spent 15 minutes digging through the food disposal drain until he found it. No such luck with the sea monkeys.

Exhibit B: Very Visible Pet Beta

Cinnamon Girl

Or in this case, boy, for all you Neil Young fans out there. He smelled great all day.

You can also see from this photo that I'm making progress in covering all of my interior home surfaces with plastic.

Forgotten entree

Ever have a dinner party and forget to put out a main dish?

We had a soup supper tonight, with friends bringing their favorite soups to share. Great conversation, kids happily playing together until the wee hours (ok, 9PM, but that's pretty fantastic for the not-yet-2 through 7 set).

We made some sandwiches to go along with the soups. Unfortunately, I didn't remember them until everyone had gone home and we were cleaning up for the night.

What do you call food that isn't technically a left-over? Forgotten-overs?

Wish I had taken photos of all the soups. There were 6, and all fabulously different.

Bad dinner guests

Never bring your child to someone's house for Thanksgiving dinner when they were sick earlier in the day, no matter how healthy and recovered they look.

You might end up being really really bad dinner guests.

five and a half hours

This photo is probably only relevant if you've read or watched 127 Hours. It's my version from a couple weeks ago.

There is a picture in the book that lays out all of Aron Ralston's supplies that he had to use to survive as he was trapped by a boulder for 127 hours. I won't go into his efforts to escape, other than to say it's worth a read and/or watch. 

Last week, I had prepared a nice picnic lunch and tossed in some rare treats (you see above) that were left-over from our Habitat purchases. We visited my son's preschool, then planned to go on a couple hour hike in the surrounding woods, farm, and pond with the kids. 

We had a nice start trekking about, and about an hour into our journey, as we were all getting nice and hungry, we settled on a picnic spot. I opened my backpack to find that somehow I hadn't actually PACKED the sandwiches, veggies, and drinks. The picture above shows what I did have. So, we did what any intrepid hiker in dire straights would do. We made lunch out of Oreos, Skittles, and a shared bottle of water. The kids thought it was awesome. Of course, this also means my 16-month-old youngest child ate this food as well. I wouldn't have even had this stuff in the house when my oldest was that age. No wonder the youngest ones get spoiled. They benefit from older-sibling corruption and more harried parents. 

No limbs were lost, incidentally.

Bacon grease II

If you read yesterday's post about the mason jar full of bacon grease, you'll appreciate today's update.

I was making yet more bacon tonight (no comments about our arteries here needed) and I dumped a glass full of bacon grease once again, all over the countertop, cupboards, recycling, and floor.

Nice.

Really nice? Husband cleaned it all up later that evening once it had cooled a bit. My hero.

The telltale mason jar

It looks pretty innocent in the photo, doesn't it? Just a greasy mason jar, ready for a wash or toss into the recycling bin.

Until you know that only moments before this photo was taken it was full of liquid bacon grease.

I walked in the kitchen after leaving my kids unattended for just a few minutes too long to find this empty jar. I asked where all the grease had gone (I collected it here after making bacon for lunch until it cooled enough to toss). My daughter said her little brother had dumped it all out into the sink as part of an experiment. She then said it was ok, she took care of it by draining the sink and putting in fresh water for washing dishes.

Mild freak-out on my part. Drained the sink, ran hot water down it for the next 10 minutes. Crossed fingers that it was enough. By this point, the grease that didn't make it into the sink had started to coagulate and I saw the full extent of the damage. All over the counter, the carton of eggs and tissue box on the counter, dumped in the recycling, down the cupboard front, and all over the floor. Oh, and on the leather chair cushion that my daughter was standing on to wash dishes.

Then my daughter informs me her brother has colored on the living room wall behind the couch. Another freak out on my part, slightly less mild this time. I sweep him up to take him up to a time out/nap, then come to my senses and instead put him to work cleaning up. By the time the living room is cleaned up from crayons, toys, strewn cushions, etc, I take him up for a nap.

My daughter comments, "Mom, isn't it nice we're such good helpers?" I wrench out a smile but don't manage to say anything. She offers to help empty the dishwasher, while polishing her own halo. I take her up on it. While we're working, she says, "Some days are harder than others." I burst out laughing to which she comments, "Well, I didn't expect that reaction!" And I laugh harder.

We finish up and simultaneously wonder what her brother has been up to. I go to check and find him covered in red marker on his belly, writing in his sister's special notebook. He says as sweetly as pie that he's making clues for me to follow. Ah ha. So cute. So maddening. So....life as a parent.

The Pits

We lost our parenting license temporarily tonight.

This weekend we bought one of those urban fire pits that allow you to easily have a fire in your backyard. We thought a lot about this, because we have very young children who are as excited by fire as we are. Having surveyed some friends with young kids and fire pits of their own, and based on our own experiences camping with young kids, we decided that if it was tucked away out of the play area that it would be manageable.

Here is our fire pit's brief history:
Sat 5PM: fire pit purchased at Menards w/help of 3 kids. They like the one w/trees on the side. Sold.
Sun 9AM: fire pit assembled in backyard with help of kids before leaving for church. Hopes run high for a marshmallow roast later in the day.
Sun 6PM: fire pit has inaugural lighting. Kids go a little bonkers wanting to toss sticks in. Parents eye each other warily.
Sun 6:20PM: 3-year-old places hand squarely on fire pit screen, getting enough of a burn to leave screen-impressions on his palm. No blistering, no tears, but big eyes. Parents horrified. Child comments that the screen marks look kind of interesting.

Future of the fire pit? Undecided. Maybe reserved for late nights when kids are in bed. I just hope the poor kid doesn't have a screen pattern scarred on his hand for the rest of his days! Childhood survival stories w/friends in the future: "Oh yeah, this grid pattern is from my idiotic parents when they let us have a fire pit in the yard and I was THREE!"

the Greek yogurt that wasn't

There is a slightly kooky Greek-American who posted a how-to-make-Greek-yogurt video on You Tube that charmed my 3-year-old son and me. We decided to try his recipe. It took us a couple weeks to assemble the ingredients (cheese cloth, yogurt starter, whole milk....then more whole milk as we'd drink our supply). Finally, we got around to trying it. The majority of the time it just sits in your oven, proofing.

Sadly, our yogurt looked the same when we started as when we finished. Like milk.

I'm not sure what went wrong, but the most likely cause of error was heating to the wrong temp. I don't have a candy thermometer, so just guessed on when it reached 185 degrees, then cooled to 110 degrees. Better luck next time.

Here is an exciting photo of what the pan looked like sitting there in the oven for 14 hours:

Wave of Destruction

It was just one of those days. Things were going to break, catch on fire, or otherwise fall to pieces.

It started when I tried to use the blender like a food processor, chopping corn. It started to smoke then spew black bits all over as the rotator-thing seized. You can actually see some of the smoke toward the bottom left of the appliance in the photo. Miraculously, after the smoke cleared and the black bits were wiped up, it managed to whip up a smoothie just fine. No more corn.

A bit later, my 10-month-old was playing in the cupboards. Taking advantage of a completely inattentive mother, he pulled a stack of 3 mixing bowls off the shelf. While 2 of the bowls cracked (ah, the last of our fantastic wedding-gift Italian ceramic bowls--boo hoo!) the little boy was completely unharmed. Phew.

New bowls ordered on Amazon that night (don't ask why, but we ordered ceramic again). The last set dwindled over 11 years, so I guess that's not too bad. My husband thinks it was cheap pottery, citing the numerous Roman vessels that are still in fine shape today. I suggested that perhaps the Romans had better sense than to let their 10-month-old babies near them.

Multi-tasking

An unwatched pot always boils. And boils. As you play a game with the 5-year-old, build blocks with the 3-year-old, and explore instruments with the 8-month-old and utterly lose yourself on the hardwood floor of family togetherness.

Not that I'm claiming this. My husband did it. But I'm really glad he did because we had a great time.

So I'm signing off for the last time for quite awhile I think. I'm going to redirect my cooking blog energy toward my professional work. Since this blog occupies approximately 10 minutes of my time each day, I am gifting myself an extra hour of time each week to put toward my freelance business. I love late Christmas presents.

Anyway. It's somehow satisfying to conclude with a photo of an utterly scorched pot instead of some perfectly turned out cake that took 16 hours to make. After all, there were enough salvageable noodles in the pot to meet our needs, and the kids found the skin formed by the pasta boiling over fascinating for at least 2 minutes. There is good in all that.

Late Feast

I dedicated myself to making the butternut squash soup tonight, so when I was just starting dinner at 6:15, I knew bedtime would be late. At 6:45 I decided I really wanted to try an onion cheddar biscuit recipe to go with the soup. Fortunately, my husband was on board with the plan, or at least not offering commentary to the contrary.

We ate at 7:15, and both the soup and biscuits were keeper new recipes. Love when that happens. Bonus: no one melted down even though things got late. Admittedly I came really close at one point when there were 3 balloons, 5 people, and 3 chairs set like picks in the middle of our 10x12 kitchen while I was trying to assemble ingredients for biscuits. I managed to use some calming techniques I usually offer my kids. Deep breath. Find the humor. Kick everyone out.

Menu-plan breakdown

Went to cook this evening. No steaks. No seafood. No anchovies for the pasta dish. Nearly had to go out to eat (tragedy!), but tacos saved the day. Menu plan ≠ shopping list this week. Other than losing the hamster, thank goodness this is the greatest crisis we faced today.

Pasta Party

You know you need a night out when your Freudian eyeballs read "party pack" on the side of a box of dried pasta when what it really says is "pantry pack."

Birthday Week

August means birthday season at our house. My daughter wanted a Barbie cake -- the real deal with a doll she could pull out at the end. My husband said it was feminism hell. A tank-top clad Barbie leaping out of a cake. Perfect. What I didn't realize is that most cakes apparently assume you're using a Barbie topper. The cake dissection photo I'm including (be forewarned, it ain't pretty) shows my 3-tiered attempt to make this thing tall enough to accommodate Barbie legs. They are LONG.

The recipe called for the bottom two layers (seen here in chocolate). Ok. They reached maybe up to Barbie's kneecaps. At this point, my mom said, "I remember making about 5 little cakes to make it come out." Me thinking, "Hm."

The second layer, in yellow, was salvaged from part of her brother's cake. He was going to have 2 turtles. Now there is only one. Cake now reaches Barbie's thighs. Hm indeed.

The final layer is the fattest muffin I could find at Target. I essentially glued it together with frosting after carving a hole and jamming Barbie into it. It was touch-and-go for a time, but came out ok. It meant that I had to frost the whole thing w/my fingers be/c it's the only way I could get a consistent look AND keep the cupcake pieces together. Happy for you readers, you probably didn't eat it. I kind of like the streamlined (as in 1930's Art Deco) design of the dress. And the slugs I put on for icing to decorate it. They DO look like slugs, don't they? Or Medieval holy spirit flames. I guess my mom used to put little dots all over. That would have been pretty. Anyway, it was truly fun to make and the birthday girl loved it.

The turtle cake was a simple operation. Bake cake in bowl. Frost. Insert Snickers bar legs/head. Decorate "shell" as you wish. I made cupcakes to supplement since the other cake went into Barbie's dress. Result: a happy birthday boy.

Upside-down Cake

 My husband made me a great cake last week. He said the key step was to cool it completely on racks--preferably not the oven rack as he accidentally did! Good save by flipping the entire oven rack over to get the freshly baked cake back into the pan it had just flipped out of. I probably would have tried lifting it with a spatula only to have it crumble. Frosting conceals all!

Explosive Friendship Bread

Just a heads up that if you're ever gifted some Friendship Bread, it WILL explode if you don't let some air out of the bag as it expands. Or maybe this is somehow a comment on the relationship between giver/recipient? Uh oh...

Candle Lesson

I was sorting through some photos and came across this lesson in candle placement. This was a cake we had for my grandpa's birthday back in February. Looks yummy, huh? If you like wax, that is.

My mom brought tall skinny candles, and I brought some traditional sized candles. We decided to put them all on for dramatic effect.

Within moments after lighting them we learned this important lesson: tall skinny candles should never mix with short candles. The heat from the short candles started to melt the middles of the tall candles almost instantly. Then, as about 6 people worked frantically to blow them out, they faced the challenge of having to "catch" the long candles in motion as they bent and flopped like flaming noodles.

Dramatic, but leaves an unpleasant waxy finish on your frosting. Candle segregation is highly recommended.

Hot Cross Buns

I started making hot cross buns each year for Easter when we were living in NYC. You'd see these buns in bakeries all around the city and it finally occurred to me that these must be traditional in some households at this time of year. I always knew of them in nursery rhyme form only.

I took some photos this year as I made the buns, although I somehow managed to NOT take a picture of the final product. Too bad, since they're pretty.

The first picture is blending the dry ingredients along with lemon zest. The smell is one of the first that I associate with this recipe and I love it! Fresh, springy, and tart.

The next image hopefully makes you smell the zest of the orange. Note that this process was made more challenging this year as my daughter decided to eat the only orange in the house for breakfast. She had it peeled before I knew what was happening. I didn't feel like hiking to the store for another orange, so I worked with the bits and pieces. It was a little tedious, but I got what I needed.



The final picture is kneading. This dough requires 10-15 min of it. I was in the mood to knead by hand (vs. mixer) this year to feel the dough changing—and get an upper-arm workout in the process.

You can see Craisins and currants in there. Normally I use golden raisins, but couldn't find any in my cupboard. I actually preferred the Craisins in the final product because the tartness emphasized the zests so well.

If you want to try hot cross buns next year, here's the recipe I use. It's about 3 hours start-to-finish. That said, the rising time is extremely forgiving for these, and if you happen to leave them proofing for, say, 5 hours at some point as I did this year, it won't suffer for it. Also, I use a half-recipe of my own pie crust since it's simpler for me for the crosses. Don't trim them to the bottom, but leave ends long enough to tuck under the buns a little when they bake. It'll help keep them from flaking off if you have to transport or store them. These buns are extremely dense, and usually one per person suffices unless they really love bread. Those that love bread will make a meal of these with butter, right out of the oven. Mmm.

Happy Half-Birthday to You

We've made a habit of baking a mid-winter cake to celebrate our kids' half-birthdays. Since both of their birthdays are in August, it provides a good excuse to enjoy some cake at an otherwise slow celebration season at our house.

Our son wanted a blue cake. Our daughter wanted a princess cake. Since my only requirement was that this be a low-key affair, I used blue frosting with colorful sprinkles on top and considered it a fabulous job of meeting both requests. We used some half-used "Happy Birthday" candles, only using the "Happy" portion--it was only a half-birthday celebration after all.

I started making the cake around 9 at night on Saturday and chose the recipe based on the ingredients I had on hand. Naturally, I discovered too far into it that I was missing cocoa powder. I called a neighbor and got some. The next day, another neighbor called us to borrow some cocoa powder and my husband gave them the can that I had borrowed the previous day. 'Tis the season, apparently.

The cake came out great. My daughter's only question: "Uh, Mom...Aren't we missing something?" She looked at me with an inquiring face. I said, "You mean presents? It's a half-birthday. You have to make it a whole year to get the presents!"