• A break in the clouds

    In spite of feeling like my kids bicker nonstop, there are days where they play together for hours on end. The past couple days have been an absolute dream. I savor this break in the thunder clouds and do my best to soak up the comradery. I’ll need the good memories to draw upon when the sibling love gets scarce.

    Of course, what gets their jive juice going isn’t normal, calm, inside-the-box play, like building towers out of blocks or a jolly game of Parcheesi.

    Or, say, simply swinging on our industrial quality swing set, oh no. That would be way too…normal.


    The kids have to go and mutilate the set by removing extemporaneous swings and importing a huge slab of wood until they end up with a seesaw and merry-go-round hybrid.


    The kids pad the board with mounds of old winter coats, arrange themselves just so (balance is key), and then order the Baby Nickel to spin them.


    They scream a lot, and I have to keep yelling out the door at them to STOP SCREAMING. I HATE screaming. It ranks right up there beside whining and clock alarms. Yelling is fine, I say. Screaming is not. And then I walk away and the screaming starts up again. Perhaps it’s an uncontrollable side effect of spinning?


    They like to just hang out on the board, too, dozing in the sun like the sloths I sometimes wish they were.


    Eventually they tire of spinning and/or balancing and move on to making one enormous swing.


    It serves dual purposes.

    Purpose Number One: a perch for eating popcorn.


    Purpose Number Two: a swinging stunt platform.


    The younger two lay on their backs and pump the swing with their legs while the older two hang from swingless chains and do their thing.

    As I was typing this, the swing set morphed into yet another structure.


    They added a ladder and some old canvas and, voilà!, a tent was born.

    Tomorrow our family heads in five different directions. When we return, the swing set may be a thing of the past. Or not.

    In any case, it was a great diversion while it lasted.

    This same time, years previous: beef empanadas, one whole year, reasons, lemon donut muffins, weird, honeyed apricot almond cake, brown bread, simple granola, fancy granola, French chocolate granola, oregano, garlic, and lemon roast chicken with asparagus and potatoes, and a sketchy character. Whew!

  • Two bad things

    Or, to be more accurate, two new bad things. Because it’s not like there weren’t any bad things in my life until these two bad things came along. For the record, my life is full of bad:

    bad hair (my baby’s—it looks like someone took a machete to it)
    bad language (oops, did I just SAY that?)
    bad behavior (only my kids’)
    bad weeds (naughty, naughty weeds!)
    bad communication (my husband’s specialty)
    bad memory (all mine)

    But now I have two new Bads to add to the list. That I’m in love with them makes it all the worse.

    Bad Thing One: thinned down dulce de leche for my iced coffee, oh yes!

    (But can it be called “thinned down” if it’s half-and-half doing the thinning? Hm, I must think on that.)


    1. Open a can of ducle de leche and take out a large glob.

    2. Heat the glob up in the microwave for a few second, just enough to help it relax.


    3. Whisk in some half-and-half.

    4. Whisk in more half-and-half.

    5. Whisk in more—


    6. Yeah, just keep whisking and adding till it’s the consistency you want, which would be creamy and pour-able, kind of like Hershey’s chocolate syrup.


    7. Store the now very skinny dulce de leche into a jar and put it in the fridge.

    8. Every afternoon when you pour your iced coffee concentrate into a pint jar, add a hearty glug to go with.

    (9. And if you’re feeling particularly wicked, top off your pint with a scoop of leftover whipped cream that’s been getting all lonely in the back of the fridge.)


    My little dishwashing boy pounced upon the sticky bowl, and in the midst of giving it a good tongue washing, he happily announced, “Mom, I’m in love with dith!”

    Bad Thing Two: chocolate peanut butter cake.

    It’s all my mother’s fault. When she was here this past weekend, she brought the pre-assembled fixings for a chocolate cake and then baked it up in my oven since hers is on the fritz. The plan was to take the cakes home with her, but she made a little one for us to eat right then and there in honor of Father’s Day, and in spite of my warped and hole-y measuring cups (Jennifer, this is ridiculous!) and the unappealingly smeared-on icing (thanks to one little girl), the cake was really good.

    And then my mother said, in an off-handed sort of way, “You know what I’m going to do with one of these layers when I get home? I’m going to ice it with peanut butter frosting and then drizzle a chocolate ganache over top.”

    And then she smacked her lips at me.

    I played it cool, genteelly nodding my head at her, but truth is, she did me in. I had to have a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and chocolate ganache.

    So I made myself one. Because I’m practical like that.


    The formula: this chocolate cake (but I used regular cow’s milk instead of coconut milk) PLUS this peanut butter frosting PLUS this chocolate peanut butter ganache from Smitten Kitchen (recipe follows) EQUALS a chocolate peanut butter cake that totally, totally, totally meets The Persistent and Persnickety Peanut Butter Chocolate Craving.


    Bake the chocolate cakes in two round pans. Each cake goes a long way, so freeze the extra one or give it away. (I gave it away.)

    Spread the cake with the peanut butter frosting. Really lay it on. (I’m struggling with Icing Application Regret—I should have been much more generous.) Set the iced cake in the fridge to set up—it needs to be rather firm so that the ganache won’t push it all around.

    While icing the cakes, do not neglect your tasting duties!

    Pour on the ganache. Use a knife to push it (artfully) over the edge. Store the cake in the fridge. Cut off slices as needed.


    Chocolate Peanut Butter Ganache
    From Smitten Kitchen

    8 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped
    3 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
    2 tablespoons light corn syrup
    ½ cup half-and-half

    Put the chocolate, peanut butter, and syrup in the top part of a double boiler and cook until melted, whisking occasionally. Remove from heat and whisk in the cream. Spread over the cake while still warm (but not too hot).

    This same time, years previous: lemon ice cream with red raspberries, slushy mojitos, in honor of Father’s Day: the giant green slug, a public service announcement about peas

  • Real simple

    What I said on Monday (but posted on Tuesday) was really true: I had no idea what to make for supper.

    So that afternoon I went to my routine dermatology appointment, and while waiting for my name to be called, I picked up a Real Simple magazine to leaf through and there amongst all the glossy pages and coordinating colors I spied it: our dinner. It was on a two-page spread that listed off ten ways to cook eggs, all of which were real simple. Of course. (Or, of course not. Because they listed quiche as one of the simple dinners and I do not count quiche as “real simple.” It involves grating cheese and sauteing vegetables and making a crust and beating eggs and measuring things. This proves that the real simple mag editors have no handle on reality whatsoever, thank you very much.)


    However, the recipe I zeroed in on did indeed look simple. True, there weren’t any greens in the meal (except for the fresh herbs and two tablespoons of herbs don’t count for a vegetable serving in my book), but that didn’t bend me out of shape too much. A meal without peas or spinach or green beans wouldn’t kill anyone. (I hoped.)


    So after the doctor gave me a once over and an entire box of free medicine—whoot!—I hopped into my bunged up minivan and sped home to whip up my real simple supper.

    While the water boiled for my eh-spaghetti (helpful hint: read it with a Spanish accent), I bustled outside to collect my herbs—basil, parsley, chives, thyme, and oregano. Back in the kitchen I minced the aforementioned green things along with a couple cloves of garlic. After that it was mostly a real simple (but kind of chaotic) process of assemblage that went something like this:

    1. Saute the garlic, add the herbs and give a stir, toss in the eh-spaghetti and a little pasta water. Set aside.

    2. Fry some eggs.

    3. Assemble: plate pasta, top with fried egg(s), sprinkle with grated Parmesan and black pepper, and drizzle with olive oil.

    4. Eat.


    Moral of my tale: go the doctor when you don’t have any idea what to make for supper.


    Spaghetti with Fresh Herbs and Fried Eggs
    Adapted from Real Simple magazine

    Enhancement suggestions: oven-roasted tomatoes, fresh tomatoes, sauteed zucchini, peas, etc.

    1 pound spaghetti
    4-8 tablespoons olive oil
    3 cloves garlic, minced
    1 cup assorted fresh herbs (parsley, basil, oregano, chives, thyme, etc.), roughly chopped
    4-8 eggs, or as needed
    ½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
    salt and black pepper

    Cook the spaghetti according to the package directions. Drain (reserving about a half cup of the pasta water) and set aside.

    Saute the garlic in several tablespoons of olive oil. After a couple minutes, add the herbs and cook for 30 seconds or so. Add the pasta and toss to coat. (If it seems a little dry, splash in some of the pasta water.) Cover with a lid to keep warm and set aside.

    In a separate pan, fry the eggs, making sure that the yolks stay runny.

    Plate the spaghetti, top with an egg or two, a hearty drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkling of cheese, and salt and black pepper to taste. Dig in!

    This same time, years previous: a driving lesson