Can't Talk, Eating

Hey, look! Two blog posts in the same calendar month! One month into 2015, and I'm still keeping one of my actual, CURRENT-YEAR resolutions! Go me!

Plus, this post is going to be about MULTIPLE resolutions at once. I win at ... something.

Anyway. When last we spoke, I mentioned a bunch of "guidelines" that I set for myself for this year and I am happy to report that I have been hard at work at #5 especially. Now that I have a semi-regular schedule (i.e., I work most days and am almost always home by 4:00, so I have time to make "real" dinner instead of just throwing random assorted frozen things on the table), I have been trying to expand my repertoire in the kitchen. I mean, I think I'm a pretty good cook anyway, but it never hurts to improve.

This means -- pretty much as I predicted -- that I'm experimenting a lot more frequently with recipes I find on Pinterest. And so far, I've found one that has been an absolute, unqualified slam dunk, and so I am sharing it here.

But first (OF COURSE), a story, which begins thusly: I just CAN'T with pancakes.

I mean, I love pancakes. LOVE THEM. That's the problem. One is never enough. Three are usually not enough. Add in butter, syrup, etc., and I end up feeling fluffy and sluggish for the whole day. (Carbs!) But I love them, and my daughter and husband love them, and I feel so ... difficult when I make them for everyone else, but don't eat them myself. Difficult, and sad. Everyone else has a plate full of golden-brown hotcake deliciousness in front of them, and I'm eating a sad little serving of scrambled eggs.

Enter the cream cheese crȇpe.

This recipe has been floating around Pinterest for a while, usually under something like "low-carb pancakes." I tend to stay away from recipes like that, because many low-carb recipes out there contain ingredients I can't eat or don't like -- almond flour (allergic), coconut oil (not worth the cost, I don't think), Stevia (ick), erythritol (what?). But I found one that has two ingredients, both of which I (1) recognize and (2) have in my house.

Cream cheese and eggs. That's it. WHAT?

Believe it or not: these are GOOD. I don't know what kind of culinary alchemy makes cream cheese and eggs (plus a little bit of vanilla extract, which I add, because I never follow recipes exactly) turn into something that tastes almost exactly like pancakes when you pour the batter out of a blender, but HELLO LOVER.

I made these for the first time about a week ago, and they were good. I was not 100% satisifed with how they turned out -- I had trouble getting them to come out "pretty" -- but they tasted fine, and instead of syrup, I only needed a little bit of topping. In that first batch, I only used three half-teaspoons of blueberry preserves (half a teaspoon on top of each crȇpe), and it was enough.

But, as I said, I wasn't completely sold. They were good enough, but not perfect. Something wasn't quite right. I needed a second taster to try these and guess what was wrong with them, or tell me I was bananas for liking them so much, or something.

We tried them again this morning, and this time they were an unqualified success. My husband declared this recipe "a keeper" -- and I'll agree, especially because I figured out what was wrong with the last batch.

Here's the recipe: 3 ounces of softened cream cheese (lowfat cream cheese [American Neufchâtel] will work just fine) and 3 large eggs (or equivalent -- I used 2 medium eggs and 1/3 cup Egg Beaters). That's all. I added about 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla extract, but you don't need to. Mix in a blender or Magic Bullet-type device, then pour onto a heated griddle or skillet. You'll get 6-8 crȇpes from this recipe, depending on how big you make them. They'll be thin -- they're crȇpes, after all -- but they taste like pancakes (somehow!) and satisfy that craving. I don't know how, but they do. Magic, maybe?

When I made this batch, I put about half a teaspoon of preserves in the middle of each crȇpe and then rolled them up, with a little extra of the top, and a squirt of whipped cream to look pretty. They tasted AMAZING, even better than last time, when I used all Egg Beaters.

And now I can have pancakes with everyone else. THE END.

I Scream! You Scream! We All Scream For Ice Cream (That I Made Weeks Ago And Which Now Is Gone)!

While we're waiting for my kid to turn into a goddamned grownup even though I am not ready for such a ridiculous thing to happen because COME ON SHE IS ONLY A BABY WAIT WHERE DID MY BABY GO WHO IS THIS EXTREMELY TALL TALKATIVE BOSSY PERSON SLEEPING IN HER BED WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BAAAAAAAAABY YOU FIEND, let's talk about ice cream.

A while back, I got this incredibly inspired idea that I have approximately 80 bajillion dollars worth of Kitchen-Aid appliances and accessories in my kitchen that I haven't used in maybe a hundred years, so let's bust everything out and do something with them. I guess you could say I went on a Wheaton-esque "get excited and make things" kick for about twenty minutes.

I decided to make ice cream because it was very hot at the time. The heat has broken some in the meantime, but at that particular point it was too damned hot to even write about it. Hell, it was almost too hot to EAT it. But we took all our ingredients and spread them out on the stove so I could take a picture of them, and then we got to work.

We could not reach a consensus on what kind of ice cream to make. I've made ice cream before, in those practically prehistoric Days Before Children, but this was my first attempt with a very militant chocoholic in the house. Which could have been dicey, because I don't like chocolate ice cream (I know, it's un-American, WHATEVER, I'm already a socialist so hush). The compromise recipe was for cherry chocolate chip, which we made using 2 cups heavy cream, 2 cups half-and-half, 3/4 cup sugar (divided -- most of it in the ice cream, 2-3 tablespoons for the cherries), 1 tablespoon of my 15-year old Mexican vanilla (not I am not joking, my vanilla is THAT OLD), 2 dashes kosher salt, 3/4 cup fresh sweet cherries, and 1/3 cup mini semisweet chips.

At this point I will tell you what we did wrong. One, we should have used all cream -- either all heavy cream, or a combination of heavy and light cream. The final texture using the half-and-half was a bit too grainy. We might have been okay if we did a custard-style ice cream, but I didn't want to do that much work, and my eggs are always a bit dodgy. Also, we did not cut up the cherries into small enough pieces, nor did we let them "marinate" long enough. Probably we should have prepared the cherries the day before, let them soak up all the sugar, and then mashed the snot out of them.

We left our ice cream bowl in the freezer for 24 hours. We might want to let it go longer than that next time, but it was mostly okay. Our ingredients were not cold enough when we put them in the bowl; if you follow this recipe, I recommend putting everything in the freezer for at least an hour before adding it to the ice cream bowl. Let the mixer do the work for about half an hour or so (according to directions), and add the cherries and the chocolate chips for the last 10-15 minutes.

Also: you will need to freeze your ice cream before you can eat it. We let ours sit overnight before we ate it. So, basically, we started the process on Sunday (bowl in freezer), made the ice cream on Monday, poured it into covered containers and let it "ripen," and then finally ate it on Tuesday. Was it worth the wait?

Mostly. Like I said, our ice cream had an "off" texture, and because the cherries were not cut small enough some of them were basically solid chunks of frozen fruit when we finally ate it, plus since we didn't let them "marinate" long enough we got random bites of cherry that were more tart than others, but overall, the flavor was quite good. I really liked it. I'd definitely make it again, making a few small tweaks to the recipe and process. Although it was not all chocolate, the chocolate chips satisfied the animal urges of the not-so-little one.

Wummer

"Wummer" was the alternate suggestion for "S'Winter" (again, TM Phineas & Ferb), and since these pictures are from the same day, I figured I'd just go with it. As should you, if you know what's good for you.

I still have to finish going through all the pictures from last Saturday when it snowed -- I got as far as picture 92, but I took more than 250 -- but I had homework due for class on Monday. HOMEWORK. That's such a weird concept after 16 years of no homework.

Took this picture with my cell phone, and it's lightly processed (softening filter and then whatever it is that Instagram does), but it's still one of my favorites from the day. I am not a huge fan of snow, but I really love how Shae gets SO EXCITED when it comes.

And as much as I am still undecided on the hot pink snow pants -- because DEAR LORD ARE THEY BRIGHT -- they sure do make for some spectacular snow angels. (Also, you can see a bit of green hood peeking out -- that's from a 15-year old Eagles sweatshirt that's, like, 4th generation inherited, and Shae recently said it was her favorite shirt in the world.)

But this -- THIS is the best part of a snowy weekend day. When you have to get up for work in the morning and you have to deal with traffic snarls and the like, you can't really enjoy a snow day in quite the same way that you can when it's a Saturday and you can wake up gradually and stuff yourselves full of homemade chocolate chip and/or blueberry waffles and crispy bacon and tea and hot cocoa before you go out to shovel and play.

Maybe if it snowed more often on weekends when we don't have to rush around, I could learn to love the snow. (But probably never the hot-pink snow pants.)

Sunday Supper

Olive oil
Three carrots
Three ribs of celery
Small onion
Some boneless skinless chicken thighs
Chicken broth
Diced tomatoes
Fresh thyme
Fresh rosemary
Fresh sage
Kosher salt
Fresh-ground pepper
Balsamic vinegar
Hot buttered baguette

BLISS.

Grocery Stores And Other Scary Places

Since Thanksgiving is coming up and we're going to just about get familied-out next week, we decided to stay home for the weekend and get some stuff done around the house -- mostly straightening up the living room so that we'll be able to get our tree next weekend, as per our tradition. But also, because we kind of can't justifiably live on Chinese take-out and pizza for the next week because we are civilized, dammit, we also had to go to the grocery store.

Um, have you been to the grocery store on the Saturday before Thanksgiving? It's a horrifying place. I can't believe I am saying this, but it might actually be scarier at the supermarket on the Saturday before Thanksgiving than it is at the mall on Black Friday. Because -- and, again, I can't believe I am saying this, but -- the mall appears to be equipped to actually let you buy things.

I mean, yes, we did manage to buy things. Your standard staples: milk, cereal, bread, peanut butter, stuff to make chicken pot pie in the crock pot, frozen mini chocolate eclairs. I also got a 21-pound turkey which is now taking up half of the bottom shelf of my refrigerator, which is ironic because I'm not even going to be cooking it, but it was free with my shopper's card points, so what do I care? I'll eat squished up bread.

But navigating the grocery store on a busy weekend is pretty rough. Our supermarket tends to be crowded on a normal weekend anyway but MY GOD, between the giant stacks of corn cans and stuffing boxes and fancy displays made up of sweet potatoes as big as my head and enormous bags of marshmallows, it's hard to see around corners. The aisles all seem tight and everybody is in a hurry and there is something in the air that causes multiple nuclear meltdowns near the yogurt bunkers.

Oh and hey, I was also with my kid, who seems to be stuck firmly in "naughty" gear, with no amount of threatening to call Santa helping. AT ALL.

Then again, on the upside: I have that giant free turkey in my fridge.

Tasty Tuesday

Let's say you're all running late one Tuesday night because your husband got stuck in an endless meeting and you had to stop at the CVS on your way home from work to pick up yours fancy prescription toothpaste, so you collectively decide to forage for your dinner and he's having a bowl of cereal and the kid is having two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but you don't really want either of those things, so you find some mini hash brown patties in the freezer, and while they're baking you poke around in the fridge and find some quasi-questionable cherry tomatoes, so you cut those in half and throw them in a small skillet with the tiniest bit of flavored oil and seasoned salt and you toss them around and kind of pan roast them, and then maybe while those are cooking you take about ⅓ of a cup of southwest-flavored egg substitute and one egg and you scramble them together with some chives and a couple of tablespoons of reduced-fat Mexican-style cheese and about two ounces of cut-up turkey lunch meat, and then you take the tomatoes out of the pan and cook that whole egg mess up until it's nice and scrambly and just the way you like it, and you put the egg stuff on a pan and you put those tomatoes on top and you take the hash browns out of the oven and om nom nom and do you know what you have then?

You have one hell of a delicious dinner, is what you have.

Five Things I Am Curious About

1. We have all of the Shrek movies, all three of the original Star Wars triology movies, the first four Harry Potter movies, and all of the Toy Story movies -- why does my kid always want to start with the sequels, and never the first movie in any of the series?

2. Why is it colder inside my house than it is outside?

3. If onion rings are so delicious -- likewise for the Bloomin' Onion and other equivalent appetizer things -- and if green bean casserole is so damned tasty, why is it that French's french fried onions straight out of the bag are so vile?

4. Is there any smell in the universe more powerful that the peculiar aroma of microwave popcorn?

5. How am I going to resist eating the crispy skin off this rotisserie chicken until dinnertime?

Crap on a Cracker

I have SO MANY COOKBOOKS, you guys. SO MANY. Even though I only cook like five things and they almost all involve cream of mushroom soup. Seriously, I must have hundreds of cookbooks, enough to open a store that sold nothing but cookbooks and I'd still be able to be open for years, because honestly: it's like they've found all the nice warm spots in my house to hide away and breed, like escaped hamsters.

The reason I discovered this is that I was looking for something new and exciting to make for our annual department Turkey Day Potluck, which is coming up in a few weeks. For the last couple of years I have made my famous (infamous?) pumpkin dip, which is perfectly delicious and totally fine and whatever, but I've been trying to branch out a little bit, and I thought it might be fun to try something else for a change.

I'm not entirely sure what I thought I was thinking of -- maybe a homemade cranberry sauce? Or some kind of bread pudding? Perhaps a vegetable side dish in the crock pot, green bean or broccoli casserole maybe? Something to reactivate my lately-dormant Martha Stewart complex. The kind of stuff that I should definitely have been able to find in one of those cookbooks I have lying around.

My initial line of investigation went something like this: Thanksgiving is a holiday that is all about memory and tradition, right? And tradition means old-fashioned, vintage-y recipes that have been passed down through generations of home cooks, doesn't it? So if I'm looking for something like that, something that somebody else's grandmother might have made, where do I look? I look in one of these ancient and elderly cookbooks that I "inherited" from my aunts or my mother-in-law, don't I?

That's where I started, hoping to find something classic and comforting and totally holiday-appropriate and possibly even impressive, because vintage home cooking is the new haute cuisine. Right? So the other night, at dinner, I paged through an cookbook that used to be my mother-in-law's, perhaps even her mother's. I couldn't find a copyright date in this particular edition, but judging from the design of the kitchens and the clothes the people are wearing in the pictures, I would guess that this one is from somewhere between 1965 and 1975.

Should have been ripe for finding charming little old dishes like grandma used to make, right? Instead what I found were some of the most horribly, face-meltingly, stupefyingly bad "recipes" that I ever did see in my whole entire life. I am not talking about stuff that uses weird ingredients like rutabaga and sauerbraten and something called "No. 2 cans" of tomato soup, although there was plenty of that.

There was also a lot of ... whatever the hell that thing is, up there. In the cookbook, that monstrosity, that absolute affront to all that is good and holy in this world, that hot mess is called "Perfection Salad," and it is made with unflavored gelatin, sugar, salt, water, vinegar, lemon juice, shredded cabbage, celery, green pepper, and pimiento.

Or, in other words: SHREDDED VEGETABLES IN JELLO GARNISHED WITH OLIVES AND THINGS THAT LOOK LIKE OILED BABY FINGERS WHAT THE CRAP IS THAT I JUST CAN'T EVEN.

Now, look, I know that this was a different time in our history. I've watched a few episodes of "Mad Men." But come on now. Did anybody actually cook like this? Did anybody actually eat this stuff? Really? If this is what my grandparents' generation fed to my parents' generation in the 1960s, then it's no wonder that everybody did drugs in the 1970s. Who would look at that picture and say, "You know what? This gelatinous ring of disgustitude really IS just right for a buffet! Let have a dinner party and invite all my friends just so I can serve this!"

Probably the same person who would serve THIS mess. "Tasty Tenderloin-Noodle Casserole." Those meat-like chunks in the picture are supposed to be slices of pork tenderloin that have been browned in "hot fat." To me, they look like some kind of meatball, or potted meat product, or possibly wads of tree trunk -- or worse. The chunks are combined with "noodles" (I guess any old kind?), chopped green peppers and pimiento, and a "blue-cheese sauce" that is seriously the grossest thing that I have ever heard of. And I LOVE blue cheeses.

Here are some common things in this cookbook that I just don't understand: Pimiento. Monosodium glutamate. Unflavored gelatin. "Shredded process cheese" of unspecified flavor profile. "Luncheon meat," which I think means Spam or something? Recipes for "Mexican" and "Italian" food where the only spices called for are salt, pepper, and parsley.

These are two sample real recipes for "Appetizer Juices": (1) 2 parts chilled tomato juice and 1 part sauerkraut juice, stirred, served over crushed ice in cocktail glasses, and (2) heated vegetable-juice cocktail with 1 teaspoon butter stirred in. BUTTERED V8. Save me.

This is called "Rainbow Snowball Cake" and it's made from whipped vanilla ice cream, three kinds of sherbet rolled into balls and frozen on a "cooky" sheet, and apparently eleventeen different kinds of artificial colorings. I am getting hives just looking at it. That dessert is, like, 25% red dye #40.

Scary-sounding foods: Dried-beef Log. Prune Spice Cake. Baked Prune Whip. Glorified Rice, which is a dessert. Cottage Pudding. Baked-bean Sandwiches. Toasted Cheese Loaf. Liver Loaf. Chicken-fried Heart. Also, this cookbook contains a section on setting the table, including how to create "lovely and delightful centerpieces," one of which is basically -- no, it is exactly -- made by putting daisies in a saucepan.

Three things about this here thing, and then I need to go throw up and then take a nap: (1) My grandmother's nails totally looked like that, same shape and color and everything, until about 1997, and (2) that white thing is a so-called "pudding" made from unflavored gelatin, coconut flakes, and whipped cream, which is pretty much everything that is wrong with America, right there, and (3) WHY ARE THEY POURING BLOOD OVER THIS POOR THING? MAKE IT STOP.

Still want to see more, for whatever reason? You can check out The Gallery of Regrettable Food, and then maybe you should go seek professional help.

Surprise Cake Face

You guys, these pictures are SO DAMN OLD (taken on 10/1) that I had forgotten I even had them.

October 1st was Shae's half-birthday. Yeah, I know we're grasping at straws, but it's been a while since we had a birthday - the last one was G's birthday, way back on August 28th. So we let Shae pick out a cupcake so we could have a little "party." There were all kinds of cupcakes decorated with footballs and baseballs and Phillies logos - remember, this was way back at the beginning of the playoffs, when we still had high-cherry-pie-in-the-sky-hopes - and even a couple that looked like the Phillie Phanatic.

But she picked out this one, a Halloween-decorated number, with purple icing and a ghost-shaped Peep and a little decorative pick that said "Boo" on it, which she didn't even noticed because OMG YOU GUYS PURPLE ICING AND A GIANT PIECE OF CANDY WHOOOOOOO! The "Boo" pick was my favorite part, because we still call her Boo at home (after Boo from Monsters Inc. and also Boo-Boo Kitty from Laverne & Shirley. I AM OLD SHUT UP GET OFF MY LAWN.)

Yes, she is kissing the Peep that she is about to stuff into her mouth. This kid has a very bizarre romantic relationship with her food. Whatever. My sister once wanted to marry a Brussels sprout or a broccoli, I can't remember which, so it's not like messed-up relationships with food are unheard of in my family. (Now that I think about it, my sister was around this age at the time that she fell in love with a vegetable, so maybe it's just preschoolers, and not something hereditary.)

Anyway: Happy Friday! And Happy Surprise Cake Face Day!

PS - Purple cupcake frosting? DOES NOT COME OUT OF ANYTHING.

Legends of the Fall

YOU GUYS! Let's pretend we like autumn! (The season autumn, and not my COUSIN Autumn, whom I love with all my heart and soul, and I'm not just saying that because her sister would totally kick my ass. Autumn-the-Person rocks. Autumn-the-season sucks. Carry on.)

There are things ABOUT the fall that I love -- when the leaves change color and turn those lovely shades of pink and bronze and gold, being able to turn off the air conditioner but not having to immediately turn on the heat, Halloween candy.

And I like making soups and stews and roasts and casseroles in the crock pot and the oven, and busting out the bread machine, and spending Sundays in a house that smells so delicious that I sometimes consider gnawing on some of the old lead paint.

But I DON'T like when it starts to get cold and damp and wet and windy and all the leaves start to fall off the trees and they turn to mulch right there on the grass and the branches are all naked and sad and creepy.

And, yes, my kid gets no end of amusement playing outside when the weather changes, when you can tolerate the fresh air for more than 15 seconds without dissolving into a sweat puddle on the ground where you stand.

And also, she loves dressing up in her costume and going door-to-door with her little trick-or-treat bag, so naïve that she fails to notice that I have been secretly hiding the mini Twix bars in my pocket for the last half hour.

By the way, you guys, if she ever finds out about the Twix bars, you're all out of the will. And it won't work, anyway, because then I'll just start stealing the Kit-Kats and the Milky Way minatures, too, and you'll have to live with the guilt.

Eaters Gonna Eat: White Bean Chili

Normally I put the foodie stuff over on my emergency backup blog but this stuff is SO GOOD that I'm sharing it here with all of you because I love you. No, wait: I was hiding under your porch because I love you. I don't really know why I'm sharing this recipe. Maybe because it's rainy and damp and icky outside and I think you all need to spice up your lives? I dunno. Just make it and eat it, and then eat some more, because I said so. You can trust me, I'm from the Internet.

WHITE BEAN CHILI
Based on Paula Deen's recipe

4 tablespoons (½ stick) butter
2 cans (4½ ounces each) chopped green chiles
1 pound ground chicken or turkey
1 tablespoon minced garlic
¾ cup diced onion
2 cans (15 ounces each) navy beans
1 can (15 ounces) cannellini beans
5 cups chicken stock
1½ teaspoons ground cumin
½ teaspoon cumin seeds
1 tablespoon dried oregano
2 teaspoons ground black pepper
1 teaspoon white pepper
¼ teaspoon chili powder
2 pinches red pepper flakes
½ bunch parsley leaves, chopped
1 can (11 ounces) white shoepeg corn

1. In a large pot, melt butter over medium heat. Drain chiles and set aside. Add ground meat, garlic, onion, and chiles to pot and sauté for 8-10 minutes or until meat is completely cooked through and vegetables are softened, stirring occasionally.
2. Meanwhile, drain and rinse beans. When meat mixture is browned, add beans and chicken stock to pot and increase heat to high. Bring to a boil. Add remaining ingredients. Reduce heat to medium and cook for another 1-1½ hours, stirring occasionally, or until desired consistency is reached.
3. Drain corn. Stir into chili and allow to heat through for about 5 minutes. Serve immediately, or properly cool for crock pot reheating.

NOTES -- I made this with ground turkey, because I couldn't find ground chicken. The recipe calls for cilantro instead of parsley but I was in a hurry at the store yesterday and grabbed the wrong thing. I like it this way so that's how I'll make it in the future. You can use half the can of corn if you don't like a lot of corn in your chili, but I do; you can also substitute yellow corn, or even Mexicorn or a can of the black-bean-and-corn blend if you want to add some color. I made it last night and then reheated it in the crock pot this morning (1½ hours on low and then switched to "Keep Warm" setting).

My regular chili has more of a subtle heat to it; this is spicy right up front, but not too hot (because I won't eat it if it is). You can omit the chili powder and reduce the amount of cumin if you don't like it to be hot at all. A plop of sour cream and a sprinkle of cheese on top when you serve can also help cut the heat. Let me know if you like it!

Yogurt. Yum. (Yes, Really.)

I wrote this post while participating in a blog tour conducted by Clever Girls on behalf of Dannon. I have been compensated for my time commitment to the program but my opinions are my own.

For more information and recipe ideas, visit www.oikosyogurt.com or www.Facebook.com/oikos. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

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We eat a lot of yogurt in our house. Ever since we discovered the insane awesomeness that is Greek yogurt last year, we have been eating a really lot of yogurt. When we were making our post-earthquake-hurricane-preparedness arrangements last week, one of our biggest worries was what we would do if lost our electricity for an extended period of time, because we have a whole drawer full of yogurts in the fridge, and every one of them are our Preciouses, and would we be able to eat them all before they went yucky, and would we have to fight over who got which flavors? Because let me tell you something right now: I will THROW DOWN for the black cherry yogurts. I don't care if I have to cut my husband off at the knees -- DO NOT come between me and my yogurt.

Oikos® is not our usual brand of yogurt, but we got a chance to try it for this project. I compared nutrition information with our usual brand and saw all the stuff I was hoping to see: Dannon® Oikos® plain and fruit on the bottom contains 0% fat (the Dannon® Oikos® traditional blended varieties contains about 3% fat). Both are an excellent source of protein, twice that of most regular lowfat yogurts. I also saw that Dannon® Oikos® 0% fat berry flavors (blueberry and strawberry, my husband's favorites) beat our usual brand 2-1 in a taste test. INNNNNteresting. Kind of made this taste-test experiment a no-brainer.

And I am not going to lie to you: I have also been wanting to try Oikos® because I want to encourage any and all endeavors that put John Stamos on my television screen. (I can't help myself -- I remain a sucker for Blackie Parrish. Don't you judge me.) MOAR STAMOS PLZ KTHX!

Ahem. Anyway. I made one of my favorite breakfast treats, a fruit-and-granola yogurt parfait, with Oikos® yogurt this morning ...

... by mixing one package (5.3 oz.) of Oikos® 0% fat vanilla yogurt, ¼ cup of my favorite granola cereal, and ½ cup of frozen mixed berries. (You could of course use fresh fruit but I am trying to clean out the freezer before we go to the beach.) It was just as delicious as I had hoped -- maybe even more so than it usually is, because I think this vanilla yogurt was just a bit sweeter than our usual brand, and I was totally in the mood for a little extra sweetness this morning. My only complaint is that this particular package of yogurt was not at all as creamy as Greek yogurt usually is; in fact, my yogurt was totally runny. I think this was a one-off issue, though, and I'll be sampling it again to confirm. (My husband's blueberry yogurt was perfectly fine and tasty -- just my cup of vanilla had the problem.) In spite of the texture problem with this one serving, though, it was totally delicious, just the right amount of vanilla flavor and sweetness. I did end up getting quite a nice "chunky smoothie" out of it, oxymoronicishness of that phrase be darned.

So, in short: Dannon® Oikos®. Greek yogurt. Really tasty. (Even without a free poster of John Stamos with every purchase. Although even my cheapo-depot husband couldn't argue with the added value in THAT.)

Let Them Eat ... Watermelon

We didn't eat any cake or cupcakes this week because I am an absolutely terrible parent, but hopefully these photos of my kid eating some particularly juicy watermelon will satisfy your craving for the pictures of my kid eating stuff that have unexpectedly and inexplicably become the trademark of this here blog-a-roonie.

Like her mama, she gnaws off every teeny bit of pink that she can find on the rind. Can't waste one little taste of that delicious, delicious melon. It's kind of inspiring.

She's not really offering to share, you know. She's just showing you how she chews right down to the white part, like I taught her. She's no dummy -- the best part is the sweet stuff right next to the bitter rind. I'm so proud of her.

You're welcome. Have a nice weekend, you guys!

Pour Some Sugar On Me

I am sure that somewhere down in the deepest darkest primoridal lizard parts of my brain there is a semi-reasonable explanation for why I appear to be obsessed with taking pictures of my kid eating cake.

But even if you held a gun to my head, I don't think I could really come up with a particularly good reason.

It must be the heat, or some rare disease. (La-la-la.)

Or too much to eat, or maybe it's fleas.

All I know is, I really really like taking pictures of my kid when she is eating cake.

Probably it's because cake makes my kid happy, and my kid makes me happy, and so seeing my kid happy makes me happiest of all. Also, both cake and my kid are delicious, so.

Disneyland: The Food

I am not a foodie, nor do I play one on TV -- at least, not as I understand the definition of "foodie." I mean, I like food -- I really like food -- and I like knowing how my food is made and what's in it and how I could possibly recreate a certain dish at home and maybe what variety of boxed wine goes with what particular course, but I'm not really a foodie.

Well, wait ... maybe I am a foodie. But on my very best day, I am an extremely novice foodie, and also, I really only care about herbs and cheeses. My fine dining experiences are very limited because (1) I am basically working poor and (2) I am terribly cheap. The words prix fixe usually mean "too expensive for my blood," and I don't really eat at places that have "cuisine" on the menu anywhere because in my experience that means tiny little portions and big scary checks with lots of zeroes on them.

And don't even get me started on hipster locavores. Pshaw. I am lucky if I can remember what fork to use when. It's like that scene in Pretty Woman, complete with flying escargots.

But anyway: as I said, I really like food, so believe me when I say I had some of the best meals of my life (all over the course of only two days!) while we were in Disneyland, and in case you are ever thinking of going yourself, I'd like to tell you about them. (OK, brag a little. Whatever. Shut up.)

• On Friday, our first day in the parks, we had lunch at Ariel's Grotto for the Princess Celebration. This is where we saw all the princesses. It was almost overwhelming, how much food they brought to the table: a tower of antipasti, baskets of bread, fantastic entrees (you can see the whole menu here). I had the Santa-Maria-style Trip-Tip and I swear to God, it was the best damned steak I ever had in my life, and those mashed potatoes were nothing short of heavenly. And the desserts! I thought we'd get to choose one -- I was going to go with the Sea Horse Lava Cake -- but we actually got the WHOLE TRAY. (I don't know what I thought "shared dessert platter meant," but as usual, mistakes were made.)

Ariel is edible, and so is the seashell. No, really!
They're both made of white chocolate.

• Friday night we had dinner at Blue Bayou. Oh, sweet Lord -- if I could spent every day for the rest of my life at Blue Bayou, I would. I'd go completely flat-ass broke, but I loved this place. It's inside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and it looks SO PRETTY, and the food is AMAZING. Granted, I could have been extra-impressed because we were tired and starving after spending 11 hours in the parks at that point, but I don't think so: good crab cakes are good crab cakes, and these were among the best I ever had. (Lunch menu and dinner menu.)

This is a terrible, terrible picture of absolutely delicious food.
I feel like I should apologize to the memory of these crab cakes.

• Oh, and an important caveat about all these meals -- I am raving like a lunatic about this food, and I didn't have ONE SINGLE DRINK when we ate in the great Disneyland Resort Metro Area. And everybody knows that a glass of wine or a cold beer or even a passable mojito makes everything better. This food was this good all on its own.

• Saturday morning, we had breakfast at Carnation Cafe, on Main Street U.S.A., in Disneyland. It's a cute little place with big sun umbrellas and wrought-iron tables and chairs and it's perfect for people-watching and it's exactly as typically Disneyland-kitschy as you would expect. Shae and I had "matching" Junior and Senior Mickey Mouse-shaped Belgian waffles. You know what? Nobody does Belgian waffles like Disney. NOBODY.

Shae was mad because her breakfast didn't come with bacon.
What can I say? She's a fan of the pig. (That's my girl.)

• Interested in Walt Disney World equivalents? No idea -- the size and layout of Disneyland and California Adventure is very different from the expanses in WDW. But as best I can tell, you can have a princess lunch at Akershus Royal Banquet Hall (Norway, EPCOT); for a fancy-schmancy gourmet-style dinner with excellent steak, go to Le Cellier Steakhouse (Canada, EPCOT -- we ate there on our honeymoon and it was FANTASTIC) or for great seafood try Fulton's Crab House (Downtown Disney); and for a lovely breakfast try Crystal Palace (out-of-this world French toast, my very favorite thing we had to eat on our honeymoon except for the fresh watermelon juice at La Cantina de San Angel in Mexico, EPCOT).

Now, these meals were not cheap. I'm not going to lie. Three meals in the parks, plus taxes and tips, came to about $300. That's a lot of money. Carnation Cafe was the least expensive, primarily because of the type of restaurant it is and the kind of food we ordered. But you know what? Every meal we had was worth what we paid. Especially those crab cakes. And you are paying for the experience blah blah blah -- all of which is to say that I definitely think it was worth every penny of the splurge.

Dept. of Redundancy Dept.

Wanna know some things I never get sick of taking (or posting) pictures of?

(1) My kid.

(2) Cupcakes.

(3) My kid, eating cupcakes.

(4) Miscellaneous.

Party People In The House

If you had told me four years ago that I would ever unironically fall in love with a possibly toxic neon-colored Hello Kitty birthday cake, that in fact it would turn out to be my favorite part of a pretty gosh-darned kick-ass kiddie party, I would have laughed right in your face.

But here we are. Just goes to show you what becoming a parent will do to you, I suppose.

And if, at the same time, you would have told me that I there would come a day when a child would be more excited about eating fistfuls of cheddar cheese popcorn and running around outside than she would be about opening presents at her own birthday party, I would have probably checked you for dengue fever or something.

But, again, here we are. We pretty much had to pull Shae into the house by her hair to get her to open her gifts. One of those rare, exciting opportunities to tear the ever-living snot out of some brightly-colored paper ON PURPOSE, and she wanted to be out in my parents' yard blowing bubbles with her friends.

At least she found SOME reason to get excited. Sunglasses apparently figure prominently in her happy place. I was a little bit disappointed at her reaction to the stuff we gave her -- a stuffed Perry the Platypus and a stuffed Stich, Hello Kitty jellybeans and a gummy dinosaur, a "princess plant" (which I think is actually some kind of orchid or something), and the pièce de résistance ...

... a sparkly, princessy pair of authentic Mouse ears for our upcoming trip to Disneyland -- these things apparently did not do much for her in the moment. She was far more stoked about her new beach towel, and her Belle fashion doll, and this little Nerf-like water cannon thing with a rubber duckie on the handle. Oh, and her new Phillies shirt. All these things, apparently, were much more thrilling than the stuff we got her that she actually asked for.

But my favorite part, aside from seeing all those friends and family members having a good time and spending the better part of an afternoon listening to the sweet sound of the unbridled laughter of about a dozen small children, was definitely the Hello Kitty birthday cake. I mean, MY GOD, it LIT UP. How cool is that? (Plus: that is QUALITY BUTTERCREAM FROSTING, y'all. Artificial colors AND real live honest-to-God sugar. YES PLEASE.)