Belly and The Bug: food and wine

Showing posts with label food and wine. Show all posts

Quelles des vacances! And, um, sleeping with my husband just isn't working out.

A week ago, I packed a hanging bag with only items belonging to me, drove my fast car to the airport, handed my passport to the appropriate TSA people, and boarded a plane to Montreal. How grown up! How fancy free! How.... needed.

My brother-in-law, Billy, had a film, The Suicide Tapes, in the Fantasia Film Festival (the largest genre festival of its kind in North America, I might add) and I went to support him. And to hang out with my sister, Erika, because we like each other and we like to eat a shit-ton of good food when we see each other. Always fun. Always.

Let me back up a minute, though, and make something perfectly clear: I hate being scared. I can't understand the logic in wanting to be scared. I don't do haunted houses or scary books or, worst of all, horror films. I have the scare-factor of a little kid so I just avoid that stuff altogether. I'm 36 years old and I have done a pretty good job at this avoidance.... until now. This "genre" film festival was all scary movies. I mean, everything from psychological thriller to slasher to whatever other kinds there are (I don't know because, again, I avoid them). I figured that I would watch Billy's film (it was my understanding that it was creepy, but not really scary, per se) and that would be it. Well, the first night in Montreal, we attended a "filmmaker dinner" before the screening with the guys who made the movie to which Billy's was attached, Absentia. Billy's film is a short and theirs is a feature. Everyone was excited because the screening was one of the few at the festival that had sold out in advance. The Absentia guys were really nice and as we got to know each other a bit, I blurted out, "Hey, listen. I hate scary movies. I get scared really easily - like, REALLY easily. I was planning to cut out on yours, but now I feel a little guilty about that. I'll try to watch it, but I might need to leave. It's nothing personal. But tell me about the movie. Is it gory? Bloody? Are there ghosts? What?" They couldn't believe I was at a horror film festival and hated horror films. But you know, whatever. Technicalities. They assured me that they wouldn't take it personally if I left halfway through the movie. And if I had nightmares, I had permission to slap the filmmaker (there was a second screening of the movies together the following afternoon, so I'd be sure to see him again). It all sounded reasonable to me, but I was still nervous.

We got to the theatre and the crowd was awesome. Packed! The seven of us attached to the films sat on the steps, along the wall - Erika in front, then Billy, me, and the four Absentia guys. It was terrible. And by that, I mean terrifying. I was so tense. I had to keep my eyes covered for a lot of it, but I couldn't block the sound. Ugh. About halfway through the movie, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Good thing I'd slipped my heels off, because I jumped up and practically flew over the others behind me as I bolted out of the theatre doors.

Next thing I knew, I was waking up on the cold floor with two security people standing over me, freaking out. Everything was spinning. I hadn't puked, but I'd most assuredly fainted. They told me not to move. They called paramedics. I insisted on sitting up. The paramedics were there quickly and at first they thought I was drunk; then they thought I was on drugs; and then maybe crazy. As time (minutes) went by and I felt better and better, and let them take my blood pressure, etc., they decided that I'd been so stressed out by the movie that I must've been holding my breath, blocking the flow of oxygen to my brain or something like that. Yeah. Great. Because THAT wasn't embarrassing! Once I drank some water and felt fine again, I went back in the theatre. I sat next to Erika and told her what happened. "What?!" She whispered to Billy what had happened, who whispered to the Absentia guys what happened. Erika also mentioned something about me smacking the shit out of those guys. Again, that sounded reasonable. I kept my eyes averted for most of the rest of the movie.

Finally both movies were done and we went out for drinks as a group. The Absentia guys felt bad, but when they realized that I really was fine, they thought it was super cool that I fainted from fright. I guess that's a pretty good compliment. I guess. I don't know. I can't imagine I'll be watching another scary movie for a long, long time. If ever.

The rest of the vacation was pretty great. We had amazing Japanese food for dinner one night at a teeny, teeny, tiny restaurant named Kazu. The next night we had incredible French at L'Express. We walked all over from downtown to the old city and up to Mont Royal. We went back to Kazu for ramen (only served at lunch). We had poutine. We had crepes - twice. We found a place that made the best iced lattes in the entire world. We ate and ate and ate and ate. It was four full days of being tourists and it was glorious. It was also the longest I'd ever been away from my peeps. I missed them. I was ready to come home and cover them with kisses. Which I did.

Oh! I almost forgot! The second night we were there, our hotel phone rang around 3am. I don't remember it, but Erika says I jumped up in bed but didn't answer it. The next morning, our message light was flashing. Someone had left us an obscene message. It's not totally, totally nasty, but it's pretty bizarre - almost clinical. Here it is, if you're interested (but consider yourself warned that you shouldn't play this at work or in the presence of children):

Changing subjects abruptly, because there is both a) nothing more that can be said about that, and b) there's not an easy way to open this next part (although I realize this is not the most appropriate way, either, for which I'm truly sorry).....

Two nights ago, right after dinner, my husband received a call informing him that his uncle had died in a car accident. Naturally, it was very upsetting. I wanted to be there for Dude. I wanted to offer as much comfort as I could. We put the girls to bed. Dude washed the dishes and went to bed. I stayed up and watched tv, falling asleep in the family room and waking up at 3am. I started to do the usual routine of taking Belly out of my bed (she goes in there sometime around midnight every single night) and putting her back in her own. I then climb in between her and her sister and Dude gets our bed all to himself. That night, though, I thought Dude needed my snuggles more than the girls, so I slipped in next to him. The miracle was that neither girl woke up until 7am, at which time the Bug bounded in demanding to know what was going on - "Why are you in this bed??" The very, very unfortunate turn of events was that neither Dude nor I could sleep. It was fairly uncomfortable sleeping in our bed together. He was hot next to me. And I guess I was a hot lump next to him, too. We're not used to it anymore. There was once a time when I couldn't sleep if he wasn't lying next to me. Now? Forget it. I need two girls who toss and turn throughout the night or no one. What a difference four years make, huh? Dude said it was a nice idea, but maybe next time we try it, we should wait for a weekend when he doesn't have to work the next day. Sigh. This whole situation honestly has me thinking, "What the fuck?"

Some things require very few words

Like this that I made. Yum.

Porn names are helpful

I've been doing a lot of research this week into being a personal chef - who else is doing it in Portland, what they're charging for which services, etc. It's sort of exciting and sort of overwhelming all at the same time. I'm definitely cheaper than the four or so that I found and I also realized that not everybody is professionally trained, which boosted my confidence a bit. I need to set my pricing by portion size. I need beautiful marketing materials. I need to figure out exactly what licensing and insurance I need. I also need to come up with a name for my business. I asked for name suggestions on Facebook, noting that my porn name - Violet Nash - doesn't work. I was trying to be cute, but someone suggested Violet Nosh. I kind of love it. I'm not married to it yet, but I kind of love it. It's food-related, but not specific. Any of you have other suggestions?

My mind is swirling with the possibilities and logistics of all the different things I could do with this. There's the straight-up personal chef gig (I cook for you in your kitchen), but there are also little tangents that I'm contemplating. One being the potluck dish option: give me 24 hours notice and I'll make you a delectable dish to take to your next gathering. I could have a whole menu available for people to choose from including appetizers, side dishes, main dishes, desserts, brunch, etc. That would be incredibly easy.

I could also offer a soup service. Again, beyond easy. There's a soup service with bike delivery that is fairly popular here. They post three different kinds of soup each week on their website and you can order it directly there. They then deliver your soup with bread and a salad. It's $19 for a quart of soup and $32 for two quarts of soup. Um, that seems kind of pricey for soup - one of the cheapest things to make. But the ease of having it delivered and not having to think about it is what people pay for. Why not add a soup delivery to my offerings? I keep thinking of little things like that. I don't want to spread myself too thin, but soup is crazy easy and delicious.

The groceries I buy are mostly organic and the meats/fish are all from New Seasons, our local version of Whole Foods. The proteins are all labeled as to where they came from, if they were grass-fed, wild-caught, etc. I don't always buy organic if the option isn't readily available to me, though, so Dude suggested I say that my food is morganic - mostly organic. Yes or no? Cute or dumb?

So this week I made chicken wings and steamed broccoli and a surprisingly good rice-grain salad with dried fruit and hazelnuts for my clients. I had told them at our first meeting that I make excellent buffalo wings (my dad's special recipe). They finally asked for them, but it was the mom and the two kids who were discussing it with me and the one kid said, "Can you make them not barbecue, though? I'm tired of barbecue. Can you do something with lime?" Well, little pain in my ass, then they're not my excellent buffalo wings, are they? They're something else that I will have never made before, but if you want me to experiment on you, sure. I'd be happy to make something else. With lime. For your 11-year-old picky palate. He suggested I go to this wings restaurant that he likes and buy some sauce. I bit my tongue, but wanted to suggest that he could just go eat at that restaurant if that's what he really wanted. I know, I know - these are the clients and I cook for them. But why does the kid get to make "helpful" suggestions like that and the mom just sits and smiles? Ack.

Anyway, I made a marinade with lime juice, soy sauce, apricot jam, and a couple other things and they came out pretty good. They weren't MY wings, but they were good. And apparently, they loved them. The grain salad was my favorite part of the dinner. I used this harvest grain blend from Trader Joe's, added dried cranberries, dried apricots, crushed hazelnuts, parsley, and a dijon-balsamic vinaigrette. Dang it was good. Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures when everything was ready and pretty. So, um, here. Here's my plate when all was said and done....

I don't think I'll be using that picture for my marketing materials.

The biggest mutha-lovin' poblanos ever

I make this spinach dip that is crazy, crazy good. The first time I had it was at a memorial service. Not to make light of a tragic moment in my life, but I was pretty inconsolable and only eating a little something because I was tired of people coming up and telling me I should. So I put a spoonful of dip and a couple chips on a plate. I nibbled the dip. It was the BEST spinach dip ever - hot and cheesy and perfect. I found out who made it and insisted she give me the recipe. Now that's the standard easy potluck dish I make. And I always say it's like the best of white-trash cooking because there's no real cooking involved (zapped in the microwave), it uses canned and frozen food; the most complicated part is cutting a bit of onion. Oh, but it's delicious and you'd never know. And the fact that I make it, people never suspect. Ha! Anyway, I got this idea in my head about a month ago that that dip would make a great filling for chile rellenos. I kept thinking about it and thinking about it. So this week I made it for my cooking gig (and us).

This is the dip uncooked.

I should also mention that I've never made chile rellenos. I was unaware that there were so many steps involved. I was a little short on time. And I broke a sweat getting it all done. I felt sort of like I was on a reality cooking show trying to get everything ready before the clock expired and I had to put my hands in the air. I didn't want to be the chef who mouths "fuck!" as I slam down some key, unused ingredient, or the one who starts crying and murmuring, "I could've done better.... I could've done better...." I almost always hate the crier. Man up, for christ's sake. But I digress.

The peppers I got from the store were ridiculously big. I could only fit half of them on my largest baking sheet to broil them, so I had to do two rounds. I broiled them, stuck them in a paper bag until they cooled, peeled, and stuffed them with the dip.

Then I dredged them in flour, dipped 'em in eggs, dredged them in cornmeal, fried them up in a skillet. THEN they went in the oven to make sure the insides were melty and hot all the way through. I served them with salsa and sliced avocado. Plus I made a green salad with a buttermilk-blue cheese dressing. They were incredibly good, but I will not make them again without another person to help me. I could've seriously used another set of hands.

These are the peppers I gave to my clients (with the salad stuff, salsa, and avocado on the side).

And this was how it looked plated on our table.

I always jump the gun when it comes to my own defeat

Okay, so I'm not feeling quite as discouraged about the cooking thing as I did last week. I got a call from the husband of one of the families Dude approached. We met him and his wife just once at a neighborhood brunch about six months ago and I honestly don't remember a thing about them except where they live. At first I thought he was calling to say no thanks - which I appreciate more than not hearing anything - but then he said that they're traveling a bunch this summer and want to do it starting in the fall. He said they keep looking at my write-up and getting hungry. "Call us when it's fall, or believe me, we will call you. We can't wait!" Then he said that he's part of a group of pediatricians who meet monthly for dinner and discussion. The dinner is as important as anything and they try something different every time - would I ever have an interest in catering a dinner for about 14 people? I told him that I'd definitely be interested, but he should know I'm not a licensed caterer or anything. "We don't care about licensing. We're a bunch of foodies and we want good food. And I can't stop looking at your list." Fun, huh?

And I know this is just one little avenue I can go with cooking. Private cooking classes could be an option. A friend mentioned on my Jinx post about someone near her who prepares dishes for people to take to potlucks. That would be incredibly easy. I don't know. I'll keep thinking and something will come of it all. Baby steps, baby steps....

Last night for my clients and us, I made baked fish with an olive tapenade crust and some pan-roasted asparagus. Dang it was good, if I do say so myself. And it was pretty. See?

It's crazy easy to make, too. To make the tapenade, put all of this stuff together in a food processor: pitted green and black olives (like kalamata), garlic, parsley, drizzle of olive oil, bit of dijon. Process. Done. And to make a crust on fish, I add some panko bread crumbs to the tapenade, mush it on top of the fish, bake. Done. Now don't tell anyone I might want to cook for professionally how to do that. They think it's some sort of magic.

Please don't take the babies away, but....

I fed them grasshoppers. Really. I did. Delicious, crunchy grasshoppers at a sushi restaurant. And this isn't the first time (I may have even blogged about it then, but I'm too lazy to go back and research and see if I did). We had the initial grasshoppers when the babes were barely two or something and they don't remember, but last night I asked them if they wanted to try some grasshoppers and they said yes. So I ordered up a few. This particular restaurant fries them whole and puts them on top of sushi rice nigiri-style with a little of that sauce they put on eel. They're actually quite good - crunchy and salty and a little nutty with that delicious sweet sauce. Yum. Anyway, Belly ate hers like it was nothing. Just another piece of sushi. Buggy took a bite and said, "Ummm, I like the rice and the sauce, but I don't think I want to eat the crunchy. It has too many parts in my mouth." Fair enough, but she tried it! And then she went back to eating her salmon nigiri, octopus nigiri, and eel and avocado roll. What would I do if I actually had picky eaters? I guess they'd starve. Here's the Bug's face as she took a bite.... Ha!

Dude is currently in Boston for the week. He's been traveling a lot for work lately, which is basically a bummer, but also easier as the girls are getting older. I treat it as a special time for the three of us - I cook much less, we have a lot of special treats, we shake up routines. Sometimes it's great. Sometimes it backfires and they are hellions. This morning, it's fantastic. They helped me make smoothies and popcicles and because they were such good listeners while using the blender, I gave them smoothies, bananas, and biscotti with gobs of nutella on top for breakfast. Normally I go for a more nutritious breakfast but dang I just couldn't be bothered. Now we're watching Sesame Street and no one is arguing. No one is tattling. No one is in anything remotely close to a bad mood. I feel like I've got this parenting thing down. For this five minutes. I'm going to go enjoy it before something ugly happens.....

Jinx

Damn. I was a little hesitant about posting my new cooking endeavor the other day because I was afraid I'd jinx it somehow. And I did. The family I've been cooking for went down to one night a week instead of two. The mom said she was feeling really guilty because she was hardly cooking anymore. I guess they've been getting three or four nights of dinner out of the two nights of food I've been cooking for them. I shot myself in the foot with my big portions. Ugh. Last week I made them peanutty noodles with chicken and broccoli, and salad. Tonight, per their request, I'm making pad thai with chicken and shrimp (personally, I would've spaced it out a bit since it's sort of similar to last week's dish, but I aim to please). Needless to say, I'm disappointed with this slight downturn in events.

Dude suggested I type up a list of sample entrees and some basic terms (pricing, etc.) and recruit a second client to keep the momentum going. I agreed and we specifically talked about two families we know who have two professional parents and little kids. Dude even said that he'd go talk to both of those families on my behalf (seeing as I hate selling myself). So I did. And Dude set out on Sunday afternoon to talk to them. But unbeknownst to me, he took a bunch of copies of the stuff I'd written and went to about five people in the neighborhood whom he thought might be interest and told each of them that I was interested in taking on a new client and it would be first come-first served (quite literally). I was slightly horrified when I found this out. Maybe it's no big deal, but it made me feel awkward. I'm not even exactly sure why. Anyway.... that was Sunday. Today is Wednesday and I've heard from no one. No. One. Not. A. One. And man am I feeling confident. Sigh. It's just a bummer.

But you know what makes me happy? Like, unreasonably happy? Maybe because I never had it as a kid or maybe because to me it means "summer" and "ageless" and "whimsy"? This....

Mmm. Sugary spun air.

HEY GUESS WHAT!!

I mean, hello friends. Has it really been a zillion months since my last blog post? Well, um, no.... but close. I know. Lame. But let's move on and start anew here because I've got lots to say. No dwelling in the past when I'm here now, right? Right.

So guess what? I'm doing something new. I've mentioned in the past that I used to work in nonprofit development and got a bit burned out, quit to raise my kids, lalalalala. I've been doing the mom thing for three years now and that's cool, but we all know that if I let that define me, I'd shrivel up and die. I'm so not kidding. Dude has pushed me from time to time to get a consulting gig a) to bring in a little extra money and b) to give me something to do to exercise my brain, retain my skill sets, have some outside adult interaction. He's meant well, but I haven't had the least bit of interest in pursuing this. But what to do, what to do.... I suppose I have to work again sometime....

I love cooking and damn I can turn it out. I really can. It's one of the few things I think I can brag about with confidence. Remember when I made all the food for our housewarming party? Anyway. Somewhere along the line I got it in my head that I'd love to be a personal chef. Screeching halt. Um, what? I have no formal culinary training or real professional cooking experience. I'm just a very good home cook. The audacity of me thinking I can do it professionally! The bravado! The hubris! Why would anyone hire me to cook for them? Especially here in Portland where you can't swing a cat without hitting a really phenomenal chef - the real kind who went to culinary school and has spent years in commercial kitchens. And that thinking is why I haven't done anything about it. Seriously. My cooking confidence is gigantic until I overthink it. And I tend to overthink everything. So tick tock time has passed and I've talked about it but not done anything because it seems ridiculous.

A good friend had two motives when she asked me to cater a small baby shower six weeks or so ago. First, she loves my cooking and wanted my food. Second, she wanted me to get off my ass and start putting my little cooking idea into practice. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind a la personal chef, but she was absolutely correct that it was a step in the right direction. We chose an Asian-themed menu (lemongrass beef skewers with peanut sauce; curried cashew chicken salad sandwiches; tofu otsu; pickled cucumber salad; minted fruit) and I sincerely had a great time from start to finish.

Lemongrass beef skewers and peanut dipping sauce

When I got home that afternoon, Dude told me that our neighbor across the street had asked him what I was up to. I guess he told her and she said, "I didn't know she did that! I'd kill to have her cook for us a few nights a week." My heart skipped a beat. Was she serious? One way to find out - I asked her. And yes, she was serious. Very. So over the next few weeks, we talked food and money and logistics and lo and behold.... I'm a personal chef, cooking dinner twice a week for a family of four. Ta da!

The family consists of the parents and two middle-school-aged boys. The dad is vegetarian (eats fish, though); the rest aren't. The boys are picky. The mom is allergic to walnuts and pecans. The scenario is not without its challenges, but it's certainly manageable. Every Wednesday night at dinner time, I bring them a hot meal that is table ready. I also bring a second meal that just needs to be heated/baked/etc. for another night of their choosing. It's cool because I'm only on the hook for one night a week but still get to cook two nights worth of food.

So wanna know what I've made so far? I'm going to assume you just clapped your hands together and exclaimed, "YES!!" You're so great.

Week One

Hot meal: orange chicken (at the adamant request of the 11-year-old), rice-edamame salad with slivered almonds and mint, and a leafy green salad with an Asian vinaigrette.

Second meal: spinach-butternut squash lasagna

Week Two

Hot meal: special miso-rubbed whitefish with lime-honey-ginger glaze, jasmine rice, sesame green beans.

Second meal: pizzas (pesto, artichoke, goat cheese, roasted red pepper, kalamata olive, mushroom, shallot; red sauce, pepperoni, roasted red pepper; pesto, prosciutto, roasted red pepper), green salad with green goddess dressing.

Week Three

Hot meal: coconut curry (chicken on the side for the meat eaters), jasmine rice, vegetable stir-fry with asparagus, red and yellow peppers, snow peas, broccoli, cauliflower, scallions, and carrots.

Second meal: creamy tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (for the boys - smoked cheddar on ciabatta; for the grownups - gruyere and taleggio with fresh basil leaves on ciabatta).

Vegetable stir-fry prep board

The best part of all of this? I'm having fun. I like every bit of it from the menu planning to the presentation. And once I get into a real groove, I'll look into expanding with more clients. Eek! I'm doing it! Hooray!

And if anyone reading this is fearing that I'm about to turn Belly and The Bug into a food blog, rest assured that I'm not. I'm thinking this venture will be a good way to resurrect my much-neglected "me" blog. What better reminder than connecting the weekly meal with writing a blog post? It's literally like clockwork. And, uh, clearly I need to get back in the habit of writing. I'll be sure to tell you all about my precious hooligans and their recent antics soon. Now I need to put together this week's menu....

Father's Day is a wrap!

There's only one hour left of this day and - even though he worked six hours - Dude said this was the best of the three Father's Days that he's had thus far. For starters, we let him sleep in - until nearly 9am! That's about four hours later than a few other mornings this past week. And when he came downstairs, the girls greeted him with resounding declarations of "Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" "Happy Father's Day, Pop!" Oh yes - Belly has decided that she wants to call him Pop. Or Papa. Or sometimes Poppy. It's cute. I handed him his coffee and he admired the art installation that had been hung in the dining room. All week I'd had the girls paint pictures for him and then I added one of my own. I hung everything up on a string with clothespins. There were also cards from each of his daughters and some gift certificates for fun places. But the real focus of today was food - because that is truly the way to Dude's heart.

Dude's favorite breakfast is eggs benedict, so that's what he got. Sorta. Instead of English muffins, I used toasted olive bread. And instead of Canadian bacon, I used pancetta. Plus I added some sauteed spinach and garlic to the pile underneath the poached eggs and Hollandaise sauce.

Only the girls ate lunch - Dude and I were both still full from breakfast.

For dinner, I made boeuf bourguignon and mousse au chocolat using the recipes that I'd been taught on my Denver trip. Both turned out superb! The only problem being that there is a giiiiiant bowl of chocolate mousse in my fridge. It keeps whispering my name. I'm trying to ignore it.

So that was it. We didn't go anywhere or do anything that spectacular (except eat lotsa yummy food), but Dude said it was the best because it was the first time that the girls made a special effort for him. They knew it was "his" day and they liked celebrating it with him. Of course, they're still a little unclear on the concept because they wanted to sing him Happy Birthday, but they understood the special part.

Personally, I'm unbelievably grateful that he is such a wonderful father to our girls. They love him like mad and practically beg for him to be done working everyday (starting around 9am). And the love that he exudes when he's with them makes my heart melt. Complete strangers tell him that they love seeing how he is with his girls. He's just that great of a dad. Happy Father's Day, Dude!

Seeing this one through to completion

I have four draft posts that have not been completed since the last time I wrote on here. Ugh. All of them are outdated and so here I am starting number five. I will complete and post this tonight. I'm hell-bent.

First of all, I can't believe that it's freaking May 4th. Hello? Where is this year going? Spring has rocked around here - until the last week or so. We've had beautiful weather. The flowers have exploded around my house. I've spent time barefoot outside. Sundresses have made their way into my clothing repertoire. And then... we've had cooler than normal weather and knee socks are making a comeback on my lower extremities. I'd like to register a strong "WTF?!" with whomever is handling this ridiculousness. Stop it and give me back my warm, sunny days.

Second, my children are growing up. They're officially two and a half. They're in the middle of a big "out" growth spurt. They're using pronouns correctly. They're speaking in complete sentences. Just today I had a lengthy conversation with the Bug about President Obama. She informed me that he's a good man and she loves him. Belly then chimed in that he's awesome. What politically astute little peeps! But they're still not showing a strong interest in the potty. Several times a day, the toilet sees some pee action from them, but the buck stops at poop. WHY? I've been going along and not pressuring them while promising M&Ms to anyone who wants to do their number two business on the toilet, but my patience is growing thin. I'm so tired of diapers. Today, I changed five poopy diapers between the two of them, one of which was a blowout (you non-kid-having readers should know that this is not a reference to getting your hair did but rather to a diaper that leaks). The reason for this is that my mother-in-law was here cooking for the girls and Dude this past weekend. Friday night they went out for Chinese; Saturday night she made Meat Dish Supreme; Sunday night was Country Captain Chicken. As entertaining as it might be to go into the details of these dishes, I'm not going to. Let's just say that they have wreaked some gastro-intestinal havoc upon my babies.

And why was Mimi here? Because I was not! That's right - I had a vacation all by myself! Friday morning, I flew to Denver to visit one of my best girlfriends in the whole wide world and didn't come home until Sunday night. Lord knows I needed a vacation, but I thought that I would be a little more lonesome for my family while I was gone. I called home twice a day and the girls would say, "Mommy, come home!" That certainly gave me some pangs of homesickness, but they generally subsided after I hung up and picked up my wine glass again. Oh I had so much fun. I drank plenty, I was goofy, I made French food (actually took a French cooking lesson in which we prepared Boeuf Bourguignon and mousse au chocolat), I laid out in the yard, I slept uninterrupted, I didn't structure my day around nap time, I didn't change any diapers. I was free! I was Rachael! Let me be clear that I overflowed with love for my girls when I came home and snuggled them to sleep, but I would've happily stayed away a few more days. The break was very, very much needed. And I fully intend to do it again when I can.

I think that about brings us up to speed on the bigger things going on here at Chez Belly-Buggy. Except can I say that even with only five people remaining on American Idol, I'm already getting giddy with anticipation for the next season of So You Think You Can Dance? Because I really do think I can dance, just not like that.

Easter catch up

I haven't meant to be a neglectful blogger, but somehow that's exactly what I've become. While I can update my Facebook status and upload pictures of my ever-growing girls on a regular basis (thanks, iPhone), it isn't always easy to get solid time in front of the ol' laptop to update here. Hopefully this isn't another hollow promise - but I will strive to do better.

Today is Easter and it is the first time in years that I didn't go to church with Dude. I usually attend with him on Easter and Christmas Eve, but eh, not this year. He took the girls and I hit the grocery store instead. When you think about it, though? Isn't walking the aisles of the fancy food store and purchasing expensive fresh morels more like my church than actual church anyway? I think so. What moves me is not the "word of God" as projected to me by a priest on a dais surrounded by Easter lilies, but rather the perfect rose created when you slice across the white stems on a head of bok choy; or the crunchy sweetness of spring peas; or the mellow smoothness of a finely crafted wine.

I'm going to make chicken scallopine for Easter dinner today. I know that doesn't sound very special, but peeps, you are fooling yourself if you believe that. I cut the chicken breasts into thin, thin filets (instead of traditional pounding). I dredge them in a mixture of flour and "porcini powder" (ground, dried porcini mushrooms), and saute them in butter. Meanwhile, the morels are simmered in sherry and a little chicken broth, then combined with cream, tarragon, chives and a couple other yummies to make the best freaking sauce in town. Put the chicken and some steamed asparagus on a plate, spoon the sauce and morels over the top... a taste divine. I will worship it appropriately as I savor the flavors in just a few short hours.

I hope you have a glorious day and celebrate whatever it is that brings you love.

Mom rules

I don't think I've discussed it here, but my mom went to Costa Rica on December 13th and didn't come back until day before yesterday. SHEESH I missed her. And the girls have relished - truly relished - having her here. They want HER to put the banana on their plates in the morning. They want HER to read to them. They want HER to play blocks with them. And you know? I'm more than happy to offer her up to complete those tasks. I've thoroughly enjoyed having her here to lighten my load a little. More importantly, though, I've enjoyed having her here to visit with me! Nanni came as regularly scheduled on Wednesday afternoon, so Mom and I got to go out for lunch at our hands-down-favorite Middle Eastern restaurant in Portland (Nicholas) and clothes shopping all by ourselves. What a treat! She's going home tomorrow morning, but I'm grateful that she was here for a few days and that she'll once again be several hours away instead of somewhere down on a mountain top in Central America. I love Costa Rica and am thrilled that she's also fallen in love with the place, but if I'm here, I'd like her here, too. I'm just sayin'. Welcome home, Mom!

Dude duped me

Remember how my last post ended with me saying that Dude had some sort of surprise date planned for us last night? WELL! Let me tell YOU! He really pulled a fast one on me. And booooooooy was he proud of hisself.

I got dressed to go "out" - an outfit that could be a little overdressed in a totally cazh atmosphere or a little underdressed in more refined environs. I couldn't decide between the "nicer" shoes or the "funkier" shoes, so I put on one of each and headed downstairs to get Dude's opinion (he was the one who knew where we were going, after all). He liked the funkier ones and said, "But have you decided what you're going to wear in the morning? Are your toiletries together? You really should at least get your toothbrush." I was all, "Whaaaaaaaaa......??" Seriously. What was he talking about? I have never spent the night away from the girls. Ever. And not only that, but they have never spent the night away from me. Never ever. I looked at him quizzically, "Are you serious?" Yep. He was.

I went upstairs and got a few things together, and as I was packing up my toiletries, the worry about this overnight thing set in for real. I actually started to feel a little angry that I wasn't given notice so that I could mentally prepare for the separation. And what about the girls? Dude obviously hadn't told them or I would've heard about it (they are TOTAL blabber mouths). They needed more preparation than this! I was starting to think this was most definitely not a good idea.

Dude put the girls to bed and I went downstairs to give Bri more than an earful of instructions. She assured me repeatedly that everything was going to be fine - "You really need to relax." So easy for her to say. Dude came down and said that he needed 10 minutes and he'd be ready to walk out the door. "Oh, and did you pack something to wear in the water?" I looked at him in utter disbelief. See... the other thing I should mention here is that yesterday was the worst day of my period, too. I explained to Dude that I was not about to put on a bathing suit OR get into water of any kind. I just wasn't. He told me that was fine and ran to get his stuff together. I thought I might have a panic attack.

Ten minutes later, we walked out the door and left. Oh. My. God. It was happening.

Dude had gotten us a room at the McMenamin's Edgefield and there were 9pm dinner reservations at the Black Rabbit restaurant waiting for us. I ordered a glass of wine and things started to seem a little... rosier. Dude and I had a lovely, lovely dinner (steamed mussels; roasted beet & arugula salad; trio of small plates for entrees - grilled quail with roasted potatoes and gaufrettes, Tunisian beef kabobs with sweet potato balls and spicy tagine, tea-smoked duck breast with Asian slaw and crispy wontons; cheese plate). By the end of the meal, I wasn't worried about the girls anymore. I mean really. They'd be fine. I even decided that I wasn't going to call Bri to check in until morning.

Dude's intention in all of this clearly was to be super romantic and get some quality hours for just the two of us. Part of this, naturally, was to be spent in the boudoir (we ARE husband and wife, after all). But as I mentioned before, I was in the middle of a visit from Her Majesty Mother Nature herself and that was really, uh, out of the question. So you know what happened instead? We played one hand of gin rummy, during which I started to pass out. And then Dude read his book while I snuggled up next to him and fell into a deep, deep sleep. And I slept and slept and slept and slept... until 8:09am!!! You non-kid-havin' readers will think this is no big deal, but I assure you that it is monu-fucking-mental. I slept for 8+ hours in an uninterrupted row. That hasn't happened since some point in the middle of my second trimester of pregnancy. And let me tell you that being well rested feels pretty sexy.

I called Bri at approximately 8:11am. She put me on speaker phone. The girls were all, "Hi, Mommy! Bri here!" As it turns out, there had been zero crying and everyone was perfectly perfect in every way. Who were these little angels? Surely not my trouble dolls...

Dude and I had a big ol' breakfast, walked the Edgefield grounds a little bit, then checked out and headed home at 11am. I ran in the house and Belly and Buggy greeted me with hugs, but not desperate cries. Who knew that this would be so easy? And now that we know, we shall do it again. But maybe next time Dude will do a little better with the timing of it all...

Looking for love in all the wrong places

So yesterday afternoon, Dude and I went out for some pints and Gin Rummy at the Lucky Labrador while Bri and Sissy hung with our girlies. It was pretty random and fun and I must say that Dude was waaaaaay ahead until I came from behind and totally spanked his ass at cards. That's right. I'm gloating. I rocked it.

Anyway, we were starting to wind things down when two women in their 30s came and sat at the table next to us with their beer. I couldn't help but eavesdrop. Oh my. The one with the short, dominatrix-ish bob talked a mile a minute. She started out by saying that she'd just slept with someone who informed her immediately afterward that he wasn't over his ex-girlfriend and that means that there are now only three guys in town that she hasn't dated and they are... (she actually named names here). Then she said that so-and-so broke his foot so she needs a new riding partner and she's taking a drawing class and there are some really great nude male models in Portland. "There's this one? Who is really little? I mean, like, EVERYTHING about him is really small. Here. Look. I took a picture." At this she pulled out her iPhone and the two of them gushed about how tiny he is.

My God, women! How old are you? Their shallow prater was just... painful. I looked across the table at my dear husband and felt very grateful that I'm not single. I also realized that - if I should ever find myself in that most unfortunate predicament - I can handle the competition. Ugh.

A new year, a new boyfriend, and some Little House on the Prairie

Whelp, lemme tell you that NYE was perfectly fine. Dude and I got some amazing Indian takeout, opened yummy wine, made a fire, put a Muse station on Pandora and talked well past midnight. It wasn't a wild dance party, but it certainly wasn't boring either. Sometimes it feels like we get so bogged down in parenting (and bills and chores but especially parenting) that we lose track of each other. It's such a challenge to balance (his) work time, family time, alone time and couple time. There's just not enough time in the day. Or sometimes the week. Or - I hate to admit this, but it's true - the month. I'm not talking physical intimacy here, but bonding, engaging couple time wherein we're not discussing Belly and Buggy the whole time. New Year's Eve found the two of us having just that kind of special time - and both acknowledging that we need to find more of it. So, I'm taking a boyfriend in 2010. And that boyfriend is Dude.

And with that, we had a date on Saturday night! Bri babysat and we went to HUB for dinner, followed by bowling at Grand Central Bowl. SO fun! I think I've bowled exactly twice (counting last night) in the last 12 or 13 years. It's really an activity that requires alcohol. The more I drink, the better I am. We played two games with pretty pathetic scores - the first he won 85-83 and the second I won 111-100. I think with another vanilla vodka and coke and one more game, I may have broken 150. I might also have puked.

So complete non sequitor...

I have two Little House on the Prairie tidbits for you. The first is from McSweeney's and I thought it was hilarious!

The second is a beautiful set of LHOTP coasters that Erika made for me for Christmas. Check it:

Aren't they fantastic? I love them!!

Just two quick things that make me smile

We went out for sushi tonight and Dude asked the girls if they wanted "edamame beans." The Bug said, "Huggle Mommy beans? Yes! Want Huggle Mommy beans!"

While holding Belly, she put her hands on my cheeks and said, "Belly [is a] sweetheart. Mommy sweetheart, too."

Thankful

I have 90 other things I'm supposed to be doing right now: clearing the dishes off the table, folding laundry, cleaning up the kid debris that is all over the floor, making caramelized onion dip, baking pecan pies. And I will do all those things in the next two hours, but first I'm having a teensy glass of wine and writing this here post. Erika, Billy and D will be here in about two hours. Sissy is bringing them from the airport and I think Bri is coming over as well. I want the house to look good, blah, blah. But this is my last 10 minutes of quiet before the holiday officially begins.

I used to be better about the holidays. I absolutely love getting together with everyone and eating and playing games. It's the best! But as I get older, I'm finding that I have less patience for avoidable chaos. I have a harder time just going with it. Maybe it's an age thing or maybe it's because I've got two kids who thrive on structure that has made me way more structured than I ever was before. Whatever it is, I fear I'm getting a little uptight. So I'm focusing on being as easy going as I can be this holiday week. Everyone will have their own plans and agendas and I'm going to do my best to go with the flow. I am going to endeavor to only lay down the law when it comes to my girls and nap times and bed times and stuff like that. Because, my peeps, I need to get over the little things and give thanks for all the things this holiday is bringing my way.

I am fortunate enough to have multitudes of things for which to be thankful, so I'm only going to highlight a few (as I said, there's pie to bake!). And with that, I'm thankful for pie. I am beyond thankful for my tremendous family. We're something of a motley crew (as opposed to Motley Crue - I shared a wink with Tommy Lee once, but he is decidedly not in my family) and I really wouldn't have it any other way. I am thankful that I don't have to work right now and get to spend so much time with my growing daughters. I am thankful that we always have enough food - and it's good, organic stuff. I am thankful we have the Charmer to provide us shelter and warmth. I am thankful for all of my friends (who really fall in that motley family category). And I am thankful to have health insurance, a reliable vehicle, and my Wusthof knives. And also? I'm thankful for you, Internet Friends. I can't tell you how nice it is to have something - this here blog - that is mine all mine. I like writing it. I like hearing from you. It's an entirely good thing. There. Okay. I gotta go. I just heard the dryer stop.

Halloween highlights

I'm feeling awfully lazy at the moment, so in lieu of a real post I give you a list of highlights from this Halloween weekend:

The girls exclaimed repeatedly, "Happy DeeDee (birthday), Halloween!" Clearly we've had some holiday cross-contamination.
We went to a kiddie Halloween party on Saturday afternoon and I let Belly eat a couple cookies. I have heard "Cookie, please!" about 763,921 times since then.
As we were about to get ready for said party, I had the brilliant idea of changing up our costumes. So Belly and I went as "a little bit country" and Buggy and Dude were "a little bit rock 'n roll." Is it good or bad that Dude and I can easily outfit ourselves in either of these persuasions? (Sadly, I forgot to bring my camera to the party and don't have pictures of our switcheroo.)
I balanced the checkbook for the first time since July. THAT was a chore.
The girls were introduced to Elvis the dog and Poncho the bunny at my aunt and uncle's house today. YOU try to decipher between "Daddy's office" and "Doggy Elvis." It ain't easy.
The Packers lost to Brett Favre and the Vikings today. Ack.
I've gained 23 pounds since Friday eating candy, cookies, cake, pie, dips and chips, bacon-bleu-cheese burgers with french fries, beer-boiled-then-grilled bratwurst and potato salad, and drinking lots and lots of beer. You know the expression "you are what you eat?" Well, I think it's pretty obvious that I ate the brats.

And with that lovely picture, I bid you goodnight.

1 one-year-old + 1 one-year-old = 2 two-year-olds

Today is the last day my girls are one. The last day I could say "23 months." Tomorrow they will be two and I well up every time I think about it. I just can't believe that those teeny, tiny babies - the smallest babies I'd ever seen - are KIDS. There's no denying it, either. They can say their full names, as well as mine and Dude's. They are working on counting and the alphabet. They are, quite simply, pretty cool little people and while I miss their babyhood something fierce, I am dazzled by their toddlerness (look at me making up words as I go - wheeee!). I thought about writing this post as a letter to them, but I think it's more than I can handle right now. I'd end up blubbering all over the keyboard and I just can't go there tonight. Instead, I give you a list of some of the things that I think make my girls two of the most awesome people I know.

The Bug can name most of the bridges in Portland (of which there are many).
Belly uses "please" like a regular Miss Manners.
Buggy loves to tease, saying the wrong names for things and then looking at you out of the corner of her eye with a big grin on her face to see if you caught her tricking you.
Belly has this tremendous laugh that seems to originate in her toes and fill her whole body before erupting out of her mouth.
Buggy is an awesome athlete. She runs and jumps and can throw a ball really well and does somersaults - all with definitive grace (this is most assuredly a recessive gene coming through because neither Dude nor I are especially athletic).
Belly is something of a harmonica virtuoso.
Buggy asks me to cook "yummy fish" and "green-chini" (zucchini).
Belly likes to say "good LAAAWWWWD!" (lord) and "holy mackwo!" (mackerel).
Buggy nurses her Pooh about eight times a day.
Belly loves to fall asleep holding my hand and with her face pressed up against mine.
Buggy says "Mamamamamamamamamama!" And when I say, "WHAT?!" She says, "Love loooooooo!"
Belly doles out kisses like you wouldn't believe - dozens daily!

There are many, many more things that I could add to this list. I could also comment on how they drive me crazy (the last few days have been very trying), but that doesn't seem to matter in the big picture. I'm just so madly in love with my two girls! I can't imagine not having twins and not having THEM. I am honored and humbled to be their mother.

We had a birthday party for them on Saturday and it was gobs of fun. It was a costume party with even the parents dressing up. Our family costume was "a little bit country, a little bit rock 'n roll." Belly and I were the rockers and the Bug and Dude were country. Check it...

I asked Belly if she could make horns with her fingers like I was and she looked at me quizzically for a few seconds, then promptly made the "pickle" symbol (you know - give me five; up high; down low; cut the pickle; tickle! tickle!). That cracked me up SO hard.

Sadly, I didn't get a lot of pictures of the party - which I've noticed is a recurring problem when I'm the hostess. I have GOT to fix that. But here are the banners that I made...

And the girls about to blow out their candles...

Those are carrot cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I also made five pizzas, a fruit plate, a crudite platter with homemade green goddess dressing and a bourbon-bacon-pecan pie. It was all quite delish if I do say so myself!

Oh jeesh. I hope I make it through tomorrow without too many tears. I really am looking forward to all that the next year holds - especially potty training - but I can't help but feel teary about those little babies growing up so mother trucking fast. Hug your kids, people. Just go love them up because this is the youngest they will ever be again.

Chirp, chirp, chirp, gulp

Have you ever eaten crickets? I have had them on several different occasions and I think they're pretty tasty.

I've lost you, haven't I? You thought you were checking in to read some little ditty about my kids being cute/maddening/funny or about me prepping for their birthday party (tomorrow!) or some other mundane something. Well, I'm sorry to say that this post is all about eating bugs. I'm multidimensional like that. Or weird. Take your pick.

Anyway, the first time I had crickets was in 2000(ish) at a restaurant called Typhoon in Santa Monica, CA. Dude and I went there just because they have an insect section on their menu and we were curious. We ordered some chicken satay and other regular snacks, but we also ordered the fried crickets and the sea worms. The crickets were tasty! They were little guys about the size of a peanut, deep fried with big hunks of garlic, spicy red pepper and shoestring fries. Yum! They were salty and crunchy and good. The sea worms... no. I don't even want to revisit that little experience here. Imagine the taste of licking the bottom of the ocean and there you go.

The second time I had crickets was in 2006 at a roadside stand in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Let me tell you that the huge basket of cooked crickets was NOTHING compared to the huge basket next to it of cooked giant cockroaches. Eating a couple crickets seemed like just the right tourist thing to do because there was no way I was making the commitment to eat a roach (it would've been at least three bites). They didn't taste like much and one or two were plenty.

Tonight I had a new bug - grasshoppers! We went to a little place around the corner called Sushi Mazi for happy hour/dinner with the girls. They had grasshoppers on the sushi menu, so we ordered up a couple. The waitress delivered them to the table and then pulled out a camera."Are you ready for me to take your picture for the wall of fame?" Um, what? Okay fine. So we now have a family portrait on their wall. Sassy!

Side note: The waitress said, "Let me back up a little and I think I can get everyone in the shot." The Bug grabbed my hand and immediately started to freak, "Shot? SHOT?! MOMMY! SHOT?!" It was instant terror in her eyes as she looked at the waitress. That poor kid. It's obvious that it's not going to go well when we go back to the doctor in about five weeks for their 24-month check-up and they each have to get a few shots.

Anyway, the grasshoppers were fried and perched atop sushi rice and avocado with some of that delicious, delicious sauce that usually comes on unagi. They were the salty/crunchy component that rounded out that certain Asian goal for dishes: sweet, sour, salty, spicy, soft, crunchy. They were perfect. In fact, I ate three and Dude only got one.

For your viewing pleasure or pukefest (your choice), here's a picture:

Don't worry, my next post will probably be all about the girls' birthday party - cupcakes and costumes and cutie kids. You know - safe stuff. No pictures of delectable bugs...

Belly and The Bug