tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64347264583280847012024-03-15T21:09:59.316-04:00The Yummy MummyKim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.comBlogger330125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-90061040432473246962013-04-01T13:22:00.000-04:002013-04-01T13:22:30.129-04:00Hi everyone - <span class="fullpost">
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I'm pretty thrilled to tell you that I am blogging again. Thanks for waiting me out while I did some non-blogging writing. I needed the time. And I needed the time to freshen up, get inspired, re-connect to the reason I wanted to write here at all. Also, thanks for your emails and comments asking where the hell I went and what the hell was wrong with me. It was nice to be considered. </div>
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So, please join me at www.kim-foster.com. It's more writing, less food, but it's where I am right now. </div>
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xo Kim</div>
Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-76548630728032873852011-12-04T22:32:00.017-05:002011-12-05T11:46:33.029-05:00Charcutepalooza. Nearly The End.When <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com">Cathy</a> and I first talked about curing meat together, it was barely more than an idea for me, a sexy idea. <br /><br />I envisioned myself hanging salamis and standing in the basement, cutting off hunks of the stuff for people to sample, with the jack knife I just happened to have in the back pocket of my jeans. I imagined myself talking about mold and humidity, as if it were second nature. I envisioned a passion for meat so deep, I would give it all up to make artisanal charcuterie, which I would sell out of the back of our jeep, under-ground style, to restaurants, chefs and Brooklyn hipsters. <br /><br />That never happened. I love curing meat, but not so much I want to sell it on Flatbush Avenue. I also love brining, making bacon and even tangling with sausages. I like the feel of the meat in a way I never had before, probably because I never felt so much of it, so intimately. I learned just about every kind of cut of meat can be confited, which is both weird and amazing and makes you want to try it out on anything you have lying around. I am no longer afraid of opening <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Charcuterie-Craft-Salting-Smoking-Curing/dp/0393058298/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323095506&sr=1-1">Michael Ruhlman's book</a> and doing something from it, anything. It’s not my calling, but it has changed my kitchen, changed me. <br /><br />But more than meat and the kitchen swagger, what made this year great was you, or really all of us together - being a part of a school that wasn't a school, the bad sausage jokes, people bickering about pink salt, the moment we made something we were quite sure we couldn't make and it came out amazing, how we stared botulism in the face and confronted our fear that we might kill a family member with our home-cured meats, how we figured out that mold is sometimes something you can just scrape off and move on from, the idea we were all in it together, not doing this alone. That was the best. <br /><br />That's why you should read every single one of the posts below, because these people made something bigger than meat. And that's what we had hoped Charcutepalooza would be. Thank you for that. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Final Challenge Reminder</span><br /><br />Just to remind you all: December 6th is the due date for the final challenge. THAT IS TOMORROW! We must have it by midnight. Please send us: <br /><br />•your name, blog URL and email address<br />•a profile photo (jpg format)<br />•50 words describing your Charcutepalooza experience (not your bio, just what you learned this year)<br />•links to the 12 Charcutepalooza monthly challenge posts on your blog<br />•links to TWO of the Charcutepalooza blog posts you want to nominate for the grand prize competition<br /><br />Send all of it to CharcutepaloozaATgmailDOTCOM. We will be looking for an overall knowledge and creative undertaking of the challenge, your original or adapted recipes, good writing, good photography. <br /><br />This is going to be so ridiculously hard for us. We have been blown away with all the posts lately. But we are so excited to see what you've done. Thank you for playing along this year. I can't even begin to describe how I'll miss the #Charcutepalooza hashtag on my Tweetdeck. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Best Posts</span><br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.bitemenewengland.blogspot.com/2011/12/charcutepalooza-11-curing-or-dont-get.html">Bite Me New England</a><br />Spanish Chorizo as food…and jewelry<br /><br />2. <a href="http://houndsinthekitchen.com/2011/12/01/lardo-charcuterie/">Hounds in the kitchen</a><br />Six year old Lilly makes lardo in what may be the best food video ever. <br /><br />3. <a href="http://onevanillabean.com/2011/12/01/charcutepalooza-november-challenge-cured-spanish-chorizo/">One Vanilla Bean</a><br />Home-made Chorizo with a recipe for Lentejas Estofadas con Chorizo<br /><br />4. <a href="http://tastefoodblog.com/2011/12/01/the-cure-and-a-recipe-for-wilted-spinach-salad-with-warm-balsamic-vinaigrette/">Taste Food Blog</a><br />Wilted Spinach Salad with Warm Balsamic Vinaigrette, Toasted Pinenuts and Cured Pork<br /><br />5. <a href="http://web.me.com/scottinhawaii/In_Scotts_Kitchen/Home/Entries/2011/11/30_Curing%2C_CharcutePalooza_month_11.html">In Scott’s Kitchen</a><br />Man on a meat-curing mission….salami, bresaola, soppressata, Noix de jambon, proscuitto<br /><br />6. <a href="http://www.acookblog.com/2011/12/i-always-take-a-meat-sandwich-with-me.html">A Cook Blog</a><br />Salami & Cheddar sandwich…totally from scratch, top to bottom<br /><br />7. <a href="http://eatdrinkmanwomandogscat.com/2011/12/01/another-cure-for-charcutepalooza-duck-salami/?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter">Eat, Drink, man, Woman, Dogs, Cat</a><br />Duck Salami<br /><br />8. <a href="http://naomaly.blogspot.com/2011/12/facing-fears-charcutepalooza-challenge.html">Naomaly</a><br />Facing Fears: This is way bigger than Chorizo<br /><br />9. <a href="http://viveksurti.wordpress.com/2011/12/01/charcutepalooza-project-11-curing-and-the-butchery-of-the-whole-pig/">Vivek's Epicurean Adventure</a><br />Turning Pepperoni failure into inspiration. <br /><br />10. <a href="http://blog.belm.com/2011/12/01/the-cabinet-of-doctor-charcuterie-charcutepalooza-challenge-11/">Belm Blog</a><br />Salami, Bresaeola, Lonzino in steps, or...being unwilling to "cop to the suckage."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">EXTRA</span>: <a href="http://www.acookblog.com/2011/11/gratitude-is-the-attitude.html">A Cook Blog</a><br />Eight amazing Thanksgiving courses using charcuterie in EVERY COURSE. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Best Photos</span><br /><br />1. <a href="http://dabblingsandwhimsey.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-got-cure-for-you.html">Dabblings & Whimsey</a> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Dp6bexbhnuwttZJLlo3dX9YHGIveJBCCaWFLr44cTGldcFoqIbqT0-SRJoUJQEzZmaXKvJV7qpuy8kcXhfuAum_UF7AbZQYJA_I4CqeMpezXbD-HCfCvP5fdNiKxZNoOyM4pf3xXgrk/s1600/Dabblings+Chorizo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Dp6bexbhnuwttZJLlo3dX9YHGIveJBCCaWFLr44cTGldcFoqIbqT0-SRJoUJQEzZmaXKvJV7qpuy8kcXhfuAum_UF7AbZQYJA_I4CqeMpezXbD-HCfCvP5fdNiKxZNoOyM4pf3xXgrk/s400/Dabblings+Chorizo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682494620873427826" /></a><br /><br />2. <a href="http://snappyservicecafe.com/2011/12/01/padua-family-bresaola/#more-646">Snappy Service café </a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0zjp6spdg8rKTysS9vPcD7TaTjajFxLvMYNle6oSi6zS4Upe1tUY3xrwcNHUMM9x0F8u3FwDDZPHGLDAL2EYAxvxwhDHnCrNgrH-Trtb_Wkacx5Zul7tfNCMOqxRcOyunmHr-3Xrifo/s1600/service+meat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 348px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0zjp6spdg8rKTysS9vPcD7TaTjajFxLvMYNle6oSi6zS4Upe1tUY3xrwcNHUMM9x0F8u3FwDDZPHGLDAL2EYAxvxwhDHnCrNgrH-Trtb_Wkacx5Zul7tfNCMOqxRcOyunmHr-3Xrifo/s400/service+meat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682495366050068418" /></a><br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.niccooks.com/charcutepalooza/charcutepalooza-11-curing/">Nic Cooks</a> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pxnmfMshjWUiY_mL7HVn2EYODO4DOSW_GDDyvC3znUd9A_Ga-1kqStRdDpQSehfg3JWLYYjlLqU6wddhHgGKtwNeA_HRUSiThkpAtLlFnD_4rYhR94IDvJfQt6TcsvaPCxFKfZKW-28/s1600/Nic-Cooks-Salami-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pxnmfMshjWUiY_mL7HVn2EYODO4DOSW_GDDyvC3znUd9A_Ga-1kqStRdDpQSehfg3JWLYYjlLqU6wddhHgGKtwNeA_HRUSiThkpAtLlFnD_4rYhR94IDvJfQt6TcsvaPCxFKfZKW-28/s400/Nic-Cooks-Salami-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682496020636231330" /></a><br /><br />4. <a href="http://www.eatlivetravelwrite.com/2011/12/charcutepalooza-november-curing/">Eat Live Travel Write</a> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqqx_tSWKu01243HIXAZFn-Cr6xRImDcx19qGPDX5yQ2lujZr4k5mj8x7726Ib7B5Joen2MNuz2NQ2u24okCBn0Woe2L-6saZAXHqS9a42L8SzEvMi-kI5NrIGudmax1f-MIoHGli9N8/s1600/Saucisson-sec-and-noix-de-jambon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 368px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqqx_tSWKu01243HIXAZFn-Cr6xRImDcx19qGPDX5yQ2lujZr4k5mj8x7726Ib7B5Joen2MNuz2NQ2u24okCBn0Woe2L-6saZAXHqS9a42L8SzEvMi-kI5NrIGudmax1f-MIoHGli9N8/s400/Saucisson-sec-and-noix-de-jambon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682496927937696402" /></a><br /><br />5. <a href="http://butchersapprentice.wordpress.com/2011/12/01/a-picnic-with-walter/">Butcher's Apprentice</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFJec_3Lc7D5P6I_aXVTAzpyJuc2dKaN2z5Vso1PtPaZWESHa6wTnJW7hN5m-rPeJDqJngccLVtXxn9aI0FSN9P3vFVxoegjCDT6E87FxLcoCpJZsxUnnBC-6q7f1ArmyRaDbjtqV4eLk/s1600/noix.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFJec_3Lc7D5P6I_aXVTAzpyJuc2dKaN2z5Vso1PtPaZWESHa6wTnJW7hN5m-rPeJDqJngccLVtXxn9aI0FSN9P3vFVxoegjCDT6E87FxLcoCpJZsxUnnBC-6q7f1ArmyRaDbjtqV4eLk/s400/noix.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682500656992487810" /></a><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-14791220942815739432011-10-02T22:42:00.017-04:002011-10-03T10:16:54.482-04:00Chicken Gallantine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEENP2dqTpOGOMPkzm0iUjws414y4Bwf5ZV9tpvEYt3XuEPlIbcXjnfQfJX5Uu1BfvKg7A-wEOKLD7JzrQYqbne4lv_r7aJ2GLMDQ8r9Wf8aDUZZc-Kum7GZ22Hu0qvIpfqDrmVDLSEM/s1600/IMG_6494.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEENP2dqTpOGOMPkzm0iUjws414y4Bwf5ZV9tpvEYt3XuEPlIbcXjnfQfJX5Uu1BfvKg7A-wEOKLD7JzrQYqbne4lv_r7aJ2GLMDQ8r9Wf8aDUZZc-Kum7GZ22Hu0qvIpfqDrmVDLSEM/s400/IMG_6494.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659247513646198610" /></a><br />This month's <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/09/october-challenge-stretching/">Charcutepalooza Challenge</a> is stretching. That means we are taking a duck or chicken and making it feed as many people as we can, using all the bits and scraps, letting nothing go to waste. <br /><br />I made a Chicken Gallantine - a precious rolled-meat concoction that requires you to flay the skin off the chicken - Spanish inquisition style - in one single piece, debone the whole chicken, make pate out of the forcemeat, fold the forcemeat over the partially-grilled breasts so they are a snug surprise in the middle of the roll, and force all of it back inside the skin - that you just took off the chicken - and poach it in broth. <br /><br />It sounds epic, like a kid who takes a radio apart and then reassembles it in a totally different way, and it's a little like that. Making a Gallantine is part mischievous kid and part mad-scientist-with-a-boning-knife, but the exercise helps you really get to know the chicken. It forces you to see and feel everything. And it does take a smallish chicken that might feed four people and turns it into a lovely, flavorful dish that feeds eight easily. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Also, this was much easier than any of our casing challenges. Once you've stuffed your own sausages, made your own hot dogs, the Gallantine is child's play. <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com">Cathy</a> got us in tip-top shape over the summer. <br /><br />I used Ruhlman's recipe out of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Charcuterie-Craft-Salting-Smoking-Curing/dp/0393058298/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1317648924&sr=1-1">Charcuterie</a>. I did a few things differently - I added sauteed spinach to boost the flavor, used more chicken liver, added some extra chicken fat I had in the freezer instead of the pork fat, and poached it in broth made from a smoked chicken - thanks <a href="http://www.acookblog.com">Peter!</a> - to give it a little kick. You can really play with this dish. <br /><br />Here's one of the side dishes that worked well with the Gallantine. It is, I think, the very last hurrah of summer: Yellow Beans Braised in Cream & Thyme. It's rich and fatty along-side the dainty, elegant slices of Gallantine. Serve it with roasted root vegetables and a salad, and the meal blends together all the best of late summer and early Fall. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Yellow Beans Braised in Cream & Thyme</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhGDzFfgKmjdHgAc58qsa_PQd7VBn7oFmr6BfvLAsBPcIDLQ8B_WB4i-1ZEvKKMY78Cz3t0B73f-2_1qSJRbo7LYsfl9t3MyjbUd9pJNCTxN-YDJdXK4bXOKl1OxMKc17709SDnKg0Hg/s1600/IMG_6402.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhGDzFfgKmjdHgAc58qsa_PQd7VBn7oFmr6BfvLAsBPcIDLQ8B_WB4i-1ZEvKKMY78Cz3t0B73f-2_1qSJRbo7LYsfl9t3MyjbUd9pJNCTxN-YDJdXK4bXOKl1OxMKc17709SDnKg0Hg/s400/IMG_6402.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659257210843497234" /></a><br />This recipe was one my mother made for me as a child when dad's garden beans came in. Actually she made the dish much differently, but this is how I eat it now. It is a marriage of an old food memory made better by reading <a href="http://www.injennieskitchen.com/2011/07/milk-braised-zucchini-recipe.html">Jennifer Perillo's Milk-Braised Zucchini</a> recipe, something she made after we ate (and swooned over) the same dish at Prune. I used her technique for coating the beans in a roux, something my mother wouldn't have done, but makes a simple dish all the more decadent. That and the copious amounts of cream and butter - that was my touch. <br /><br />Ingredients<br /><br />4 tablespoons butter<br /><br />1 tablespoon or so flour<br /><br />1 lb. yellow beans, trimmed and cut into spoon size lengths<br /><br />1 1/2 cups cream<br /><br />1/2 cup milk<br /><br />Thyme<br /><br />Salt and pepper to taste<br /><br />Preparation<br /><br />Melt 1/2 the butter in a sauce pan over medium heat. Add the flour and stir into the butter. Let it cook for about a minute. Add the beans, making sure they are well-coated by the four/butter mixture. Stir in the cream, milk, the remaining knob of butter, thyme, and salt and pepper. Turn heat to a simmer and let braise for 10-12 minutes. The cream will occasionally froth up, just give it a stir or bring your temperature down a little. Just make sure you don't over-cook your beans or they'll get soggy. You want them to have just a little bite. <br /><br />Serve in a bowl with flecks of thyme. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Here are the best posts from September's Packing Challenge:</span><br /><br />1. <a href="http://foodielawyer.com/2011/09/pate-de-campagne-country-pate/">Foodie Lawyer</a><br />Pate de Campagne<br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.cookbookarchaeology.com/?p=1872">Cookbook Archaeology</a><br />Pork & Prahok Terrine - Cambodian style<br /><br />3.<a href="http://www.lighterandlocal.com/2011/09/charcutepalooza-september-packing.html">Lighter & Local</a> <br />English Pork Pie<br /><br />4. <a href="http://butchersapprentice.wordpress.com/">Butchers Apprentice</a><br />Gala Pie<br /><br />5. <a href="http://www.goodforthepalate.com/2011/08/charcutepalooza-august-2011-vietnamese.html">Good for the Palate</a><br />Vietnamese Spiced Paté and Banh Mi<br /><br />6. <a href="http://naomaly.blogspot.com/2011/09/very-piggy-birthday-charcutepalooza.html">Naomaly</a><br />A very piggy birthday & Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s Pork Pie<br /><br />7. <a href="http://dolovewalk.com/2011/09/14/packing-with-oysters-on-the-side/">Do Love Walk</a><br />Pate & Fried Oysters<br /><br />8. <a href="http://bitemenewengland.blogspot.com/2011/09/charcutepalooza-packing-no-i-am-not.html">Bite Me New England</a><br />Pate en Croute (Duck Breast and Pork) - hilarious, beautiful & Goober makes an appearance<br /><br />9. <a href="http://sainttigerlily.blogspot.com/2011/09/charcutepalooza-month-9-titus.html">Saint Tigerlily</a><br />The Titus Andronicus Meat Pie<br /><br />10. <a href="http://biscuitsoftoday.com/2011/09/14/chicken-liver-mouse/">Biscuits of Today</a><br />Rustic Chicken Liver Mousse with Pistachios<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">And the best photos:</span><br /><br />1. <a href="http://saintelk.com/2011/09/15/charcutepalooza-9-pate-gratinee/">Tasting Notes from the Edge</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMJZO3WY7_ZKCr-Mq06SiwrtH7jd3HB0RGju1Rv3VsbUg13A4iOGQD9vvO6LEzgigpZhLqnMp5MYDb4lY-7SG-cjCgtH9PJv84nZwB1rh8_a_4Q-BhJFx6msJ35L5hcagdRu5_TDPc3I/s1600/Pate-Platter-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisMJZO3WY7_ZKCr-Mq06SiwrtH7jd3HB0RGju1Rv3VsbUg13A4iOGQD9vvO6LEzgigpZhLqnMp5MYDb4lY-7SG-cjCgtH9PJv84nZwB1rh8_a_4Q-BhJFx6msJ35L5hcagdRu5_TDPc3I/s400/Pate-Platter-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659093376823548354" /></a><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.eatdrinkri.com/2011/09/15/charcutepalooza-september-packing-english-meat-pie/">Eat Drink RI</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcw_8TTbcBWLABu-80FBqdtBMK74UfqJkmn7NZBeynjpvmnmv3PhsAPhqm8sw6nTrHJYVh6FspW7GYwwLKuA5xEieFLcaGPwWF790CLDmUWLplbaeOgdM6NE_kNjd2SXm2X_IoYn_ZPbQ/s1600/pork+pie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcw_8TTbcBWLABu-80FBqdtBMK74UfqJkmn7NZBeynjpvmnmv3PhsAPhqm8sw6nTrHJYVh6FspW7GYwwLKuA5xEieFLcaGPwWF790CLDmUWLplbaeOgdM6NE_kNjd2SXm2X_IoYn_ZPbQ/s400/pork+pie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659096515482175266" /></a><br /><br />3. <a href="http://leavemetheoink.wordpress.com/2011/09/13/if-i-get-drunk-and-eat-a-whole-meat-pie-it%E2%80%99s-a-family-tradition/">Leave Me The Oink</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgzc8GditoMOOxEdQDgkCLNqsOT8rOOcJY0QPX5xbR6mwnCAC2ZoY_yX-EaudcNDrLzC1Q5bHiR_9ezXlfLejiWWy3sQ1lbiprZxAG7LRrzeYe2bL2iX6DN0jdvbmzWOaRlqDtRY5g7U/s1600/pork-pie-final.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgzc8GditoMOOxEdQDgkCLNqsOT8rOOcJY0QPX5xbR6mwnCAC2ZoY_yX-EaudcNDrLzC1Q5bHiR_9ezXlfLejiWWy3sQ1lbiprZxAG7LRrzeYe2bL2iX6DN0jdvbmzWOaRlqDtRY5g7U/s400/pork-pie-final.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659097296800289442" /></a><br /><br />4. <a href="http://www.niccooks.com/uncategorized/charcutepalooza-9-leicestershire-on-a-plate/">Nic Cooks</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIaR6CE1STqfN6s4or_yJsnwfNKKLg_8mj5RR2IgoYuIy1Gi6Lc4RIYdq_HqU0jQzKlFWrYqVMEsLZV3TnLik1_ib71bOrtBLyfQIQXFS-NXStFYb1nVu4LGoVYz-aLlEJPfFkNFpPDM/s1600/IMG_5792.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIaR6CE1STqfN6s4or_yJsnwfNKKLg_8mj5RR2IgoYuIy1Gi6Lc4RIYdq_HqU0jQzKlFWrYqVMEsLZV3TnLik1_ib71bOrtBLyfQIQXFS-NXStFYb1nVu4LGoVYz-aLlEJPfFkNFpPDM/s400/IMG_5792.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659105545033577090" /></a><br /><br />5. <a href="http://dabblingsandwhimsey.blogspot.com/">Dabblings & Whimsey</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyIhvbPb9T-LvByBnHg_v-O98XS7xBe3YBXbZUloVyXFzoNTDBEXf716UQm5yYbkqpg0GmUzrbn7E7OXyuRd_6euVFke5xZT836EeiIhb-76PLYqOB22zkUzjoKIiQOfPiBXhVI9Y82oQ/s1600/dabblings.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyIhvbPb9T-LvByBnHg_v-O98XS7xBe3YBXbZUloVyXFzoNTDBEXf716UQm5yYbkqpg0GmUzrbn7E7OXyuRd_6euVFke5xZT836EeiIhb-76PLYqOB22zkUzjoKIiQOfPiBXhVI9Y82oQ/s400/dabblings.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5659107526394201522" /></a><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-43894763048990005932011-08-31T23:07:00.019-04:002011-09-01T07:40:45.753-04:00Chicken Liver Pate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR9VgmsI8bATNNfp9kUAPFk54OZzG9KpAK7GW2ODP5h1ZXVxIJRQZQeE2h9p6wF0tqX6RvjGR2bBD7EDriMHPiLJV0gcZDJzIVNJaWDwM4Q_WbFzzArmtI5d7AQGFGEzNmNvPzdDTYBY/s1600/IMG_5514.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIR9VgmsI8bATNNfp9kUAPFk54OZzG9KpAK7GW2ODP5h1ZXVxIJRQZQeE2h9p6wF0tqX6RvjGR2bBD7EDriMHPiLJV0gcZDJzIVNJaWDwM4Q_WbFzzArmtI5d7AQGFGEzNmNvPzdDTYBY/s400/IMG_5514.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647352481778239506" /></a>
<br />This month's <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/08/september-challenge-packing/">Charcutepalooza challenge</a> is packing - and that means pate.
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<br />I love pate of all kinds, so does David, but as we get further into the challenges, I struggle more and more with what I can make - dishes that work with the rules of Charcutepalooza and ones that my kids will eat. It never pays for me to make anything that only half the family will eat, which is why I never make headcheese, or stuffed trotters. We were great through sausages, and bacon, and we flew through brining, and somehow I managed to inspire them to eat a shrimp terrine last month, but loaves of compressed meat were going to be a hard sell even on a good day.
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<br />Could I make a pate that the whole family will eat?
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<br />I knew that doing something rustic would never work - too many weird obtrusive pieces sticking out here and there, and forget inlaying a little meat surprise in the middle of the pate. That's the kind of weird science that would have me banned from the kitchen.
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<br />I decided on a pate that was smooth, spreadable, could be served without turning it out of the pot into a loaf. It could be sold to the children as a fun spread, the way almond butter is a fun spread. I went with my favorite pate of all time - chicken liver. It might take a few go-arounds, but I figured I could sell this.
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<br />Chicken liver pate is not just simple, it is also inexpensive, even if you are buying the best livers, from the best chickens, at the happiest farms, and it barely requires a recipe. In fact, I'm not going to give you one.
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<br />I'm going to just tell you to buy chicken livers - you won't need many of them, a little over a half pound of livers makes three small pots full - take them home to your kitchen, gently saute them in copious amounts of butter, onions, garlic, add salt and pepper, and handfuls of fragrant herbs, whatever beautiful herbs you've picked up at the market, let it all cook together about 5-6 minutes until the livers are not red, but a lovely pink inside, and add your favorite booze. I added tequila, but you can go right ahead and improvise, bourbon, cognac, it's all good. Heavy-handedness is mandatory here.
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<br />Put the boozed up livers in a food processor, give them a whirl or two, or ten, until you have a nice thick consistency, no solids, just something like a thick, thick shake. Check for seasoning and add some salt if you think it needs it. Pour the mixture into pots. Cover the top with a few sprigs of herbs and pour a little clarified butter over the top. Put pots in the fridge for a few hours until they set.
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<br />Serve a cold pot with toasted rounds of baguette, quartered figs, a hunk of good manchego, some slices of duck sausage, cornichons and if my kids are around, a few slices of star fruit and raspberries.
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<br />As of tonight, I am working at 50%. Lucy loved pate, slathered on toasts with side helpings of cheese and fruit. Edie just ate the toasts. But I take my victories as I get them. I'll be making this again, and I'll take another crack at her. Someday, even if it kills me, she'll love it, just as I do.
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<br />Kim
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<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Here are our best-of picks for the binding challenge:</span>
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<br />1. <a href="http://chowengdown.blogspot.com/2011/08/headcheese-parsley-root-doenjang.html">Chow Eng Down</a>
<br />Tempura Head cheese
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<br />2. <a href="http://themessyepicure.com/2011/08/15/charcutepalooza-saffronseafood-terrine/">The Messy Epicure</a>
<br />Saffron and Seafood Terrine
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<br />3. <a href="http://artfulwish.wordpress.com/2011/08/15/charcutepalooza-chicken-liver-and-shallot-terrine/">Artful Wish</a>
<br />Chicken Liver Terrines with Shallots
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<br />4. <a href="http://dabblingsandwhimsey.blogspot.com/2011/08/pinkies-up-picnic-party.html">Dabblings & Whimsey</a>
<br />Chicken Liver Terrine with Chipotle and Raisins
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<br />5. <a href="http://onevanillabean.com/2011/08/15/charcutepalooza-august-challenge-binding-chicken-liver-terrine/#comment-916">One Vanilla Bean</a>
<br />Chicken Liver Terrine & Home-made Ritz Crackers
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<br />6. <a href="http://www.eatlivetravelwrite.com/2011/08/charcutepalooza-august-terrine-and-headcheese/">Eat Live Travel Write</a>
<br />Insane head cheese
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<br />7. <a href="http://inspiredbywolfe.wordpress.com/2011/08/15/headcheese/#comment-423">Inspired By Wolfe</a>
<br />Xiao long bao
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<br />8. <a href="http://sensible-worlds.blogspot.com/2011/07/big-two-headed-hog-dish-execution.html">Sensible Worlds</a>
<br />The Big Two-Headed Hog Dish
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<br />9. <a href="http://www.goodforthepalate.com/2011/07/affordable-challenges-pork-terrine.html">Good For The Palate</a>
<br />Toe Cheese (Trotters)
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<br />10. <a href="http://web.me.com/scottinhawaii/In_Scotts_Kitchen/Home/Entries/2011/8/15_Binding,_CharcutePalooza_month_8.html">In Scott's Kitchen</a>
<br />Scallop & Crab Mousseline Ravioli in Leek Brown Butter
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<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Best Pics:</span>
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<br />1. <a href="http://tastefoodblog.com/2011/08/15/kale-wrapped-salmon-and-scallop-mousseline-with-tomato-coulis-recipe/">Taste Food Blog</a>
<br />Kale Wrapped Salmon and Scallop Mousseline with Tomato Coulis
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiBngiTRyaaMiZhuKwZ1xK_WvCREMo5fqYXI5EsVkqno8lIKAIlU24G55hZdVkm4p1B6TQrmQWD6FPUU7P0lUsFW_yDJa8nnyomWLAVnkWn8S_ImowJpEWlA8lRgj75pXoa8xwH0cmIk/s1600/mousseline-tf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiBngiTRyaaMiZhuKwZ1xK_WvCREMo5fqYXI5EsVkqno8lIKAIlU24G55hZdVkm4p1B6TQrmQWD6FPUU7P0lUsFW_yDJa8nnyomWLAVnkWn8S_ImowJpEWlA8lRgj75pXoa8xwH0cmIk/s400/mousseline-tf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647223277250436210" /></a>
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<br />2. <a href="http://www.bonafidefarmfood.com/http___www.bonafidefarmfood.com/Bona_fide_Farm_Food/Entries/2011/8/12_Parsleyed_Ham.html">Bona Fide Farm</a>
<br />Parsleyed Ham in Aspic
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExCbJAtH31QLzcr3nSq35ywGFRuS6qCoF0c7HVegbjmmfbvwVjfDVFGr9qsz6OZ8EAMo459XD_zcswk5X1IXZ0AajIf5fPCN8J4R0wtsMNm_Vxbp2fexrTubCNbu5_x1iIcwVgQkCv6s/s1600/ham+in+aspic.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExCbJAtH31QLzcr3nSq35ywGFRuS6qCoF0c7HVegbjmmfbvwVjfDVFGr9qsz6OZ8EAMo459XD_zcswk5X1IXZ0AajIf5fPCN8J4R0wtsMNm_Vxbp2fexrTubCNbu5_x1iIcwVgQkCv6s/s400/ham+in+aspic.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647224766046984322" /></a>
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<br />3. <a href="http://www.acookblog.com/2011/08/id-like-to-be-alone-with-the-sandwich-for-a-while.html">A Cook Blog</a>
<br />French dip bánh mì
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7xhXG01S1PJcbUwttXsKtAt6zW16rxx4aI4DcQiaUPxshBKTsvCnFOGpsD56V6rViwinlB5h8Z-RsqRZ4dj07WZtXuQ2-AOPh4w3Glp2TFFs2zRwIue3JuFWbtDnEE_A37si0CSamzs/s1600/pig+head"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7xhXG01S1PJcbUwttXsKtAt6zW16rxx4aI4DcQiaUPxshBKTsvCnFOGpsD56V6rViwinlB5h8Z-RsqRZ4dj07WZtXuQ2-AOPh4w3Glp2TFFs2zRwIue3JuFWbtDnEE_A37si0CSamzs/s400/pig+head" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647227914237313410" /></a>
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<br />4. <a href="http://houndsinthekitchen.com/2011/08/15/almost-all-ohio-mousseline/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=almost-all-ohio-mousseline">Hounds in the Kitchen</a>
<br />Almost All-Ohio Trout and Shrimp Mousseline
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj946Dbw4CuKwOgfzf3AVAOlCu8s2VZm1JUj7F9to7LYI9uxV_Z-Y4QVr93qEAStzYb7WW0cDpxDNpVqwktMiJ_1dXxzcTYxh5u_z2-f7fd1zBCvkc4V8JpBc8qhTcJcsJiDzURpoED2m4/s1600/ohio.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj946Dbw4CuKwOgfzf3AVAOlCu8s2VZm1JUj7F9to7LYI9uxV_Z-Y4QVr93qEAStzYb7WW0cDpxDNpVqwktMiJ_1dXxzcTYxh5u_z2-f7fd1zBCvkc4V8JpBc8qhTcJcsJiDzURpoED2m4/s400/ohio.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647230424790537778" /></a>
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<br />5. <a href="http://naomaly.blogspot.com/2011/08/tip-to-toe-terrine-charcutepalooza.html">Naomaly</a>
<br />Tip to Toe Terrine
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1278abEMhoyy32tEhxiBrkmJyMR44-NA1Np7oXUoxqL0UGFrVXo1GRTxd5hUkdSCSzPIn9jSI_0ZzPUBniEZmc_Z0OLV5EN1gA4hrc-YDM-x1Ok382FJq-loSS726x2a0Kv2uXQDUAQ/s1600/pig-parts.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1278abEMhoyy32tEhxiBrkmJyMR44-NA1Np7oXUoxqL0UGFrVXo1GRTxd5hUkdSCSzPIn9jSI_0ZzPUBniEZmc_Z0OLV5EN1gA4hrc-YDM-x1Ok382FJq-loSS726x2a0Kv2uXQDUAQ/s400/pig-parts.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647231979264876354" /></a>
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<br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-11937519924299512752011-07-31T20:32:00.034-04:002011-08-01T09:15:39.376-04:00Salad d'Imbécile<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbcJWilEtRr35nlwetOw9UWk3GtdE6WpDF6t2caSg-DdHkIVp_JaXhMM4uUDWUExIc_X_-_B1WQCMU27TLQ4O_-5XCpsLV5F_O0P4jhOyN_KuIwjsVlZNl_jZE4Vix0q-vkW6iR4vqO8/s1600/IMG_4907.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbcJWilEtRr35nlwetOw9UWk3GtdE6WpDF6t2caSg-DdHkIVp_JaXhMM4uUDWUExIc_X_-_B1WQCMU27TLQ4O_-5XCpsLV5F_O0P4jhOyN_KuIwjsVlZNl_jZE4Vix0q-vkW6iR4vqO8/s400/IMG_4907.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635729587680822834" /></a><br />It takes great talent to mess up a Nicoise Salad. I mean, it can be served many ways but basically it has the same ingredients - tuna, potatoes, capers, a lush bed of buttery greens, red onions, a pile of cornichons, a tangy mustard-y vinaigrette, some quickly-blanched haricot verts, maybe a strip or two of anchovies from a tin. And of course, the olives. The briney little suckers that make the salad, that salad. <br /><br />I was going to be tricky. I was going to sub-out the tuna and replace it with delicate terrines of seafood - the kind I was tasked with making for this <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/07/charcutepalooza-august-challenge-binding/">Charcutepalooza "binding" challenge</a> - and create a funky take on Salad Nicoise. I was quite sure you would never miss the tuna. I made the terrines the night before. Rock shrimp (Lucy's favorite) and crab (Edie's favorite). I got all my ingredients ready in the morning. I tasted the terrines. Beautiful, light, delicate, still tasting of the sea, and slightly reminiscent of the shrimp salad sandwiches my mother made for me as a child. <br /><br />Then, that thing happens where you have this idea that you should ask your husband for advice about something. Like how to set up your photo. It seems like a good idea in the moment, I mean he is competent about so many things. So you do it, you ask him, and then 10 seconds later you realize asking your husband about food photography might be the biggest mistake ever, because pretty soon, he is arranging beans and peppers into an aerodynamic, architectural, 1980's era Nouvelle Cuisine-inspired tower and waxing poetic about food photography.<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />He produces theatre and concerts. He is not <a href="http://blog.pennydelossantos.com/">Penny De Los Santos</a>. Still, he made me stop and shoot his plate. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQVg1IAsZnkggxaKTFSGor23_1LrHsmD_mKrJDJkxaU1RdhQSEazfcVGsZF37wDRswx4xpbqQ63F8o7ZhW1J5-Wh2x2edwDtYXUnkJtmHzl3JQ5vbzkAgwxSDdRgvKO-qWRyCcXYU7ew/s1600/IMG_4792.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQVg1IAsZnkggxaKTFSGor23_1LrHsmD_mKrJDJkxaU1RdhQSEazfcVGsZF37wDRswx4xpbqQ63F8o7ZhW1J5-Wh2x2edwDtYXUnkJtmHzl3JQ5vbzkAgwxSDdRgvKO-qWRyCcXYU7ew/s400/IMG_4792.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635712035285046706" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2i7_5ZSFDnXRQmIAbJ-s0vGXKBSsdbqLe5jQec4GTvDqyuXLkqCxhokuuA6ux38GohPBjEzAGXfhWem9bmQjBshu0WDqB3y5GHU016vJSe3fXjj2QzhaDgn7j3et37NSPy7HL33uh2xk/s1600/IMG_4784.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2i7_5ZSFDnXRQmIAbJ-s0vGXKBSsdbqLe5jQec4GTvDqyuXLkqCxhokuuA6ux38GohPBjEzAGXfhWem9bmQjBshu0WDqB3y5GHU016vJSe3fXjj2QzhaDgn7j3et37NSPy7HL33uh2xk/s400/IMG_4784.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635712888203494418" /></a><br />Then, it was my turn. I called my version "rustic". I denounced his blatant use of a single nugget of lettuce. I called it un-real, ridiculous. He countered by telling me my rustic interpretation was "throwing lettuce on a plate". He talked about precision and design. I talked about homey-ness, comfort and practicality. <br /><br />I mocked his perfectly-placed pickles. I asked him how many people he thought four pickles was going to feed. He accused me of using more ingredients to beef up my photos. He whined about unequal treatment and standards. He lectured me about how photography is art, not a literal plate that he would bring to the table. He mocked my deconstructed salad, calling it "silly". I countered with an oration about cooking, the ins and outs of actually producing food so that real people, not tiny mice, could eat it. He used this is an opportunity to remind me how mind-numbingly literal I can be. <br /><br />We bickered. We bitched. We criticized. We blasted each others creations. We accused each other of secret sabotage. We were merciless, as only a husband and wife can be, safe on ground we created together, with rules we both understood. <br /><br />It was absurdly fun. More than once, we caught each other smirking. It was all safely violent, all that sparring and squaring off. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAWP7-ulhyV01fjh93bhx0nGTZKSBYC3ko2_V0lJjl1dBzwIVnj6DGdb-uogEjkXcfIRON33q3FOR1WpyPx_zdV3yOuN5mK9tWWyDZh53xla7rw3OlGJK7S8WO4KX9l3IjLS7TEW_caw/s1600/IMG_4834.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAWP7-ulhyV01fjh93bhx0nGTZKSBYC3ko2_V0lJjl1dBzwIVnj6DGdb-uogEjkXcfIRON33q3FOR1WpyPx_zdV3yOuN5mK9tWWyDZh53xla7rw3OlGJK7S8WO4KX9l3IjLS7TEW_caw/s400/IMG_4834.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635728198999246130" /></a><br />And that is why, when I took my picture, and my head was full of theories and ideas and one-upsmanship, while driven to be right and make a better plate, a prettier plate than David, with my head in this game we created, I served a table full of guests at tea and promptly forgot the potatoes, the olives, the anchovies and the hard boiled eggs. Just left them in the fridge. Forgot they existed. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEHyBRii7iLalQEaTrykyrrBIpBEcPE8l0sDs88xhbg5Uok-cBGskj14JtGM0L4r57vsO33hBOb-ROg5mVPjm7oLjC0hXjsW7Dt-2ZPaJ8VghiTjbMYFvu9BjjFas1sLKL8rd4V0W3Uc/s1600/IMG_4916.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEHyBRii7iLalQEaTrykyrrBIpBEcPE8l0sDs88xhbg5Uok-cBGskj14JtGM0L4r57vsO33hBOb-ROg5mVPjm7oLjC0hXjsW7Dt-2ZPaJ8VghiTjbMYFvu9BjjFas1sLKL8rd4V0W3Uc/s400/IMG_4916.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635730312071360498" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJw-MbQ3X-ez8DFPwW_tU5P_lsD2NIynCjSQNsWupG8Kjl_V9phyphenhyphendnqpD9i2TeynL_yLTneNbzivw_twDTZXPfAmbTgD0-t7nwZVe88R4uJ0qh4Yo7TJaqmi4GdVitZ0Y_1DT68CAjCr4/s1600/IMG_4901.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJw-MbQ3X-ez8DFPwW_tU5P_lsD2NIynCjSQNsWupG8Kjl_V9phyphenhyphendnqpD9i2TeynL_yLTneNbzivw_twDTZXPfAmbTgD0-t7nwZVe88R4uJ0qh4Yo7TJaqmi4GdVitZ0Y_1DT68CAjCr4/s400/IMG_4901.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635733202925325282" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20EvZX4QibvWD3TJUiZPQV5oXAG4IJNTycse5m5EgM9zBo2nEs75hUTshPI57Yy8-e0CUHaoM56W5alMWFk4pzKeHVT0n-IVeCLf5o7f5Vj4xEDyArvL2_rwH4B9z9wZY7vVrdT9NjPs/s1600/IMG_4919.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20EvZX4QibvWD3TJUiZPQV5oXAG4IJNTycse5m5EgM9zBo2nEs75hUTshPI57Yy8-e0CUHaoM56W5alMWFk4pzKeHVT0n-IVeCLf5o7f5Vj4xEDyArvL2_rwH4B9z9wZY7vVrdT9NjPs/s400/IMG_4919.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635731118533301778" /></a><br />It was an Idiot's Salad. And I'm pretty sure that's all David's fault. But yours will be different. You will refrain from asking your spouse about food photography. Or what's happening in Congress. You'll stay on task, and make these adorable little terrines. They are very light, perfect for tea, easily adaptable with different herbs and seasonings, and if you remember all of the heartier ingredients you left in the fridge, perfect with a Nicoise Salad.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTzab8UMCOPPT3S7OWnkxYZsKwrFc_3160xQFf9Nva9usELJGXWKWdiU9s0KjVIwTTInF79eGfd-E-akuuhk_MRs0dvKGn2nPKXxoXYtI5QZVO8sXkwLgZtzg4sKpSuGJSePvmFKGRpE/s1600/IMG_4940.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTzab8UMCOPPT3S7OWnkxYZsKwrFc_3160xQFf9Nva9usELJGXWKWdiU9s0KjVIwTTInF79eGfd-E-akuuhk_MRs0dvKGn2nPKXxoXYtI5QZVO8sXkwLgZtzg4sKpSuGJSePvmFKGRpE/s400/IMG_4940.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635731981316281586" /></a><br /><br />Kim<br />_____________________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Shrimp & Crab Mini-Terrines with Cilantro & Chives</span><br /><br />This is a simple take on Michael Ruhlman’s “Maryland Crab, Scallop, and Saffron Terrine”. The secret here is to keep it no frills, and use shrimp so fresh that they smell of the sea the minute you pop off the lid. When I made this dish with four curious six year olds - too nosey and curious not to join in - they passed the container around and “smelled the ocean”. That’s how fresh it should be – kids should think it smells great. I use backfin crab with the rock shrimp. It's sweeter than lump, has a stronger crab taste, and it’s more affordable. <br /><br />One other note – since the kids made this terrine, the herbs are cut roughly, certainly more rough than I would’ve preferred, but their big chunks of herbs made for a much more visually appealing terrine once sliced. I might try it their way next time. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ingredients</span><br /><br />¾ cup cream<br />1 lb. rock shrimp, chopped<br />½ lb. crab, back fin, in chunks<br />2 large egg whites<br />Chives, a handful, chopped<br />Cilantro, a handful, chopped<br />Juice of a medium-sized lemon<br />Salt (to taste)<br />Pepper (to taste) <br />Chives for garnish<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Preparation</span><br /><br />Put the blades and bowl of your food processor in the freezer and chill for 15 minutes or so. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line four small terrines with plastic wrap, so they are ready when you need them. You’ll want the wrap to hang out a bit so you can fold it over and cover the top of the terrine. <br /><br />When the gear is cold, assemble processor and combine shrimp and egg whites in the processor and puree until smooth. While the machine is still running, add cream to the mixture and process a little longer, just until everything is mixed well. Turn off the machine, add chunks of crab to the mixture, and season with chives, cilantro, lemon, salt and pepper. Gently mix everything together. <br /><br />Push spoonfuls of your shrimp mixture into the terrines so that it touches all edges and sides and fills the mold. Pack the shrimp mixture into the terrine with the back of your spoon, so it’s even on top and fills the terrine completely. Cover with the remaining overlap of the plastic wrap and place terrines in a roasting pan. Pour hot water, from the tap or boiled on the stove, into the roasting pan until it comes half way up the sides of the terrines. Bake for about a half hour. You’ll know it’s done when you feel it get slightly spongey like a cake. <br /><br />Remove terrines from the water bath and cool them a bit before putting them in the fridge. I put stones from my kid’s rock collection on top of each one to weigh it down. Let it rest just like that overnight in the fridge. <br /><br />When you’re ready to serve, remove the rocks, unwrap the plastic wrap from the top and turn over the terrine. The little shrimp cakes will pop right out. Garnish with freshly cut chives. Serve with crackers and a hearty salad where you remember all the ingredients. Perfect for an afternoon tea out on the deck. <br /><br />__________________________________________________________________________________<br /><br />Here are the best of the Charcutepalooza Posts for July. The challenge was <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/06/charcutepalooza-july-challenge-blending/">Blending</a>. Love the dogs!<br /><br /><br />1. <a href="http://sirfoodalot.blogspot.com/2011/07/second-that-emulsion.html">Sir Foodalot</a><br />Hot Dog Emulsion is F*ugly.<br /><br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.healthygreenkitchen.com/homemade-hot-dogs-charcutepalooza-challenge-7.html">Healthy Green Kitchen</a><br />I made Hot Dogs and that’s something I thought I’d never say…<br /><br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.niccooks.com/uncategorized/charcutepalooza-7-the-one-i-didnt-want-to-do/">Nic Cooks</a><br />The One I Didn’t Want to Do<br />A really great survey of hot dogs in various countries. <br /><br /><br />4. <a href="http://www.eatlivetravelwrite.com/2011/07/charcutepalooza-july-emulsified-sausages/">Eat Live Travel Write</a><br />How Hot Dogs can be Dangerous to Your health<br /><br /><br />5. <a href="http://sirfoodalot.blogspot.com/2011/07/second-that-emulsion.html">Sir Food A lot</a><br />Second That Emulsion (Sir Food A lot Holds Nothing Back)<br /><br /><br />6. <a href="http://inspiredbywolfe.wordpress.com/2011/07/15/ode-on-a-mortadella-sausage/">Inspired By Wolfe</a><br />Ode on a Mortadella Sausage (with apologies to Keats)<br /><br /><br />7. <a href="http://dolovewalk.com/2011/07/14/bge-hot-dog/">Do Love Walk</a><br />July 4th and Half Smokes<br /><br /><br />8. <a href="http://dabblingsandwhimsey.blogspot.com/2011/07/taking-on-lunch-lady.html">Dabblings and Whimsey</a><br />Muffaletta Salad<br /><br />9. <a href="http://locavoreinthecity.wordpress.com/2011/07/16/homemade-hot-dogs/">Locavore in the City</a><br />A Daughter Makes Dogs with her Dad<br /><br />10. <a href="http://bitemenewengland.blogspot.com/2011/07/brats-and-bungs-and-mortadella.html">Bite Me New England</a><br />Janis kisses the bung. Literally. <br /><br /><br />Best Pictures!<br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.cookbookarchaeology.com/?p=1612">Cookbook Archeology</a><br />Gorgeous step-by-step Mortadella-making pics<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKOrJmJH-eTK1iNxHiGan0yZQUzlwapiWaTyhHPtpN15vKJvzIIZEDWpGbt5x-flOVXe4uDjqV-1ngIu3dxWTbQPkWTGIp-q_5tvexqDfzUICw4vtmcjOgvoj1oL4vVbPGOzY5FhUI_o/s1600/mortadella.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKOrJmJH-eTK1iNxHiGan0yZQUzlwapiWaTyhHPtpN15vKJvzIIZEDWpGbt5x-flOVXe4uDjqV-1ngIu3dxWTbQPkWTGIp-q_5tvexqDfzUICw4vtmcjOgvoj1oL4vVbPGOzY5FhUI_o/s400/mortadella.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635717167567732738" /></a><br /><br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.foodbuzz.com/blogs/3919999-charcutepalooza-july-the-chicago-hot-dog">Lighter and Local</a> <br />Chicago Hot Dog<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIRn3SlMzE8uI-xpN4UAkOQxIfa4ndVdkDT5wKBa-keDr7DU4C36QxBoGt6h3ENWG-dzYgVvDwyiCakMf1MYCJMhCHzvp4WkFyUYFPZqx63InDHp0q50sW7c3TId_NlS1hvQgeWUIgYo/s1600/hotdog.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIRn3SlMzE8uI-xpN4UAkOQxIfa4ndVdkDT5wKBa-keDr7DU4C36QxBoGt6h3ENWG-dzYgVvDwyiCakMf1MYCJMhCHzvp4WkFyUYFPZqx63InDHp0q50sW7c3TId_NlS1hvQgeWUIgYo/s400/hotdog.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635717785108998786" /></a><br /><br />3. <a href="http://tastefoodblog.com/2011/07/15/homemade-bratwurst-and-a-recipe-for-beer-mustard/">Taste Food</a><br />Bratwurst<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_liAr6grHAhkIN6yO84uNoEfUB33mskZFHHAuVs8Z14QPxHkDcSfpa3-ITRqeNCCu_1p-rj0_2rTJsVBLtEHUH8VdhuRIcwasKXicefKD3hpOdk6UW0uTO7tHd0GfrKH53pSoPCBgtts/s1600/taste+food+brats.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_liAr6grHAhkIN6yO84uNoEfUB33mskZFHHAuVs8Z14QPxHkDcSfpa3-ITRqeNCCu_1p-rj0_2rTJsVBLtEHUH8VdhuRIcwasKXicefKD3hpOdk6UW0uTO7tHd0GfrKH53pSoPCBgtts/s400/taste+food+brats.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635719477779779522" /></a><br /><br />4. <a href="http://leavemetheoink.wordpress.com/2011/07/13/charcutepalooza-challenge-7-the-art-of-making-hot-dogs-in-which-i-battle-a-dead-possum/">Leave Me The Oink</a><br />Pigs Wrapped in Brioche Blankets<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbES_dFDQ_sXc1CZov56tEgZVKl-0D2jzuWXFQYwkPDdupn22HYcXYc0ZNqUBmsU91C-DXrGbLKTaqkZRWmobY5SZQY7PQ8d1Xc3AQ3toV21s2DTw0XMMUNVOsbQtN2Un7rR1FNam6Cg/s1600/wieners-81.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbES_dFDQ_sXc1CZov56tEgZVKl-0D2jzuWXFQYwkPDdupn22HYcXYc0ZNqUBmsU91C-DXrGbLKTaqkZRWmobY5SZQY7PQ8d1Xc3AQ3toV21s2DTw0XMMUNVOsbQtN2Un7rR1FNam6Cg/s400/wieners-81.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635721067803547122" /></a><br /><br />5. <a href="http://blog.belm.com/2011/07/13/better-than-baloney-charcutepalooza-challenge-7/">Belm Blog</a><br />Bung & Mortadella<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnr4Hjpq31-OgyCGKgVhsS8Z-UHzpPHNK-LFFukqIohWbbWOiw78VPE7KxnLIVAqjQ6OXSk9v3M05p3xeGDOQm6uNO4pGqzKuIXLrglDseSfA5fYHwcJZsbLr288AoKtDTMDxGoBI4puI/s1600/mortadella12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnr4Hjpq31-OgyCGKgVhsS8Z-UHzpPHNK-LFFukqIohWbbWOiw78VPE7KxnLIVAqjQ6OXSk9v3M05p3xeGDOQm6uNO4pGqzKuIXLrglDseSfA5fYHwcJZsbLr288AoKtDTMDxGoBI4puI/s400/mortadella12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635722191405065010" /></a><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-84474735607925109832011-07-11T19:52:00.009-04:002011-07-13T12:17:15.303-04:00Summer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUJ9ia4NrAdr0Nv3iAvZhsNpJ_DYb9JTc9CJIloqBlHkEAI0Y28zgBAcVfd0OswIFicOtXjXMGxIeb1_S2zNN1hggDuT79k4BjBtfPiQMIWPe_cAaAPpYmckWZ-J2h1Qd0eN9v5_vua0/s1600/IMG_3929.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMUJ9ia4NrAdr0Nv3iAvZhsNpJ_DYb9JTc9CJIloqBlHkEAI0Y28zgBAcVfd0OswIFicOtXjXMGxIeb1_S2zNN1hggDuT79k4BjBtfPiQMIWPe_cAaAPpYmckWZ-J2h1Qd0eN9v5_vua0/s400/IMG_3929.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628871458263667490" /></a><br />Our tired, lazy, dirty, comfortable, sweltering, familiar, life in the grass. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-70153140269846127922011-07-07T20:53:00.029-04:002011-07-08T07:48:22.231-04:00Strawberries & Cream Bars. Kinda. Fingers Crossed.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6P4qjh9hGIztug5JGLyF9szTCWgziQKpOpOixZNqdthPNaTK01whpRqVrhGk9WL9R7O2nReiYtK3Y2k8NUR0d0AZvW7Y3j61WE6YOq1Z8Zj3D-ZTDKST0iabMXOiKho-loXrIlW9iGiM/s1600/IMG_3671.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6P4qjh9hGIztug5JGLyF9szTCWgziQKpOpOixZNqdthPNaTK01whpRqVrhGk9WL9R7O2nReiYtK3Y2k8NUR0d0AZvW7Y3j61WE6YOq1Z8Zj3D-ZTDKST0iabMXOiKho-loXrIlW9iGiM/s400/IMG_3671.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626939977308333042" /></a><br />Last weekend, I wanted to do a fun cooking project with the girls. Their friends, Nakamae and Kissa and their parents spent the weekend in the country with us, so there was lots of help. <br /><br />I want to fess up right here and say that if you think I cook with my kids for lofty, ethical reasons, think again. I do it because playing Barbie sucks. The very idea of Edie being Malibu Barbie and me having to be crazy Ken with the bad hair, fake tan and no genitals, and having to make interesting conversation over the Malibu corvette, makes my eyes roll back in my head. Give me a messy kitchen, tiny hands and a bag full of sugar tipped over on the floor any day. <br /><br />This time, I decided we should make Everyday Food's Strawberry Cream Bars. There was much fighting at first - I want this, give me that, I'm sitting here!- so I divided up the kids into two groups: Little Girls (Edie & Kissa) and Big Girls (Lucy & Nakamae). The Little Girls drew the strawberry part. The Big Girls drew the cream. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Edie and Kissa ate the strawberries. And put a few of them in the blender. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBcQ2qFFjf1mi6cw4z4R3B-Yb59MWeoTS7Qazz0dJpGAq89PCDX-rxWLOtAa3FN7IX5wm-6FgijL8H1XHIzcZHAKBfPpa-1HVwYNPjaPEfrErybFQYA0zpbSTkkYAGdrqPeLt4coX6Jg/s1600/IMG_3843.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBcQ2qFFjf1mi6cw4z4R3B-Yb59MWeoTS7Qazz0dJpGAq89PCDX-rxWLOtAa3FN7IX5wm-6FgijL8H1XHIzcZHAKBfPpa-1HVwYNPjaPEfrErybFQYA0zpbSTkkYAGdrqPeLt4coX6Jg/s400/IMG_3843.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626808939395977458" /></a><br />There was pouring. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI67KoAGMviO7FpEbP9YEtwtv85faUxE-9mVnSNzKl6K3dv5e8nAUpIciGXB7_92namndWJQGGOUTOr8_Sd2D_8Gwdzm-uUtX4CayuCVNayQ5y_brhZGYzrYofR1_q_ICpgM_Bk8IEpEY/s1600/IMG_3852.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI67KoAGMviO7FpEbP9YEtwtv85faUxE-9mVnSNzKl6K3dv5e8nAUpIciGXB7_92namndWJQGGOUTOr8_Sd2D_8Gwdzm-uUtX4CayuCVNayQ5y_brhZGYzrYofR1_q_ICpgM_Bk8IEpEY/s400/IMG_3852.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626809597141940002" /></a><br />And tandem tipping of the jar to get every single drop into the pan. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxN8Qw5vR9kN0j_1RTQfqRq4qRwpz8XRluAiupssivMv385VnmZ5P-pp09US50PDKh4TBs0brGjSxrQHxI5NulkKhm1RABZXjBr7DCz9l31Zol_4S3MUsBv0UnoNMPOWkwfHW38FGHfI/s1600/IMG_3856.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxN8Qw5vR9kN0j_1RTQfqRq4qRwpz8XRluAiupssivMv385VnmZ5P-pp09US50PDKh4TBs0brGjSxrQHxI5NulkKhm1RABZXjBr7DCz9l31Zol_4S3MUsBv0UnoNMPOWkwfHW38FGHfI/s400/IMG_3856.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626810178355089778" /></a><br />Then, we popped the strawberry mixture into the freezer, and I excused the Little Girls, and called the Big Girls to the kitchen. <br /><br />The Big Girls were tasked with cracking seven eggs, which is like a dream job for six year olds.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckgWibXc9mP_Z5iksHPShkKY8KTrSMwyKU46PEPCs4WYa1fHRkZLc5aeWaJMRKgGUHX5lLw4YV4tI9HjEFtXaPXEEckMh2prmlPdO8zhXtjK42mPdPrtnTCi-enoeZ0BS00c1xhvFwwg/s1600/IMG_3863.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckgWibXc9mP_Z5iksHPShkKY8KTrSMwyKU46PEPCs4WYa1fHRkZLc5aeWaJMRKgGUHX5lLw4YV4tI9HjEFtXaPXEEckMh2prmlPdO8zhXtjK42mPdPrtnTCi-enoeZ0BS00c1xhvFwwg/s400/IMG_3863.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626811223027211986" /></a><br />And we learned that separating yolks from whites is easier with our fingers, than tossing it back and forth in the shell. And that picking yolk bits out of a puddle of whites is not fun or terribly easy. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9N9PR9IvavoBbHErXO7wWqRAU2Bjk-h5tqoVeIxRiCZaSkdxqJQ7TkXN-GQiek5-buMPMypndlT-srDYdohVqrsyah1bZbj2pTkfBhvPlfYw08o4a8MPDqXfmTeXgaqdhNLVi5EM3GE/s1600/IMG_3866.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9N9PR9IvavoBbHErXO7wWqRAU2Bjk-h5tqoVeIxRiCZaSkdxqJQ7TkXN-GQiek5-buMPMypndlT-srDYdohVqrsyah1bZbj2pTkfBhvPlfYw08o4a8MPDqXfmTeXgaqdhNLVi5EM3GE/s400/IMG_3866.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626811982518742322" /></a><br />Then the girls figured out that funny things happen when you turn the Kitchen Aid up to 10, while Mommy has her back turned. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQ8it-6m9rPF9LXsEpfhh8Pj2EdN2mdMhcTYjnfKQGTa8UBYlx5kT0PZWqUHobvrwM6_09dK4WiQ05KULdP_m-xHQ2Hed6ZygNaPFbFxXx39vqfFxg1sw74CSVwdtMSjDrPzCaIClgc8/s1600/IMG_3879.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQ8it-6m9rPF9LXsEpfhh8Pj2EdN2mdMhcTYjnfKQGTa8UBYlx5kT0PZWqUHobvrwM6_09dK4WiQ05KULdP_m-xHQ2Hed6ZygNaPFbFxXx39vqfFxg1sw74CSVwdtMSjDrPzCaIClgc8/s400/IMG_3879.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626812705726293314" /></a><br />Like you can spatter your best friend and your mom's kitchen with cream, and laugh, laugh, laugh your ass off. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHv9Y-MUJWq5Rg09VAcjufcBv4CLjq30NrOgBKaN0kd7uRsQoeFF8B6VkZOf5NJzupz2lddUPGW0KvQJ9U2m3uMI5_Ea-I6qu7w9owGywYB6WhqCRbYaLRZ0YY_nVkdOxHMi76ZGQGW0Q/s1600/IMG_3887.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHv9Y-MUJWq5Rg09VAcjufcBv4CLjq30NrOgBKaN0kd7uRsQoeFF8B6VkZOf5NJzupz2lddUPGW0KvQJ9U2m3uMI5_Ea-I6qu7w9owGywYB6WhqCRbYaLRZ0YY_nVkdOxHMi76ZGQGW0Q/s400/IMG_3887.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626813176971772994" /></a><br />I found cream on the ceiling. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvh2PaL6_1DRom8I7OG2laaVlJbXUcyi5pCQew9aBaR7WaKGD1xuyJLC4DjoD5oBUsf9i1qWGyp-PTJ-DU6cYDXYA5YlNk33D3zBnb6bLR_mkiTWm-ZaJHu3v-5W9uJS3dxdyyChwVoh4/s1600/IMG_3890.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvh2PaL6_1DRom8I7OG2laaVlJbXUcyi5pCQew9aBaR7WaKGD1xuyJLC4DjoD5oBUsf9i1qWGyp-PTJ-DU6cYDXYA5YlNk33D3zBnb6bLR_mkiTWm-ZaJHu3v-5W9uJS3dxdyyChwVoh4/s400/IMG_3890.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626814077302825346" /></a><br />There was the ritual eating of the cream with our fingers. Constant testing of the food is a given in my kitchen. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFfEaKHTPjg8x8C0p_CYhdqgkEPPE0dNtnyNFS4ryHSbgWtIAHgffld82iS7kiBNR2p09_DvIWd6F_o5xbMMAnczCjvGcrc947Nl8NQ2Pl5Xo7krKOY1sUlD0-DzZtAeJnHqx344FOORI/s1600/IMG_3882.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFfEaKHTPjg8x8C0p_CYhdqgkEPPE0dNtnyNFS4ryHSbgWtIAHgffld82iS7kiBNR2p09_DvIWd6F_o5xbMMAnczCjvGcrc947Nl8NQ2Pl5Xo7krKOY1sUlD0-DzZtAeJnHqx344FOORI/s400/IMG_3882.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626814898519160882" /></a><br />And then we folded the cream onto to the slushy strawberry and put it in the freezer to harden into a beautiful bar that Martha Stewart says should look like this: <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85Tlf9P1u5N4ho7R4w-I2lO2rM6iPhxP53j2yPd_Sulc1q1ZqkQQ35XBTZ9gkaBfFQBUpsfwIXmdyOj0oFnlSOol5ec_lPWtCanFJ-EIYJ-PSKN-SVeSnwvl-NcJbNp-8Z4-oGwhyzgw/s1600/strawberr-bars-0611med107092des_l.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85Tlf9P1u5N4ho7R4w-I2lO2rM6iPhxP53j2yPd_Sulc1q1ZqkQQ35XBTZ9gkaBfFQBUpsfwIXmdyOj0oFnlSOol5ec_lPWtCanFJ-EIYJ-PSKN-SVeSnwvl-NcJbNp-8Z4-oGwhyzgw/s400/strawberr-bars-0611med107092des_l.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626815915566324274" /></a><br />But Martha doesn't really understand my kids. Because after a couple of hours in the freezer, our bars looked like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFb8-9HHtgMxYVB4dhankEvMjJ_gxdlc8disACVoGqfqw4ZMi0_BaCjBrG1jO5D4uQHFWatWyfP1GOjJgjZ3UKx_m6RNmz6LCmFx-Dsqa3cd5WpFSh4Q4Nw0Z8A1txuZBY7yF25OeTns/s1600/IMG_3896.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFb8-9HHtgMxYVB4dhankEvMjJ_gxdlc8disACVoGqfqw4ZMi0_BaCjBrG1jO5D4uQHFWatWyfP1GOjJgjZ3UKx_m6RNmz6LCmFx-Dsqa3cd5WpFSh4Q4Nw0Z8A1txuZBY7yF25OeTns/s400/IMG_3896.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626817449503586098" /></a><br />I started moaning under my breath about how we should've waited, and they don't look like bars, and how we ruined the bars with our insistence that they should be eaten too soon, and David, like a guru, said: If we waited for them to form into bars, we wouldn't be able to eat them now. <br /><br />Which, I have to say, is a darned good point. <br /><br />So we grabbed spoons and ate. And it was messy and formless and soupy and I have to say, luscious, creamy, fruity, and frosty. The perfect outdoor, sitting-on-the-deck-before-plunging-into-the-sprinkler, kind of treat. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCRyXsqyXzngNBQD1xmXsAmtWZHg6LlvnHPkrgZ2mTOiAIscwUSwVZG2s4R6bEtkKl18IMmLhLokFj6yk7pvplibCD1Rx49Rwy-ZkDORvmDBb0EOnWcH7MlUv5pwR5PbzVYJRvUPXPdY/s1600/IMG_3900.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCRyXsqyXzngNBQD1xmXsAmtWZHg6LlvnHPkrgZ2mTOiAIscwUSwVZG2s4R6bEtkKl18IMmLhLokFj6yk7pvplibCD1Rx49Rwy-ZkDORvmDBb0EOnWcH7MlUv5pwR5PbzVYJRvUPXPdY/s400/IMG_3900.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626819649111357234" /></a><br />Also, they were good enough that you might find your husband, alone in a dark corner of the house, with the last of the bowl, secretly polishing it off when he thinks no one is looking. Someone call the Paleo Police, my husband is eating sugar. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1j8A2rkEvJPbXFKtmmrJ9qIyAeegRjZVARkdCP5-GqNuxg2q1GSgIDBhRklB09EryTz44lXkZdColtWSN4pp8e1Wubv0vSvCc5Y4NZjIbGhanxEyuy7ZsOyvgh9O8UuXuYrW3LaeqMQ/s1600/IMG_3914.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC1j8A2rkEvJPbXFKtmmrJ9qIyAeegRjZVARkdCP5-GqNuxg2q1GSgIDBhRklB09EryTz44lXkZdColtWSN4pp8e1Wubv0vSvCc5Y4NZjIbGhanxEyuy7ZsOyvgh9O8UuXuYrW3LaeqMQ/s400/IMG_3914.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626938351737723986" /></a><br />We will make these again, but we will never even try for the fussy bars, (which aren't fussy unless you are six and terribly impatient.) Instead, I plan on taking Lucy's advice and waiting until no one is looking and swirling the cream into the fruit and freezing it that way. Big, fat, white, careless swirls. For some things, children are smarter than Martha Stewart. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8rR-arTucb9dsWGsxC_I0z6g2FmzFE7SFHrCEd0nZHk8ejGLYbJybHIcrzvUi4hc8FiBnZgKFgJHm3CKtFtDQ3hSA0sPmLMwN_KAmfV9vnJUVSgRkCAnlEsX98owtrDnDJkqLa2EzzD4/s1600/IMG_3905.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8rR-arTucb9dsWGsxC_I0z6g2FmzFE7SFHrCEd0nZHk8ejGLYbJybHIcrzvUi4hc8FiBnZgKFgJHm3CKtFtDQ3hSA0sPmLMwN_KAmfV9vnJUVSgRkCAnlEsX98owtrDnDJkqLa2EzzD4/s400/IMG_3905.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626820891677635810" /></a><br />In case you don't get Everyday Food (which you should - it's practical, simple, straight-forward and the recipes are do-able for every level of home cook), here is the recipe. Make this instead of playing with freakin' Barbie. La la la, Ken you're such a superstar...I love your tan...Wanna climb in my pink corvette and go for a ride? <br /><br />You'll thank me. <br /><br />xo YM<br />___________________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Strawberries and Cream Bars</span><br />from Everyday Food<br /><br />2 pounds fresh strawberries, hulled, halved if large (6 cups)<br /><br />1 1/2 cups sugar<br /><br />coarse salt<br /><br />7 large egg whites<br /><br />2/3 cup cold heavy cream<br /><br />1 tsp pure vanilla extract<br /><br />In a blender, combine the strawberries, 3/4 cup sugar, and a pinch of salt. Puree until smooth. Pour into a 9 x 13-inch baking dish. Transfer to freezer. Every 30 minutes, for 2 hours, scrape the fruit mixture with a fork until it’s thick and slushy. Smooth top with a rubber spatula.<br /><br />In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites on high until foamy. With mixer on medium, gradually add 3/4 cup sugar. Increase speed to high and beat until stiff, glossy peaks form, 3 minutes.<br /><br />In another bowl, beat cream and vanilla on high until you stiff peaks form, 1 to 2 minutes. With a rubber spatula, gently fold whipped cream into the egg white mixture. Pour over the fruit mixture and smooth top with a rubber spatula. Freeze until firm, about 4 hours (or covered, up to 3 days), before cutting into 12 squares. <br /><br />Serves: 12 (unless you're my family and it serves 6-8)<br /><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-20949411903718300732011-07-05T22:20:00.012-04:002011-07-06T09:02:31.167-04:00I Like The Kind of Dinners...Where I make egg rolls for an appetizer to a much bigger dinner...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5kOBUxKWcBGB4PYUqV9yo-SH8ZYV3-VpSC_-7I4yqPXjmbgYquqJogZQ6waSoFWwhfqOEZOVun_Hz7hsryFjS1h9BQsraqreyXMB049jaAgxwgbbbY4w0krUcBN5FxzoX08nTq7npN8o/s1600/IMG_3973.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5kOBUxKWcBGB4PYUqV9yo-SH8ZYV3-VpSC_-7I4yqPXjmbgYquqJogZQ6waSoFWwhfqOEZOVun_Hz7hsryFjS1h9BQsraqreyXMB049jaAgxwgbbbY4w0krUcBN5FxzoX08nTq7npN8o/s400/IMG_3973.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626216867774869522" /></a><br />And everyone decides they'd just rather have them for dinner and nothing else. And they want to eat their egg rolls while watching mindless TV, in this case Bullwinkle and Rocky, and read their books about how to build a deck, (obviously that's David) and disobey all the rules about how families should eat together at the table. How we should be having stimulating conversation and sitting up straight in our chairs. <br /><br />Bah Humbug. I sometimes need a dinner like this. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLwbt-48waCTEi5Dv4HQ63qs2DsuiHjf0242Hwq-aPo5lYjb_IhbGrzN3nh38QWdOpijP37KMGr-DEbZc9Oxd3mVWZ1gDEiU81HraL8KqRqc7bdMljVjPLUVGTz6ffG1MIg06_sq_M7I/s1600/IMG_3953.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLwbt-48waCTEi5Dv4HQ63qs2DsuiHjf0242Hwq-aPo5lYjb_IhbGrzN3nh38QWdOpijP37KMGr-DEbZc9Oxd3mVWZ1gDEiU81HraL8KqRqc7bdMljVjPLUVGTz6ffG1MIg06_sq_M7I/s400/IMG_3953.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626217626032570050" /></a><br />Because the Fourth of July is over. We ate a lot of food together, and cooked together, and ran around playing with our friends in the grass and the woods, and demo'd some of the bigger parts of our country house, (picture me with a crowbar and matted hair) and had some seriously late sleepovers, where all the kids slept together in the same bed and that was fun, but didn't get any of us very much sleep...<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs5vjGo-ShYIsophxBIl23OyHhJvL7jSdVVN4DCZapWQxqNISe1RNmZDqIuiXwmgsul8Pzo6G_DOMcXQE5RMGhzj1XTOiwcQvGzRdfbHYJ6_SbMf83nUmchOwtvQLNaIKRFd6dUr86WU/s1600/IMG_3952.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs5vjGo-ShYIsophxBIl23OyHhJvL7jSdVVN4DCZapWQxqNISe1RNmZDqIuiXwmgsul8Pzo6G_DOMcXQE5RMGhzj1XTOiwcQvGzRdfbHYJ6_SbMf83nUmchOwtvQLNaIKRFd6dUr86WU/s400/IMG_3952.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626218329942598018" /></a><br />And now we need to recover. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKTKuswZ4Sx9GLXeyHcDm8H2xWqR4n5bgvRTFB0iLKPectqb4b6Ode-DGc1_H7vP4wcpHrMvG5abBkaarwZq28awAyddnkwqE_OzszQ4brmKWUsEKJrVz0UBvUpTH2HrxADtX7dDC8dg/s1600/IMG_3950.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjKTKuswZ4Sx9GLXeyHcDm8H2xWqR4n5bgvRTFB0iLKPectqb4b6Ode-DGc1_H7vP4wcpHrMvG5abBkaarwZq28awAyddnkwqE_OzszQ4brmKWUsEKJrVz0UBvUpTH2HrxADtX7dDC8dg/s400/IMG_3950.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626218916431093122" /></a><br />So, give us bad TV, home-made egg rolls and Daddy's lap. That is just the post-holiday therapy we need. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br />PS: I use <a href="http://www.steamykitchen.com">Steamy Kitchen's</a> recipe for <a href="http://steamykitchen.com/13029-my-mothers-famous-chinese-egg-rolls-2.html">egg rolls</a>. I adapt them pretty heavily these days, but this is a terrific egg roll recipe from her mom, with a great wrapping pictorial. Try them. They rock. <br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-83498418365353075102011-06-30T05:47:00.019-04:002011-06-30T08:28:06.438-04:00Bratwurst<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXYVc7hen0Rhh8aI0QgsM1iY-oq-WhEwFKm94ivgkoddJWooZ7Q-kIl42EvBmacNmnuSAvmXlGm_2JOBKOoAAAE9nFepmMlVe6cZybZ8xumXE312op_2oj6gLMY_vhLVL7f336kM1MiU/s1600/IMG_3733-1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXYVc7hen0Rhh8aI0QgsM1iY-oq-WhEwFKm94ivgkoddJWooZ7Q-kIl42EvBmacNmnuSAvmXlGm_2JOBKOoAAAE9nFepmMlVe6cZybZ8xumXE312op_2oj6gLMY_vhLVL7f336kM1MiU/s400/IMG_3733-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623958979086495522" /></a><br />I learned a few things while making bratwurst this week for <a href="http://www.charcutepalooza.com">Charcutepalooza</a> - like how every time you turn on the meat grinder, children march into your kitchen, look at you with mad scrunched up faces and accuse you of ruining their Bullwinkle viewing time with your loud, banging machine. <br /><br />And how the kitchen counters fill up with a clutter of dirty, raw meat-caked dishes and pots, until the dish washing takes almost as long as the sausage-making itself. And how every time you finish, no matter how well you clean, there's a tiny voice in your head that wonders if every time a kid touches the counter, they aren't really dragging their little fingers through a patch of lingering salmonella and we'll be spending the night in the ER. There's a sense with sausage-making that it could all go well, or just very very badly. <br /><br />There's also the smell of the hog casings, if your nose gets a little too close. The fact that you have to bribe a member of your family to stand there pushing meat through a pig intestine - fun - so you can actually create something that resembles a sausage. <br /><br />And there's the little unexpected problems, like how people - small whiny people - might clamor for pancakes in the middle of your sausage-making and you have to stop and make a whole other meal in the middle of your raw meat explosion. (Thanks <a href="http://www.injennieskitchen.com">Jennie Perillo</a>, for your "instant" home-made pancake mix. You saved me.) Or how you're chugging right along stuffing your sausages, you're in the flow with your unwilling partner, child or neighbor, the stuffer is cranking, sausages look imminent, and the hog casing breaks and meat is flying through the air, scaring the cats and freaking out the lingering vegetarian neighbor, who you didn't think was coming over, but did, and is now more resolute than ever about not eating meat. Yes, that happened. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Sausage-making always feels epic to me. No matter how many times I do it, it always ends up feeling like an episode of "I Love Lucy". But weirdly, I like it a lot. The craziness and chaos and unpredicability are what I love about the kitchen and cooking. You just never know what might happen. <br /><br />Like the platter above. After making the bratwurst from Michael Ruhlman's book, the rest is all down hill. There's Kate in the Kitchen's Home-made <a href="http://kateinthekitchen.com/tag/mustard/">Garlic Mustard</a>, pickled asparagus with recipe by <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/05/pickled-asparagus-no-regrets-and-a-soup-recipe-too/">Mrs. Wheelbarrow</a> and pickled carrots made with basically the same recipe, only with 1/3 cup of Florida Gallberry Honey. (Big thanks to my good friend <a href="http://www.merrygourmet.com/">Merry Jennifer for the honey</a>). And the <a href="http://www.food52.com/recipes/7650_shaved_brussels_sprout_salad_with_red_onion_lemon_and_pecorino">Shaved Brussel Sprout Salad</a> from Merrill, which moves brussel sprouts out of the Fall and right into the Summer. I used her recipe almost exactly, except I subbed out the cheese and added bacon.<br /><br />What I like about this platter is that it's simple, because each of the individual components is made by hand or with some kind of love and attention - because the ingredients themselves are fresh and taste good - the whole thing is pretty simple and spectacular all at once. If you make everything ahead, leisurely over a couple afternoons, you're just plating right before lunch. But if you're a nincompoop like me, you just do everything in one time-intensive, crazy, mad-dash across the kitchen. And it's still worth it. <br /><br />xo YM<br />_____________________________________________________________________<br /><br />Here are the Best of the Blogs for the Stuffing Challenge:<br /><br /><br />1. The Messy Epicure<br /><a href="http://themessyepicure.com/2011/06/15/charcutepalooza-thai-basil-ginger-lemongrass-sriracha-chicken-sausage/">Asia Dogs with Mango Slaw and Hoisin Mustard</a><br /><br />2. The Butcher's Apprentice<br /><a href="http://butchersapprentice.wordpress.com/2011/06/15/merguez-sausages-stories/">Merguez, Tabouleh, grilled peppers and Mom's bread</a><br /><br />3. Maurine's Kitchen Thoughts<br /><a href="http://moeskitchen.blogspot.com/">Italian Sausage with Duck & Pancetta (and a tribute to mom)</a><br /><br />4. Hounds In The Kitchen<br /><a href="http://houndsinthekitchen.com/2011/06/15/mint-lamb-sausage/">Mint Lamb Sausage</a><br /><br />5. Lighter & Local<br /><a href="http://www.lighterandlocal.com/2011/06/charcutepalooza-june-spicy-garlic.html">Spicy Garlic-Ginger Chicken Sausage</a><br /><br />6. Eat Drink man Woman Dogs Cat<br /><a href="http://eatdrinkmanwomandogscat.wordpress.com/2011/06/15/take-this-sausage-and-stuff-it/">The spectacular fail - duck sausage</a><br /><br />7. Sir Food Alot<br /><a href="http://sirfoodalot.blogspot.com/2011/06/you-must-respect-process.html">You Must Respect the Process </a>(with gladiator pics)<br /><br />8. A Cook Blog<br /><a href="http://www.acookblog.com/2011/06/a-tale-of-two-sausages.html">A Tale of Two Sausages</a><br /><br />9. Au Jardin Potager<br /><a href="http://www.aujardinpotager.com/2011/05/introducing-michael-my-10-year-old.html">My 10 year Old Wurstmeister</a><br /><br />10. Edamame Eats<br /><a href="http://edamame-eats.com/2011/06/last-call-at-wurstkuche.html">Kofta-esque Bison Sausage</a><br /><br /><br />And the Best of the Stuffing Photos:<br /><br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.smokecurepicklebrew.wordpress.com">Smoke Cure Pickle Brew</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHiMs-8gLyQ0QeZcbktxbREuRmj4mt2HFZqaiiB6BiPLWWcHQ3jis8-nPH-dQVHRxj7YU0BXms3c6OZPoganz0RlCFvNhl59CYQM5cWeWE8DApuTYtaM2g81UA7gzHRkzMa3tsWStub8/s1600/dsc_0307+%25281%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHiMs-8gLyQ0QeZcbktxbREuRmj4mt2HFZqaiiB6BiPLWWcHQ3jis8-nPH-dQVHRxj7YU0BXms3c6OZPoganz0RlCFvNhl59CYQM5cWeWE8DApuTYtaM2g81UA7gzHRkzMa3tsWStub8/s400/dsc_0307+%25281%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623968894699377074" /></a><br /><br />2. <a href="http://www.eatdrinkri.com/2011/06/15/charcutepalooza-june-stuffing-sausage-links/">David Dadekian</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQybkKle9TlJzIDnc_RdVOSRH04kIwbh-7Fj2avsI8sB55wNf9fd2RKmHyaNSbT73HUW0u2Cj6McvKPy_qzgKoT4a-UASb6Eo-Z-PBffTpN1xMhfxaL4qmhAzFPmkeR5jLIJ4_lhjAQnk/s1600/20110615_charcutepalooza_june_stuffing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQybkKle9TlJzIDnc_RdVOSRH04kIwbh-7Fj2avsI8sB55wNf9fd2RKmHyaNSbT73HUW0u2Cj6McvKPy_qzgKoT4a-UASb6Eo-Z-PBffTpN1xMhfxaL4qmhAzFPmkeR5jLIJ4_lhjAQnk/s400/20110615_charcutepalooza_june_stuffing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623969272347525058" /></a><br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.tastefoodblog.com">Taste Food Blog</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIItiqomc_yKB7Tmp3Jt3hSeh8LSMLeycpKlXtAqAoM2HLXnpzkED_KmmuwSyOEK3hSUbOBLCFGQMoyIdf2On8h31NF0lm9ShWEQVM7I4Iy7KDg2sYGKMAbHbxV3TvDt0x4oUu2Q1v9qc/s1600/sausage-pasta1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIItiqomc_yKB7Tmp3Jt3hSeh8LSMLeycpKlXtAqAoM2HLXnpzkED_KmmuwSyOEK3hSUbOBLCFGQMoyIdf2On8h31NF0lm9ShWEQVM7I4Iy7KDg2sYGKMAbHbxV3TvDt0x4oUu2Q1v9qc/s400/sausage-pasta1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623972838833667794" /></a><br /><br />4. <a href="http://www.buttermilkpartycake.com">Buttermilk Party Cake</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVaJFgOgJwpfpwgeSKnNgTgqXksInPml05DM69W4SL5z3sqhhrQiy5OfBykNEo_O8rrs_VT-5xV1eRPbn3AHOexMYmIDn06ZFU8Hx-gq4pfC_YO77IMzkQmAzKBNXhWsDwsTkBW-GRc4/s1600/moose-meat-sausages1_thumb%255B2%255D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVaJFgOgJwpfpwgeSKnNgTgqXksInPml05DM69W4SL5z3sqhhrQiy5OfBykNEo_O8rrs_VT-5xV1eRPbn3AHOexMYmIDn06ZFU8Hx-gq4pfC_YO77IMzkQmAzKBNXhWsDwsTkBW-GRc4/s400/moose-meat-sausages1_thumb%255B2%255D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623975006374811778" /></a><br /><br />5. <a href="http://www.foodielawyer.com">Foodie Lawyer</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNAfYLQ-vYZ2k_iowO7Wcz8AxLWcflS74JduePYgNy9e8vA0CEoXVYSmAwMGywsWslQ6Ugq-qyvSqHNamD65rYONYjydEKcDS6MnGYyEQzk8yt6Nuvnr8IIevjnnYNZZHVQpi0JT5lsw/s1600/DSC_0531.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNAfYLQ-vYZ2k_iowO7Wcz8AxLWcflS74JduePYgNy9e8vA0CEoXVYSmAwMGywsWslQ6Ugq-qyvSqHNamD65rYONYjydEKcDS6MnGYyEQzk8yt6Nuvnr8IIevjnnYNZZHVQpi0JT5lsw/s400/DSC_0531.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623979768645794610" /></a><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-48071102411357053902011-06-28T06:52:00.014-04:002011-06-28T08:02:19.296-04:00The Magic Wood Fairy Smoke Dance<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDioQ73KbeEGKk_bqBnnFRxSRhzgnXmFbVS9iv-OpMmLFLArKmsvIoj8K3VcJY1dX8_DirjKJGw2ETgiD9uJh78ZPXTbBflE1O52t7I7SKFULpg8o4CYx44CDiWGmkidfdWJNyhyphenhyphenFfG9A/s1600/IMG_3368.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDioQ73KbeEGKk_bqBnnFRxSRhzgnXmFbVS9iv-OpMmLFLArKmsvIoj8K3VcJY1dX8_DirjKJGw2ETgiD9uJh78ZPXTbBflE1O52t7I7SKFULpg8o4CYx44CDiWGmkidfdWJNyhyphenhyphenFfG9A/s400/IMG_3368.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623222165509569538" /></a><br />This is a picture of Edie. Eating smoked salmon. <br /><br />Word to the wise - don't leave your meat or fish hanging around our house because as soon as you turn your back to make a cocktail, someone will throw it in the smoker. And then magic wood fairies will do the smoke dance around the backyard. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdsHkz7oawr0ZatQX0kph26EUrV-CKEDRZXediBy8uzxLb6ZxNWZyt2lQAiAGCfgToTBU2BhnyWv9tEZCT3VGqTRSwPUXtr6n9uhmKOI9QVfjpOlBm3Sdot4jUY4lZUL7fntLbtKSTOk/s1600/IMG_3311.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdsHkz7oawr0ZatQX0kph26EUrV-CKEDRZXediBy8uzxLb6ZxNWZyt2lQAiAGCfgToTBU2BhnyWv9tEZCT3VGqTRSwPUXtr6n9uhmKOI9QVfjpOlBm3Sdot4jUY4lZUL7fntLbtKSTOk/s400/IMG_3311.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623232444863345778" /></a><br />I think a lot of cookbook authors underplay the importance of the magic wood fairy smoke dance, but I find it to be a critical step in the smoking process. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8QhmASVdGAKhWxA-PRsp9hkiaJTSaGt_WqHb3hNs-WSUNQk4RmIh4J0utbNfqvu6bY8L7o8ww-dulucZ35xSYECBy7gvpSqse3Fskb2UI0XHSYONfi9H_gvrn99aO592nbX948BXSP8/s1600/IMG_3329.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8QhmASVdGAKhWxA-PRsp9hkiaJTSaGt_WqHb3hNs-WSUNQk4RmIh4J0utbNfqvu6bY8L7o8ww-dulucZ35xSYECBy7gvpSqse3Fskb2UI0XHSYONfi9H_gvrn99aO592nbX948BXSP8/s400/IMG_3329.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623235727908479058" /></a><br />Later after the chanting has stopped, we have this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8d8adjwWraRmJT_aqMrV6a5ehWcMwr7v3vuD6qLxqvSPD9VdAa2beDw0RsoWp7QPkNGpglJGUcK5qelB9LC0R8pOsQPzERFOLIubgKq__WFUpc6boxesJNPRhKMB_SZTsu9yzM1atfNY/s1600/IMG_3360.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8d8adjwWraRmJT_aqMrV6a5ehWcMwr7v3vuD6qLxqvSPD9VdAa2beDw0RsoWp7QPkNGpglJGUcK5qelB9LC0R8pOsQPzERFOLIubgKq__WFUpc6boxesJNPRhKMB_SZTsu9yzM1atfNY/s400/IMG_3360.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623225673223264466" /></a><br />Little children stuffing their faces with salmon and making ravenous beasts of themselves. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWnpeKEmf3d8lTOtLhe3xUG982gA3DiH4KlnNqKW6jLzN4kaPDZRIa9LMqYUc-_2dpTyi_kVmZDCaaSW08HXXoGy80AtCesGj8AVtkFHNP-qlG2yO_hpz_ujUBFw-j3s_oHyolQ-ZjwTg/s1600/IMG_3366.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWnpeKEmf3d8lTOtLhe3xUG982gA3DiH4KlnNqKW6jLzN4kaPDZRIa9LMqYUc-_2dpTyi_kVmZDCaaSW08HXXoGy80AtCesGj8AVtkFHNP-qlG2yO_hpz_ujUBFw-j3s_oHyolQ-ZjwTg/s400/IMG_3366.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623226795723900130" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipx9j5pTdITSVeie5SLOU9qByRojfQhitoT74fF89288yK7bkhF6ulxgtLd4Q6PnDkx-R6YtLd5XFiPOBIkw-ChTJdTBGSN1apII-I6bWIKY3KS7sq-WQoFQ-mTUrcPQK6YrSinoVLZAE/s1600/IMG_3374.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipx9j5pTdITSVeie5SLOU9qByRojfQhitoT74fF89288yK7bkhF6ulxgtLd4Q6PnDkx-R6YtLd5XFiPOBIkw-ChTJdTBGSN1apII-I6bWIKY3KS7sq-WQoFQ-mTUrcPQK6YrSinoVLZAE/s400/IMG_3374.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623227668021303698" /></a><br />And then, like vultures descending on dying prey, they tear through the food, leaving only scraps <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7yBXRE13y6ugHz3bqszb2Jfzwo89A7AK0xvbk8PQzSrBnFErjga74XSKY46XXe245vKe1L3Sz37DX8ggXn1gOgJKSFMDthkJxMqUePdqhWE7nNcylejZEnjyjGwu0Zd-LXkQk06GbHw/s1600/IMG_3377.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7yBXRE13y6ugHz3bqszb2Jfzwo89A7AK0xvbk8PQzSrBnFErjga74XSKY46XXe245vKe1L3Sz37DX8ggXn1gOgJKSFMDthkJxMqUePdqhWE7nNcylejZEnjyjGwu0Zd-LXkQk06GbHw/s400/IMG_3377.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623228542339001874" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yDRg923TPCoSIkVMuEZAdkF5W7_0IQ7Z4_8dmDb7kxfhBrmUkrr1yJFZ_kUtbhkCjCumobOeGLmQr17j5kxGsxGHtdxCuMHerQInVFPWgzmQ5Z1EGY0GMuNyVGNibX185q8cQrDbgQY/s1600/IMG_3387.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0yDRg923TPCoSIkVMuEZAdkF5W7_0IQ7Z4_8dmDb7kxfhBrmUkrr1yJFZ_kUtbhkCjCumobOeGLmQr17j5kxGsxGHtdxCuMHerQInVFPWgzmQ5Z1EGY0GMuNyVGNibX185q8cQrDbgQY/s400/IMG_3387.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623229316590489234" /></a><br />And satiated, surveying the carnage, put their tiny hobbit feet up on the table like barefoot heathens...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit84kUfQhXbSeFK5Tug_CRMfMyf4D_R6ZADi5wtUu638ZM0fYEMaGU7bsBG8yk_OodVm_ojRab7xYL_Ntg_t2MSnNZylndBu4xRgsBQyAYlMeWJqKrhQ6GVJSePuB25yFaGnDfD45RJVE/s1600/IMG_3390.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit84kUfQhXbSeFK5Tug_CRMfMyf4D_R6ZADi5wtUu638ZM0fYEMaGU7bsBG8yk_OodVm_ojRab7xYL_Ntg_t2MSnNZylndBu4xRgsBQyAYlMeWJqKrhQ6GVJSePuB25yFaGnDfD45RJVE/s400/IMG_3390.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623230130719989906" /></a><br />And then make complete pests of themselves until their poor mother photographs them pretending to be catatonic. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdp3xIBYXYmOfdX81yKbHfpvkEDqKRMVubBRlk2lNwtdHFNVB0pgrg5thtSbfVHtYCysAdCKCo8VXQm3fsZe_Dv3Fe2vSBuSu8FIIoc3mpseTyliCGt0as5yrpI6gSTT1ckAGlvc50SmA/s1600/IMG_3392.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdp3xIBYXYmOfdX81yKbHfpvkEDqKRMVubBRlk2lNwtdHFNVB0pgrg5thtSbfVHtYCysAdCKCo8VXQm3fsZe_Dv3Fe2vSBuSu8FIIoc3mpseTyliCGt0as5yrpI6gSTT1ckAGlvc50SmA/s400/IMG_3392.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623231032018864706" /></a><br />I don't know why. I've stopped asking. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-61728543013377121852011-06-19T10:03:00.009-04:002011-06-19T13:12:54.553-04:00What David Got For Father's Day...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqhXv1lR69JAhh8DYwvmrEr8mAwN5VKPIac_PJCv2_NKIsbHF0NGrD9UHEntppCgXcY33iWk_k8NYK1cPrc5tv6e8Z4eMx3PwnGFSpkokH2Abqc1GQkYpQOJgDQ58KQLVSiUIB2OC94es/s1600/IMG_3169.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqhXv1lR69JAhh8DYwvmrEr8mAwN5VKPIac_PJCv2_NKIsbHF0NGrD9UHEntppCgXcY33iWk_k8NYK1cPrc5tv6e8Z4eMx3PwnGFSpkokH2Abqc1GQkYpQOJgDQ58KQLVSiUIB2OC94es/s400/IMG_3169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619931888835376706" /></a><br />Two little girls peeking into the back window to secretly spy on Daddy as he goes to the bathroom. <br /><br />So, basically David's Father's Day present is...not getting a single moment to himself.<br /><br />But this is what happens when your kids want to be around you as much as they can, even when you are taking a pee, because they think you might be the most wonderfully magical, intensely fun, consistently and predictably loving person on the planet. He'll just have to deal with that kind of constant adoration. <br /><br />He's also going to stain the back deck today. And he's making me help him. Lord. Doesn't he just want a tie or something? Is hard labor really the appropriate gift here? He bought me my own paint brush. <br /> <br />Obviously, he's right in his glory. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-77242169467474877382011-06-13T08:32:00.022-04:002011-06-13T10:09:34.702-04:00Before The Show<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRhohKxp88TakRsbDW9eYMnl5K8keTauO0PrxxJPwMWmhOuKPGSSttpGFwHJRwXlGuD-h41OyhuvxvOCJYP1KnD06qoHytGl72h2_Zz99fgCb1tr9oZORmatkRniQ6jrtLh52SyaTUFc/s1600/IMG_3086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRhohKxp88TakRsbDW9eYMnl5K8keTauO0PrxxJPwMWmhOuKPGSSttpGFwHJRwXlGuD-h41OyhuvxvOCJYP1KnD06qoHytGl72h2_Zz99fgCb1tr9oZORmatkRniQ6jrtLh52SyaTUFc/s400/IMG_3086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617683088797292642" /></a><br />Yesterday, Edie had her ballet recital. <br /><br />She wasn't nervous. In fact, she was giddy. And unlike last year when David and I had to be recital helpers so one of us could always stay near her, something she demanded, this year we sat in the audience. And Edie went with her class. She sat with them through the whole show. She went backstage with them and her teacher. She walked onto the stage without us nearby in the wings. <br /><br />When we checked on her at intermission, she smiled, waved, and then turned back around to talk to the little girl sitting next to her in the same identical billowy dress. Not one bit of her needed us. She was so this other girl, one I'm just starting to know - confident at her core, sure of who she is, unafraid, comfortable in a path she chose for herself. <br /><br />I thought when this day came, I'd be sad. Maybe I'd feel like I lost something. But I'm just so unimaginably proud of her. These pictures are of Edie before her show, just moments after she put on the dress, and pointed her toes, and turned from girl to ballerina. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnHWipJ-9bYKDBCckHYClHHra_SD-NCuS5-RdZpIAXIreLjdy6iL9maxdOPG8K53U06vIddVOwEz5USjL2wjHPJosrTM1IlCAaJ6K5lmLfZc1PTVQ2Lc7jbHsoovll8L3ta16LW2ls0V0/s1600/IMG_3028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnHWipJ-9bYKDBCckHYClHHra_SD-NCuS5-RdZpIAXIreLjdy6iL9maxdOPG8K53U06vIddVOwEz5USjL2wjHPJosrTM1IlCAaJ6K5lmLfZc1PTVQ2Lc7jbHsoovll8L3ta16LW2ls0V0/s400/IMG_3028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617689331571553826" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJM0vp53qHH8xJPB6094SVphz19tOrifwgkgMtUcaDTe_m4UbE_gFjIy2mJ76K1C7-SLvDAFsuSt3os6ejqgQZFVyhs_IRa167tdyTgSZLtfOCJ8v0tgx1W_hxwc2YR1j1YH1CpfTRII/s1600/IMG_3091.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg5oFxn-Hv1EC1HaqaHQ314u8RfkeG2c2lEIuiEg1wTZgwWjuVp8vaZzHq-1mYOkUUlHIxhffumsaY776d8PcmnvHwfwa0Ux_6be_9IGgjcs2fZP2YeBLTsLYh_C828hhuz9vjunYnUOc/s400/IMG_3072.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617685362297427858" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVkmunvyDOj-2Cbuatj8a2r-BfersVAG5W4Vf4fYh86L-e9WHiByTr1krArXk-DnNlY7rk9W-Wgtik64NBB_j5l2kYEnT07Z4UEu2szddsQCSWpCuLOlkyz5dTSE4l-5U14w2o1ZNgEw/s1600/IMG_3075.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVkmunvyDOj-2Cbuatj8a2r-BfersVAG5W4Vf4fYh86L-e9WHiByTr1krArXk-DnNlY7rk9W-Wgtik64NBB_j5l2kYEnT07Z4UEu2szddsQCSWpCuLOlkyz5dTSE4l-5U14w2o1ZNgEw/s400/IMG_3075.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617684857475963554" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiz6cmx0S5vynd9BB4o0Dz4klTlw_M8mT2kvhJVe7FwO0Ni2mYkpCq6bIl-oScyRWy2_DpS8GEW633HN2-sGGSzPiX4zo1ADlxXcnl1RTnI7crErgv4nkUDKq6aNsnG7riEUxUw6Z6Dn4/s1600/IMG_3080.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEsu9qVk3w4zazzXsWcJdpjU_qml8A7zsu7oNpXX8cwtXwI7Y8FKuyOs4rXGbeF0yVRI2xeLX4EiZ5peelV9XIHuswQapIUravX9Bx9niAUSJqO0tix0VFjHKmtyRx8OUNfjXIny3w-E/s400/IMG_3087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617689797955594434" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXqFGr_YgoQKyaJuIqx9udWtztyu70uy9sIvBsYxNM_mDJoDNUx_zsdCgd4_3mO5OCvQbydnaSyYrBQARXTkV4wa8L7RMkmQKry8rmQFsKZBRE6x9B0IjmOtEAqTEJAPFo9yHkg79BEg/s1600/IMG_3097.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXqFGr_YgoQKyaJuIqx9udWtztyu70uy9sIvBsYxNM_mDJoDNUx_zsdCgd4_3mO5OCvQbydnaSyYrBQARXTkV4wa8L7RMkmQKry8rmQFsKZBRE6x9B0IjmOtEAqTEJAPFo9yHkg79BEg/s400/IMG_3097.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617682644018920178" /></a><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-76053152209835380422011-06-08T20:35:00.037-04:002011-06-09T09:18:02.162-04:00When Adventurous Eating is Really Just Picky Eating in Sheep's Clothing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNF2V2oVnfs_J0L0f6kUyt-njfu66euo31z4EmS3-dclRIhw7fOpZeaLNKALlmiTHRiD3BvSdCKxBL9KQSa43jrMVLonYgIrzEa_dMviZ1TQTDP7ndy63iuZbq8kj0rPETnBpxc6Scc0/s1600/IMG_2613.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNF2V2oVnfs_J0L0f6kUyt-njfu66euo31z4EmS3-dclRIhw7fOpZeaLNKALlmiTHRiD3BvSdCKxBL9KQSa43jrMVLonYgIrzEa_dMviZ1TQTDP7ndy63iuZbq8kj0rPETnBpxc6Scc0/s400/IMG_2613.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616048941339391762" /></a><br />When people compliment me on what good eaters my kids are, I tell them this story:<br /><br />I was invited to a wonderful brunch for bloggers at Loews Hotel here in NYC by my well-connected and good friend <a href="http://www.nycitymama.com">Carol Caine</a>. The food was terrific. There was a station with short rib eggs benedict that I still remember. I remember it in my mouth. It was that good. And I had seconds. Maybe thirds. And I made googley eyes at the chef and then he told me his secret short rib technique, which involved an absurdly long cooking time and juicing up the Hollandaise with short rib braising liquid. <br /><br />And there were other stations, omelettes made fresh and at the direction of the diner, pancakes like they had been pumped with air, thick slabs of brioche french toast smothered in berry compote, buckets of beautiful fruit and yogurt and granola. And there were lunch stations, too. The room was littered with stations. Lucy ate eggs, made especially to her liking by some young chef who probably owed $150,000 in culinary school loans and wondered why the hell he was taking direction from a 6 year old. But he did, and he made her eggs just the way she liked them - whites only, over easy, fried in butter, just a little salt, no pepper. <br /><br />I carried Edie around the room, looking at all the food, asking her what she might like to eat, pointing out this scrumptious sandwich or that panko-breaded, asian-inspired, crunchy fried chicken. Nothing. Just lots of head shaking. She didn't want any of it. Not breakfast. Not lunch. We went round the stations again. Nothing. I gave up. I knew we were headed for a meltdown if we didn't get something in her stomach and Lucy was having too much fun with the other kids to leave. <br /><br />I quietly asked someone from the kitchen to get me a chocolate milk. I could get through the event if she had chocolate milk. A little pick me up. It was survival parenting. There was no shame in that. I could feed her something wholesome and nourishing later. For now, it was about getting by. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />And then we saw it - there was a room just off the side with a whole new undiscovered station in it. Why hadn't we seen it before? Sushi! We rushed to the station, almost no one was there. Maybe it was too early, maybe it was off to the side, but that sushi chef was our bitch for the rest of the brunch. He made her california rolls, eel avocado rolls, and spider rolls. She sat at my lap at one of the many little tables, where people mingled and chatted and kids played around us, and stuffed big fat slices of maki into her mouth in between running back to the sushi chef, where he would hold up his sushi rolling mat and slowly, step-by-step show her how he made the sushi. She was in heaven. <br /><br />That's when it happened. Bloggers, moms, strangers - seduced by the image of my kid with soft shell crab legs hanging out of her mouth - started coming over to me and telling me what a "New York City Kid" I had, what an adventurous eater, how their kids would never eat sushi, how they wish they knew my secret, how they wish their kids would try different foods. It went on. <br /><br />I stammered a lot, nodded and smiled. It was a lie that I couldn't really explain in a quick 20 second conversation in a loud banquet room after getting drunk on short ribs and mimosas, with my cute kid, who - oh look! - just shoved another piece of raw salmon into her pie hole. <br /><br />But here's the truth - that's the only thing in the whole room she would eat. Not the plainest eggs, or most barren, syrup-less pancake, or bone-dry piece of French toast. There isn't a sandwich in the world that would pass over her lips unless you put Nutella in between two slices of toasted bagel. The only thing she would eat at Loews was the sushi.<br /><br />And do you know why? <br /><br />Because Lucy went to preschool next to a very good neighborhood sushi joint on the Upper West Side. They had a terrific lunch special, very cheap. Two days a week, before we picked up Lucy, Edie and I had a ritual - we stopped at Ozen, ordered spicy tuna hand rolls, and miso soup, and had a little lunch together. I always ordered <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2010/11/how-to-stop-drinking-diet-pepsi.html">a secret Diet Pepsi</a>. She was two. Who was she going to tell? Two days a week for two years. We could have gone to McDonalds. That could've been our tradition, but we did this instead. And now, sushi is her comfort. Her special treat. Something we do together. Lucy likes it, but not the way Edie does. I made her love sushi. She really had no choice. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhPLzv_MKXYWHJQtZ3ZxHx2kTIuuE1isY3Sfzd9z4dkmNAULQbNf2dcek1bcuIkkn85Xgdr8DySd6u7LiV_vNFd0y2ihyphenhyphenE0TWFqYKDcDvfvaglUia-WIUYeMHGbp3_Agw0SavKkV1aE8/s1600/IMG_2870.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhPLzv_MKXYWHJQtZ3ZxHx2kTIuuE1isY3Sfzd9z4dkmNAULQbNf2dcek1bcuIkkn85Xgdr8DySd6u7LiV_vNFd0y2ihyphenhyphenE0TWFqYKDcDvfvaglUia-WIUYeMHGbp3_Agw0SavKkV1aE8/s400/IMG_2870.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616051749466048642" /></a><br />But the point is, some things are not what they seem. A kid who is eating sushi might not be a great eater. She just might love sushi. You never really know what goes on at the dinner table when the front door is closed and no one is watching, no matter what people write on their food blogs or brag about at school functions. In fact, I'll say it: my kid is picky. If what we mean by picky is - she likes what she likes and that sometimes inconveniences the hell out of me and drives me to the brink of insanity. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKAkEfZT3ZNKweAEirLpp-ncHdu6f62m2xkqrdRGUwNtBP75bT9HiXxYx_2GBxzz4SexBty4Ii33HWtF_0TLwbDGis5XuxNArzQsGrVeYbiAZot1kX7HQKwbJ98W9gVOYyH3Q1_-_TKA/s1600/IMG_2876.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKAkEfZT3ZNKweAEirLpp-ncHdu6f62m2xkqrdRGUwNtBP75bT9HiXxYx_2GBxzz4SexBty4Ii33HWtF_0TLwbDGis5XuxNArzQsGrVeYbiAZot1kX7HQKwbJ98W9gVOYyH3Q1_-_TKA/s400/IMG_2876.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616052271191324066" /></a><br />My daughter will only eat a croissant for lunch at school. That's it. A croissant. Everything else I pack gets returned smushed and uneaten. She could live out her days happily eating only brown-buttered corn, guacamole and tortilla chips, roast chicken, shrimp cocktail, pizza, French fries, hot dogs drowned in ketchup, fish chowder or really, any cream-based soup no matter how weird or obscure, bagels smothered in Nutella and any festival of carbs - dishes that are comprised mainly of noodles or rice. She can eat a half loaf of ciabatta at the playground without swallowing. But she'll pick every bit of veg out of her fried rice, one tiny little bit at a time, using the pointy end of her fork, as if she were a neurosurgeon working a testy brain tumor out of someone's skull. I swear she's in training for med school. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixmDg4pgLyI72UqaxAEHgt3ofJlILyUvVx0T08I20pP4MU8eFm45AGgL8xXQ30MpAAb1muRt4o4Rc3KMNqBsCCOr33PY2L7llK1SB0BO8WS1nduE6-pUsBAaTC-qfPRdf0MAs22okfks/s1600/IMG_2878.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixmDg4pgLyI72UqaxAEHgt3ofJlILyUvVx0T08I20pP4MU8eFm45AGgL8xXQ30MpAAb1muRt4o4Rc3KMNqBsCCOr33PY2L7llK1SB0BO8WS1nduE6-pUsBAaTC-qfPRdf0MAs22okfks/s400/IMG_2878.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616052802900498930" /></a><br />Yesterday, I offered her stuffed shells at a playdate. While Lucy and her friends happily ate, she cried for noodles and then when she got it that the shells were actually noodles, and that she liked them, she inspected every side of the shell for tiny specks of stray spinach and weird, unsavory looking bits of cheese. It took an hour to eat two shells.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbPGPw4M9AkZ1D0vNQRgypzIZs_a9c3NQL6tF7vWbrpCgiuNzAhK8h8zDb575ea-p0lyCvfTeXSsKvGPdJ6eNhnxXdR4WyCxMZ4EzI5QypEwJccWGfQGzx6QTNXQ55kCRsqDGbm_Ekuo/s1600/IMG_2877.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbPGPw4M9AkZ1D0vNQRgypzIZs_a9c3NQL6tF7vWbrpCgiuNzAhK8h8zDb575ea-p0lyCvfTeXSsKvGPdJ6eNhnxXdR4WyCxMZ4EzI5QypEwJccWGfQGzx6QTNXQ55kCRsqDGbm_Ekuo/s400/IMG_2877.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616053382096638978" /></a><br />But I know this won't last. Lucy just asked if we could go to a French restaurant and eat snails and it made me remember that Lucy wasn't always so adventurous, that she didn't revel in trying and discovering new foods. That's what happened this year. At six. Six is a big food year for us. It's the year they are so in the world that trying new things - trying everything - makes them who they are. Their sense of adventure gives them a purpose and confidence. They've already rebelled and stood their ground against your home-cooking and now they've proven their point - they are rebels, they can drive the grown-ups crazy, they have the real, tangible power to mess with your life, but it's all sort of "been there done that" - now, they just want to experience it all, and if that means trying Grandma's green bean casserole with those weird, crunchy onion-like things on top, just to see what that's all about, well, bring it on. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLry7cwq076hVr_ZE4obYHdMYz84IBs0bkcLK_AiQTgoU80hS5VplfBVK5doBquvG4zSZXdBh57zx1ETKR8_vJ5NBMxXExrY__zFRd3IukFlO2sz14eLKauzAh5eGz0-lyNQU_H3D_0Kc/s1600/IMG_2882.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLry7cwq076hVr_ZE4obYHdMYz84IBs0bkcLK_AiQTgoU80hS5VplfBVK5doBquvG4zSZXdBh57zx1ETKR8_vJ5NBMxXExrY__zFRd3IukFlO2sz14eLKauzAh5eGz0-lyNQU_H3D_0Kc/s400/IMG_2882.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616054066841831778" /></a><br />Edie is turning five next month. We have some time to go before six. Until then, we have croissants and sushi and clam chowder and Nutella. And, I think, that's just where we're supposed to be. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-48699782572437294232011-06-01T09:06:00.041-04:002011-06-02T11:40:48.518-04:00Screw Sausages!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAo5NzSDb_TssLeGqjfqdPaSatrcn1CYiJv_7Y3KhYARUxi24-XvsB4nflG_Pu9X8EzylCY1M-ME2TK8YuC3haXXIr5Knw0g9mC4FW0gcFTM42Y_MYJKl5Bb9KjJQycvlFjlb4_Xxdzc/s1600/IMG_2578.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAo5NzSDb_TssLeGqjfqdPaSatrcn1CYiJv_7Y3KhYARUxi24-XvsB4nflG_Pu9X8EzylCY1M-ME2TK8YuC3haXXIr5Knw0g9mC4FW0gcFTM42Y_MYJKl5Bb9KjJQycvlFjlb4_Xxdzc/s400/IMG_2578.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613457367394348082" /></a><br />Every once in awhile you take on a kitchen project and somewhere in the middle - when the sink is piled high with dirty, grimy dishes, when raw chicken and chunks of fat back cover nearly every inch of the kitchen counter, your clothes, your arms up to your elbows, and there isn't a single inch of uncontaminated space, when the children are clamoring for food and a meal is still hours away - and you think, "Why the hell do people do this?...Why am I doing this?" <br /><br />That's the question my best friend <a href="http://www.injennieskitchen.com/">Jennie Perillo</a> was asking when I invited her and her family to come our place in the country and make sausages in casings with me. Okay, I didn't actually invite her to the house to make sausages. She was duped. It was Memorial Day weekend and we were planning on hanging out, having fun, relaxing, our girls running around the house playing together, our men, with a couple of long necks, kicking up their feet on the deck. <br /><br />Boooooring. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />So,I had this great idea, or at least that's what it seemed at the time - what if we did the <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/05/charcutepalooza-june-challenge-stuffing/">Charcutepalooza challenge</a> together? What if two old friends got together in the kitchen and made a couple different kinds of sausage and stuffed it into casings? I had never used my new fiery-red Kitchen Aid stand-up mixer with stuffing and grinding attachments. See it there? Gorgeous.(Thank you, Kitchen Aid.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYIFzv3g1B4W4qLJpVCoFbHaJMjkMHSDbwhGu1DUflsxUTRKe7y4Du5WXmnr-ET3oLifPVYoD7TLp9lywUhdpgcWi_gDZzQDWsypP-5vUFop1aYtn3deGOnYNTVpvce1Xx09fX-Dm2y6E/s1600/IMG_2558.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYIFzv3g1B4W4qLJpVCoFbHaJMjkMHSDbwhGu1DUflsxUTRKe7y4Du5WXmnr-ET3oLifPVYoD7TLp9lywUhdpgcWi_gDZzQDWsypP-5vUFop1aYtn3deGOnYNTVpvce1Xx09fX-Dm2y6E/s400/IMG_2558.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613467458518506210" /></a><br />It was perfect. I couldn't even see where there'd be a hitch. We'd laugh. We'd gossip. We'd cook. We'd drink wine until we couldn't stand. We'd eat home-made sausage for dinner. Everyone would love us. We would love ourselves. Jennie would wear her trademark sunglasses, even in the kitchen. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8En1Uc9-jiNh1ElKtI0HTFAHUGOfbBr4ptc00F0xrXtxkOduCTWSVvIM1Ea9YEv9L5dAJrqtmYGjz40DTi1k7yJeYqQtCIExEzDzzWduBljyQXzpWUUcK9immLlNUE48JIWRT0EHR7pw/s1600/IMG_2651.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8En1Uc9-jiNh1ElKtI0HTFAHUGOfbBr4ptc00F0xrXtxkOduCTWSVvIM1Ea9YEv9L5dAJrqtmYGjz40DTi1k7yJeYqQtCIExEzDzzWduBljyQXzpWUUcK9immLlNUE48JIWRT0EHR7pw/s400/IMG_2651.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613463655388085442" /></a><br />It was the perfect plan.<br /><br />Until we couldn't find the blade for the grinding attachment. Of course this doesn't seem like a big deal unless you consider that we had been trying to grind meat without a blade for an hour and a half. There was the slow whining of the Kitchen Aid and the long strips of fat back entwining themselves around the gears, never getting smaller or grinding up, and jamming up the machine. Countless times we stopped, pulled the attachment apart, pulled out all the meat by hand, washed the pieces and started again. There was raw meat everywhere. Eventually, Jennie went on YouTube. Apparently, if you don't have the little piece of metal that actually, get this - CUTS UP THE MEAT - grinding cannot take place. This is when you start feeling a little like Mo and Curly. <br /><br />We plan B'd it. We decided to grind with my food processor, but neither of us was really prepared for the fact that my processor was made circa 1977 and could maybe process a banana into baby food (which was why I had it, to make baby food) but couldn't even remotely tackle the big chunks of pork fat. Instead it kind of mulched the meat and the fat clogged the blade, and more raw meat sort of went everywhere. And that meant more dishes to clean, and counters and surfaces to scour - which was made doubly hard by the fact that our old, struggling boiler went down that morning and we didn't have hot water, so we could barely wash a dish let alone allow our guests to shower comfortably - and we were no closer to making food or having it in our mouths. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GiZOh-LyqRXMbQR39qh6JWpA-ZoRZhK3DORlQESIcAXIaJUlcNQA1jmfuCfVs6NHYdYsnaSfVOF8wHhM1ZSVgl7n3atjagy_LEavgIwRhaqFKBKgamjMvKlDstgVX-2m0MMCLvO0uf4/s1600/IMG_2571.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GiZOh-LyqRXMbQR39qh6JWpA-ZoRZhK3DORlQESIcAXIaJUlcNQA1jmfuCfVs6NHYdYsnaSfVOF8wHhM1ZSVgl7n3atjagy_LEavgIwRhaqFKBKgamjMvKlDstgVX-2m0MMCLvO0uf4/s400/IMG_2571.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613465638031237282" /></a><br />That's when Jennie started mocking my food processor. And me. And muttering unintelligently under her breath as she cleaned raw pork fragments out of her fingernails. It wasn't pretty. <br /><br />The situation was made worse by my husband, who was charged with going on a booze run and instead took a detour to Loew's and, like many men in the middle of a house renovation, started ogling tools, and supplies, parts for the boiler, and then happened upon a clearance sale on smokers, and during this whole time, had been happily, gleefully sending me 12 different text-pictures of smokers he'd like to buy, from different angles, with price comparisons and pithy commentary. He had no idea how badly we needed the booze. <br /><br />But the kids were the tipping point - they meandered into the kitchen looking pale, pathetic and half-starved, asking if we could just let them have popsicles for dinner. Jennie and I looked at each other. And we caved. <br /><br />"Let's make meatballs, skewer them, and stick 'em on the grill." Jennie said, wiping her pork fat-covered hands on her apron and leaning against my sink, where she had just washed, with ice cold water, the last of three loads of meat-strewn dishes. She was resolute. <br /><br />It was over. <br /><br />I felt nothing but relief. Screw sausages! I was done. I was already writing this post in my head. That was the title: Screw Sausages! I mentally prepared myself to call <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com">Cathy</a> and tell her about my sad, disappointing kitchen fail. I was going to tell her, first thing: Screw sausages!<br /><br />I chopped down the rest of the meat by hand. We fried off a small patty of the chicken sausage with apple, maple and sage and I brought it out to Jennie's husband, Michael to taste test. He was out on the deck with a beer and a magazine, oblivious to all of it. That's where I told him the news about the sausages, and how it had all gone bad, and nerves were frayed, and hopes were dashed, and everyone was going to be having meatballs for dinner. <br /><br />He was completely disappointed. Heart broken. <br /><br />"No sausage in casings?" he asked. It was more whimper than question. <br /><br />"Nope. We're done..." I told him. I was firm. No way was I going back into that sausage-making hell. <br /><br />"Um...unless you want to stuff the sausages?" I heard myself speak the words and couldn't pull them back in. Dammit.<br /><br />Before I knew it, Michael - who isn't a recipe developer, line cook, celebrity chef, cookbook author, or food writer - had changed the whole kitchen. He was interested, inspired, funny, adventurous, curious and game. He saved us. And that gave Jennie and I our energy back. We had renewed purpose. We had sausages to stuff. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_B6oBe8jgW-ud4vW_eJwOjil0WGNLEP-ZpjCrAFlE8ZVyNEvXBgYtxoD-efuywXNZkm-1huiAGHgU_WXegSXie884oC2Bi4qsaZuvcj-dKUhhMY62UzoSNUkE-1KE98J42omxZYz96cI/s1600/Kim+%2526+Mikey+Sausage"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_B6oBe8jgW-ud4vW_eJwOjil0WGNLEP-ZpjCrAFlE8ZVyNEvXBgYtxoD-efuywXNZkm-1huiAGHgU_WXegSXie884oC2Bi4qsaZuvcj-dKUhhMY62UzoSNUkE-1KE98J42omxZYz96cI/s400/Kim+%2526+Mikey+Sausage" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613460559442528594" /></a><br />We also had perverted jokes to make about lubricating the stuffer and how impossible it is to lubricate the stuffer without it looking like you're giving it a hand job. And there were lots of jokes about sausages and penises, and who was the best "luber", which seems like something out of middle school, but was actually thoroughly enjoyable and primal. I made more than one "playing with my meat" reference, which never really gets old. (We have it all on video, which probably wasn't such a smart idea.) And David, like a prince on a white horse, came back with booze, stories of smokers at drastically-reduced prices, and a much lighter wallet. <br /><br />Things were looking up. <br /><br />I chopped all the meat down by hand into a mince. There were still some unruly chunks in the Italian sausage which didn't quite work, but the chicken sausage tasted great, just a little pulpy, a little weighty, which I think served them well. Hand-chopping the chicken was a happy accident. We twisted the sausages, tied them off with kitchen string and wondered how they would ever stay together once they were cut into links, but they did. And we think the 5-7 minutes of par-cooking before grilling really kept the meat holding together in the casing. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9bIQtNbSf0GMVWA7CmgNa3bbXuAYTVWg7VWAagzb6UMtRVUKfzhsJ2I_OZqIplkXMCYCwIo5k3JfGJq1PcyvcqWFxVmHqOC4M8sOE_ZIbjqYCyx27qPt70BE4V-8yMNAMtPMlRnAuBc/s1600/IMG_2580.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9bIQtNbSf0GMVWA7CmgNa3bbXuAYTVWg7VWAagzb6UMtRVUKfzhsJ2I_OZqIplkXMCYCwIo5k3JfGJq1PcyvcqWFxVmHqOC4M8sOE_ZIbjqYCyx27qPt70BE4V-8yMNAMtPMlRnAuBc/s400/IMG_2580.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613456438963516690" /></a><br />We stood over the grill marveling at how the sausages looked perfectly packaged at the ends. And that somehow we had done that. How this wasn't so shabby for our first time. We decided that even though our sausage size wasn't uniform, we felt that this was proof that they were truly "artisanal" and if we sold them at the farmers market, surely we could charge more money for them this way. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPMKox6JrdpWKt2_Jaf5hBgFu00wo0swEErr9YWDwPZT5tXhb1GQ_z4fXzdMTXRQJzv_F5ZKQ2mZKERVSi3MI0tJwxHWxoWrvD-gGb-n8XzUj9ydnhWJXlgpcwhMqlLS0xtW32R_COic/s1600/IMG_2603.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPMKox6JrdpWKt2_Jaf5hBgFu00wo0swEErr9YWDwPZT5tXhb1GQ_z4fXzdMTXRQJzv_F5ZKQ2mZKERVSi3MI0tJwxHWxoWrvD-gGb-n8XzUj9ydnhWJXlgpcwhMqlLS0xtW32R_COic/s400/IMG_2603.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613455243319065794" /></a><br />But standing there, Michael and I knew it - it was really all so worth it. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjw19zj1k3_S2Z0d2WYVkkToNwyaOQdQi01FZb7B-LJUwAP4bGcEzVKnxLJ5VRmPiVkTwYdt7DWr9U39WylIw2fwrzdspa6eYto2HVD2xbewQVz8oggOwMpSYx1y3ERnIUMC7-CIehRtg/s1600/IMG_2612.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjw19zj1k3_S2Z0d2WYVkkToNwyaOQdQi01FZb7B-LJUwAP4bGcEzVKnxLJ5VRmPiVkTwYdt7DWr9U39WylIw2fwrzdspa6eYto2HVD2xbewQVz8oggOwMpSYx1y3ERnIUMC7-CIehRtg/s400/IMG_2612.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613453525345142018" /></a><br />We probably could've had an easier time with our bare feet up on the railing of the deck, watching the girls take turns on the tire swing or eating s'mores by the fire, but we wouldn't have gone through this together. We wouldn't have this ridiculous story. I'll be telling the sausage story to our girls when Jennie is old and gray, cranky and decrepit. And I'd never have tried making sausages in casings again. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILaFj3DE-TuD88510aSNASefxO5E00JhBbfk06TlJqxY_zUwjbl75Q9kKnKBXBnYoFGluDViMGg3P7Vb2i-GjyxCgKNovYOunx7OnieBUVV6BEbPVJkQL5B6sCCS25yaw8q5uAmBSkMA/s1600/IMG_2609.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgILaFj3DE-TuD88510aSNASefxO5E00JhBbfk06TlJqxY_zUwjbl75Q9kKnKBXBnYoFGluDViMGg3P7Vb2i-GjyxCgKNovYOunx7OnieBUVV6BEbPVJkQL5B6sCCS25yaw8q5uAmBSkMA/s400/IMG_2609.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613454446282258994" /></a><br />Michael went back to Brooklyn with a bag of hog casings - which he clumsily, some might say, stupidly, stowed in Jennie's expensive designer hand-bag. Oh, he caught some hell for that - so, there will be artisanal sausages coming out of the Perillo household soon. <br /><br />Jennie still has a little sausage chip on her shoulder. She thinks Michael and I are nuts, and that there's a brilliant little sausage shop in Brooklyn that can give her home-made sausages without all the fuss, and the dirty dishes, and the contaminated counter tops. She would also prefer it if the bag of hog-casings in the freezer didn't actually touch, rub or come within six inches of anything of hers in the freezer. She's still a little touchy about the sausage. You probably shouldn't mention it to her. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin9lyAR8p4bJ20oifDaXtQwI4k0oP0xmA2jhL5T1eTgFd2pBeaOvNz2FuSc9bXPObH4q-max0OCEW2uC5Zl_NQGMsgb7yXxww4fYo_v31JHSESprUq1J8027u8DjP-Hqrkkz7IOcQTmLs/s1600/IMG_2576.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin9lyAR8p4bJ20oifDaXtQwI4k0oP0xmA2jhL5T1eTgFd2pBeaOvNz2FuSc9bXPObH4q-max0OCEW2uC5Zl_NQGMsgb7yXxww4fYo_v31JHSESprUq1J8027u8DjP-Hqrkkz7IOcQTmLs/s400/IMG_2576.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613464497243338914" /></a><br />I, however, am making them again next weekend. A true convert. Bring it, Charcutepalooza.<br /><br />xo YM<br /><br />_____________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Chicken Sausage with Apples, Maple & Sage</span><br /><br />I used Michael Ruhlman's recipe for Chicken Sausage with Basil & Tomatoes from <span style="font-style:italic;">Charcuterie</span> as my guide for this recipe. I used his ratios, Cathy Barrow's idea for topping off the meat with a little cream at the end, and added flavors I knew my kids would eat. As you probably can guess from the post, I was in the weeds for most of the cooking, so I didn't leisurely measure as I went along. But that's the beauty of sausage, really. You can get the basic ratios set in your head and personalize it, add whatever you want and just fry off a test patty and give it a taste. You can keep seasoning, re-seasoning and tasting until you get something you love and that's all your own. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ingredients</span><br /><br />3 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cubed<br />1 1/2 pounds pork back fat<br />3 tablespoons kosher salt<br />1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper<br />1 1/4 teaspoons minced garlic<br />3 tablespoons, finely chopped sage<br />1 apple, diced<br />1/4 cup maple syrup<br />1/4 cup cream, ice cold<br />1 teaspoon, olive oil (for lubing the stuffer)<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Preparation</span><br /><br />Combine the chicken, fat, salt, pepper, garlic, sage and apple in a bowl. Mix everything together. Put meat mixture in fridge to chill. <br /><br />Grind and paddle the meat as per <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/04/charcutepalooza-may-challenge-grinding/">Cathy's instructions</a>. <br /><br />Add the syrup and cream. Work the liquids through the meat with your hands or the paddle attachment. It should have a smooth, even consistency. <br /><br />Fry off a small patty and taste for seasoning. Put the rest in the fridge or place the bowl back in the ice bath. While the patty is frying, get your hog casings ready. <br /><br />Taste your patty. If you need to re-season, do so and fry off another taste. If it's good, dismantle your grinding attachment and set up your stuffing attachment. <br /><br />Stuff your sausage as per <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/05/charcutepalooza-june-challenge-stuffing/">Cathy's instructions</a>.<br /><br />After you get a long chain of sausage links, you're going to par-boil them. Put on a pot of water and let it heat to a boil. Drop the sausages in and cook for about five to seven minutes. This will get the cooking process started and also help bind the meat together inside the casing. <br /><br />When the sausage is done, either store them in the fridge until you're ready to grill them or take them right out to the grill. They will cook for about 15 minutes while you let them brown up. Turn them every five minutes or so. <br /><br />Serve immediately with a spicy mustard, slaw, <a href="http://www.injennieskitchen.com/2010/08/pickled-jalapeno-watermelon-rind.html">Jennie's Pickled Watermelon Rind</a>, corn on the cob and a nice cold beer. <br /><br />These sausages are even better the next day where they can be sliced, served cold on a platter with pickles, olives, nuts, cheese and a nice crusty loaf of bread. <br /><br />__________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Charcutepalooza Round Up</span><br /><br />Here they are! The Very Best of May's Grinding Posts. Fantastic posts!<br /><br />1. Grow It Cook It Can It<br /><a href="http://growitcookitcanit.com/2011/05/17/may-charcutepalooza-grinding-honey-biscuits-and-for-real-homemade-sausage-gravy/">Honey Biscuits & Sausage Gravy</a><br /><br />2. Leave Me The Oink<br /><a href="http://leavemetheoink.wordpress.com/2011/05/14/charcutepalooza-challenge-5-salsicce-by-any-other-name/">Jalepeno & Cheese Smoked Sausage</a><br /><br />3. Naomaly<br /><a href="http://naomaly.blogspot.com/2011/05/chorizo-tamales-charcutepalooza.html">Chorizo Tamales</a><br /><br />4. The Messy Epicure<br /><a href="http://themessyepicure.com/2011/05/15/charcutepalooza-chorizo/">Tortas de Chorizo Con Huevos</a><br /><br />5. Saffron & Salt<br /><a href="http://saffronandsalt.wordpress.com/2011/05/15/bump-and-grind/">Hummus with Ground lamb & Pine Nuts</a><br /><br />6. Cookbook Archaeology<br /><a href="http://www.cookbookarchaeology.com/?p=1358">Creole chicken sausage/Sausage and Egg Ramekins</a><br /><br />7. Taste food <br /><a href="http://tastefoodblog.com/2011/05/15/homemade-merguez-sausage-recipe/">Merguez sausage</a><br /><br />8. Lick My Spoon <br /><a href="http://blogs.kqed.org/bayareabites/2011/05/15/charcutepalooza-chorizo-breakfast-sausage/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BayAreaBites+%28Bay+Area+Bites%29">Chorizo sausage</a><br /><br />9. Hounds in the Kitchen <br /><a href="http://houndsinthekitchen.com/2011/05/15/taco-truck-chorizo-sopito/">Taco Truck Chorizo Sopito</a><br /><br />10. Well Preserved<br /><a href="http://wellpreserved.ca/2011/05/15/how-to-make-breakfast-sausage-patties-charecutepalooz/">How to Make Breakfast Sausage</a><br /> <br />Cathy and I can't wait to see what you all do with the stuffing challenge!!<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-74909972395093368232011-05-30T23:37:00.009-04:002011-05-31T00:39:35.945-04:00Aussie Girl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbuZuzxOAYLT4QVBKDUD9hBodjEHq3H9ykGQY4tD6VPqsE1ghShjweVzRDUfbVluYKYm7o5ar6kuZggiuZx8SadRyK4l6sZ2t3ef0gLOLMuAnO4XKI92ASNIsTRekVXxuDg4QCSFH1so/s1600/IMG_2530.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbuZuzxOAYLT4QVBKDUD9hBodjEHq3H9ykGQY4tD6VPqsE1ghShjweVzRDUfbVluYKYm7o5ar6kuZggiuZx8SadRyK4l6sZ2t3ef0gLOLMuAnO4XKI92ASNIsTRekVXxuDg4QCSFH1so/s400/IMG_2530.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612720008947360290" /></a><br />It's happened. Time after time, I've been setting out plates of beets when we throw burgers on the grill at our country place. <br /><br />Not locally grown, organic beets carefully and gently roasted in the oven with garlic, and sea salt, and expensive Spanish olive oil. Nope. Just sliced beets from a can. The kind Australians use on their burgers. That's right, order a burger in Australia and someone will throw a slice of canned beet on it and expect you to eat it. <br /><br />I was a non-believer that first time. I stared at the plate. I stared at the burger. I wasn't sure about this thing pinking up my hamburger bun. But after a run-of-the-mill, but also kinda-awesome burger at Taronga Zoo in Sydney, I was converted. A burger at a mediocre cafeteria changed me forever. I haven't looked back. Now, I have a pantry stacked with small cans of sliced beets and I never grill a burger for myself or David without piling a few beets, onions, tomatoes, greens and ketchup on top. <br /><br />Lucy, like pretty much all Americans, was also a non-believer. Who wants a vegetable on their burger? A vegetable when it isn't actually necessary to eat a vegetable with your burger? Why chance it? Why not just ignore the plate of beets into oblivion? Why chance having your pee turn pink? <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />All good questions. <br /><br />It took me years. Just putting beets out there on the table, pushing the plate a little closer to her, getting her interested, seducing her with my stories of pink pee. Once, I even told her they were sweet, like candy, on your burger. I'm pretty sure she thought I was drunk. <br /><br />But this Spring it happened. When she was ready - Lucy does everything on her own time, in her own way. She grabbed a slice of beet and shoved it between her burger and bun. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqPEgfFvOa_SyVdD4CDIaT4RwxTRwrQzOBZsTvJVu32AOzmXtsyiApiv8liRR4wd4yQbtYpRoNut9lG94AurHYxjw363buXQxnM21ZBbS4b7SS2jy_9Ul5ulKsOvpi1iCySlJ_zku47g/s1600/IMG_2535.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqPEgfFvOa_SyVdD4CDIaT4RwxTRwrQzOBZsTvJVu32AOzmXtsyiApiv8liRR4wd4yQbtYpRoNut9lG94AurHYxjw363buXQxnM21ZBbS4b7SS2jy_9Ul5ulKsOvpi1iCySlJ_zku47g/s400/IMG_2535.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612726531342281202" /></a><br />Then she smushed it all together to make a "squeeze burger", which is just a burger compressed to it's maximum in the hands of a kinder-gardener. She's famous for it in the school cafeteria. It's a culinary marvel. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV7BiPEfvxMO2rWAW4kh9jHb-hyUI47pcsVyPZw-xnfoX9rzbeN4r4ltoxxj-17koqxhvUDHN8lM1bWpAB0-zqJmn2vc_Q36TnJ8C3CFzTUz4DBqVOcmj9bqg5bUDYvRMn4fjqigZB1c/s1600/IMG_2539.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieV7BiPEfvxMO2rWAW4kh9jHb-hyUI47pcsVyPZw-xnfoX9rzbeN4r4ltoxxj-17koqxhvUDHN8lM1bWpAB0-zqJmn2vc_Q36TnJ8C3CFzTUz4DBqVOcmj9bqg5bUDYvRMn4fjqigZB1c/s400/IMG_2539.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612727644480323330" /></a><br />And she loved it. Just as I did. Just as David has his whole life. The three of us eat our burgers with beets now. (Edie is still a hold out, as expected) But what Lucy always asks, as she's eating her burger, all pink-stained and smushed down into its most compact form, is whether the act of eating it makes her an "Australian girl". <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4MrRgvlWNuWDtX3J7zmmOv4m3HZ_TTZ4WFmBGw75HdXyRjlNzwqP0eXLfWJVQzMa-DxNoGJy_gYp7XcSdMJzbqu2tW3fgZBQyiqqEjgQxFrEr8uOrYco5-tJ_sts5Te_QUKSrDoubek/s1600/IMG_2544.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4MrRgvlWNuWDtX3J7zmmOv4m3HZ_TTZ4WFmBGw75HdXyRjlNzwqP0eXLfWJVQzMa-DxNoGJy_gYp7XcSdMJzbqu2tW3fgZBQyiqqEjgQxFrEr8uOrYco5-tJ_sts5Te_QUKSrDoubek/s400/IMG_2544.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612728447875756386" /></a><br />And we think it does. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-65457896434555801562011-05-27T08:40:00.007-04:002011-05-27T09:05:48.507-04:00How Edie Got A Black Eye...This is how it was supposed to go:<br /><br />Swinging from the branches of the willow tree in Central Park, with our best friends, like the girls on the flying trapeze.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz4nBbdsF0wEvsOxiCOnOj0skGceu5uCoXTP2lH8tUi9jp_Lqi3KRoIbQVRUd3yNj2dW27Q71RFiMyjeB06' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />And this is how it went:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyfZvy3Tr4d7H5L2CssMwSeqVgC_TAvzAlkN-QeraVUcxDzBgC6D2dpjMDuCcmvpoSsqGymbcBBTNSfqbOF' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Please don't call my mother and tell her her grandchild has been maimed in a small circus accident. The girl is fine. But we have war wounds to show off. And the story to re-tell a couple hundred times. It all gets bigger and more dangerous and more spectacular every time we tell it. We are awesome in our own minds. Our black eye is proof - Fosters are tough. <br /><br />Hope you get to swing from a few willow branches this holiday weekend. <br /><br />xo YMKim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-31201099525891301362011-05-25T10:30:00.019-04:002011-05-25T12:17:44.207-04:00A Quick Thought about Going to Conferences...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xrwQN1jAHyiAyPRtLxj4dDAJRQlp3pZIlHuTGInskX4OK9__KS3IVj2uo0Lv3ghkaUhb8sUgYPxP4EF8wxn1ZJbhdyIzUPT4cajo4N1TAgiObldF3IeHji_rSHYQiMNWanNdFoyqIeI/s1600/IMG_2512.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xrwQN1jAHyiAyPRtLxj4dDAJRQlp3pZIlHuTGInskX4OK9__KS3IVj2uo0Lv3ghkaUhb8sUgYPxP4EF8wxn1ZJbhdyIzUPT4cajo4N1TAgiObldF3IeHji_rSHYQiMNWanNdFoyqIeI/s400/IMG_2512.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610679776744602914" /></a><br />A bunch of us food writers recently went to a food writing conference. <br /><br />It always happens that after a conference, there is a good deal of <a href="http://diannej.com/blog/2011/05/5-notes-to-self-for-coping-with-conference-anxiety/">consternation and analysis</a> across the internet, about ourselves and each other, and then, a general blood-letting of anxieties where everyone confesses how insecure they are at their core, how they weren't popular in high school, and will never be in the food writing world. There are hurt feelings, people feeling snubbed. It always makes me sad to read it. <br /><br />So, I thought I'd share this with you all...<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />On the way to the conference, I jotted down a few things. To remind myself where my focus should be. To be mindful. To be grounded. To be aware of what was happening around me. These words served me well for the conference, and probably for more things in the future. I read them every morning. I pulled the book out to remind myself during the day. I carried the book everywhere with me. When I felt myself deviating from it, or forgetting it, or getting focused on something that felt wrong in my gut, I pulled it out and re-read it. Once, I read it in a bathroom stall. It was my road map. It was one of the last things I looked at before I fell asleep. <br /><br />Life is about meaningful connection. That's it. That's all. We need to focus on the people who get us. Impress them. Care about them. Listen to them. Everyone else can go to hell.<br /><br />Here's what I wrote. Maybe you can use this for something...<br /><br />1. Act the part.<br />2. Fake it if you don't know what you're doing.<br />3. Be in the moment. <br />4. Own it & have a blast. <br />5. Make people feel special. <br />6. Ask lots of questions & listen. <br />7. Talk "The Family Talk" (which means don't talk badly about people)<br />8. Do not soak up other people's crazy. <br />9. Believe in who you are.<br />10. Be happy at your core. <br /> <br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-89292577735042876782011-05-25T09:04:00.027-04:002011-05-25T09:59:20.081-04:00Things That Happen While I Try To Make Dinner...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACfF7uPR6xEo5KypdWRgaxgJSasqXrw7D4zTrMVdsNPlPDbZMp8PqESh2Zfn9astmMi_YSo6iKQfWjndrIGeFO3JwXiBlzel8zQY-LJB27g4r6Nc4rgbj8a379csP90IT7WQtO0IdkF8/s1600/IMG_1908.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACfF7uPR6xEo5KypdWRgaxgJSasqXrw7D4zTrMVdsNPlPDbZMp8PqESh2Zfn9astmMi_YSo6iKQfWjndrIGeFO3JwXiBlzel8zQY-LJB27g4r6Nc4rgbj8a379csP90IT7WQtO0IdkF8/s400/IMG_1908.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610651579673845970" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9rlGVWk_j3hpzYbd4HfQt2d21JRcvoZty0qJT-m6Tu4KSsVFb5mo9iiHI18CkWn2SsATxxpwOy_Ar24XormZZBYcZz0kTH6x6JiuDK1CsA7jRVQKAysgarPPxwWnFIq13BI73vVZ-3k/s1600/IMG_1897.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9rlGVWk_j3hpzYbd4HfQt2d21JRcvoZty0qJT-m6Tu4KSsVFb5mo9iiHI18CkWn2SsATxxpwOy_Ar24XormZZBYcZz0kTH6x6JiuDK1CsA7jRVQKAysgarPPxwWnFIq13BI73vVZ-3k/s400/IMG_1897.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610651055515177682" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8BQkLvwnNUj5FBnH_6fwjjpHnpadDYNbE2rOvBWlFD1Ramh6NpiyH1ru23sQjISMzVxSgeNKCq-hExpbWWm5SXTuGsQycA00uZL4fj48T9dW19rIs2aDBjjcfBoxzA3p1n2kt6hDwMs/s1600/IMG_1915.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8BQkLvwnNUj5FBnH_6fwjjpHnpadDYNbE2rOvBWlFD1Ramh6NpiyH1ru23sQjISMzVxSgeNKCq-hExpbWWm5SXTuGsQycA00uZL4fj48T9dW19rIs2aDBjjcfBoxzA3p1n2kt6hDwMs/s400/IMG_1915.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610650482540514866" /></a><br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2R5qAq-khV7-Z_Lh9ZhwfmFruaBAYMuRZfcLtVdRoUyvIS9WJShxjT3bxAOG65ACCP6Low9oGui9OZQvGf-rhV8dk3HZworF1-njblBUMK_MwGs_i7Erjmw2q8lIxBESppn5drIbGcLk/s1600/IMG_1917.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2R5qAq-khV7-Z_Lh9ZhwfmFruaBAYMuRZfcLtVdRoUyvIS9WJShxjT3bxAOG65ACCP6Low9oGui9OZQvGf-rhV8dk3HZworF1-njblBUMK_MwGs_i7Erjmw2q8lIxBESppn5drIbGcLk/s400/IMG_1917.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610649892909364482" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZbfB3V0nOepTyXs6Ejb_CMnELMYf25WktF7tGXKjtoj0J7yHuNTJ9r3F3y-uHXTamO-VZtkXGaZS1pDuIqViDdnIWHIcY0MvOqvkn87TUba0fxMkCtu3SnmQXJAUkfbarLB1qsdeSnw/s1600/IMG_1922.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZbfB3V0nOepTyXs6Ejb_CMnELMYf25WktF7tGXKjtoj0J7yHuNTJ9r3F3y-uHXTamO-VZtkXGaZS1pDuIqViDdnIWHIcY0MvOqvkn87TUba0fxMkCtu3SnmQXJAUkfbarLB1qsdeSnw/s400/IMG_1922.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610649339339631202" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0KxuqVPl_uwnAFe48nh0ynnBrA2nCPUFyOwfuGhjuD2pkaI52DjRl5XtWIzRd8UqEfEjDeXU5_ctFP7ifa4j30ad6I2R1y2Tl6RHIiDtt3o9ULbzOCOn1PMnBAk8icGCdD716TukeZc/s1600/IMG_1924.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRq3chwLTGELi6DnMs3snZUJMNzexIqGD5dHQlVnKav9O__OOjANa_EPhXuh_Jd6Jnbsju1oIzjMR5WD0dYuNAk9xnc1ZJi7woSBAyZuUGlwoljZRlgtjX8qVb95TVhg7rqdgC2i9fJVI/s400/IMG_1962.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610641308555211202" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBHC_ivZ8TOPK9psNod4CX_FsdHMzlmA4g-Bva_bAzXgXEn0uzFYvvPXawfxSYQF-FpfK0s2r22RhgYD-4SxFz68jVyZzOS3WpWQoK7K1qOrer8Wzh1Et8G3c44r7OBV3UOPlrcvJFL8/s1600/IMG_1965.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBHC_ivZ8TOPK9psNod4CX_FsdHMzlmA4g-Bva_bAzXgXEn0uzFYvvPXawfxSYQF-FpfK0s2r22RhgYD-4SxFz68jVyZzOS3WpWQoK7K1qOrer8Wzh1Et8G3c44r7OBV3UOPlrcvJFL8/s400/IMG_1965.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610640758565027554" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNlzQYLlU4IBLlPD7Se4g70cy5G7guzW9xZlFcNNOIz3Udme7STDVzGqhc2EKV2tAnDlFAHQZoKkuhcL7bn7-s3IFqLb4W3_14DXgNn_WBmaT9z1f9Bbsm-PEqHYopdWkH_Pt38v9z9w/s1600/IMG_1967.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNlzQYLlU4IBLlPD7Se4g70cy5G7guzW9xZlFcNNOIz3Udme7STDVzGqhc2EKV2tAnDlFAHQZoKkuhcL7bn7-s3IFqLb4W3_14DXgNn_WBmaT9z1f9Bbsm-PEqHYopdWkH_Pt38v9z9w/s400/IMG_1967.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610640113384691298" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKd0btg3F1g86zZT9bYOZeZwhmymQn8J5cjMEwnkU-u-ZTfPln01dHfUG0zo9ztu_AYfx307QxqFhjfEMcXmzRaPjWGlWqRq_wxvNwpPgCgGwHPDdz5RvTkdfWhn6hQrV-1sm1SwRuBFc/s1600/IMG_1909.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKd0btg3F1g86zZT9bYOZeZwhmymQn8J5cjMEwnkU-u-ZTfPln01dHfUG0zo9ztu_AYfx307QxqFhjfEMcXmzRaPjWGlWqRq_wxvNwpPgCgGwHPDdz5RvTkdfWhn6hQrV-1sm1SwRuBFc/s400/IMG_1909.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610639484051662258" /></a><br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-7552342023320512052011-05-16T10:11:00.019-04:002011-05-16T12:02:18.043-04:00It's All Australia's Fault<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTiyfmcNpfNWrBkidn-KYpexTj91lQFL7czw4W24-1TwVNlzV01I9AOTnWiBDX6XY9Vp6bxMVHnn_gMtC67sdz9gvNGNX0OGf2UejMbzuueAzoGvVp6QQDNIPHYS7vSc5fZIETzsqvo4w/s1600/IMG_9926.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTiyfmcNpfNWrBkidn-KYpexTj91lQFL7czw4W24-1TwVNlzV01I9AOTnWiBDX6XY9Vp6bxMVHnn_gMtC67sdz9gvNGNX0OGf2UejMbzuueAzoGvVp6QQDNIPHYS7vSc5fZIETzsqvo4w/s400/IMG_9926.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607324017659497698" /></a><br />David is in Australia this week on business, and even though the girls and I are keeping ourselves busy with birthday parties, our very first real, over-night, sleep-over with our best friends, back-to-back play dates all weekend, and turning a spare closet into a cozy, pink, secret clubhouse strung up with pink lights and tons of pillows, we're still very aware that something, someone, is missing. <br /><br />We are a group, us four, and when one of us isn't around, well, things can be good, and fun, and even exciting, but they're also just a little off. And things have been a little off without David, for sure. <br /><br />I mean, not one person has left their dirty, black, balled-up socks on the floor. Weirdly, I miss that. And when I tried to make coffee in the French Press yesterday, it was runny, brown, coffee-tinged water. And no one has read my writing this week and told me that it reads like "the rotary club year book." That was harsh, but true, and I think it might be the best piece of literary criticism I've ever gotten. And the <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2011/03/new-york-times-sweater.html">orange sweater</a>? I even miss...no, I don't miss <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2011/03/more-on-orange-sweater.html">the sweater</a>. Not at all. <br /><br />I miss the sex, but no wants to hear about that here, and there's a new episode of Friday Night Lights I'm dying to watch, but can't because we watch it together. And David takes the kids to school every morning, so I ready for that little piece of hell to be over, and he does the laundry, and so I'm wearing dirty clothes. Also, the cats won't sleep with us because David isn't here. I found out this week the cats hate me and only tolerate me because I feed them and come with the marriage. And I think I might be on the verge of menopause. <br /><br />It's all going to shit around here. I blame it on Australia. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />I haven't spent much time in the kitchen this week either and that too, I think, is Australia's fault. My main kitchen responsibilities seem to be keeping juice cups washed and also retrieving beverages for small children. That's really all I do. When David's home, I cook longer, more complicated, more deeply textured meals, because I know he appreciates them, because we appreciate them together. The girls, on the other hand, for all the good food they eat, would be just as happy eating pizza every day. And so, when we are going it alone, there's no sense in making a big elaborate dinner because they eat like tiny field mice. It's a lot of effort for not a lot of results. <br /><br />So, I’ve been making simple dishes: one or two pans tops, under 15 minutes from prep to table, and things I’m sure the kids will wolf down without too much shouting and dismay. Even though it's not pizza. Or noodles with butter. I try to avoid that moment where they look into the bowl, realize what's there and then make some kind of stink face. I don't want to see that stink face until David comes home. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2YZSHF5x2Tuay7dSaLfDLE10QN7Pxnx-T2K1sxJ6RptI3B4Y2h5jwTyMn7wP4NXh47HV3h0Mf9KsiKMuxUt4G150sXHMYPyjKxumrgQ5EPnQ3yq1K0UvdkMpr32WrRyIseMpLCEenfk/s1600/IMG_9919.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2YZSHF5x2Tuay7dSaLfDLE10QN7Pxnx-T2K1sxJ6RptI3B4Y2h5jwTyMn7wP4NXh47HV3h0Mf9KsiKMuxUt4G150sXHMYPyjKxumrgQ5EPnQ3yq1K0UvdkMpr32WrRyIseMpLCEenfk/s400/IMG_9919.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607333301912075618" /></a><br />Yeah, that's the one. <br /><br />Here's two easy meals for people who are really pissed off at Australia...<br /><br />xo YM<br /><br />______________________________________________________________________<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cold Shrimp, Guac & Chips</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIq_L7ackeYLIzGDYXJ-oYkUZF3obMIAASwAdRRMGtURBxR0ejkvW2Xq1dXidlPg4MGLoFJZiyBuEZiRmQ4N0MCsRxsAleWkyTrHTIKUFbZt3rxodm8E0V7hyphenhyphenGFXjS2GDCEh7vSfCaxoc/s1600/IMG_1725.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIq_L7ackeYLIzGDYXJ-oYkUZF3obMIAASwAdRRMGtURBxR0ejkvW2Xq1dXidlPg4MGLoFJZiyBuEZiRmQ4N0MCsRxsAleWkyTrHTIKUFbZt3rxodm8E0V7hyphenhyphenGFXjS2GDCEh7vSfCaxoc/s400/IMG_1725.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607324983260632610" /></a><br />This is one of the girl's favorite meals and it feels more like a fun snack than dinner. <br /><br />Buy the shrimp cooked and peeled and you save a ton of time. Put the shrimp in a bowl and add a couple good squeezes of lemon, a handful of chopped cilantro, a pinch of salt. Mix it all together and chill in the fridge for a few minutes. Make the guacamole - a couple avocados, a squeeze of lemon, a little salt, chopped cilantro - mash it all up with a fork. Put the cold shrimp and guac on a platter with some chips and serve. <br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Herbed Lamb chops with Sautéed Broccoli & Bacon</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6k7RqNeUiWL04Jfo8kiLPtk-6aAvAAHuD2C1aY_bx0DSjvdVXSznCADlKB3oPvfLrHb3lHLs5PAuoz85qPuuLBmHJthrBNWRGKwndFbqQkQkFdVn5eYdGEsKIFFiquX5eThObt96PcE/s1600/IMG_1816.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6k7RqNeUiWL04Jfo8kiLPtk-6aAvAAHuD2C1aY_bx0DSjvdVXSznCADlKB3oPvfLrHb3lHLs5PAuoz85qPuuLBmHJthrBNWRGKwndFbqQkQkFdVn5eYdGEsKIFFiquX5eThObt96PcE/s400/IMG_1816.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607325862903438466" /></a><br />The broccoli in this dish is really for me. But the kids like to eat the chops with their fingers like lollipops. In the end, everyone is happy. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">For the broccoli</span>: Chop bacon into slivers (the bacon in the pic is home-made) cook until crisp, let drain on paper towel, set aside. If there’s too much bacon grease in the pan, pour some out. Add a handful of chopped green onion or leek to the remaining bacon grease. Add a hunk of butter. Let the onions get soft, about 5 minutes. Add broccoli florets sauté for another five minutes over medium heat, until just starting to get soft. Salt and pepper to taste. Add bacon. Mix everything together. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODjERSikute4FFJMRtcOrFhc0rt587ZIFJ1js9uhwhb7FRiSgd2sTrQiliMyId6wAYdBgHAecojxbOR_A49IK55R_tgyPNbM8x0pM8daUY7g2U1JZkcSpHNgZwsiBW012ATRBKIykUg0/s1600/IMG_1794.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODjERSikute4FFJMRtcOrFhc0rt587ZIFJ1js9uhwhb7FRiSgd2sTrQiliMyId6wAYdBgHAecojxbOR_A49IK55R_tgyPNbM8x0pM8daUY7g2U1JZkcSpHNgZwsiBW012ATRBKIykUg0/s400/IMG_1794.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607342766780640226" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">For the chops</span>: Put chops in a bowl, add olive oil, salt, chopped garlic, and herbs, thyme, rosemary, sage, tarragon, chives, whatever you have. Here I used thyme. Let it sit in fridge all day, a few hours or a few minutes, whatever you’ve got. Heat a pan and add a little olive oil. When the oil is nice and hot, add chops. Let them sear on one side for five minutes, check for a nice brown color and flip. Cook 5 minutes on the other side. The meat should have give when you touch it. You want it medium-rare to rare. Take it off the flame and set aside for a couple minutes. Let it rest. Serve with or without the broccoli. <br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-74620678044110453832011-05-07T18:24:00.017-04:002011-05-09T10:11:16.295-04:00The Great Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Dinner Debate In My Head<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIXDUFT8Zvif3eoTuEqhjzPqOGQC9f3yWd6uit8HteNqw0go12v33dkzTWYZA2BKOmU7uyxkSPKKQ7kydm1Z0HVfeMArlwf6LxyxWLOVWvbrLYHaxO9J_4M7oHuwQCtg26Cet0h32udA/s1600/IMG_2142.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglIXDUFT8Zvif3eoTuEqhjzPqOGQC9f3yWd6uit8HteNqw0go12v33dkzTWYZA2BKOmU7uyxkSPKKQ7kydm1Z0HVfeMArlwf6LxyxWLOVWvbrLYHaxO9J_4M7oHuwQCtg26Cet0h32udA/s400/IMG_2142.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604556090447271890" /></a><br />David is in Vegas and then, LA on business. It's just me and the kids and a long expanse of togetherness. I like all the girly togetherness, so that's fine with me, but last night while hiking the kids through our neighborhood Duane Reade (the drug store for you non-New Yorkers), I walked past a shelf of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese Dinner boxes. Nice blue and yellow boxes. I stopped. <br /><br />And that's when my mind started having a conversation without me:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">David's out of town. No one has to know. The kids will love me for this. One pan, virtually no clean up. A one dish dinner in minutes. $3. Dinner for $3. The box says it's the cheesiest. I know it's not really cheesy but still, it says it's the cheesiest. It must be a little cheesy. There's got to be some cheese in it. But cheese-schmeeze, who cares anyway? My kids eat from-scratch meals all the time. They are the healthiest kids on the planet, why Edie hasn't had a fever in two years. I'm awesome. I rock. I made my own damned bacon, for Christ sakes. People who make their own bacon can feed their kids the box once in a while, right? No need to become one of those brittle pedigogical psychos who never let their kids have a Tic Tac. Oh My God, I have this huge stain on the front of my shirt. How the hell long has that been there? One night of crap isn't going to kill them. That's right, and they are gonna think you are the coolest mom ever for this. The coolest. For 3 bucks! And on Mother's Day. After they made you those cute cards with feathers and pom pom balls and all those hearts. There were so many freakin' hearts. Seriously, I can't go out anymore with stains on my tits, I look like I'm breastfeeding. They DESERVE to eat the crap this once. That's why you're such a great mom, you're flexible, open to anything, a revolutionary, not stuck in a grind or an ideology. You are bigger than ideology. You are a slave to no one...<br /></span><br />Damned right. I am a slave to no one. <br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><br />So, I plucked the box from the shelf trying to forget that I had written a terribly sarcastic, mean-spirited attack on <a href="http://www.imperfectparent.com/yummy/macaroni-cheese-manifesto/633_1/">Kraft Macaroni and Cheese Dinner</a> just a few short years ago. How had I fallen so far, so fast? This stuff is like crack. <br /><br />I shook off the thought and tucked the box under a bag of beef jerky (why am I not making my own freakin' beef jerky?) and made my way to the check out. I didn't have to blog about it. No one would know. I searched the store, surveying the aisles, looking for foodie neighbors - I'm talkin' to you, <a href="http://www.redcook.net">Red Cook</a> - and assessing my chances of making it from aisle six to the check out lady without being spotted. I considered tucking it under my sweater but that looked a little like shoplifting. No need showing up on <a href="http://www.foodnewsjournal.com">Food News Journal</a> busted for a box of mac and cheese in my shirt. <br /><br />Two ladies were in line in front of me. I tried to look non-chalant. Not a care in the world. Like I had bunches of kale in my trolley. <br /><br />Finally we reached the cashier. I pulled out the box. Edie looked at the box, looked up at me. And she said, "I don't like that. I want something else." And then turned back to the stuffed monkey in her arms and started talking about something nonsensical and totally unrelated. Something about sparkly hair and unicorns. <br /><br />I handed the box to the cashier, lowered my eyes in shame and said, "We won't be taking this...sorry."<br /><br />Then, we went home and while the kids played, I made miso soup - from scratch - with home-made dashi. I eyeballed the dashi from <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2011/01/dashi.html">watching Youko make it</a> at Gomen Kudasai in New Paltz, New York. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw5a_sECoEZPhL68IvImxEIRQIlVLys1dgRB_xwzkUMFKYxOwvE1zBEoO_PQ6IYwBuWyqaPZqsNVNEHn47QDPImIfBrejrmVJWXjfY5qZLUwH87NneV1FovSGqjDPbY2Ia6Mn6B61w5o/s1600/IMG_2086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw5a_sECoEZPhL68IvImxEIRQIlVLys1dgRB_xwzkUMFKYxOwvE1zBEoO_PQ6IYwBuWyqaPZqsNVNEHn47QDPImIfBrejrmVJWXjfY5qZLUwH87NneV1FovSGqjDPbY2Ia6Mn6B61w5o/s400/IMG_2086.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604563867646726946" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKrEsQ02-B-PC-Kx7M5-YhwOCpjqdX_6LIQy0JsaosNiPC2d8WoBq4VG2Q4AOEngw6GEXwITIXAIKi6fZ4rhANeyNY27X0bWgOPfuQ_GCgfo60Ax6a_nNpoK9WwG5LXLbEjW9foELdB4/s1600/IMG_2088.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKrEsQ02-B-PC-Kx7M5-YhwOCpjqdX_6LIQy0JsaosNiPC2d8WoBq4VG2Q4AOEngw6GEXwITIXAIKi6fZ4rhANeyNY27X0bWgOPfuQ_GCgfo60Ax6a_nNpoK9WwG5LXLbEjW9foELdB4/s400/IMG_2088.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604563259012986290" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-8Z5oltdqvp0OLs5N9iWIV_a-2_UsbcpmGSfyjH8rzsVmCydD-I03tYpVZdiya1uXnxtX6ch-HF2_k5DybSZeX_L4YmbfIKMZzBGzZIsejoXKUC5cSWU6DxF1l5VvE3eWWO2M9vInew/s1600/IMG_2120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn-8Z5oltdqvp0OLs5N9iWIV_a-2_UsbcpmGSfyjH8rzsVmCydD-I03tYpVZdiya1uXnxtX6ch-HF2_k5DybSZeX_L4YmbfIKMZzBGzZIsejoXKUC5cSWU6DxF1l5VvE3eWWO2M9vInew/s400/IMG_2120.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604558810598088290" /></a><br />It did not cost $3 dollars and it took more than 15 minutes. Way more than 15 minutes, although if I had made the dashi ahead of time it would've taken minutes. The dashi needs to be romanced and that is not a snappy process. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhooeMky9F3wG8Wh0u6b8GDQBnVi-8sSjyRVbg0Y97My7IyhUl_7h7dpxoEIAJCXmJV1tiJpL7RqyHwtHa2sEYVOys5LSxsLwkFMZOUA1sB0zZuw2j_1hGozx13PzpzYYmzhjaGzA3OP6c/s1600/IMG_2123.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhooeMky9F3wG8Wh0u6b8GDQBnVi-8sSjyRVbg0Y97My7IyhUl_7h7dpxoEIAJCXmJV1tiJpL7RqyHwtHa2sEYVOys5LSxsLwkFMZOUA1sB0zZuw2j_1hGozx13PzpzYYmzhjaGzA3OP6c/s400/IMG_2123.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604558177452857282" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JzyJcKIms1lDbh2SQWvIhB0OvLlGlSW1LRV-0GnTVxPDoXMNwt8rcHue2KZlfD30ZuzBbEDhyphenhyphenONgcOPoJDhxYcdMMGt2-Il_i8JY5lYnvoR2rqjahDhekzNM5rq1lrmgZqoLmT514s0/s1600/IMG_2126.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JzyJcKIms1lDbh2SQWvIhB0OvLlGlSW1LRV-0GnTVxPDoXMNwt8rcHue2KZlfD30ZuzBbEDhyphenhyphenONgcOPoJDhxYcdMMGt2-Il_i8JY5lYnvoR2rqjahDhekzNM5rq1lrmgZqoLmT514s0/s400/IMG_2126.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604557437987322962" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikf6VRtK9exA04HVdZ5lNjy9mlmnoJ9WUXTTr7dmdQppk9sxl8PnZ5jq5lKk5Gx07QtieamSqcLLrDZwcHxzJkTOVJpzubRfe5nwYicOuF1k_GgIt58Z0P0d7lKwgAdPZ8drf-l7TlyZo/s1600/IMG_2127.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikf6VRtK9exA04HVdZ5lNjy9mlmnoJ9WUXTTr7dmdQppk9sxl8PnZ5jq5lKk5Gx07QtieamSqcLLrDZwcHxzJkTOVJpzubRfe5nwYicOuF1k_GgIt58Z0P0d7lKwgAdPZ8drf-l7TlyZo/s400/IMG_2127.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604556779215752162" /></a><br />Frankly, I lucked out that I had all the ingredients in my pantry and fridge. I lucked out that I have access to a real Asian market. I lucked out that I had time. I lucked out that we aren't living paycheck to paycheck and can't invest in a surplus of spices, herbs and pantry items. I lucked out that my kids have a wide enough palate that I know they'd eat this soup and I wasn't wasting my time and my money, only to still have hungry kids staring up at me at the end of the night asking for something else. I'm lucky that I'm not so overwhelmed by life, depressed, screwed over, miserable, disease-riddled, poor, or life-challenged that even the simple act of making dinner from real food seems like a herculean task. I'm just lucky. <br /><br />Everybody ate. Everybody was happy. I didn't have any guilt. My brain stopped talking to itself, gratefully. I'm certain I'm no longer delusional. I'm glad I didn't buy the box. But I get why people do. <br /><br />Can't wait for David to come home. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-74419389530549545132011-05-05T08:32:00.026-04:002011-05-06T12:17:59.378-04:00E-Books: Why Today is a Good Day to Be A Writer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8MKpC81HL9D3QgaLRS_TtPPmTPesgL4ZsXtCSZKr0cNzl7zPRVQhdRRKhoNO15ehxOF8TFhUI0DR215nidnrN793CenjA2hFolDJ2MQ4Oe31gQLcp21thntPfWLVnT2lpPPyLrCdZDXk/s1600/SPU-E-Books.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8MKpC81HL9D3QgaLRS_TtPPmTPesgL4ZsXtCSZKr0cNzl7zPRVQhdRRKhoNO15ehxOF8TFhUI0DR215nidnrN793CenjA2hFolDJ2MQ4Oe31gQLcp21thntPfWLVnT2lpPPyLrCdZDXk/s400/SPU-E-Books.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603579175079608226" /></a><br />I was really surprised by the response to my <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2011/03/yelly-mom.html">Angry Mom post</a>. Thank you for the stories you shared either in comments or in emails to me personally. It got me thinking...there's more to say about this topic. And there are more people who will want to read about it. <br /><br />I couldn't think of a magazine I felt was right for a longer piece on anger and motherhood and truth be told, I didn't want to write a journalistic piece - something smart but distant, with lots of quotes and research to back up my thoughts. I wanted to keep the raw-ness and intimacy of the original piece. There just aren't many places for that. And I didn't want to write a whole book about it either. In my head, I shelved it.<br /><br />But after talking to David, we decided I should write a longer version of the Angry Mom post and submit it as a Kindle Single. Think of it as being the size of a New Yorker article, more full but just as personal, a real story. This will be my first Kindle Single (if it is accepted)- my big toe in the water of self-publishing. <br /><br />Many of you know that I've ghostwritten other people's books for years. Some of those have been self-published by vanity presses, some e-books, and some by traditional publishers. Back in the day - like last year - there was still a second rate status to self-publishing and all kinds of barriers for marketing and getting seen at the bookstore. <br /><br />Self-publishing just didn't have the same rep, because it wasn't vetted by the New York gatekeepers. It didn't have their stamp of approval, which was proof the work must be good or at least of some professional and worthy quality. So many self-published books suffered from bad cover art, poor editing and a simple lack of professional writing ability and insight. It seemed only the unpublishable self-published. It had the mark of defeat. <br /><br />Even last year as I spent nearly 11 months writing, re-writing and re-tooling the book proposal for my hopefully-insanely-funny memoir about cooking with four year olds in Lucy and Edie's East Harlem public school, I would never have even considered self-publishing. It would've been a step down, like going to the prom with a perfectly nice, pimpley-faced boy who rides a scooter and wears high-water pants. I wanted to go to prom with a quarterback. <br /><br />That was four months ago. Now, everything has changed. All of a sudden, Lord help me, I love high-water pants.<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />I have a perfectly awesome agent - thanks to all the virtual pavement pounding I did last year and fellow writer <a href="http://www.bethlipton.com">Beth Lipton</a> - and <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrowskitchen.com">Cathy</a> and I are at work on a Charcutepalooza Cookbook proposal that we hope will find a home somewhere. I don't want to say too much about that book project since we are in the middle of working on it and it doesn't just involve me - but we are stupidly excited about it, as we are about anything that has to do with meat, making meat and <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/charcutepalooza/the-ruhls-2/">Charcutepalooza</a>.<br /><br />Still, nothing is the same in publishing and I can't shake the idea that big things are in the works for writers. Maybe I've been reading too much Joe Konrath - I now get it when people find you and love you immediately and start reading your blog backwards devouring every word, that is me with <a href="http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/">Joe Konrath</a> - but it seems to me that for the first time since the invention of the printing press, good writers are no longer beholden to publishers. <br /><br />This is fantastic news for writers who have some experience under their belts. These are the writers who have several discarded novels sitting in their drawers - what I mean by that, is that they've written a few book-length projects and know what goes into it. They have enough solid professional writing experience to know what is compelling storytelling and what isn't (most of the time anyway). They know they need good cover art and they are savvy enough to recognize it when they see it. They know they need a top notch copy editor to clean up their slog. They not only know how to use social media to sell their work and themselves, but they absolutely love it and would do it even if they didn't have anything to sell. They want to write a lot and connect with readers immediately. They don't want to wait around for the slow, mud-clogged wagon wheels of traditional publishing to give them a pat and a nod and venue. <br /><br />I've decided to take the summer to finish the entire food memoir and publish it in the Fall as an e-book. (Thanks for all the nice comments <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2011/04/worst-easter-egg-hunt-ever.html">here</a> telling me you are looking forward to the book. Those comments helped me make this decision. They made a huge difference. Huge.) And I'm not settling. That boy on the scooter is looking pretty hot these days. Truth is, after these last few months I can't even imagine trying to sell this particular book to a traditional publisher. <br /><br />How's that for a turn around?<br /><br />As a writer, I am drawn to e-books. I want to connect with the audience faster. I want to take my chances finding my own audience. I trust that after four years here, I know who my readers are and what they, and new readers, will want to read from me. If I can't, well, I shouldn't be doing this. I want to make more money, share less of the returns, and have total say in what I'm putting out. I want to please only readers, not gatekeepers because if I focus on pleasing the readers, the gatekeepers will love me anyway. I want to work with good people - designers and editors - who will make my work better, at my own expense, and know that it's my vision, what I want to do. I know that also means some things won't fly sometimes, and I'll make some hideous mistakes, but I can live with that. <br /><br />And Joe Konrath is right - there will still be gatekeepers. But it won't be publishers. It will be readers. The same people who find the best stuff amid hundreds of tedious cable channels and a plethora of internet-watching opportunities and lift up the ones who resonate. Not even the best, just the ones that speak to us where we are. <br /><br />I do not think that print publishing is over, by the way. Nor can I say that I wouldn't publish a book with a traditional publisher. Our plan right now for The Charcutepalooza Cookbook is that it go with a traditional publisher. But that hasn't stopped us from thinking about apps and all kinds of accompanying technology. Publishing is just changing. Agents and publishers roles are changing. Writers roles are changing. Think about it - the field is wide open. Every good writer has a shot. You don't have to be <a href="http://www.thepioneerwoman.com">The Pioneer Woman</a> to write a well-received book. No offense against Ree, love her. But that is damned exciting stuff. <br /><br />Sure, there is still luck and randomness and market savvy, and e-books will see their share of surprise bestsellers and un-predictable clunkers, but still, it is a good day to be a writer. You have more options than ever. Instead of spending time convincing publishers why you are worth it, producing blog stats and page after page of proof/bullshit that you can market a book and spending countless hours doing stunts to drive up your traffic, a process that actually takes longer than writing the book itself, you could just be out there writing/selling your book. You actually get to prove your worth by what you're writing/publishing and how you can move it through the market place.<br /><br />Radical. Freeing. Revolutionary, I think. <br /><br />And Oh My God, think about the Kindle Single - you don't even have to write a whole book for God's sake. You can submit a single essay, a long-form idea, a novella, a short story. Just make sure it is great, something people will want to devour. That's why I'm starting there with my Angry Mom piece. It'll be an experiment. My toe in the water. My first dance with the high-water pant guy. David is pushing me to finish it. I'll keep you posted. <br /><br />Remember, it is a good day to be a writer. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-76418059404923315092011-04-29T10:42:00.034-04:002011-05-02T10:00:55.234-04:00To Grind or Not to Grind?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQlp6MiqpQQPW9BVPjMswNRAtmH_KaEUuxwRTsGdpy7jzkCae3uKBa0LeRo-m3jmxIMLXLaD4pAgvsR3upOw2rvM5cMPQYFO-jrmdYeHbYJkq55gyNClftFavqlqDyJ7_lF0lwgqwBoM/s1600/IMG_2444.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQlp6MiqpQQPW9BVPjMswNRAtmH_KaEUuxwRTsGdpy7jzkCae3uKBa0LeRo-m3jmxIMLXLaD4pAgvsR3upOw2rvM5cMPQYFO-jrmdYeHbYJkq55gyNClftFavqlqDyJ7_lF0lwgqwBoM/s400/IMG_2444.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602107914588990850" /></a><br />I realize something about myself – I am not a gadget person. Not even in the kitchen. <br /><br />A few weeks ago, I wrote <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2011/04/kitchen-scale.html">a post</a> about reading Grace Young’s <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wisdom-Chinese-Kitchen-Classic-Celebration/dp/0684847396">The Wisdom of The Chinese Kitchen</a> and her ideas about being mindful in the kitchen, cooking as meditation. I was inspired. Her stories are really some of the best in food writing. I also bemoaned the fact that I had to buy a scale in that post and suffered a tragic beat down by scale-lovers on Twitter. <br /><br />I get it. Scales rock. Please don’t write me anymore and tell me that. <br /><br />Truth is, I rarely use my kitchen machinery. I don’t own a mixer anymore, since mine was maimed in a terrible house-moving accident, and oddly, was never replaced. I have a beautiful, fully tricked out food processor that only gets used when the woman next door borrows it. Still, it looks pretty and very technical sitting in my cupboard. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a simple meat grinder for this <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/2011/04/charcutepalooza-may-challenge-grinding/">Charcutepalooza challenge</a>. I just wanted to drag out my big cheap cleaver that I bought at a knife store in Chinatown for $12 and have at it. <br /><br />I like to make a mess. I like to eyeball it. I like porky hands. I realize this is weird, and not conducive to order, ease of preparation or even success in cooking. But it is, I think, good times in the kitchen. So, for the grinding challenge this month, I hand-chopped a boneless pork loin into a pulpy, fleshy pile of meat shards and made <a href="http://www.redcook.net">Kian Lam Kho’s</a> Pork & Chinese Chives Pot Stickers.<br /><br /><span class="fullpost"> <br />No, pot stickers are not sausages, technically. But the challenge this month was grinding and seasoning. Grinding is a primer for all kinds of sausage-making. It's about getting to know the meat, taking it apart, breaking it down into little fatty pieces, feeling it and watching it go from one form to another under your eye and tutelage. Then, it's getting the seasoning right, playing with those spices, tasting, reflecting and tasting again. Kitchen mindfulness at it's best. In Cathy's words, the insides of a pot sticker are the same as the insides of a sausage. It's ground meat and seasonings. Revelation. <br /><br />The hand-chopping was so fun, I watched an evening of YouTube videos in French - didn't understand a word - and decided I wanted to make steak tartare next, which is always hand-chopped to get that sinewy, corpulent texture that feels both buttery and slightly knotty in your mouth. And then, I watched Chef Hubert Keller hand-chopping his burgers on <a href="http://www.chow.com">Chow</a> and decided I wanted to make all our burgers this summer from hand-chopped meat. I wouldn’t have gotten that from a meat grinder. It's all in the porky hands, I tell you. <br /><br />This recipe for pot stickers comes from Kian's blog, <a href="http://www.redcook.net">Red Cook</a>, which is up for a James Beard Foundation Award this year. And deservedly so. Both the dough and the fillings for these pot stickers are deceptively simple to make, but give yourself time and kitchen volunteers - making dumplings is always heavy on the labor, and if everyone is sitting around the kitchen, drinking something shamelessly alcoholic, and wrapping pork filling into pot sticker dough, well, that will really set the tone for the meal. <br /><br />In Kian's post he talks about <a href="http://redcook.net/2010/05/20/communal-dumplings-for-the-family/">the imperfections and joys of communal dining</a> in Chinese culture, and one of the things I love best about this dish is that it can be a family dinner in every sense of the word - a platter of dumplings surrounded by dipping sauces, arms reaching across the table, no one politely stuck to their seats, all the requisite stories, squabbles, and if you have kids, the inappropriate use of chopsticks. Up your nose anyone? <br /><br />Also, forming the dumplings elegantly is a learning curve. Kian has a great <a href="http://redcook.net/2010/05/20/communal-dumplings-for-the-family/">photo primer</a> to get you started if you've never done it. My children's dumplings always end up <a href="http://theyummymummy.blogspot.com/2010/05/pork-wontons.html">looking like vaginas</a>, but over the years mine have looked less and less like genitalia, which proves patience truly pays off. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1o8fyqdtbqy4u7Hr8jhxqJTC1D-XR8eaVODE3z65phvr1-C2DB-nDGKLeV6ab7UqnZAU7QXPGnc6WTSCVu-hLTfkjKpJOOndHgwmHMzwqxHgWOkgMq7_kCcfs7Y6w7ynSBT-OxxGRfKc/s1600/pot-sticker-chopsticks.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1o8fyqdtbqy4u7Hr8jhxqJTC1D-XR8eaVODE3z65phvr1-C2DB-nDGKLeV6ab7UqnZAU7QXPGnc6WTSCVu-hLTfkjKpJOOndHgwmHMzwqxHgWOkgMq7_kCcfs7Y6w7ynSBT-OxxGRfKc/s400/pot-sticker-chopsticks.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601023088083758626" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Kian Lam Kho's Pork and Chinese Chives Pot Stickers</span> (Pot Sticker Photo by Kian)<br /><br />Preparation time: 1 hour 30 minutes<br />Rapid cooking time: 15 minutes<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Hot Water Dough</span><br /><br />2 cups flour<br />3/4 cup boiling water<br />1/4 cup cold water<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Pork and Chinese Chives Stuffing</span><br /><br />8 oz. ground pork<br />8 oz. Chinese chives (韭菜)<br />1/2 cup finely chopped scallion<br />1 teaspoon finely minced garlic<br />1 teaspoon salt<br />1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper<br />1 tablespoon sesame oil<br /><br />Put the flour in a mixing bowl and gradually add the boiling water while mixing the dough with wooden chopsticks or a wooden spoon. The hot water will slightly cook the flour and it will form lumps. Continue to mix for about half a minute then add the cold water. At this point start using your hands to knead the dough. It will be sticky initially. Knead the dough until it is elastic and smooth. Let the dough rest for about half an hour before use. Cover the dough with a damp cloth or seal it with plastic wrap.<br /><br />Chop the garlic chives into small pieces of about 1/8 inch. Mix all the stuffing ingredients together and set aside.<br /><br />Divide the dough into three equal portions. Roll each portion into a cylinder about 1/2 inch in diameter. Cut the cylinder into pieces about 1/2 inch wide. Roll the pieces into balls. Flatten the balls into rounds and roll them into wrappers with a Chinese rolling pin. When rolling the wrapper use one hand to roll the pin back and forth, while using the other to push the round dough under the rolling pin. Turn the dough about one quarter turn just after the rolling pin presses down on the dough. Repeat until the dough becomes a thin round wrapper. Fill with about 1 tablespoon of stuffing. Pleat the edges into a crescent shape dumpling and press to seal.<br /><br />You will need a thin Chinese rolling pin of about one inch in diameter to roll the wrappers. It is often available in Chinatown markets or from mail order outlets. You can use a regular baking rolling pin but manipulating the wrappers under this thicker bulky version can be tricky.<br /><br />Pour about 1/8 inch layer of vegetable oil in a frying pan then arrange the dumplings in the cold oil. It is fine to arrange the dumplings touching each other. Fry the dumplings on medium heat for about one minute. Add 1/2 cup of warm water to the pan and cover. Let steam for about three minutes or until all the water has evaporated. Uncover the pan and let the bottom of the dumplings continue to brown. As they brown they will loosen from the pan and can be flipped onto a plate. Serve with thinly shredded ginger in Chinkiang black vinegar.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">April's Best of Smoking Posts</span><br /><br />Congrats to the best of the best this month!<br /><br />1. Smoked Whitefish<br /><a href="http://www.goodforthepalate.com/2011/04/covert-operation-charcutepalooza-april.html">Good for the Palate</a> <br /><br />2. Smoked Ice<br /><a href="http://www.lighterandlocal.com/2011/04/hickory-smoked-ice-smoke-signals.html">Lighter and Local</a><br /><br />3. Croque Monsieur <br /><a href="http://saintelk.com/2011/04/13/charcutepalooza-4-canadian-bacon/">Saint Elk</a><br /><br />4. Eggs Benny with Kale and Roasted Tomatoes<br /><a href="http://www.ouichefnetwork.com/oui_chef/2011/04/eggs-benedict-with-sauteed-kale-and-roasted-tomatoes.html">Oui Chef Network</a><br /><br />5. Charcutepalooza Goes 80's<br /><a href="http://bitemenewengland.blogspot.com/2011/04/charcutepalooza-takes-leap-back-in-time.html">Bite Me New England</a><br /><br />6. Beer, Bacon, Breakfast<br /><a href="http://snappyservicecafe.com/2011/04/15/a-perfect-combination-beer-bacon/ beer, bacon, breakfast">Snappy Service Cafe</a><br /><br />7. Smoked Poultry, Smoked Pork<br /><a href="http://http://davebeingdave.tumblr.com/post/4653127387/charcutepalooza-march-challenge-hot-smoking">Dave Being Dave</a> <br /><br />8. Babies LOVE Smoked Salmon<br /><a href="http://dabblingsandwhimsey.blogspot.com/2011/04/swimming-upstream.html">Dabblings And Whimsey</a> <br /><br />9. Smoked Lamb<br /><a href="http://inlindaskitchen.blogspot.com/2011/03/smoking-convert.html">In Linda's Kitchen</a><br /><br />10. Smoked Pasta<br /><a href="http://www.acookblog.com/2011/04/kraftsmanship.html">Cook Blog</a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Top Smoking Photos for April</span><br /><br />1. <a href="http://http://gluttonforlife.com/2011/03/28/meaty-monday-brining-rubbing-smoking/">Glutton for Life</a><br />Canadian Bacon<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2frNlOa3GltHQY0iI3GvES0NamXbzrmE4LbYVbcqARPkk5UB2-Ym35W9S4Zhl6TskmMgdNFLfeNZrKRgmGnx6I0cdulYCAiKLuAQtkTBu9R-J4zTLngZ2N6wibCe0U6VKylsKISxrV2E/s1600/smoking+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2frNlOa3GltHQY0iI3GvES0NamXbzrmE4LbYVbcqARPkk5UB2-Ym35W9S4Zhl6TskmMgdNFLfeNZrKRgmGnx6I0cdulYCAiKLuAQtkTBu9R-J4zTLngZ2N6wibCe0U6VKylsKISxrV2E/s400/smoking+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601049782067126658" /></a><br /><br />2. <a href="http://leavemetheoink.wordpress.com/2011/04/05/charcutepalooza-challenge-4-the-piganator-has-landed/">Leave Me The Oink</a><br />The Pigenator<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjybfsDfBd0jZaB7hP5NqBC2fGucxJMH_eCUl7gdiZLe_Rr3bmnIy4-SKs-mx3z3lxLRBqjg-Ooqiy2glPXFXRhKDQiBHMtebqLVlx71tgheRBwQSxH89tXt_DDRkRXXmK8v3QawUS6bs/s1600/meat-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjybfsDfBd0jZaB7hP5NqBC2fGucxJMH_eCUl7gdiZLe_Rr3bmnIy4-SKs-mx3z3lxLRBqjg-Ooqiy2glPXFXRhKDQiBHMtebqLVlx71tgheRBwQSxH89tXt_DDRkRXXmK8v3QawUS6bs/s400/meat-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601050420279594674" /></a><br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.goodforthepalate.com/2011/04/damn-tasso-ham-charcutepalooza-april.html">Good for the Palate</a><br />Tasso Ham<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs06kaERMhunfFoJI-lleQ41zixG5XODB-rAtPBm48xzr5DKuBIzTJDoVXTXVdjouYdR7umt2kXb3DCFqCOvalGR8Uw2khvOAxi44q3LPrnioGfhMud225hDAFo-xe7QoCazqXxqRa1G8/s1600/Tasso+Ham.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs06kaERMhunfFoJI-lleQ41zixG5XODB-rAtPBm48xzr5DKuBIzTJDoVXTXVdjouYdR7umt2kXb3DCFqCOvalGR8Uw2khvOAxi44q3LPrnioGfhMud225hDAFo-xe7QoCazqXxqRa1G8/s400/Tasso+Ham.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602113070636318578" /></a><br /><br />4. <a href="http://www.affairsofliving.com/imported-20100106014405/2011/4/15/charcutepalooza-smoking-pudding-and-porkgasms.html?lastPage=true&postSubmitted=true">Affairs of Living</a><br />Porkgasm<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBq74juef3COMK8aave4TLqCOhhUNBTIG9OCrfk3F79VaJiyU2bM1Lu75wklsVY7nqsrV7SkDViZ-Z-wmeubk7UCCaxmeKpHVylbmRLwQjUgSrVogA-ZGAY-3ztGBVeWI61U13hA_ljg/s1600/porkgasm.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBq74juef3COMK8aave4TLqCOhhUNBTIG9OCrfk3F79VaJiyU2bM1Lu75wklsVY7nqsrV7SkDViZ-Z-wmeubk7UCCaxmeKpHVylbmRLwQjUgSrVogA-ZGAY-3ztGBVeWI61U13hA_ljg/s400/porkgasm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601053092269805666" /></a><br /><br />5. <a href="http://www.eatlivetravelwrite.com/2011/04/charcutepalooza-april-hot-smoking-challenge/">Eat Live Travel Write</a><br />Eggs Benedict from Scratch<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXSv-IcyTuVczmpq2RwQeDYBz7UD0Jwrlbg2mUvcfBvmrt1__O30Zb0fUXTeOIM5aorH615pj5hyFSpqtMUH459gW9Ce0HogORpcyZLHC4xz9IdsoJknM0DNSEgvEEFP81MXgKSPjLzA/s1600/eggs+benny+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXSv-IcyTuVczmpq2RwQeDYBz7UD0Jwrlbg2mUvcfBvmrt1__O30Zb0fUXTeOIM5aorH615pj5hyFSpqtMUH459gW9Ce0HogORpcyZLHC4xz9IdsoJknM0DNSEgvEEFP81MXgKSPjLzA/s400/eggs+benny+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601056901601445266" /></a><br /><br />And...<br /><br />From <a href="http://growitcookitcanit.com/2011/04/09/ginger-orange-smoked-salmon-tacos-with-avocado-tomatillo-salsa-and-roasted-sweet-meat-pumpkin/">Grow it, Cook It, Can It</a>, check out this awesome photo primer on how to use a smoker. <br /><br />And...<br /><br />Our first <a href="http://meatandday.blogspot.com/2011/04/charcutepalooza-march-challenge.html#comment-form">Charcutepalooza Smoking Video</a> <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/charcutepalooza/the-ruhls-2/">Charcutepalooza</a> loves our sponsors. <a href="http://www.kineticwebs.com/">Kinetic Web Solutions</a> and @VinoLuci regularly saves Cathy from having meltdowns over the computer and generally helps us navigate technology. <a href="http://www.dartagnan.com/">D’Artagnan</a>, generously offering 25% off the meat-of-the-month. If you aren’t receiving your email with the secret code for Charcutepalooza members, you can register with <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/contact/">Cathy</a>. And the trip to France – <a href="http://www.mrswheelbarrow.com/charcutepalooza/the-grand-prize/">an awesome grand prize</a> deliciously designed by <a href="http://www.trufflepig.com/">Trufflepig</a> and <a href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/2011/01/25/charcutepalooza-le-grande-prix/">Kate Hill at Camont</a>.</span><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-24792274833434436252011-04-26T22:48:00.027-04:002011-04-27T06:59:58.499-04:00For Those Following Along...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8h8aJR6Peg6YsnPxgcShmrxeV9sj4K1StY5CKuAHVXjdXWBxzd6gXXatq-WPl18pwnFSZ5iEpzvXoSqMwnbgyTEGFaHc5HZWMJ-IUySnKissHcppV0TqLMEFZin9_-kMLLtNXdRQ180/s1600/IMG_2311.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8h8aJR6Peg6YsnPxgcShmrxeV9sj4K1StY5CKuAHVXjdXWBxzd6gXXatq-WPl18pwnFSZ5iEpzvXoSqMwnbgyTEGFaHc5HZWMJ-IUySnKissHcppV0TqLMEFZin9_-kMLLtNXdRQ180/s400/IMG_2311.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600091126171562770" /></a><br />The egg hunt at our house went much better than the one last week. Hallelujah. <br /><br />The winning formula: Three kids. Four hundred plastic eggs strewn across our front and back yard. Plenty for everyone. Our choice of outfits to wear. No tears. Chocolate for breakfast. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMdj23bQlLoEIvT__oQ6lPCGvkNTKTjI34ej8H4FYvPmotssJ9z2oUHYavOAoqJTRDUZRhJFiusnRYfO9stoXOuTOSqPdsgF89HN3hUx86LH4zjSOWujZoB-zNS1YL9JUuYCA0dgb3iU/s1600/IMG_2317.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMdj23bQlLoEIvT__oQ6lPCGvkNTKTjI34ej8H4FYvPmotssJ9z2oUHYavOAoqJTRDUZRhJFiusnRYfO9stoXOuTOSqPdsgF89HN3hUx86LH4zjSOWujZoB-zNS1YL9JUuYCA0dgb3iU/s400/IMG_2317.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600091885249980498" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOF6Cx0-h3tS91zhBZRJAIsvfHqwE8ZBiG2C1s8t8mBYBatqbZjmS3xiGxt0P1kt-NmdQzibZcnUyxQNcfgcneVtgcsSqVpZPNgQ-_QJu3GQaGCAN4Ily-oksBs8T2xXDM1P52DJBOGE/s1600/IMG_2321.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOF6Cx0-h3tS91zhBZRJAIsvfHqwE8ZBiG2C1s8t8mBYBatqbZjmS3xiGxt0P1kt-NmdQzibZcnUyxQNcfgcneVtgcsSqVpZPNgQ-_QJu3GQaGCAN4Ily-oksBs8T2xXDM1P52DJBOGE/s400/IMG_2321.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600092484534937442" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Ke_Qwvtfg-5_pVSz9PU3uC3FRGxGTbnJoOagg77sTImHBR9dw2erlVRBGTGPt8MSvlbacB7OM1kdCaKlGRnC2vjupu1FnZ2DJD7gOX7oGoJm6hBghyphenhyphenX0RPsEwxI8GtHLMDQOFFXPQaQ/s1600/IMG_2328.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Ke_Qwvtfg-5_pVSz9PU3uC3FRGxGTbnJoOagg77sTImHBR9dw2erlVRBGTGPt8MSvlbacB7OM1kdCaKlGRnC2vjupu1FnZ2DJD7gOX7oGoJm6hBghyphenhyphenX0RPsEwxI8GtHLMDQOFFXPQaQ/s400/IMG_2328.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600093078403225234" /></a><br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHVivxxgQnQCj77iFqPdTPgBJykIDu_7gDlrN3D62379Zy1XEd8BDA6WePp7AJvz9dve11iJt54zDrF67XsAC2e26I-ol9To539tNubu6ikOkvAHNKN-uTR42QinLs-7-Cd0SnLFYd7U/s1600/IMG_2337.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHVivxxgQnQCj77iFqPdTPgBJykIDu_7gDlrN3D62379Zy1XEd8BDA6WePp7AJvz9dve11iJt54zDrF67XsAC2e26I-ol9To539tNubu6ikOkvAHNKN-uTR42QinLs-7-Cd0SnLFYd7U/s400/IMG_2337.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600093712982651938" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsUu0M0pbrTY2d-tNSDEb6WRrXDfH1u1ykOxXGOgGHLwIGzIb9nSyydb1JZLmZ1psdufP-QRcGNcQ2_4L5G7iW6COF2cbI_0AZ3HavcOD_Xi15qFXpl2hE_P8_8GTa6NqOX4fq7U8hPw/s1600/IMG_2343.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsUu0M0pbrTY2d-tNSDEb6WRrXDfH1u1ykOxXGOgGHLwIGzIb9nSyydb1JZLmZ1psdufP-QRcGNcQ2_4L5G7iW6COF2cbI_0AZ3HavcOD_Xi15qFXpl2hE_P8_8GTa6NqOX4fq7U8hPw/s400/IMG_2343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600094391477081042" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOg6NbZYwBOrXvFzclQkIZh8kKawrWEVRGkO0eXdxoVWv7nYfXIpHHoRj1e-dDQ_1ifT0dgHdFuqmli0WraNqd7NgXS7T5jj_mcnwU9GVY94Hk6-rkId6ybv0tOcEcTrxdjPjhc_zgzQ/s1600/IMG_2347.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOg6NbZYwBOrXvFzclQkIZh8kKawrWEVRGkO0eXdxoVWv7nYfXIpHHoRj1e-dDQ_1ifT0dgHdFuqmli0WraNqd7NgXS7T5jj_mcnwU9GVY94Hk6-rkId6ybv0tOcEcTrxdjPjhc_zgzQ/s400/IMG_2347.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600095023374325506" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgM7vRW3OKOF83htHxBYkPKVO3gR0A204K8S3bANd4tawaEEWeHQMu3WcUtE0JVcQnQ03MNrot0a_2mKpAlDVGZ1V-vqPVLS7t-vlFlIsEeh3gWyEfaCkyKD7UDVYlt_GVZsv-VhFaLU/s1600/IMG_2357.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgM7vRW3OKOF83htHxBYkPKVO3gR0A204K8S3bANd4tawaEEWeHQMu3WcUtE0JVcQnQ03MNrot0a_2mKpAlDVGZ1V-vqPVLS7t-vlFlIsEeh3gWyEfaCkyKD7UDVYlt_GVZsv-VhFaLU/s400/IMG_2357.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600095471913884610" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYS7WyMgQ40_CRxRFz9ffG-6pCddnL-AYvJtUsmLwFEg_g-gHTMl-O71KvUaBUPq9tI9cOEL7O2EAQTyOuElbpFwQZywJUwWyCowYkco5dCbZZesZfj1Vdw-dxjA54ZHbGFZVZqSxZ1s/s1600/IMG_2361.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYS7WyMgQ40_CRxRFz9ffG-6pCddnL-AYvJtUsmLwFEg_g-gHTMl-O71KvUaBUPq9tI9cOEL7O2EAQTyOuElbpFwQZywJUwWyCowYkco5dCbZZesZfj1Vdw-dxjA54ZHbGFZVZqSxZ1s/s400/IMG_2361.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600096443622375282" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPb52PDBTs_c5ZmnUAKdlCOWNT5n2uR-y0wO4cShROjXkIBqDTu0GtScCc4Oa_6CmfBZejdtw_e3xOW0yUyahB3qAnylcuzey0GwVX0Ue7DPKuTYHHgB9EnEXrT9kN2-Vcc4-LoQHJb8U/s1600/IMG_2376.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPb52PDBTs_c5ZmnUAKdlCOWNT5n2uR-y0wO4cShROjXkIBqDTu0GtScCc4Oa_6CmfBZejdtw_e3xOW0yUyahB3qAnylcuzey0GwVX0Ue7DPKuTYHHgB9EnEXrT9kN2-Vcc4-LoQHJb8U/s400/IMG_2376.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600097040099789970" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFPbotmNjMSIxeua6JEUxfUp28xxwmjpUfi06EXyeMwGuxa0x6l4ccdRTYvwzVZP7tPZM7TK82SIXeSw0xz2z35rPkS1K4qI_v5My0IQ1ea7LF-RUN_KY_wJdWBIJhBzEJj7JmYDotoQ/s1600/IMG_2380.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFPbotmNjMSIxeua6JEUxfUp28xxwmjpUfi06EXyeMwGuxa0x6l4ccdRTYvwzVZP7tPZM7TK82SIXeSw0xz2z35rPkS1K4qI_v5My0IQ1ea7LF-RUN_KY_wJdWBIJhBzEJj7JmYDotoQ/s400/IMG_2380.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600097800015201282" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih848BiuJWupAvz1RJMmtGRbvwhWLUjnOiL6QhniGbi_YXrK9OW_Ao_ITVRnBvoOBlH7g-WdwSf9GXXuGF3SGC9vRyD3P8gRBLI8uS5rrHyZlV4bEvNhqchg7r1bUn9rxTs1LzUcsDn9w/s1600/IMG_2388.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih848BiuJWupAvz1RJMmtGRbvwhWLUjnOiL6QhniGbi_YXrK9OW_Ao_ITVRnBvoOBlH7g-WdwSf9GXXuGF3SGC9vRyD3P8gRBLI8uS5rrHyZlV4bEvNhqchg7r1bUn9rxTs1LzUcsDn9w/s400/IMG_2388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600098390572636210" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ddm5zgtavulioADCJwJo8XCxsBJ14aHurhOfcp1NO_nWaOsnbphylEbn04ERlj7aM9OUq17YEb7_rqLUT2LL0U4d1Nh6ucjhrf8GQpGqgxws1HphNLVPcjwtIwZfLuMUbaf4WrE2mBQ/s1600/IMG_2399.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ddm5zgtavulioADCJwJo8XCxsBJ14aHurhOfcp1NO_nWaOsnbphylEbn04ERlj7aM9OUq17YEb7_rqLUT2LL0U4d1Nh6ucjhrf8GQpGqgxws1HphNLVPcjwtIwZfLuMUbaf4WrE2mBQ/s400/IMG_2399.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600099187272468626" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnTl3C-Cu34XoBKqgHw5GWNl7I2CNGomVnZ5HvfpepJDVzUR5oMnMXT9p_rKzFDipEVO0IWlAwXwcnBCan5AM5vevy4toroEGJfszCQchBLQBkdJQkzgPflT3J0rFmExrXjm_8h3PKj4/s1600/IMG_2416.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcnTl3C-Cu34XoBKqgHw5GWNl7I2CNGomVnZ5HvfpepJDVzUR5oMnMXT9p_rKzFDipEVO0IWlAwXwcnBCan5AM5vevy4toroEGJfszCQchBLQBkdJQkzgPflT3J0rFmExrXjm_8h3PKj4/s400/IMG_2416.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600099979341671490" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3-MTitVwua02Jabk8ZalPyvtV6K1cTT9d3y1E9gy-eEokSDkC9M0wUetoJp6QItQA1ZuL-SJZPeswC1y8EKzqf1oHMDtjcqa6s3w-MDwuhEPVvSzF8q_XNU-cUffBqA4quAwRtGm_IM/s1600/IMG_2405.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3-MTitVwua02Jabk8ZalPyvtV6K1cTT9d3y1E9gy-eEokSDkC9M0wUetoJp6QItQA1ZuL-SJZPeswC1y8EKzqf1oHMDtjcqa6s3w-MDwuhEPVvSzF8q_XNU-cUffBqA4quAwRtGm_IM/s400/IMG_2405.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600100635598074770" /></a><br /><br />Better. Yes, much better. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-38781018422214273962011-04-21T17:17:00.019-04:002011-04-22T08:39:14.338-04:00The Worst Easter Egg Hunt Ever<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0gMMB634FEL-iPlhoAk2Y_qB9nfJ4oENPqZTH-eAuVOUkCCDz0UHBFPwXGGOVt_TyIWPTsvLkUCgXAE2w61hxhxATkadrdq5b88rIR0Kq8ieL3-Ha-EaGMTtW91WrhXlJLfiXHEToOE/s1600/IMG_2986.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0gMMB634FEL-iPlhoAk2Y_qB9nfJ4oENPqZTH-eAuVOUkCCDz0UHBFPwXGGOVt_TyIWPTsvLkUCgXAE2w61hxhxATkadrdq5b88rIR0Kq8ieL3-Ha-EaGMTtW91WrhXlJLfiXHEToOE/s400/IMG_2986.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598366573157748066" /></a><br />Saturday was the town Easter Egg Hunt at our country house in New Paltz. Last year, the egg hunt was unmitigated joy, face painting, baskets loaded with colored eggs, an appearance by the Easter Bunny himself, candy eaten scandalously in the backseat of the car, little faces smeared in chocolate. In a word, awesome. <br /><br />This year, the egg hunt began with weeping. And ended in nudity and weeping. This is sometimes how it goes for us. <br /><br />Every Easter Sunday, David gets up at the crack of dawn with a garbage bag full of plastic eggs - that took us hours the night before to fill with candy and little tiny annoying useless toys - and litters the yard and the surrounding woods with them. The kids jump out of bed on Sunday morning to find a proper Easter basket. They rifle through that for awhile, pop a chocolate or ten into their mouths for breakfast, and then, grab a bag and hord - I mean, find - as many eggs as they can. <br /><br />The town egg hunt is a whole different affair. The whole town comes out. There are firetrucks, a huge bunny walking around shaking hands and posing for pictures. There are moms selling cupcakes, an easter basket raffle, and several large expanses of grass flush with colored plastic eggs. Then someone blows a whistle and seemingly sweet, nicely-raised kids knock each other down and rip eggs out of each others hands, all so they can fill their baskets with crap, as parents look on proudly. <br /><br />It's a nice event. With nice people. Which is why I was surprised when the whole thing turned to shit on me. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"> <br />This year, David was working so I took them to the hunt by myself. We have ballet (Edie)and gymnastics (Lucy) Saturday mornings, so we each brought outfits to change into for the hunt...well, not Edie, she forgot hers, so we swung by the house on the way to the hunt and David handed us a fresh change of clothes through the car window, with the motor still running, and everyone agreed the clothes were good - or so I thought - and we sped off toward the hunt. <br /><br />Did I tell you it was cold? It was. And that it started to rain? It did. Which is fine. We are Fosters. We are tough (Lucy hates it when I say that) We parked the car and started to change our clothes. The hunt was about to start. We had five minutes. We could do this. Lucy was in and out of her clothes in under 30 seconds. Nothing gets between her and a good race with candy at the end of it. Edie was looking at her clothes. The wrong clothes. The ones David got very very wrong. She burst into tears. <br /><br />Lucy was looking out the window at the kids lining up for the hunt. Edie started screaming and throwing the clothes and sobbing harder. I had a brilliant idea. I was calm. We could solve this problem. She could wear her ballet outfit, her tutu even. She loved her ballet outfit. <br /><br />That's when she became inconsolable. The very idea was a misery. The rain was really coming down. Lucy was antsy, eager, afraid she'd miss something important, but still trying to be patient, still thinking of her sister before her own needs. I knew we had to get out of the car and start heading over or we'd miss the whole thing. I didn't want Lucy to miss any of the hunt because of Edie's tantrum. One way or another we were going to cross this grass and go to a friggin easter egg hunt. I gave Edie the choice: ballet outfit or Daddy's outfit. <br /><br />Screams. <br /><br />I grabbed her spare clothes, the hated clothes, thinking I could get her to put them on, picked her up and told Lucy to head on over to the hunt, we'd be right behind. Edie started screaming... "Go home...Change...my...clothes...Change...my...clothes..." She wiggled out of my arms and went full throttle into a kicking tantrum right there in the wet grass which just totally pissed her off. Parents were staring. Kids heading to the hunt were staring. I tried to stay focused on Edie, getting her through this, keeping my own temper at bay. To hell with those nosey starers anyway. Had they never had a crying child before? Let 'em think whatever they think. <br /><br />She went limp on the ground, kicking, screaming and raging from the wet grass and...this is where it gets worse...taking off her leotard. It's 40 degrees, it's raining, I can no longer see where Lucy is in the hords of kids with Easter baskets and Edie has pulled her leotard around her waist and was screaming, I want to change my clothes...I want to change my clothes..."<br /><br />I grab her off the ground. It wasn't easy lifting her from a dead lift, but I do it, awkwardly, losing a leg here and picking up an arm here, hoisting her up against my hip and then into my arms. It wasn't pretty. I see more staring. All the while people think my next move will be to dump her into a non-descript white van and pull away into oblivion. At this point, no one would be able to tell the difference between me and a hideously motivated stranger. There's not a single inkling this wailing child knows me, let alone loves me. <br /><br />I head into the crowd to find Lucy. Edie is wailing and half-naked in my arms. She's thrusting her torso so I can't get a solid grip on her and I keep having to wheel her around in different directions in my arms. I have no idea where Lucy is. I know she's there, but I hate not being able to lay my eyes on her. <br /><br />Also, I have a huge winter coat on, so I look like the most selfish person on the planet, holding my nearly naked daughter in my arms. I see Lucy is okay. She is shaking hands with the Easter Bunny. She's smiling. Such a big girl, able to take care of herself. Twinge of guilt. I see a friend of David's who has a child Edie's age and I ask him to look after Lucy, which he does. He has no choice, really. I'm struggling in the deep end and he's the only one with a life vest. His act of good will gives me some room to manuever.<br /><br />I take off my winter coat, while holding Edie's squirming body with one hand and whip it around her and head to the cupcake stand. So, now, I'm cold. But I don't care because she is much less visibly naked than she was a few seconds ago. But she's still fighting it. I go to the cupcake stand mostly because there is a tourist building there and I think I might be able to go inside, talk to her, settle her and get her warm. But no, the Cupcake Mom, says it's closed. <br /><br />I decide to buy Edie a cupcake. There are moms there. I know there is camraderie here. They've been here. They'll get me. I just need a reassuring smile from one of my sisters, a bolt of energy to help me find what Edie needs and give it to her. <br /><br />The Cupcake Lady hears Edie asking for a change of clothes and assumes what she thinks is obvious - that I am actually preventing my daughter from wearing warm clothes and that I am subjecting to her to be naked in winter weather. The Cupcake Lady shoots the Cupcake Lady next to her a look. She comes around to the front of the table, and gets up in Edie's face and in a sugary voice asks the child in my arms: Honey, do you want mommy to get you some warm clothes? You are so cold, arent you? <br /><br />Edie: Change...My...Clothes...<br /><br />Then, she looks at me as if I have no clue and says: Oh look at her, she's freezing. You have to put some clothes on her. <br /><br />Edie: Change...My...Clothes...<br /><br />Cupcake Lady to Edie: Are you asking Mommy for warm clothes? You just want to wear clothes like the other children...<br /><br />The mere mention of clothes makes Edie start flipping out again and wiggle even farther out of the coat I'm trying to keep around her. I realize I have no friends here. And I'm surrounded by police and mandatory reoporters and God help me, Waldorf school teachers, and if I don't get her out of there right this minute, I might actually end up in a child protective services office having to explain to David why they took custody of our daughter. <br /><br />Sometimes, I write stuff like this for impact, for laughs, but I seriously had a moment where I thought these people were actually thinking I was mistreating, punishing, hurting my child. It was frightening.<br /><br />I grab three cupcakes, get the last look of judgement and horror from the Cupcake Lady and sit with Edie in the warm, running jeep, semi-naked, eating cupcakes and watching Lucy scurry around the wet grass picking up eggs, until the hunt for eggs is over and David's friend - who saved my ass - returns her to me. I have a spare cupcake waiting for her. The screams have stopped. There are only wet cheeks, reluctant hugs and amends, whimpers and cupcake crumbs. We are putting it behind us. She's sitting on my lap in the front seat. <br /><br />Turns out Lucy only got six eggs, two of which she shares with her sister. There is secret candy eating in the backseat and chocolate faces after all. But six eggs is a crushing Easter blow. No one can dispute that. We discuss it in detail on the ride home. Lucy decides this is only a runner up to the real one at our house on Easter Sunday. She decides this might be the worst Easter egg hunt ever. <br /><br />Edie and I agree. <br /><br />xo YM<br /><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6434726458328084701.post-56181215075383211912011-04-11T09:51:00.021-04:002011-04-11T12:17:04.448-04:00The Kitchen Scale<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YRP3qERKt6jLWLvPqGMkbX30YU_XuDRpvLfb49alIY46tAvRVndFHrrE2ObIA5GQaENNQgagihmXGg_XK78KyQOv02HQ03SnCoiY14bzkViHYAx0wFTJAm-TyKWwk87Rn50GjN35l4w/s1600/kitchen+scale+4.+jpg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YRP3qERKt6jLWLvPqGMkbX30YU_XuDRpvLfb49alIY46tAvRVndFHrrE2ObIA5GQaENNQgagihmXGg_XK78KyQOv02HQ03SnCoiY14bzkViHYAx0wFTJAm-TyKWwk87Rn50GjN35l4w/s400/kitchen+scale+4.+jpg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594350004105428754" /></a><br />I do not own a kitchen scale. <br /><br />There is a growing number of food writers out there - people I love and follow and read voraciously - that are encouraging and inspiring cooks to put down their teaspoons and cups, and embrace the scale. Measuring by weight gives you better results, more precise amounts, it helps you use a recipe with more efficiency. It gives you, they say, better food. <br /><br />And I believe them. But I can't bring myself to buy one. <br /><br />And until I read Grace Young's elegant, beautifully-written book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wisdom-Chinese-Kitchen-Classic-Celebration/dp/0684847396/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1302537184&sr=1-1">The Wisdom of the Chinese Kitchen</a> I couldn't figure out why. Why was I balking? It's just a scale. But when I read Grace's chapter, "Cooking as Meditation", I understood what I was feeling. If you've never read her book, you should. She is a graceful storyteller. She writes with economy, every word is essential and necessary. You never feel like it's too much. It's just what it should be. Her writing is precision, craft and heart. <br /><br />How much do I love this book? I've photocopied this chapter and have it in my kitchen drawer, so I never lose my way in the kitchen. That's how much. <br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Grace writes:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I was taught early in my life to appreciate the fragrance, texture, succulence, and taste of a well-composed dish. Baba and Mama pointed out to me how a chef achieves greatness only after years of practice. They called this honing of skills mastery, or si fu. I have since learned it is also possible for nonchefs to master cooking without relying on elaborate techniques. When certain virtues are applied, an experienced cook can take the simplest ingredients and techniques to form a work of beauty. The most important virtue is alertness to senses; knowing when an ingredient has the correct visual cues, smells, sounds, tastes, and texture is more valuable than mastering the intricacies of a complicated recipe. <br /><br />In the modern home kitchen, the true art of cooking by instinct is diminishing, partially because of the emergence of so many appliances that replace the need to rely on one's own cooking judgement. Kitchen gadgets have replaced culinary expertise. Rice cookers alleviate the cultivation of judgement of when to slow the fire and when to simmer the rice to begin the steaming process. Deep-fat-fry thermometers indicate when the oil has reached the right temperature for frying, and instant-read thermometers take the intuition out of knowing when the meat is cooked. Food processors grind meat that was once hand-chopped with a cleaver...My parents maintain ardently that the patience to hand-chop or hand-shred produces a tangible difference in taste and texture.<br /><br />...My parents teach that when you cook you must be able to change directions, chun bien. You must use your powers of observation, regarding every situation as unique, and adjusting accordingly...The high heat on my parents' front burner is more powerful than the setting on the back burner. This simple fact affects cooking time.<br /><br />...As in life, one must observe the subtleties of cooking and adjust, remembering not to be enslaved to a recipe's cooking times or measurements. It is mindfulness, attentiveness, and gaining self-confidence through experience that nourish success.<br /></span><br /><br />Sometimes the reason we cook or write about cooking gets lost. We think it's about complexity and difficulty and impressing people. We think it's about gadgets and equipment and perfect outcomes. We stupidly think the meal is about us, our way to express ourselves, and show who we are to an audience of hungry eaters. But what I want to be in the kitchen is also what I want to be in life: mindful, attentive, self-confident. And this is what I want my girls to be. <br /><br />This isn't really about the scale, which has it's usefulness, but I think I just want less stuff, more intuition in my life. And the kitchen seems like a good place to start. <br /><br />Thanks, Grace. <br /><br /> <br />xo Kim<br /><br /><br />The picture (above) is from <a href="http://www.splorp.com">Splorp</a><br /><br /></span>Kim Fosterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12931573096200273764noreply@blogger.com18