That’s the way it is in Minnesota 29 January 2010

It is 20º as I write this, with winds gusting up to 50mph.  My kitchen is pretty darn frigid at the moment, since for some reason it’s like a sieve.  You can feel the cold air seeping in under the dishwasher and through my corner cupboard where I store my spices.  There was a serious change in temperature as I walked from the bedroom to the main living space this morning, much greater than there usually is.  I’m warm enough now in the living room, but I’m doing my best to stay out of the kitchen.  Brrr.

It snowed yesterday, you see, but it didn’t stick.  We’d been having weather too warm for the ground to be frozen, so even though we had two hours of lovely, huge flakes coasting down from the sky, we had nothing to show for it when the storm was over.  Fortunately the snow we did have last month has finally melted, which means that the five foot tall mound of snow and grit and sand and muck in my front yard has melted down into just a wide pile of grit among what little grass the grit hasn’t killed.  Good thing I don’t care about how lush my front yard is.

I don’t know if we’re supposed to get any more snow soon.  It doesn’t look like it — just frigid temps through the weekend.  But I would like to see more snow.  Call me crazy, but I do love the winter.

This weekend we have a kid’s birthday party to go to.  Fortunately it’s one in which I know most of the adult attendees, so I won’t be freaking out about it beforehand.  I do, sometimes, have social anxiety.  It’ll also be a nice way to catch up with some of my friends that I haven’t seen in a while.  It seems like it’ll be the same folks we had over for Grace’s birthday, and we had a good time then.  We just have to go get him a birthday present.  I guess he’s really into Thomas the Tank Engine, so that’ll be easy.  I wish we had time to go to Target, though.  ONE DAY I will live within a decent distance of a Target.  This driving 45 minutes to the closest one is getting old.  It’s been that way since 2003, when we moved to Washington.

It’s good for my wallet, though.  It’s too easy to spend a lot of money at Target.

What I don’t get, however, are the folks who shop at CVS and Walgreens.  Yes, I understand getting your prescriptions filled there, but shopping?  Every time I’ve been in one, I have been shocked at the exorbitant prices.  Maybe I’m just used to Walmart and Target.  I know folks don’t like Walmart, but I don’t see how there’s any difference between giving your money to a conglomerate like Target and one like CVS.  I don’t mind paying more for groceries at my local health food store since the money is staying locally, but when it comes to nationwide chains, I’m going with what’s cheaper.

Apparently my family used to own Rite Aid.  Distant family, of course, so it’s not like I saw any of the proceeds.  I’m a tiny bit partial to Rite Aid now, but not enough to shop there, especially the one we have closest to our house.  I’ve been in it once, and it’s pretty scary.  It used to be something else, before Rite Aid took over, and they didn’t do anything to clean it up.

In other news, we had a parent-teacher conference with Grace’s teacher this afternoon.  There were no surprises whatsoever — she’s smart, she follows instructions, she’s good with the other children, and she has a vivid imagination.  Her teacher loves having her in class.  She’s actually the most advanced kid in her class, which makes sense.  She’s the oldest kid; any older than Grace and they’d be in kindergarten this year.   It’s kind of frustrating that she has to be in pre-K still, since she’s so advanced, but at least she shows the other kids the way.  And next year she’ll be in real school.  I just wonder if we’re going to end up having her skip a grade.  She can already read and do simple math, and she’s not even in kindergarten yet.

I was pleasantly surprised to see how much they were covering in pre-K.  I didn’t realize that they have social studies and science too, just like in elementary school.  I sort of figured they had some reading and some math, plus loads of playtime since they are only four and five years old, but no, it’s like mini school, just down at their level.  So they’re learning how to investigate things with a simplified version of the scientific method, which I think is just great.  And Grace’s latest marvel is making patterns.  EVERYTHING has to be  a pattern for her.  And she does really complex ones, not just alternating simple patterns.  It’s actually pretty amazing.

On the Mary Ellen front, she was interviewed by the early interventionists, and she does indeed qualify for help with her expressive communication, which basically means she doesn’t talk.  The EI folks were so impressed by all her other skills, apparently far and away more than a baby of her age should be able to do.  She can hold a crayon properly, not in a fist like most babies.  And she love love loves to color — which is why I’ve had to get out the Magic Eraser to rid my walls of crayon marks.  Grace never did that, funnily enough.  ME can hear, though.  That was proven by her ability to balance, which was another skill that she tested above her age group for.  And she responds when we talk to her, just not with language.  So we’re starting on signs; ME can now sign “more” and “all done,” and we’re working on “help.”  It’s pretty neat that she’s going to be able to communicate with us soon.  I don’t really care whether it’s by talking or with signing, as long as she can make her desires known to us.  I think that will go a long ways to helping her be less frustrated.

And a baby who isn’t frustrated is a very good thing.

You and I were meant to be 26 January 2010

Just so’s you know, I am backing up all my old Diaryland entries.  I’m publishing them retroactively, so they shouldn’t show up in your RSS feed reader of choice.  If they do, I apologize.  But I need to get these off Diaryland before it goes belly-up.  I have a feeling that site isn’t long for this world.

Anyhow.

So this weekend I made the same bad decision I make every single weekend.  In an effort to save money and feed my family home-cooked meals, I tend to make up the week’s menu on Sunday and trek to the commissary.

Therein lies the bad decision.

There is never any chicken on Sundays at the commissary.  Sometimes there’s not even ground beef, though I haven’t been buying ground beef lately.  I found out why this past Sunday, however.  Apparently they can only order for two weeks at a time, and they have yet to figure out exactly how much they can sell in those two weeks.  The meat guy says they had to throw away a few thousand dollars of meat after the holidays because it just didn’t sell.  Obviously they can’t have that happen on a regular basis, but that’s why they should go with being able to order every week.  The problem is, I don’t think they’ll ever be able to predict the quantities they need that far in the future.  This base has an amazing turnover with the folks that are stationed here.  Most are only here for ten months, and we get a new class at the War College every few months.  New students mean new families, which means new needs.

How can you plan when your customers are turning over every few months?  You can’t, and that’s why there is never any chicken at the commissary on Sundays.  And by “no chicken,” I mean that there are no bone-in parts, like thighs and legs, or even whole chickens.  Most of my recipes call for bone-in pieces since they’re so much more flavorful than boneless, skinless breast meat.

But you know, somehow I managed to come home from the commissary with everything I needed for this week’s menu.  So the commissary didn’t have any thighs and legs for my Chicken a la cubana.  Instead I bought a whole chicken and separated it into ten pieces my own self.  And this time I didn’t cut myself on my poultry shears either!

Yes, I am accident-prone where sharp implements are concerned.  Last week I had cut up a chicken without bloodshed, but later as I put a dish in the dishwasher, I jammed my thumb down onto my poultry shears, which led to a copious shedding of blood.  I also joked with my friend that if I died of salmonella poisoning, she would know how it happened.  Oops.

I also picked up some frozen chicken thighs for just $3 for 40 ounces, which came down to about 60¢ per pound, even cheaper than I can buy it fresh.  I don’t yet know if they’ll be as delicious as the fresh thighs, but we’ll try them in the recipe for oven-roasted chicken thighs with carrots, potatoes, and parsnips.  I know the carrots and parsnips will be delicious; they’re the ones I picked up at the farmers’ market this weekend.

Tonight’s dinner turned out really, really well — and was one of those deals where it’s stupidly easy but incredibly delicious.  Both my kids asked for seconds.  I’ve had the recipe for a long, long time, but just recently found it again.

Roasted Italian Sausages with Tomatoes and White Beans

2½ pounds sweet Italian sausage links (pork or turkey), cut into 2- or 3-inch pieces
3 pints cherry tomatoes
1 medium-large onion, cut into 1½-inch chunks
4 garlic cloves, sliced
3 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1½ Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
2 tsp. dried thyme leaves
2 whole bay leaves
Salt and pepper
3 16oz cans white beans, such as cannelini, drained, reserving ½ cup of liquid

Adjust oven rack to lowest position and, five minutes before you are ready to put the food in, turn the oven on to 425 degrees.

Mix everything but the beans and their reserved liquid in a roasting pan.  Set pan in oven.  Roast until sausages are brown and tomatoes have reduced to a thick sauce, about 45 minutes.  Remove from oven, stir in beans and reserved liquid, and continue cooking until casserole has heated through, about 10 minutes longer.  Remove bay leaves and transfer to a large serving bowl.

See??  Dead easy.  I actually just sort of layered everything in the roasting pan and drizzled the oil and vinegar over the sausages and veggies before roasting.  Adn I missed the whole part where I was supposed to cut the sausages, so I left them whole.  They cooked through, so it didn’t really matter.  But it was super, super good — and I will definitely be making this again.

Bonus?  The commissary almost always has the ingredients for this any day I choose to stock up.

No one makes me feel this way 24 January 2010

I’m sitting here watching the game, hoping and wishing that the Saints win because the Saints versus the Colts (with my boyfriend Peyton Manning) in the Super Bowl would just be the greatest in my world.  I even had Gracie rooting for “the golds” instead of “the whites.”

At least it’s an exciting game.  I know I probably speak blasphemy when I say that I’d rather a game be interesting to watch than be  a blow-out.  I don’t want my team of choice to crush the other team.  I’d rather they win by a touchdown or a field goal, just enough to make it worth watching the whole game.  I lose interest during blow-outs.

There.  I said it.

Can you believe that there are such things as farmers’ markets in the wintertime?  I had no idea, till I ran across it somehow.  I’m not even sure how, except that I have them marked down on my calendar.  I’ve been meaning to go since they started up in late November, but between trips to Tucson and family  visiting for Christmas and wedding weekends, I just haven’t had a free Saturday to go.  Friday night I woke Kurt up as he snoozed beside me in bed and informed him of my decision to investigate these farmers’ markets.  Of course, he has zero recollection of this — now you know why I never wake him up unless I can help it!

The first farmers’ market was over in North Kingstown, in the basement of an old textile mill.  Rhode Island and southern Massachusetts are littered with these old mills.  Some are abandoned, but some have been renovated and made into office space or apartments or even commercial stores.  One of my favorite antique stores up in New Bedford is in a building that used to be part of the Wamsutta mill complex.

This is one of those abandoned mills, this one just off the exit ramp off I-195 to Rt. 24 in Massachusetts.  I always look for it as we’re coming home from Providence (yes, you go through another state to get to Newport from Providence — one of the oddities of living in such a tiny state) because I find the sign so charming.

So we arrived at the farmers’ market in North Kingstown to be greeted by rollicking music and many delicious fresh foods crammed into a relatively small space.  I grabbed a locally roasted coffee and taste-tested so much local cheese that I lost my appetite for lunch.  But it was all so good!  They even had a chocolate goat cheese, which was rather interesting in its flavor.  Kurt found it rather appalling, but Grace really wanted me to bring it home with us.  I couldn’t, though.  What would I use it for?  Just a spread?  I have so many condiments, I really do.  The last thing I need is yet one more.

In the middle of the market were two gents providing the rollicking music.  One was on guitar, while the other sang and played the accordion.  These guys were good; I really wish I’d taken some video to share with you.  I didn’t even think to ask the name they play under!  Maybe they’ll be back next week.  They were accepting tips to donate to Haiti, which I found to be a very sweet gesture.

We didn’t buy much at that farmers’ market, however.  Kurt found a blue cheese that was really yummy, but another couple was hoping to take home the last slice, so we let them have it.  The vendor was kind enough to give us the rest of the samples for free in thanks.

However, the same dairy was present at the other farmers’ market up in Pawtucket, which we also visited yesterday, so we were able to get our own slice of that scrumptious blue cheese as well.  That second market, also in an old mill, was absolutely huge, and there were so many vendors that it felt like I was walking into Pike Place up in Seattle — and there were almost as many people there!  We managed to score excellent deals on fresh parsnips and carrots, while Kurt procured some locally-made salsa and I got a new jar of dill beans.  We also managed to find lunch there, from a woman who runs a crêperie in Providence.  We haven’t had crêpes since we left Washington.  Every so often when we still lived in Poulsbo, we’d head down to Kingston, right at the ferry dock, and buy delicious crêpes from a little store right there in front of the ferry terminal.  I didn’t even realize there would be a crêperie here in Rhode Island, with the strong Portuguese influence.  Yesterday’s selection was just spinach and mozzarella on a buckwheat crêpe, but it was so delicious that I could have eaten two, maybe three!

I might just have to head up to Providence soon to visit this crêperie.

And now to find recipes to utilize all these delicious fresh foods.  Yummmm.