What’s for supper? Vol. 85: Musings

This week, I managed to take one (1) picture of food, and I managed to make one (1) meal that it even made sense to take a picture of.

Therefore, I will claim the droit du mommyblogger and outrageously pad the following text with irrelevant photos of my little home, all designed, with the help of free online editing software, to arouse strong emotions when you compare them with your own surroundings.

SATURDAY
Hamburgers, chips, Star Crunch

Before I commence with the domestic portion of this post, here is something that has been on my heart for many years, and I feel convicted to share.

Star Crunch are the hamburgers of the packaged dessert world.

THINK ABOUT IT. I’m not saying it is a coincidence and I’m not saying it’s not not a coincidence. I’m just saying. This is how They do it. None so blind, eh?

***

SUNDAY
Oven-roasted pork ribs, baked potatoes, asparagus; vanilla ice cream with fresh blueberry sauce

A very fine meal that was all about making the oven hot, putting pans of food in, and then taking them out again later.

For the blueberries, I put them in a pot with some sugar, lemon juice, vanilla, and a little butter and mashed them a little.

***

MONDAY
Chicken and salad

I wondered if I could make chicken for salad in my Instant Pot. I Googled it, and quickly turned up a post about this very thing. Written by me.

I prefer to describe this phenomenon (which happens on the regular) as “humility,” rather than “profound idiocy.”

***

TUESDAY
Thai chicken coconut soup (Tom Kha Gai), rice

Once, I made a soup so overwhelmingly offensive to the senses that, when, on my way to the table, I slipped on a wet bathing suit and dropped the pot and the soup all ran under the refrigerator, the children spontaneously cheered.

This soup wasn’t quite that good.

I followed this recipe, which includes a delicious combination of chicken and mushrooms with coconut milk, lemongrass, fresh ginger, lime juice, fish sauce, chile paste, basil, and cilantro. But I accidentally boiled the hell out of it, so the coconut milk broke. I also misunderstood the point of lemongrass, and cut it into little bits which were irretrievable.

The taste was actually not terrible, but the texture was just so upsetting. You know when you find a sippy cup of milk that’s been sitting in the sun all week? Then garnish with hot bamboo. What I’m trying to say, fresh lime juice will only take you so far.

***

WEDNESDAY
Mushroom, cheddar, and salami omelettes; salad

***

THURSDAY
Chicken drumsticks, peas, bread and butter

I cooked the chicken in the morning and then crashed so hard. This week has been murder. Murder, I tell you. By the time it was time to eat, I could barely work up the strength to allow the chicken to plummet from my hands onto the table. With my last reserves, I chucked two bags of frozen peas after it, then nudged a loaf of bread in the dining room’s general direction, and died.

***
FRIDAY
Bowties with pesto

I don’t think you heard me the first time, so I’ll spell it out for you.

And I will see you on the other side.

8 thoughts on “What’s for supper? Vol. 85: Musings”

  1. I don’t really remember what I cooked all week. It was food and nobody complained. Kid #5 was gone most of the week, so that left me with just the three little kids to cook for. They eat such small amounts it stuns me. This leads me to believe that feeding the older, hungry ones is where all of our money has gone.

    My husband gets exotic catered meals for breakfast and lunch, and there’s always extra meals, so he brings one home for dinner here and there. I’m not sure if I’m jealous or ecstatic about this or both. He has a persnickety palate so the food must reallllly be good or he wouldn’t have such a happy little glow when he talks about it. He also went out to a super-hipstery dinner with our daughter on Thursday night. I called while he was waiting for her at the bar and googled the place so I could live vicariously. On Friday I took my 13-year-old out to breakfast at our favorite beach hangout. It was a gorgeous day. The other kids had pizza and gobs of sugary treats at school so I made them hand made chicken tacos for their snack and made cream of broccoli soup with the left over chicken and some quick broth from the bones. I got all excited like my long lost one was coming home to sweep me up onto his white stallion, so I went all out and chose an outfit (from where he used to work)that I knew he’d appreciate, –off white silk romper with a floor length hooded light mesh sweater in a muted green, gold and jade long earrings and stilettos. I curled my hair, did some smoldering eyeliner, and made sure everything looked beautiful when he came in.

    We pre-gamed, then went to the overpriced it-spot and ordered lightly. They brought us complimentary popcorn cooked in bacon fat, and we ordered an appetizer of Hamachi with watermelon in she-she sauce, and also duck confit with a side of I can’t remember. We sat at the communal table which is this giant slice of a tree, balanced on four old, oil burning heaters. Across the room couples can get amorous in the booths made from decommissioned confessionals. It sounds provocative in theory doesn’t it? Someone must have thought they would be some kind of design triumph, but the old baroque inspired walls look like they are laden with memories. I couldn’t look at them for fear of spoiling things.

    The next day we worked on my kitchen, (picked up a rental car because he was rear ended on his first week at his new job), and I designed a Spanish “tile rug” composed of hand painted Mexican Talavera that will be the centerpiece of my kitchen floor. I found the old tiles hidden under brush and vines at the far end of the property. We went to Wonder Woman with four kids, fed them ice cream and popcorn, came home and dropped like flies. I woke at midnight, realized the 17-y.o. that we dropped off on a lonely beach road to go to a party wasn’t in his bed, shook my husband awake, fretted, moaned, and sent him alternating threatening/pleading texts. He sauntered in at 2 and shrugged saying “my phone died”.

    We were so happy most of the week end. But he just left again, so the high becomes a low. I don’t know how military wives do it. Hopefully we can buy our little Hobbit house soon, and trade off as road warriors.

  2. Monday around here was hot, so dinner was two grocery store rotisserie chickens, corn on the cob made in the crockpot (LIFE CHANGING), and fruit. I must have been hitting homeruns with dinners lately, because on Wednesday, a day wherein I took three children to the art museum, the art museum store, lunch out, and then Trader Joe’s and THEN the library for a woefully short trip because=groceries in the trunk, and I figured well, I’ve been making dinner a lot lately, why not just let people eat what they want to eat, when they want to eat, my husband said, not quite mournfully, “Oh, it’s get what you want night…like last night?” and then I remembered that Tuesday was also kind of “whatever you want, I’ll put out a salad bar for the three of us who like salad”, and two nights in a row like that is hard on a hard-working husband. He has had a horrible week, and I dropped the ball.

    So anyway I made up for it last night with crock pot fried rice (again—LIFE CHANGING and 5 out of 6 of us love it), broiled salmon (topped with butter, garlic powder, salt and parsley from the garden–delicious), and broccoli from the garden. My family is touchingly grateful when I make a whole meal, is what I’m saying, so I have to remember that.

    Tonight will be pasta, salad, breadsticks and these amazingly delicious cheesecake samplers from the grocery store. Hopefully nobody will notice I forgot to buy yogurt.

  3. Bah. Weeks that are murder shouldn’t require any cooking at all…so you’re seven meals on the plus side already. Hope you can get some rest, and that next week is better.

  4. The “windowsill o’ razors” has to be the saddest thing I’ve seen in the last five minutes.
    Oh, and I just spelled minutes wrong, and spellcheck changed it to “immunizes”. Yeah. It’s that kind of week around here too. Love you gurl.

    1. I had never heard of that book before Simcha recommended it, so I requested it from the library. None of my kids would even let me read it to them. However, they adore the Arabel and Mortimer stories by Joan Aiken. Those are awesome.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *