What’s for supper? Vol. 277: Lamb

Yesterday, Epiphany, we went to Mass.

IN OUR DINING ROOM.

I still can’t even believe it happened, and I will never ever forget it. This is why I’ve been pushing so hard to finish the dining room renovations! I got it all more or less done in time (and I will write a whole other thing about that with copious before and after photos). Meantime, here’s our What’s for Supper for the week, including Epiphany, when WE HAD MASS IN OUR DINING ROOM.

ON OUR DINING ROOM TABLE. I still can’t even believe it. 

SATURDAY
New Year’s

Oh wait, first, we did have homemade sushi for New Year’s Eve, as planned. My sushi rolls turned out okay, not amazing. But the sushi party was fun, and there was lots of tasty food.

Everybody found something they liked, including the cat.

We watched a Marx Brothers movie (the one where they go to college. A college widow is a woman who dates college students and then still lives in town after they graduate, thereby making her a “widow” of sorts every year when they leave. We have to look it up every few years) and then an MST3K episode (Reptilicus). Corrie could have stayed up all night, I believe. 

And now I also have to tell you about one of the most boneheaded things I have done in the kitchen in ages. Earlier in the week, I had scouted around town and found a large and beautiful lamb shank, probably six pounds. I intended to roast it on New Year’s Eve and serve it with pita bread for a nice little treat. So on Saturday afternoon, I got all the other ingredients and all the stuff for sushi, and got home just in time to season the lamb and get it in the oven before we need to get the sushi rice going. 

And . . . I couldn’t find it. I could not find this rather large piece of lamb, which, as I mentioned, is at least six pounds. How do you lose a hunk of lamb? True, we have two refrigerators, but we ended up taking everything out of both of them, and I simply could not find that lamb. I knew I had put it in there! I felt like I was losing my mind! The only thing I could find was this piece of pork, and where did that even come from? Didn’t I already cook the pork a few days ago for those kind of mediocre . . . nachos . . . 

Oh no. 

Yes, friends, I had made a terrible mistake. Somehow, I was so busy and stressed out and dopey that I had tossed a giant $7-a-pound lamb shank into the crock pot and boiled the hell out of it, shredded it, and served it on top of store brand tortilla chips with wads of melted cheese. LAMB NACHOS. We had lamb nachos, and we didn’t even know it. 

Here’s a picture of the lamb nachos that I thought were pork nachos.

I am eating them on a box of shoes and miscellaneous crap because I was in the middle of putting in a new dining room floor and was *sob* just gulping down my food, not even really tasting it. 

So . . . we just had sushi for New Year’s Eve, no lamb, and Damien fried up some frozen dumplings and heated up some egg rolls and dumplings, and it was plenty.

You know, when I was working on the floor, at one point there was a big gaping hole leading directly to the basement, the the dog of course came along and instantly lost his Christmas ball down the hole. And he could not figure out what had happened. Ball . . .no ball! No ball. No ball! Where ball go? There was ball, now ball no here! No ball! Was ball . . . but now . . . no ball! Even after we got it for him, you could see that there was still this cold pocket of confusion in his brain, and I still think that even to this day, he hasn’t completely gotten over it. 

Well, that’s what I was like with this friggin’ lamb. I knew I had cooked it and eaten it and it was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. But I still spent the next few hours opening boxes and lifting cushions and peeking under tables, like it was going to be there waiting for me. Which would be weird! But I couldn’t help myself.  

A fitting way to end the year. 

ANYWAY. 
SUNDAY
NEW YEAR’S DAY
BIRTHDAY!

Baby New Year requested her traditional birthday meal, calzones and tiramisu. The calzones are my job, and I have a reliable but unspectacular method with pre-made pizza dough and sauce. Everyone likes it well enough, so I don’t mess with it.

Damien made the tiramisu using this recipe, and it was light and creamy and delicious as always. 

She elected to go visit an art museum with some of her friends in lieu of a party. 

MONDAY
Sheet pan lemon chicken on potatoes, garlic knots

I had a bunch of chicken thighs and no clear plan, so I tried out this NYT recipe, more or less. I skimmed, I skimmed. Basically you lay down a bunch of scallions, then a bunch of sliced potatoes, then some chicken thighs. You’re supposed to save out half the potatoes and arrange them around the chicken, so they probably would have come out more crisp than mine did if I had done that. You drizzle olive oil and sprinkle on plenty of salt and pepper on each layer. Then you cook it, allegedly for 35 minutes. For whatever reason, it took more like an hour and 15 minutes. Some chicken be like that. 

Then you remove the food from the pan, deglaze it, throw in some lemon juice and capers, and I also added some white wine, and make a little sauce to spoon over the chicken.

Serve with more lemon. And you can see the little girls also made up a bunch of garlic knots for us out of pizza dough. 

It was fine. It definitely would have been better if I had distributed the food over two pans to crisp it up more. But it was super easy to make, and I can imagine all kinds of combinations of things instead of the scallions and the potatoes. So there you go. I do love lemons and capers.

TUESDAY
Banh mi

Some of the family is tired of banh mi, but some of them still love it, and I happen to be a member of the latter group, so guess what’s staying in the rotation. 

Yes, I used the pork that was supposed to be nachos. A fitting way to bring closure to my lamb grief. My Lammkummer. 

WEDNESDAY
Burgers

Nothing to report. This seems like eleven years ago. 

THURSDAY
Shawarma, stuffed grape leaves, king cakes

So Thursday was Epiphany, the big day I had been pushing to get ready for all week. I, addition to putting in a new floor and trim, I bought a breakfast nook off Craigslist. I have been thinking of a breakfast nook ever since we moved into this house, and the perfect one finally turned up at the perfect time. 

The only thing wrong with it was that it smells like cigarette smoke. But this turns out to be not a catastrophe when it’s wood. (It was a catastrophe when I bought a giant curved leather couch that turned out to smell like cigarette smoke. I solved that by not sitting on the couch for several years, and then throwing the couch away.) I scrubbed it down with vinegar and then just let it air out, and the smell is almost gone. 

It came with a square table which has a Patriot’s logo stained and woodburned into it. I may eventually start using that as our main table. But that was not the table I was going to use when we had Mass at our house. Instead, Lena scoured and scrubbed and bleached the heck out of the old wood and tile one we’ve been using for almost 25 years, and I covered it with a fresh white cloth, and . . . guys, we had Mass on our dining room table.

I supplied our friend Fr. Matthew with some candles and a bowl to wash his hands, and he brought his Mass kit and a little bag with hosts for everyone in the family, and we set up chairs facing the table, and we had Mass.

I didn’t take any pictures during Mass, because I wanted to be as present as possible. But if you are picturing an intensely reverent atmosphere, that ain’t it. We were running a little behind schedule and made the tactical error of just throwing the dog into his crate, rather than giving him time to figure out that Fr. Matthew is an okay guy. So the entire Mass was set to the horrible music of a frantic boxer expressing profound self-pity and woe, woe, woe, woe, woooooooe. Then, right after the Sanctus, the kitchen timer went off for the shawarma, and then of course the smoke alarm went off. In other words, there is no way it could have been any other way, and Jesus came to us, and it was beautiful and ridiculous and holy. And the Benadryl we gave the dog eventually kicked in, sort of. 

I did take some photos of the rest of the evening! Pardon me while I do a bit of a photo dump. We did the Epiphany house blessing, with the blessed chalk on the door way 

and holy water in the four corners of the main rooms. 

and the kids did some of the readings for the blessing. 

Then we had chicken shawarma and stuffed grape leaves and fruit. We had the chicken with pita, yogurt sauce, cucumbers and tomatoes, various olives, feta, and hummus; and grapes and pomegranates. The stuffed grape leaves were a mish mash of various recipes, but they were filled with rice seasoned mainly with mint and dill. 

They were pretty good, if not very tidy. I definitely prefer fresh grape leaves. These were from a jar. 

Then we at the two Rouse’s king cakes Fr. Matthew carried on a plane from Louisiana, because that’s the kind of priest he is

and then we had some piano time,

some guitar and ukulele and kalimba time,

and some more animal time. 

Corrie sang all the verses of “Mississippi,” her favorite murder ballad, and some of us discovered we can sing in harmony when pressed. And then we all got a blessing and then it was time to go! I have never had a more wonderful Epiphany day. 

I will tell you, when Fr. Matthew suggested having Mass at our house, I almost turned him down, because it seemed overwhelming, and we’re not the kind of people who etc. etc. But if you ever have the opportunity, please do it. It was a joy. 

And good grief, you guys. I just realized. The last thing I did in 2021 was lose the lamb that was supposed to go on our table.

The first thing we did in 2022 was . . . this. 

Well. 

And now this seems like a terrible anti-climax, but this is still a food blog, so. . .

FRIDAY
Quesadillas

Having quesadillas today! And then I am going to drop dead, because I am exhausted. 

 

5 from 1 vote
Print

Calzones

This is the basic recipe for cheese calzones. You can add whatever you'd like, just like with pizza. Warm up some marinara sauce and serve it on the side for dipping. 

Servings 12 calzones

Ingredients

  • 3 balls pizza dough
  • 32 oz ricotta
  • 3-4 cups shredded mozzarella
  • 1 cup parmesan
  • 1 Tbsp garlic powder
  • 2 tsp oregano
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1-2 egg yolks for brushing on top
  • any extra fillings you like: pepperoni, olives, sausage, basil, etc.

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven to 400. 

  2. Mix together filling ingredients. 

  3. Cut each ball of dough into fourths. Roll each piece into a circle about the size of a dinner plate. 

  4. Put a 1/2 cup or so of filling into the middle of each circle of dough circle. (You can add other things in at this point - pepperoni, olives, etc. - if you haven't already added them to the filling) Fold the dough circle in half and pinch the edges together tightly to make a wedge-shaped calzone. 

  5. Press lightly on the calzone to squeeze the cheese down to the ends. 

  6. Mix the egg yolks up with a little water and brush the egg wash over the top of the calzones. 

  7. Grease and flour a large pan (or use corn meal or bread crumbs instead of flour). Lay the calzones on the pan, leaving some room for them to expand a bit. 

  8. Bake about 18 minutes, until the tops are golden brown. Serve with hot marinara sauce for dipping.  

 

5 from 1 vote
Print

Pork banh mi

Ingredients

  • 5-6 lbs Pork loin
  • 1/2 cup fish sauce
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 1 minced onion
  • 1/2 head garlic, minced or crushed
  • 2 tsp pepper

Veggies and dressing

  • carrots
  • cucumbers
  • vinegar
  • sugar
  • cilantro
  • mayonnaise
  • Sriracha sauce

Instructions

  1. Slice the raw pork as thinly as you can. 

  2. Mix together the fish sauce ingredients and add the meat slices. Seal in a ziplock bag to marinate, as it is horrendously stinky. Marinate several hours or overnight. 

  3. Grill the meat over coals or on a pan under a hot broiler. 

  4. Toast a sliced baguette or other crusty bread. 

 

5 from 1 vote
Print

quick-pickled carrots and/or cucumbers for banh mi, bibimbap, ramen, tacos, etc.

An easy way to add tons of bright flavor and crunch to a meal. We pickle carrots and cucumbers most often, but you can also use radishes, red onions, daikon, or any firm vegetable. 

Ingredients

  • 6-7 medium carrots, peeled
  • 1 lb mini cucumbers (or 1 lg cucumber)

For the brine (make double if pickling both carrots and cukes)

  • 1 cup water
  • 1/2 cup rice vinegar (other vinegars will also work; you'll just get a slightly different flavor)
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1 Tbsp kosher salt

Instructions

  1. Mix brine ingredients together until salt and sugar are dissolved. 

  2. Slice or julienne the vegetables. The thinner they are, the more flavor they pick up, but the more quickly they will go soft, so decide how soon you are going to eat them and cut accordingly!

    Add them to the brine so they are submerged.

  3. Cover and let sit for a few hours or overnight or longer. Refrigerate if you're going to leave them overnight or longer.

Print

Chicken shawarma

Ingredients

  • 8 lbs boned, skinned chicken thighs
  • 4-5 red onions
  • 1.5 cups lemon juice
  • 2 cups olive oil
  • 4 tsp kosher salt
  • 2 Tbs, 2 tsp pepper
  • 2 Tbs, 2 tsp cumin
  • 1 Tbsp red pepper flakes OR Aleppo pepper
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1 entire head garlic, crushed OR bashed into pieces

Instructions

  1. Mix marinade ingredients together, then add chicken. Put in ziplock bag and let marinate several hours or overnight.

  2. Preheat the oven to 425.

  3. Grease a shallow pan. Take the chicken out of the marinade and spread it in a single layer on the pan, and top with the onions (sliced or quartered). If you kept the garlic in larger pieces, fish those out of the marinade and strew them over the chicken. Cook for 45 minutes or more. 

  4. Chop up the chicken a bit, if you like, and finish cooking it so it crisps up a bit more.

  5. Serve chicken and onions with pita bread triangles, cucumbers, tomatoes, assorted olives, feta cheese, fresh parsley, pomegranates or grapes, fried eggplant, and yogurt sauce.

 

Print

Yogurt sauce

Ingredients

  • 32 oz full fat Greek yogurt
  • 5 cloves garlic, crushed
  • 1/4 cup lemon juice
  • 3 Tbsp olive oil
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1/2 tsp pepper
  • fresh parsley or dill, chopped (optional)

Instructions

  1. Mix all ingredients together. Use for spreading on grilled meats, dipping pita or vegetables, etc. 

 

The fairy tale of America

An essay I wrote a year ago, right after the January 6 riots. I found that I didn’t have to update much; I just had to change “is” to “was.” 

***

There was a short spell toward the end of 2020 where I kept thinking how wonderful it was that, despite the president’s years of open incitement, there was no violence during the election.

Trump’s true believers were still with us, but there hadn’t been election day riots, and it did seem like there would be a peaceful transfer of power. We’d just have to deal with a lot of crazy and dishonest people on a societal level; but at least the political system was intact. It felt like the country had passed an important test. The constitution had held.

Then came Wednesday. It felt something like the early hours of 9/11, when I stood in the kitchen prepping dinner, slowly realizing that what I was hearing on the radio was not normal political chatter, and that the news was not normal news, but that something new and dreadful was in progress. A violent mob was swarming the capitol building. Shots were fired. Congress cowered in fear.

The president’s fans tore down the American flag and hoisted a Trump flag in its place. There was blood on the floor of the senate. And when his arm was twisted to try to bring peace, the president recorded a message telling the men and women waving a flag of sedition, “You are very special. We love you.”

Four people are dead.

The president was still in office.

Can you understand the horror, the dread, the boundless disgust of this day? I don’t know if citizens of other countries feel about their governmental system the way many Americans feel about theirs.

But when I slowly realized that a MAGA mob was in the capitol building, smashing windows, scaling walls, clowning, capering, screaming, peeing on the carpets, rifling through private papers, and secreting pipe bombs while our representatives scurried into lockdown, it was — well, it was like going to bed feeling grateful that your beloved mother was doing so well staying sober, and then waking up to find that she discovered cocaine and is currently standing in your children’s bedroom with a pistol and a flamethrower, screaming that no one loves the family as much as she does.

And I thought, That’s it. It’s over. The foundation did not hold. They broke the constitution.

My heart is broken. I thought I had settled into a tolerable kind of rational cynicism about what our country is capable of, but it turns out some small part of me still believed in the fairytale of America. I used to fall asleep on summer nights listening to the local fife and drum corps practicing colonial marching tunes in the Woolworth parking lot. It’s very hard to shake that music once it’s in your head.

I know the story of our founding is mingled with myth. I don’t believe that the founding fathers were all righteous civic saints who unerringly chose the good. They were men, like all men full of a mix of good and bad intentions, and their actions showed it. We’re a work in progress and always have been.

But until that Wednesday, I believed that, despite the way we tend to go astray from time to time, we are still basically good, basically sensible, basically idealistic, basically faithful to the pursuit of the good. Basically willing to do better.

I believed that we are still essentially the same people as the people who founded this country, when hardworking farmers and blacksmiths washed the day’s work off their hands and immediately took up a quill pen for inking eloquent and persuasive arguments for a new kind of democracy patterned on ancient Athens. I knew this was part romantic myth, but I did believe we are always refining ourselves, always looking to rededicate ourselves to liberty and justice. That was the fairy tale I believed in.

The problem is that so many rabid Trump supporters also believe in a fairy tale. But it’s a different kind of fairy tale that captures their imaginations. It’s the kind where, if you have a wish and believe in your heart that it’s true, it must be true (and that’s how they know, despite a complete lack of evidence, that there was massive fraud and Trump really won the election). They believe in a fairytale where you can win a revolution by swarming in on a magical, star-spangled carpet of sheer patriotism (and are then shocked to discover the police carry mace) .

That when you’re feeling aggrieved and downtrodden, a magical prince will ride up on his steed and singlehandedly whisk you away to a land of wealth and happiness, safe forever from all your enemies (and don’t ask me how Trump managed to disguise himself as a prince, but apparently that’s what people see).

You might not think “fairytale” when you see an armed mob tricked out in riot gear and fatigues, but that’s essentially what it was: A dream, an unreal fantasy divorced from fact and rife with a horrible combination of wishful thinking, desperation, and narcissism, and powered by the nonsensical belief in some patriotic happily ever after.

The reality we live in right now is that vast swaths of the population believe in ludicrous, self-contradictory things that can’t possibly be true. They think it’s acceptable to lie and cheat and smash and hurt to achieve their happy ending.  They have an unshakeable belief that they are in every way and always the good guys, and that everyone who even questions them is an irredeemable villain.

They believe, in short, in the wrong kind of fairytale, the pointless, fabulistic kind where things don’t have to make sense as long as they make an entertaining story, and as long as you show up wearing a costume, you’ll probably win in the end. Americans now are in love with the kind of fairy tale where we emotionally swan away from reality and have a baseless belief in some future “happily ever after,” where you say magic spells to chase away monsters and you blow the magic horn and wait for the miracle to come.

The reality is that four people are dead, and the president was still in office.

Listen to this, now: The oldest fairytales weren’t about magic and costumes and dreams come true. The truest versions of these stories are about fear and evil, about deprivation and depravity, about hunger and betrayal, and they are about strength, fortitude, virtue, and courage that doesn’t get rewarded without a terrible, long struggle.

People told each other these strange, dark stories as a way of dealing with the archetypal monsters haunting our collective psyches, but nobody thought they were real. They were a way of giving us strength so we could do what needed to be done in our actual lives. There are no righteous mobs in fairytales. The heroes often suffer terribly, and are misunderstood, wrongly accused, abandoned, and isolated before they triumph. There is a happy ending, but not before the hero pays a terrible price.

And that is the kind of American fairytale I still believe in.

Not the kind where we get caught up in the magic of the moment, but the kind where we grimly face the things that lurk in the woods; where we conquer evil or flee from it, but we do not make friends with it; where we endure injustices endlessly rather than abandoning our ideals; where people may betray us, but they cannot disguise who they really are. Where goodness is required, whether it’s immediately rewarded or not.

There’s not going to be some permanent happily ever after for America. All great civilizations fall, some sooner than others. I don’t know how far away the end of my country’s story is. But I’ll be damned if I let a delusional mob make me believe that all is already lost. It is not lost. It’s still a good country and I remember why it was founded, even if nobody else does.

 

***

This essay was originally published on January 8, 2021 at The Catholic Weekly.

Image: Elvert Barnes from Silver Spring MD, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 <>, via Wikimedia Commons

What’s for supper? Vol. 276: Why not make sushi for New Years Eve?

Merry Christmas, lovely everybody! Merry Christmas to you. I love yez all.

Before we do What’s for Supper, I wanted to do a quick plug for a New Year’s Eve sushi party, which we’re getting ready to do for the I think 5th year in a row. 

Sushi parties are so much fun. As long as you’re not a perfectionist, sushi is actually pretty easy to make; and if you are, all you have to do is eat it real fast so you don’t have to look at it. You don’t have to make rolls, either. You can make individual sushi cones or even just little goblin bundles.  I usually make a few basic rolls for anyone to try, and then people can come up with their own combinations. There’s something for everyone, and it’s great fun to buzz around the table, picking out different exciting combinations. If you do make rolls, there’s something like the suspense of cutting a paper snowflake and opening it up to see how it turned out.

This is not going to be a place for you to learn how to make authentic sushi (or nigiri, or maki). We just set out a bunch of ingredients that taste good, and people combine them as they like and have fun with them. If you live in a more cosmopolitan area, no doubt you can get more interesting ingredients than we did! 

Here’s some of the things we’ve assembled in previous years:

sushi rice, obviously
nori (seaweed)
tuna, mahi, and/or salmon steaks that were frozen at sea, (freezing is how you kill parasites in raw fish)
seared and seasoned tuna 
sautéed calamari rings
small sautéed shrimp
canned salmon
imitation crab legs
soy sauce
wasabi sauce
ponzu sauce (citrus dipping sauce)
mayo with sriracha in it
pickled ginger
caviar or other roe
toasted sesame seeds
avocados
mangos
scallions
pineapple
pea shoots
pickled carrot matchsticks
cucumber in thin slices
toasted panko crumbs 
 

The rice part is, obviously, pretty important. I always spring for a sack of good sushi rice, which is just a gorgeous tactile experience in itself. It looks like polished little wedges of mother of pearl. I cook it in the Instant Pot (rinse the rice thoroughly, put equal amounts of rice and water in the pot, close the valve, press the rice button) then make the sushi rice, which is a bit of a production.

5 from 1 vote
Print

Sushi rice

I use my Instant Pot to get well-cooked rice, and I enlist a second person to help me with the second part. If you have a small child with a fan, that's ideal.

Ingredients

  • 6 cups raw sushi rice
  • 1 cup rice vinegar
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1 Tbsp salt

Instructions

  1. Rinse the rice thoroughly and cook it.

  2. In a saucepan, combine the rice vinegar, sugar, and salt, and cook, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved.

  3. Put the rice in a large bowl. Slowly pour the vinegar mixture over it while using a wooden spoon or paddle to fold or divide up the cooked rice to distribute the vinegar mixture throughout. You don't want the rice to get gummy or too sticky, so keep it moving, but be careful not to mash it. I enlist a child to stand there fanning it to dry it out as I incorporate the vinegar. Cover the rice until you're ready to use it.

The rest of it is just a matter of chopping and slicing and maybe a little toasting or sautéeing, and then of course assembling. 

I have a rolling mat, but you could also make sushi rolls by putting plastic wrap over a dishtowel. Basically you want to lay down a rectangle of rice, leave a horizontal margin of an inch or so, add a horizontal stripe of fillings, and carefully roll it up as tightly as you can, then carefully take the mat or towel off the roll and slice it into little disks with a sharp knife. Try putting a sheet of nori down and spreading the rice over that, to hold it together; but once you get the hang of it (and if you’ve made your rice sticky enough) the nori won’t be necessary.

Not that I took a picture. But I swear, I’m a moron, and I managed to make sushi without nori on the outside! But I like nori on the outside.

You can also make individual sushi cones. Take a sheet or a half sheet of nori, lay it point down, spread the rice and fillings on one side, and roll it up diagonally. 

These are less dainty, but there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Or just take a sheet of nori, throw some rice on,  pile on whatever looks tasty, bunch it up, and devour.

We also tried a Hawaiian thing, spam musubi, which is thin slices of spam simmered in a sauce and then cooked until crisp and caramelized

and then you strap it to a scoop of sushi rice with a strip of nori

I had my doubts about this, because the caramelized spam had a very harsh taste; but combined with the sweet, mild rice and the umami of the nori, it was great, and so stylish. 

***

Okay! Just wanted to get that off my chest because it would make me immensely happy if you started a sushi tradition on New Year’s Eve, too. We usually throw in some eggnog and some Marx Brothers and, to be perfectly honest, usually a roast leg of lamb, because What If There’s Not Enough Food?

We use Tom Nichol’s grandmother’s leg of lamb recipe, which is tastier and easier than reason permits, and never again will I spend an afternoon cutting garlic into slivers and jamming them into meat slits, pleasant though that may be. This recipe is just better.

Jump to Recipe

Looook at the laaaaaaamb.

And we just serve it with a sliced baguette and maybe some horseradish and cheese. Okay, now let’s do a little catching up from last week. Christmas Week. 

MONDAY
Chicken burgers, veg and dip

Nothing to report, foodwise.

Monday we also made applesauce and cinnamon ornaments. Equal parts applesauce and cinnamon mixed together into a kind of clay, pressed into cookie cutter shapes and set out to dry.

We pressed star anise into some of the shapes. We had so much clay left over, I made it into beads, which took a very long time to dry and smell great but look somewhat turdly. 

(I think I promised like 18 months ago to share pictures of my new backsplash! It’s no longer new, but there it is!) If I had made them sooner, I would have strung them in among the citrus garlands, but it didn’t occur to me. Now THIS was a completely successful project, for once. I just cut oranges, mandarins, lemons, limes, and grapefruit into thin slices and put them on paper towels on cookie sheets 

and left them in a 170 oven pretty much all day.They still weren’t dry by bedtime, so I moved them to racks and let them continue drying, then eventually threaded them in two spots on hemp twine. Every 6-7 slices, I doubled back with the twine to anchor the citrus. 

They are gorgeous. Really just like home grown stained glass. 

I tried interspersing some cinnamon sticks and tying on some star anise, but eventually just stuck with citrus. The lemons went pretty colorless, but the rest of the fruit kept good color. Several people asked about the smell, wondering if it exudes a wonderful citrusy scent. In fact it smells faintly of hot orange juice, which is not great, but it’s very faint, and fading.

TUESDAY
Italian wedding soup, breadsticks

Tuesday was the last day of school for all but one kid. We had been doing distance schooling for just over a week and it is . . . not my favorite. It is nobody’s favorite. But Tuesday was the last day, and I made a lovely soup to celebrate. 

I had bought some ground pork on sale, so I made some little meatballs with it, adding in plenty of freshly-grated parmesan and Italian parsley, and fried them up in butter. 

Then I removed the meatballs and fried up some carrots and onions and garlic in the butter, then put the meatballs back, and added chicken broth and white wine, plenty of pepper, some chopped kale and ditalini. More parmesan and some fresh Italian parsley on top.

Here’s the details:

Jump to Recipe

It was just delightful. Friendliest, most nourishing soup I’ve had in ages. A very good way to round out the year. I made some frozen breadsticks so the soup haters would have something to sop up their tears with. 

Tuesday we also made the cookies for the cookie tree I rashly promised we would make.

It wasn’t exactly a hard project, but, I don’t know, we made it hard. It’s just a set of star cookie cutters that comes in — there’s a word for this, but I mean that they come in small and work their way up to coming in big. Guys, I’m so tired. Everyone is so tired. Anyway, this set also comes with decorating tips and bags and instructions, but we lost those immediately. 

We made a double recipe of my 100% reliable, no-chill, keeps-its-shape-in-the-pan sugar cookie dough

Jump to Recipe

and cut out two (or occasionally one, or three) of each size star, and baked them. You would think the cookies would bake at various rates, because they were such different sizes, but they all finished up at about the same time, go figure. 

Then, we left the baked cookies hanging around on racks in my tiny kitchen, balanced on top of packages waiting to be mailed, and the dog ate one, and the tips fell off some, and people needed the pans for Lego projects, and we had to move them around so we could find the papers for the student loan thing, and people put them on top of the clean laundry, and people put five pound bags of flour on top of them because we were planning to make more cookies, and so on. You know, Christmas. 

WEDNESDAY
I have no idea.  Oh wait, we decided to go run out right before dinner and buy a few last presents, and also the stocking candy, and stocking stuffers, and food for Christmas breakfast and Christmas dinner, tights, wrapping paper, and presents for the dog, cat, bird, and lizard, and in retrospect, that may not have been our finest plan. Most of the stores in town only had Valentine’s Candy, or Easter Candy, or Halloween candy, or just actual literal stuffing, like Stouffer’s stuffing with country herbs. Goodness gracious. It also turns out everyone was out of the canned cinnamon buns I decided would be good enough this year. We got about half the stuff and then stopped at Domino’s, and nobody complained. 

THURSDAY
Shredded pepper beef sandwiches, veg and dip

This was supposed to be pepperoncini beef, which you make by putting a hunk of beef in the slow cooker with some pepperoncini and its juice, and then shredding it when it’s done; but I forgot to buy pepperoncini. I forgot repeatedly, because I went to the store 327 times this week, and each time returned home with things like a stuffed shark or a Dungeons and Dragons dice box or YET MORE WRAPPING PAPER, but no pepperoncini. Instead, I added some banana peppers and some jalapeños, and the juices therefrom, and also a can of beer

and let it cook for several hours. Shredded it up, served it on rolls with cheese, and it was pretty good. 

A little dry, so I used the cooking juice as a spicy dip. 

FRIDAY, CHRISTMAS EVE
Quesadillas

Damien made these and they were delicious. 

We finished wrapping, stuffed stockings, and put together our first Barbie Dream House, and decorated the tree. And of course we iced and put together that fershlugginer cookie tree.

It turned out really cute! 

But we all aged eleven years in the process and there was definitely threats, drama, crying, and apologies.

Even the kids didn’t suggest we make this an annual tradition. But look at this friggin cookie tree.

Then the middle girls decided to make their own cookie tree, so I made the more dough, and they baked and decorated a BTS tree, with some baffling details. 

Oh, and I detangled about 70% of Corrie’s hair. I was doing so well, but it got away from me this last month, argh.

Then I got the cinnamon bun dough started. I decided to try Alton Brown’s recipe, rather than the Pioneer Woman one I usually use. Great choice. I didn’t have buttermilk, so I added some lemon juice to milk, and the dough came together great. I set it to rise and forgot all about it until about 10:20 PM, while I was sitting in the pew at the Christmas Eve Mass at Night and realized it was probably good and risen by now.

We did make it through Mass, which was lovely. We cleaned up really well this year!

But about those cinnamon rolls. You’re supposed to brush the dough with melted butter and the sprinkle the sugar and cinnamon on before rolling it up, but I misunderstood and mixed the melted butter and cinnamon and sugar together. So I had to spread that on the dough and . . . I think I’m a genius. It worked out great, and it way so much easier and tidier then trying to roll up dough with melted butter on it. I made 24 rolls, threw them in the fridge while Damien shlepped 9 stockings and 36 presents out of our room and under the tree, and we were in bed shortly after 1.

SATURDAY, CHRISTMAS
Breakfast: Bacon, cinnamon rolls, fruit, OJ, eggnog
Dinner: Chinese food, steak, and a sandwich

Cinnamon rolls continued! You warm up the rolls by putting them in the oven and putting a pan in the rack under them, and pouring boiling water into that pan, and letting it warm up for 30 minutes. Worked just fine. The rolls were just great. The glaze is made with cream cheese, milk, and vanilla, and it tastes a little bland. It’s richer than just a sugary glaze, but I think I will search for something a little more interesting next year. But overall, this recipe is absolutely everything I wanted for Christmas. Easy, no exotic ingredients or maneuvers, and the rolls were puffy and tender, sweet and rich. Absolutely ideal.

No great food photos, but it was a very happy morning. You can see some photos of the morning mayhem here. 

Then we spent the day in a pleasant haze of games, candy, and napping. There had been so much drama around our traditional Chinese take-out Christmas dinner, it kind of defeats the purpose of doing something stress-free. So instead, Damien cooked a bunch of magnificent steaks. He salts and peppers them, heats up a ton of butter and garlic cloves in a cast iron pan. He has some kind of method that involves olive oil as well as butter. I don’t know, man. The steak was amazing. You could cut it with a fork. I didn’t get a great picture because I was in a hurry to eat it, but there’s this:

The meat noticer has entered the room.

Then of course we also ordered some Chinese food because What If There’s Not Enough Food? And Irene got a sandwich from Jersey Mike’s, because one time she had Chinese food and got sick, and Christmas has always been a bit of a trial for her, and this year we decided to finally do something about that. 

SUNDAY
Spiral ham, shrimp cocktail, various cheeses with crackers and spreads and salamis, pomegranates, baked brie with cranberries, and roasted mushrooms

This meal is a combination of food we were supposed to have for Christmas because we are ridiculous and we shopped thinking What If There’s Not Enough Food, and a ham that one of Damien’s editors sent because she is awesome. 

And Damien made a big tray of wonderful roasted mushrooms using this Deadspin recipe. We haven’t had these for some time, and they are so tasty. 

You get the rich, earthy buttery mushroom flavor and the sharp lemon and caper and the fresh herbs all frolicking together. Once you chop up all those mushrooms, it comes together really fast. 

We got one of those sets of jams that’s supposed to pair with specific cheeses, but I immediately lost track of which was which, so I was forced to just eat everything. 

And now it is Monday and there is so much food in the house. I am going to go out and see what I can rustle up for sushi, though, I guess (except for the actual fish). Also we have a birthday coming up, because we are 24/7 party people. I also ordered some flooring for my dining room. Because I am a 24/7 flooring person. I promise pictures. I promise. 

Oh, one last thing. I was looking at our Christmas pictures, and I couldn’t resist a little comparison. Here is Christmas 2019, and Christmas this year.

Look at that! Damien has lost close to 80 pounds, and I’ve lost over 40 (I’m  focusing on maintenance at the moment, because everything else is pretty overwhelming), and we’re both way, way stronger. As you can see, we’re still enjoying lots of yummy food. Just less of it. Yay us! It feels good. 

And here are the recipe cards, whew. I think this was the longest What’s for Supper in this history of What’s for suppers.  Hope you find something good! I really do love yez. 

5 from 1 vote
Print

Tom Nichols' Grandmother's Leg of Lamb

Ingredients

  • boneless leg of lamb
  • olive oil
  • garlic powder
  • garlic salt
  • oregano

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven to 325.

  2. Slash the meat several times, about an inch deep.

  3. Fill the cuts with plenty of garlic powder.

  4. Slather olive oil all over the meat.

  5. Crust it with garlic salt. Sprinkle with all the oregano you own.

  6. Cover meat loosely with tinfoil and cook three hours. Uncover and cook for another 30 minutes.

 

5 from 1 vote
Print

Italian Wedding Soup with pork meatballs

Lots of variations to this pleasant, nourishing soup with little meatballs.

Ingredients

For the meatballs:

  • 4-5 lbs ground pork (can mix in some ground beef or turkey)
  • 5 eggs
  • 2-1/2 cups bread crumbs
  • 4 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp pepper
  • 1 Tbsp oregano
  • 1 bunch fresh Italian parsley, chopped fine
  • 1 to 1-1/2 cups freshly-shredded parmesan
  • 1/2 cup butter for frying

For the soup:

  • 3 lg carrots, diced
  • 1 lg onion, diced
  • 8 cloves garlic, minced
  • 16 cups chicken broth
  • 3 cups white wine
  • 3-4 cups raw kale, torn into pieces
  • 2 cups uncooked small pasta like ditalini
  • pepper
  • more parmesan and Italian parsley for garnish

Instructions

To make the meatballs:

  1. Thoroughly combine all the ingredients (except the butter) with your hands. Form them into small meatballs. In a large, heavy pot, melt the butter and lightly brown the meatballs in batches. They do not need to be cooked all the way through, as they will continue cooking in the soup.

To make the soup:

  1. Remove the meatballs from the pot. Put the onions and carrots into the butter and cook until they're slightly soft. Add in the garlic and continue cooking until the garlic is fragrant but not too browned.

  2. Add the meatballs back in. Add the broth and white wine, the kale, and the pepper to taste. Simmer for several hours.

  3. About half an hour before serving, add the uncooked pasta and turn up the heat to cook.

  4. Serve with shredded or grated parmesan and coarsely chopped Italian parsley for a garnish.

5 from 1 vote
Print

No-fail no-chill sugar cookies

Basic "blank canvas"sugar cookies that hold their shape for cutting and decorating. No refrigeration necessary. They don't puff up when you bake them, and they stay soft under the icing. You can ice them with a very basic icing of confectioner's sugar and milk. Let decorated cookies dry for several hours, and they will be firm enough to stack.

Servings 24 large cookies

Ingredients

  • 1 cup butter
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 1-2 tsp vanilla and/or almond extract. (You could also make these into lemon cookies)
  • 1 egg
  • 2 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 3 cups flour

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven to 350.

  2. Cream together butter and sugar in mixer until smooth.

  3. Add egg and extracts.

  4. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, salt, and baking powder.

  5. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the butter and sugar and mix until smooth.

  6. Roll the dough out on a floured surface to about 1/4 inch. Cut cookies.

  7. Bake on ungreased baking sheets for 6-8 minutes. Don't let them brown. They may look slightly underbaked, but they firm up after you take them out of the oven, so let them sit in the pan for a bit before transferring to a cooling rack.

  8. Let them cool completely before decorating!

 

 

Thomas Aquinas doesn’t teach you how to have a holly jolly Christmas, and other insights from the AMDG Jesuit podcast

Had a very enjoyable pre-Christmas conversation with Mike Jordan Laskey, the host of the Jesuit podcast for Canada and the US. It was a pretty wide-ranging chat, covering having adult children, dealing with materialism and other Christmas-related anxieties, managing and building traditions, my favorite Christmas carol that I couldn’t quite remember at the moment, CAKE OR PIE, and recognizing Jesus, or not.  Have a listen! 

 

The painful, grace-filled and (potentially) healing process of seeking an annulment

Four weddings, but only one sacramental marriage. That was the tally by the time Rob and Shannon made their vows to each other 18 years ago.

Rob and Shannon are not their real names. The couple is not ashamed of their story, but they do not like to dwell on it, either; and it is complex enough that they have not told their own children all the details. It is a story about mistakes, pride, fear and hope, growth and grace, and love and canon law. It is a story, in short, about what makes a valid marriage in the eyes of the church, and how church leaders and structures respond when a marriage is not valid.

For such a theologically dense topic, annulments are a perennially popular topic of discussion and debate among Catholics. They are also perennially misunderstood. Many Americans speak of “getting an annulment” as if it were just the Catholic version of divorce, and many Catholics leave the church when they discover that there is more to it than that. There are persistent stories of rich or famous Catholics who supposedly bought their way out of undesirable marriages; and armchair theologians are quick to offer their pronouncement on whether or not a stranger’s marriage is valid based on a few online comments.

But the problems surrounding petitioning for decrees of nullity go deeper than rumors and misunderstandings. In 2015, Pope Francis made some reforms, aimed at lowering the costs and expediting the process. He opined in January 2021 that these efforts were being stymied by the desire for money.

But some canon lawyers believe a different kind of reform is necessary, anyway—the kind that takes place on a more personal level, where couples begin their lives together with a better understanding of what the church means by marriage, and are supported during inevitable times of struggle.

What does the church really teach about this widely misunderstood process, and how does it play out in the lives of ordinary Catholics? What does it do to their emotional and spiritual lives to encounter a doctrine that works in the space where law meets love?

Read the rest of my latest for America Magazine.

Image via Pixabay (Creative Commons)

 

What’s for supper? Vol. 275: It’s “tah-ZHEEN”

Happy Friday! Or whatever! Tell me it’s any day at all, and I’ll believe you. Tell me it’s the 34th Throosday in Blorgvent and I’ll believe you. It’s been the kind of week where I’m literally dreaming about sleeping. I seem to have two weeks of What’s For Suppers to catch up on, so I’ll just hit the highlights of last week: 

Two Fridays ago was ramen with shrimp, broccoli, and soft boiled eggs. I’m sharing a pic because I so infrequently manage to actually soft boil eggs. I always go hard. 

The shrimp was tasty. I think Damien sauteed it in sesame oil and garlic and then squeezed lemon over it, or something along those lines. 

Another fine meal was toward the end of Chanukah, when we had
Potato latkes and homemade applesauce, smoked chicken thighs and homemade barbecue sauce

Latkes are easy to make,

Jump to Recipe

but when you’re making a lot of them, it’s a problem to know how to manage all those potato shreds ahead of time. Normally, peeled potatoes discolor very quickly, and I usually solve this by keeping them in water until I’m ready to use them; but if you’re going to fry several batches of them, it’s a hassle to get all the water off first so the hot oil doesn’t spatter. This year, I tried something new: I shredded the potatoes in the food processor, and then I just rinsed the shreds thoroughly in very cold water, left them in the colander, and covered them with plastic wrap. Guess what happened? THEY STAYED WHITE. 

Amazing. 

Now, the absolute truth is that, when I added the eggs and flour and salt and pepper, the potatoes ended up giving up so much water, they were pretty wet anyway, and I still ended up having to squeeze the mixture pretty vigorously before putting the latkes in the oil. But I still got a little thrill because at least they weren’t brownish purple. 

The latkes turned out well, crisp on the outside and tender and mealy inside. It’s dark as heck and after all these years, I haven’t figure out how to rig up some good indoor lighting to take good food pictures during winter, so here you go:

We had them with sour cream and homemade applesauce, which I made in the Instant Pot. I peeled and cored a few dozen apples and put them in the IP with about a cup of water and cooked them on high for maybe eight minutes, twelve minutes, I don’t know. Then I drained off what turned out to be too much water and added some butter, vanilla, and cinnamon, and gave it a little stir, and that was it. Hot damn, homemade apple sauce is just the best thing in the world. 

I was astonished at what a lovely rose color I got even without the peels. 

I don’t think I added sugar, because these are still local, in-season apples and the flavor shouldn’t be tampered with much.  I used Cortland, Macintosh, and Granny Smith, which are all on the tart end of the scale. 

Damien made his wonderful sugar smoked chicken thighs out on the grill, and he used the same spices to made a homemade barbecue sauce which turned out a little spicier than expected, so he served it for dipping, rather than brushing it on. 

Man, it smelled good in the house, with the smoked chicken, the warm apple sauce, and whatnot. A strange meal, but hearty and tasty. I never know what to make with latkes! The only thing I can think of is chicken soup, which we have at other times, and brisket, which I remember from my childhood with loathing. 

Then I squeaked in a bit batch of rugelach on the very last day of Chanukah. I do love rugelach, and I give you my blessing to make them for Christmas, because they are delicious and not hard to make and they’re adorable. (And you can take advantage of my brilliant ooze rescue method.)

I ended up with four varieties this year: Cinnamon honey walnut, ginger walnut, cherry, and blueberry. Lovely, lovely. They ended up a little fluffier and less flaky than normal this year, for reasons unknown, but I did not mind.  

Last Wednesday was Benny’s birthday and she requested Damien’s delectable basil chicken cutlets with homemade red sauce and provolone. He uses this Deadspin recipe and it has never been anything but excellent. Juicy chicken in a fluffy breading with a basil leaf tucked under a slice of provolone, served with a scoop of hot red sauce over it, so the cheese melts and melds the whole thing together. 

He made so much, we had it the second day, layered into a casserole dish and heated up like a giant chicken lasagna. So good. 

Over the weekend was her birthday party, which we managed to have almost entirely outdoors, because NH is all ate up with Covid again. We had a pallet bonfire, and the kids whooped it up on the trampoline in the dark with glow sticks, and then we came in for presents, went outside to set off fireworks, and came in for cake. Some party photos on Facebook here and here. 

We decided to make bonfire cupcakes, which are very easy to make, but are pretty impressive. Chocolate frosting, broken hazelnut Pirouline wafers for the logs, shredded coconut with green food coloring for the grass. We put a bunch of Jolly Ranchers in a bag and smashed it with a hammer, then spread the chunks in a parchment paper-lined pan in a low oven for a few minutes until the candy melted. Then we let it harden into a sheet, then cracked it into little “flames.” Stick a few in between the logs, sprinkle on some gold sugar for embers, and you have little cupcake campfires. 

 

Top each one with a mini marshmallow on a toothpick, and it’s just cute.

I did toast each one with a butane lighter because my life was ruined anyway.

And that was last week! This week, let’s see. 

MONDAY
Carbonara 

A sweet Facebook friend sent me three pounds of most excellent smoked bacon from Tennessee, with a warning not to attempt to eat it straight like breakfast bacon, because it’s powerful stuff.  My dears, I’ve never had such bacon. Such an intense, earthy, smoky flavor. It was really exciting! I really get the best mail and have the nicest readers. I didn’t get very good pictures because I was in a bit of a hurry to start gobbling it up.

If you’re not familiar with carbonara, it may be the most cheering, flavorful dish you can make with the fewest number of ingredients. Just pasta, bacon, eggs, pepper, and parm. Well, I guess that’s five, and maybe not so surprising that it tastes so good, but it really is wonderful, and you should make it soon. 

Jump to Recipe

TUESDAY
Vaguely Mediterranean chicken on pita with yogurt sauce; Greek vegetable salad

Not exactly shawarma, but I did throw together several of the ingredients for the marinade

Jump to Recipe

and put some chicken thighs in it for several hours. Then I broiled it, turning once

and served it with pita pockets and yogurt sauce, and a little salad. Pretty tasty with very little effort. 

I served it with grape tomatoes, baby cucumbers, black olives, red onion, fresh parsley and dill, kosher salt, and olive oil.

We also had some kalamata olives, which I ended up serving on the side, thinking they had pits in them, but they did not, oops. And some hunks of feta cheese. 

It was a really good meal, and I liked it a lot. Fresh squeezed lemon juice in the marinade on a Tuesday! Freshly pressed garlic in the yogurt sauce! Two kinds of fresh herbs! I’m making a fuss because NOBODY ELSE DID, which for some reason still bothers me even at this late date after all these years. Oh well. 

WEDNESDAY
My birthday!

The kids had chicken nuggets and Damien and I ran away to Luca’s, where we haven’t been for many a year. I went ahead and ordered the garlicky escargot, because I’ve never had escargot, and if not when your husband has offered to take you to a Rather Expensive Restaurant, then when? 

They were . . . fine. I don’t know why you would have escargot if you could have seafood, though. They were just kind of chewy and muddy, kind of like if someone was trying to somehow reconstitute mussels or oysters from scratch but had only heard them described. So now I know! 

Then, after surreptitiously looking up how to pronounce “tagine,” I ordered the Moroccan lamb tagine, and that was a good idea.

The lamb was braised tenderly in a lovely, slightly spicy broth, and it had carrots, fingerling potatoes, apricots, and pistachios, and I forget what else, served with a yogurt sauce. Very  pretty, warming, and interesting to eat. I also had a couple of delicious cocktails made with pear vodka, ginger liqueur, and nutmeg on the rim, and the whole meal was extremely pleasant and autumnal. 

Then we saw West Side Story, which Damien and I both loved. The older kids and Damien got me excellent, thoughtful gifts, and the younger kids made me wonderful cards. (The middle kids acted like I was some sort of vaguely familiar insect who was late picking them up, but what are you gonna do.) 

THURSDAY
Korean beef bowl on rice; sugar snap peas

Always tasty, even when you run out of brown sugar and have to use honey, and don’t have red pepper flakes and have to use chili powder. I did put red pepper flakes on the list right away, though. We felt that loss more keenly than the brown sugar part. Although it was a bit dry, because we didn’t have the sugar melting into a sauce. Being hungry helped. Write that down. 

Jump to Recipe

FRIDAY
Omelettes and hash browns

But I have to buy more eggs! The kids have been doing distance school all week, and apparently that means Egg Time. 

Print

Potato latkes

Serve with sour cream and/or apple sauce for Hanukkah or ANY TIME. Makes about 25+ latkes

Ingredients

  • 4 lbs potatoes, peeled
  • 6 eggs beaten
  • 6 Tbsp flour (substitute matzoh meal for Passover)
  • salt and pepper
  • oil for frying

Instructions

  1. Grate the potatoes. Let them sit in a colander for a while, if you can, and squeeze out as much liquid as possible. 

  2. Mix together the eggs, salt and pepper, and flour. Stir into the potato mixture and mix well. 

  3. Turn the oven on to 350 and put a paper-lined pan in the oven to receive the latkes and keep them warm while you're frying. 

  4. Put 1/4 to 1/2 and inch of oil in your frying pan and heat it up until a drop of batter will bubble.  

  5. Take a handful of the potato mixture, flatten it slightly, and lay it in the pan, leaving room between latkes. Repeat with the rest of the mixture, making several batches to leave room in between latkes. Fry until golden brown on both sides, turning once. Eat right away or keep warm in oven, but not too long. 

  6. Serve with sour cream and/or applesauce or apple slices. 

Print

Smoked chicken thighs with sugar rub

Ingredients

  • 1.5 cups brown sugar
  • .5 cups white sugar
  • 2 Tbsp chili powder
  • 2 Tbsp garlic powder
  • 2 tsp chili pepper flakes
  • salt and pepper
  • 20 chicken thighs

Instructions

  1. Mix dry ingredients together. Rub all over chicken and let marinate until the sugar melts a bit. 

  2. Light the fire, and let it burn down to coals. Shove the coals over to one side and lay the chicken on the grill. Lower the lid and let the chicken smoke for an hour or two until they are fully cooked. 

Print

Rugelach

These are tender little pastries for Chanukah or any time. Use whatever kind of filling you like: Jams, preserves, cinnamon sugar, nutella, etc. These are time consuming, but don't take much skill, and they freeze well, so they make pretty little gifts.

Servings 80 rugelach

Ingredients

dough

  • half pound butter
  • 8 oz cream cheese
  • 2 cups flour
  • 1 cup or more sugar, for rolling

filling

  • 1/4-1/2 cup preserves or other filling
  • 1/4-1/2 cup finely chopped nuts (optional)

Instructions

  1. In a food processor, combine the cream cheese and butter until smooth. Slowly add in the flour and keep mixing until smooth. You can do this by hand, but it will take a while! The dough should be fairly stiff and not sticky when it's done.

  2. Divide the dough into 8 balls. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.

  3. Preheat the oven to 400.

  4. Prepare a pan by lining it with parchment paper, then spraying a baking rack and putting the rack on the parchment paper. Line a second pan with parchment paper, to which you will remove the rugelach when they come out of the oven.

  5. Use the sugar to cover your work space, and use a rolling pin to roll a ball of dough into a round shape the size of a large plate. It should be thin enough to flap a bit when you give it a shake. If your rolling pin sticks, sprinkle more sugar on. You can turn the dough over to make sure both sides get sugared. It doesn't have to be perfectly round, as it will be cut into pieces.

  6. Spread the jam or other filling over the dough, leaving an open space in the middle. If you're adding nuts, sprinkle them over the filling.

  7. Using a pizza cutter, cut the dough into 16-20 triangles.

  8. Roll each triangle up from the outside in. Place each rolled rugelach on the sprayed baking rack on the pan, with the skinny point down. They puff up a bit, so leave the space of one rugelach in between.

  9. Repeat for each ball of dough.

  10. Bake for ten minutes. If the dough isn't golden brown, give it another two minutes. These go from perfect to burnt very quickly, so be alert.

  11. When they bake, the filling will ooze out and pool and burn on the parchment paper, but the rugelach will not burn.

  12. When the rugelach come out of the oven, immediately use a butter knife to transfer them to another pan or rack to cool.

  13. Once they are cool, they can be wrapped in plastic and kept in the freezer for weeks without harm.

 

Print

Spaghetti carbonara

An easy, delicious meal.

Ingredients

  • 3 lbs bacon
  • 3 lbs spaghetti
  • 1 to 1-1/2 sticks butter
  • 6 eggs, beaten
  • lots of pepper
  • 6-8 oz grated parmesan cheese

Instructions

  1. Fry the bacon until it is crisp. Drain and break it into pieces.

  2. Boil the spaghetti in salted water until al dente. If you like, add some bacon grease to the boiling water.

  3. Drain the spaghetti and return it to the pot. Add the butter, pieces of bacon, parmesan cheese, and pepper and mix it up until the butter is melted.

  4. Add the raw beaten egg and mix it quickly until the spaghetti is coated. Serve immediately.

 

Print

Chicken shawarma

Ingredients

  • 8 lbs boned, skinned chicken thighs
  • 4-5 red onions
  • 1.5 cups lemon juice
  • 2 cups olive oil
  • 4 tsp kosher salt
  • 2 Tbs, 2 tsp pepper
  • 2 Tbs, 2 tsp cumin
  • 1 Tbsp red pepper flakes OR Aleppo pepper
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1 entire head garlic, crushed OR bashed into pieces

Instructions

  1. Mix marinade ingredients together, then add chicken. Put in ziplock bag and let marinate several hours or overnight.

  2. Preheat the oven to 425.

  3. Grease a shallow pan. Take the chicken out of the marinade and spread it in a single layer on the pan, and top with the onions (sliced or quartered). If you kept the garlic in larger pieces, fish those out of the marinade and strew them over the chicken. Cook for 45 minutes or more. 

  4. Chop up the chicken a bit, if you like, and finish cooking it so it crisps up a bit more.

  5. Serve chicken and onions with pita bread triangles, cucumbers, tomatoes, assorted olives, feta cheese, fresh parsley, pomegranates or grapes, fried eggplant, and yogurt sauce.

 

Print

Yogurt sauce

Ingredients

  • 32 oz full fat Greek yogurt
  • 5 cloves garlic, crushed
  • 1/4 cup lemon juice
  • 3 Tbsp olive oil
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1/2 tsp pepper
  • fresh parsley or dill, chopped (optional)

Instructions

  1. Mix all ingredients together. Use for spreading on grilled meats, dipping pita or vegetables, etc. 

Print

Korean Beef Bowl

A very quick and satisfying meal with lots of flavor and only a few ingredients. Serve over rice, with sesame seeds and chopped scallions on the top if you like. You can use garlic powder and powdered ginger, but fresh is better. The proportions are flexible, and you can easily add more of any sauce ingredient at the end of cooking to adjust to your taste.

Ingredients

  • 1 cup brown sugar (or less if you're not crazy about sweetness)
  • 1 cup soy sauce
  • 1 Tbsp red pepper flakes
  • 3-4 inches fresh ginger, minced
  • 6-8 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3-4 lb2 ground beef
  • scallions, chopped, for garnish
  • sesame seeds for garnish

Instructions

  1. In a large skillet, cook ground beef, breaking it into bits, until the meat is nearly browned. Drain most of the fat and add the fresh ginger and garlic. Continue cooking until the meat is all cooked.

  2. Add the soy sauce, brown sugar, and red pepper flakes the ground beef and stir to combine. Cook a little longer until everything is hot and saucy.

  3. Serve over rice and garnish with scallions and sesame seeds. 

 

Spielberg’s West Side Story is better than the original

Last night, we saw Steven Spielberg’s new West Side Story. I grew up listening to the soundtrack of the 1961 movie repeatedly. My sister and I would put the LP on just for fun and dance around the living room. I know every second of the score by heart (and it took me many years to realize “Krup you!” is not an actual insult). I’ve seen the original movie countless times and the stage version at least twice.

So yes, I was a little nervous about how the new movie would hold up. I won’t keep you in suspense: I loved it. If you’ve never seen another production of West Side Story but you’ve seen the new movie, you have seen West Side Story. That’s how well they did. In many ways, they did better.

It’s not a slavish recreation, but it’s also not a daring new take or reinvention. What Spielberg did was make sufficient changes and adjustments and yes, improvements, so that a modern audience could understand and appreciate the show for what it always has been.

A warning: Plot spoilers here. (Guys, the show is 60 years old. You’ve had your chance.)

If you’re looking for some kind of incisive comment on racial tension that’s especially apropos for 2021 America, this isn’t it — unless maybe you’re an optimist who’s had your heart broken, and you’d like to see that portrayed on screen.

That’s what happened to Anita, played by Ariana DeBose, whose performance, sorry, has so much more depth than the beloved original Rita Moreno’s. She’s not just a fiery and sultry Latina; she’s someone who is working through conflict in her head. You see on her face and in her posture the struggle between the old and new, between tenderness and ambition. She starts out defiantly singing “I like to be in America” but ends up seeing who America has really been to her, and when she spits out the lie about Maria’s death, it feels like it’s been a long time coming. She’s suffered a lot and has stuffed down so much to try to make her new life work, and when she’s finally cornered, the least she can do is protect Maria and inflict a little pain. That was always there in the script, but in this performance, and in her betrayal in particular, you feel the deep tragedy of what has played out in these few blocks. 

But speaking of Rita Moreno, let’s turn to one of the most startling changes in the new movie: The short song “There’s a place for us” gets sung not by Tony and Maria, but by Tony’s mentor, the Valentina, who, in this production is a Latina woman who long ago married a white man — and she’s played by Moreno. They’ve added some dialogue to flesh out the idea that such couples will always struggle.

What’s the effect of putting the doomed/hopeful song in the mouth of someone who has already lost? It adds another layer of real pathos, because her husband is long dead, and things have only gotten worse since her time (and there’s also the pathos, for those familiar with the old film, of seeing Moreno still beautiful but so very old. This is a tricky maneuver, but I think they pulled it off.)

Changing this song from a romantic duet to a tragic solo also does the service of making the show slightly less sticky.  Musicals are always a little bit sticky, by which I mean there is going to be a certain amount of . . . well, couples standing side by side, staring up into the stars singing a duet about how much they love each other. This exact thing recently happened when Tony and Maria sang “Tonight,” and you wouldn’t want them not to sing it. That’s the show: It’s about gangs and stabbing and racism and attempted rape, and also ballet and rhythmic snapping and a lot of extremely graceful choreography on crumbling brick walls. People burst into song with trained voices and cleverly rhymed lyrics to express how they feel. If this is something that’s going to bother you, then please don’t watch a musical! Nevertheless, they engineered tweaks and tightenings here and there that modified how artificial the show felt, and made the whole thing make more sense emotionally. One such tightening was to have Valentina, in a reflective mood, musing on the past and the future, rather than having Tony and Maria interrupt their drama and sing about it.  

Another change that I believe was intended to de-stickify the show: They moved “I Feel Pretty” back, so it happens after Bernardo kills Riff and Tony kills Bernardo, but Maria doesn’t know it yet. I’m pretty proud of myself for noticing they did this and figuring out why: The song was always a little too cute and clever, especially for someone who doesn’t speak English well, and it’s an adorable song, but it’s hard to reconcile it with Maria as a tragic figure. By shoving it right in the middle of the action, it takes your discomfort with Maria’s inane giggling and prancing and uses it. You feel slightly ill, watching the number, because you know there are two bodies on the ground. (I was gratified to see that this L.A. Times article backs my theory up.)

I love this change not only because it works, but because it’s completely in character with the show. There has always been a desperate shred of hope in every tragic song, and a heavy shadow of dread in every hopeful song. That’s the show; always has been. So this change is an improvement. Amazing. 

The one change they made that I didn’t like was relocating “One Hand, One Heart” to the Cloisters. In the original, the couples improvise a bridal scene, and it’s very clear that, in their minds, they are in a church and are exchanging vows before God. It’s always been one of my favorite parts of the movie. The new movie locates them in a literal convent, and it’s just heavy-handed, which disappointed me. A small quibble.

One more improvement: “Cool” (the song that starts “Boy, boy, crazy boy”) makes so much mores sense in the new movie. In the new movie, Tony is going to Riff to try to retrieve the gun he’s bought, and stop the rumble. It takes place on some kind of ramshackle pier with gaping holes in it, giving Tony and Riff plenty of chances to leap precariously over and around the edges, daring and threatening and sweating and menacing each other. It emphasizes the tension and peril so much better than . . . whatever was in the original, which I can’t remember, which is telling. 

I liked the casting overall. Everyone sang well. It seems foolish to have to say that; and yet we’ve all seen our share of musicals cast with people who seem to have been hired for reasons other than their voice. Maria (Rachel Zegler) is young and fresh and lovely and impatient to start her life.

Tony (Ansel Elgort) is a vast improvement over 1961 Richard Beymer, who essentially showed up and had big shoulders and hit his notes, and that was it.

Elgort’s Tony is a good actor with a fine voice and a slightly odd, interesting face, and you feel like he’s got something going on in his skull.

He and Maria come across more like a real couple and less like a couple of movie stars. This new Tony has a lot more to work with, because they rather daringly added significant backstory: He very nearly killed someone, only avoiding it by luck, and just got out of jail. He spent his jail time thinking, and wants to change his life. Voilà, a motive, other than a vague “he’s different from the rest.” 

They also provided a bit more motive for why the gangs are so territorial in general, other than that one is white and one is Puerto Rican. There is some kind of urban renewal project going on in the neighborhood, which involves wrecking balls tearing down all the buildings these young men have grown up with. So it’s not just a slum, but a pretty explicit war zone, and so we understand better their fierce, furious desperation to hold on to the little scrap of something that that belongs to them. 

An interesting point: The character of Anybodys has become not just a goofy tomboy, but an actual trans character who really suffers at the thought of being perceived as a girl. It’s not inordinately magnified; it’s just another character rescued from being a caricature in the new version. 

To my relief, they don’t appear to have altered the choreography much (or if they have, they preserved the character of it very well). The dancers are wonderful, weightless.

The music was performed faithfully, which is another thing I was worried about. (In a few previews, they movified the music, for some reason; but they didn’t do that in the actual film.) The score is some of the greatest American music of any kind ever written. 

The only scene I didn’t like was “Gee, Office Krupke,” and I don’t know why I didn’t like it. Maybe it just had so many dated references, it was harder to work with. As my husband said, it suffers from the same problems as “I Feel Pretty,” but it’s harder to know how to fix it. You definitely can’t take it out of the show, but it just doesn’t land right. 

But oh my friends, this movie is gorgeously shot, every moment. The long views of the city streets with the crumbling bricks, just magnificent. The dance before the rumble is opulently heightened, the white students in blues and greens, the Puerto Ricans in reds and purples. When the two gangs approach each other for the rumble, there’s an overhead shot of their shadows mingling that’s pure abstract expressionism, just breathtaking.

And then later the shadows of the cops are shot from a different angle as they come upon the two bodies, and they’re so stubby and ineffective. There’s a little scene where Anita and Bernardo are making out in the morning sun behind some hanging curtains, and it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. 

Beautiful, beautiful work. But it stays true to the era. It doesn’t feel like an update or a reboot; it feels like you’ve returned to the original, but with new powers. 

If you have a chance, do watch it in the theater so you can see it as big and hear it as big as possible. Bring tissues. BRING TISSUES. 

 

All images are screenshots from embedded video, above. 
Correction: In an earlier version of this essay, I repeatedly referred to Bernardo as “Roberto.” The reason for this is that I am an idiot, sorry. 

In which nobody reached me about my extended warranty

Today, I am be 47, which is fine. I’m sitting cross-legged on the loveseat next to a first grader doing phonics via Zoom, because school has come home for covid again. Every few minutes, I throw something at the dog to make him stop licking himself. Licking himself isn’t wrong or bad, but it’s my house, and I want him to stop, but I also don’t want to get up off the loveseat. I am 47 years old, and it’s my house!

Someone once described me as a typical American mom who doesn’t have any real problems, and is just discontented enough to invent stuff to write about. I imagine he also thinks the Paradisaea apoda is a bird that has no feet, because every time someone delivered one to his laboratory, they had removed the feet first. Silly bird, what a lovely life, wafting around on its pretty mom feathers. No feet, no problems. 

I self-indulgently Googled “is 47 middle aged” and the internet told me a study has found that adults only become middle aged at age 47, and also that middle-aged misery peaks at 47 years of age. I skimmed, I skimmed. I gather that, statistically speaking, I’m right at the peak of some kind of happiness curve. I would not take a bet about which way I’m headed once I pass the peak. Up or down? Not sure. 

I do have problems, but my feet aren’t one (well, bunions, but those Dr. Scholl’s cushions work fine). My physical therapist says I’m so much stronger than I was even five weeks ago, and I know I’m stronger than I was a year ago, or five years ago, twenty years ago. Part of this is because I have a giant heap of pallets out in my driveway, and whenever I feel like I’m going to go crazy and kill someone, I move pallets around instead, and those mofos are heavy. The other part is yoga. Go ahead and laugh. Yoga gave me the core strength to paint the ceiling and walls of the dining room, which I needed to do so I wouldn’t kill anyone. 

My muscles are strong, but my other equipment is just plain wearing out. Don’t worry, I’m not going to complain about my ovaries. (They’re still working great, which is great. Just what I wanted at age 47, with a six-year-old doing phonics on the loveseat. Moar eggs!) It’s my eyes. My poor old eyes.

I spent a few years lamenting the lunacy of the publishing industry, and how they insisted on printing books in pale, wispy, uneven print these days. Unreadable! Insane! I lamented this trend as I stood beside a kiosk of reading glasses in Walmart, and then a startling thought entered my brain. Reading . . . glasses . . .

$4.88 later, and I could see everything again. What do you know about that. 

The eye doctor says it’s very common for your up-close vision to fall apart almost overnight at this age. But that’s not all. Feeling very foolish, I had them check me out thoroughly, and they said I did have an unusual number of floaters, but they weren’t dangerous, and there wasn’t much to be done but get used to them. Then I took a nap and woke up with a floater so big and dark and central, I saw it before I even opened my eyes. So, feeling even more foolish, I went back again, and was checked out thoroughly again. I was right to come in, they said, and they said it was a bit unusual, but again, not dangerous. This squat, brown bug sitting in the middle of my world was just mine to have and to hold from now on. 

I’m not sure whom to lament to about this. I am an old lady who swallowed a fly, and the fly won’t go away, but just sits there, buzzing silently around my field of vision, leaving a fly smear, a blear, a soil in the middle of everything. It’s like I’ve driven through a mud puddle and there are no windshield wipers. The equipment, as I say, is running down. It’s a good thing I believe in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting, or I might go crazy and kill someone. 

I’m just a flightless little American mom with my yoga and my zoom meetings and my birthday campfires, and it’s just a little drifting blob of collagen, but I’m taking it pretty hard.

You know I’m mad about it because it’s something I can safely get mad about, unlike all the other things that have dislodged this year and are floating around with nowhere to go, and have gone so very wrong they are like a mountainside that suddenly let go and collapsed on top of me. And I can’t tell you about it, and I don’t know what to do, but do yoga and move pallets around.

All the moms I know have unspeakable troubles, things that almost nobody knows about, things that nobody can solve. Landslides. And we keep setting our alarms and scrambling eggs and pulling hair out of the drain and writing what’s for dinner on the blackboard and remembering to buy more push pins. It’s a good thing we believe in life everlasting in our middle age, halfway through the happiness dip. I go to the adoration chapel, and kneel down, and I pray, “Well . . . ” and that’s as far as I get, all hour long. 

We had a bonfire last week, with some of those pallets I’ve collected, which is when my husband snapped this rather dramatic photo of me. When it’s night, with sparks and cinders flying everywhere under the stars, and the air is bent with heat and nails are bending in the embers, it really doesn’t matter how your eyeballs are holding up. We are going to the movies for my birthday, and we have made reservations at a nice Italian restaurant. Lots of people love me, which not everybody gets to say. Most likely I can just get used to that landslide feeling. But still, I think I might also have a small fire. I would like to set a small fire for my birthday. 

In which I contract driving madness (subscriber content)

Can I tell you about my week? Can I just tell you?

To understand what really happened — to truly savor the full robust flavor of the drink I am about to proffer you — you have to understand that, the whole time everything I am about to tell you is going on, I am driving. I am driving all the time. All I do is drive. Driving is what I am. That’s all there is to me, anymore: Drivingness. 

The reason for this is that my husband and I decided, against our better judgment, that he should fly away on a business trip to the rather far-fetched-sounding state of Texas for four days. The reasons for this will become more clear as the story proceeds. He used to travel a lot, just about every week, back when our family was young and I wasn’t as good as screaming, “YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE” as I am nowadays. We didn’t like that kind of life at all, and we decided not to do that anymore.

But we did decide he should go, just this once, and I would take care of things back home, mostly by driving. This is because we have six kids who go to four different schools in two different towns, none of which are in the town we live in; and three of our kids go to college in another town, but live at home, and they all work part time in town. We do have one extra car, and one of our kids can currently drive it, so that helps somewhat. That kid would do his driving, I would do my driving and my husband’s driving, and it would be a lot of driving, but we could do it. That was the plan.

Then I took a look at my calendar for the week he would be gone, and o! What a clever woman I am. I saw that, on the week I was solo parenting, in addition to all the usual trips and errands and chores and obligations and side quests, I had scheduled physical therapy for my hip, and a neurological evaluation for one of the kids, and I had, as a long-overdue birthday present, bought tickets to see an off-Broadway show in the next state, and I had also, this is true, signed up to cook an Italian meal in honor of St. Clare for 35 youth group kids. And we also had a driving test for one of the kids. Which in theory would come in handy eventually, but which at the moment felt like seeing someone drowning and quickly tossing them the blueprint for a boat.Read the rest of my latest for The Catholic Weekly. (Subscriber content)

 

Imposter syndrome is hard, but comes with a hidden lesson (subscriber content)

Because I’m friends with a lot of creative people — painters, poets, authors, poets, clothing and jewelry designers — there is a lot of talk about impostor syndrome, the deeply internalized fear that one’s accomplishments are all a sham. Even though they have successful careers, they routinely have to hush the little voice telling them have no business calling themselves a professional, and that either everyone is already laughing at them, or it’s only a matter of time before the great denouement begins. (I am also friends with a few people who *ought* to feel this way, but don’t. Somehow it’s always the genuinely talented and accomplished people who feel the most like phonies, whereas there’s no shortage of confidence among the fakers, hacks, and bums.)

So a little service my friends and I perform for each other is to point out the obvious: But you’re doing it. You’re making a living. People are paying you for what you do. Your skills are in demand. If you’re not the real thing, then no one is. The objective evidence proves you are productive and successful. 

The task has been a bit different lately. Lots of creative people are in a bit of a rut. Can’t seem to come up with any ideas. Can’t seem to come up with any enthusiasm for expressing what they do come up with. Can’t seem to drum up a persuasive argument for why it’s worth while to try to express anything to anyone anyway, when everyone is so . . . well, you know. It was one thing when we were doing drawing challenges through a  two-week lockdown to flatten the curve. Headed round the bend toward two years, and the flattening effect has become pervasive, and very flat indeed. 

So the task becomes a bit different. Rather than persuade ourselves that what we produce really is extraordinary, really is above average, really is something special, my friends and I are busily reminding each other that we are valuable and worthy even when we’re not producing anything. And this is a steeper hill to climb. 

But it is a time that will come to all of us, sooner or later. Night, when no man works. The hour when the clock has run out, one way or the other, and we will no longer be able to point to our busywork as evidence for our worth.

Read the rest of my latest at The Catholic Weekly. Note: This essay is currently available only to CW digital subscribers. 

Image: Rod Allday / A fallow field on the Trewidden Estate via Wikimedia Commons