What's For Dinner?

The same  question haunts me daily.

No matter how many loads of laundry I've washed,

how many weeds I've pulled,

how many errands I've done,

it's never enough.

There's always demand for one more task in my day.

I could swim the seven seas,
scale Mountwashmore,
and cross off 29 things on my To-Do List.

Still the question buzzes in my ear
like a Kamikaze mosquito who comes out of hiding
after the bedroom light is extinguished.

Sometimes,the demands of life are so great,
I actually get annoyed when this
survival-of-the-fittest question is asked.


Remember, I'm the one who wishes the Wonka pill was real?

You can read about it here.

As if breakfast and lunch weren't enough,
even though the kids often make their own,
they always gotta' ask
"What's for dinner?"


It's not that I don't wanna' feed my kids,
it's not that we are poverty-stricken and
need to beg for food from the starving kids in Africa.

Most of the time I just can't come up with any idears.

Nothing sounds good,
nothing sounds easy.

Then one day I heard giggling in the kitchen.

Like handwriting on the wall,
I received my answer.

She looks so delicious,
 we might have to make this again.

***********

(Please don't panic.
No children were hurt or abused
in the writing of this blog.
A mommy trying to carry an adorably chubby baby
and a large gleaming kettle upstairs at the same time,
merely simplified her life.)

(Blue words are links to past blogs,
just in case you were too busy trying to figger'
out what to make for dinner to notice.

Why You Should Let Kids In The Kitchen

Time after time,

I've blogged about the messes my kids made in the kitchen.

I've had  burned steaks and

a melted cutting board.

My burner covers have been charcoaled beyond salvation.

I've had spilled spices and

broken eggs.

But, there's

always,

always,

always,

  payback

after all the cleanup.

Homemade Krispy Kreme Donuts?

MMM GOOD!

Strawberry Shortcake?

DELICIOUS!

The best pay-off comes at Thanksgiving.

I haven't cooked in years.

In fact,

I don't remember the last time I cooked the entire meal.

In fact,

I don't know if I even have ever cooked the entire meal.

The kids are in the kitchen as soon as those

little hands can grasp the mixer.

Just because a little hair was also wrapped around the mixer,

I didn't banish them from the kitchen.

No sirreee, not me.

This year our 15 year old son, Jon, took charge

of the entire Thanksgiving meal.

Well, let's clarify. 

He didn't want to get up early enough to put the turkey in,

so Dad started that for him.

But, the menu and the shopping were up to him,

with a help from the people with wheels and a debit card.

He chose very traditional Thanksgiving foods.

The day before he made

a double-batch of white dinner rolls.

Since we usually eat wheat bread,

he loved having an excuse to use white flour,

'cuz he was in charge, ya' know.

The rolls were amazing.

 

Jon was great about CAYG,

Clean As You Go.

By the time dinner was served,

the kitchen was clean,

with a little help from big sister.

Since we eat our meal at 2pm,

he even planned and prepared snacks for the evening,

including this delicious salmon dip.

We make our guests help in the kitchen.

Friend Josiah had to ladle the gravy and walk it to the table.

He also helped with the dishes.

Hubby also made the gravy.

Like previous years, I just had to set the table.

Since I'm still recovering from my Thanksgiving last year,

I went very simple.

Thanksgiving Dinner:

Herb Encrusted Turkey

Red Skinned Mashed Potatoes

Green Bean Casserole

Sweet Potato Casserole

Olives and Pickles

White Dinner Rolls

Spaghetti Squash

Homemade Stuffing

Evening Snacks:

Stuffed Mushrooms

Deviled Eggs

Salmon Dip

Cheese and Crackers

I hope you're a wee bit jealous about my

amazing, handsome, 15 year old chef.

Maybe jealous enough to buy a fire estinguisher

and let your kids in the kitchen,

to spill, drop, break and burn.

There's payback,

I promise.

Someday,

you could be writing about your

amazing, talented kids.

May I Take Your Order Please?

The words were music to my ears.

"Mom, can I make lunch?"

Like I'm gunna' say NO?!?!?!?!?

My youngest daughter loves to serve

and loves to be in the kitchen,

so I love to let her serve me by

being in the kitchen.

I like to avoid the kitchen.

We're not always on speaking terms.

So, I continued to work on an article I was writing,

corrected Geometry and tried not to let Facebook

interrupt my day any further.

When she called me into the kitchen later,

I knew I was in for a fancy restaurant kinda' experience.

A tablesetting with cloth napkin awaited.

After she seated me, I was given a menu,

just like in a real restaurant.

(We'll talk about the spelling tomorrow, k?)

She wore an apron and talked about the menu items,

just like in a real restaurant.

My order was written down and the food quickly prepared.

I should have taken a picture of the food,

but I devoured it too quickly.

She fanned the whole grain crackers around the mound of chicken salad.

The egg salad was served with potato chips

because we like to use it as a dip, not a sandwich spread.

It was delicious!

Just like in a real restaurant.

The bill was just like in a real restaurant, too.

"And, Mom, you have to pay me in real money,"

she said graciously, but firmly.

This is as opposed to the fake money we use

with our fake cash register

when we're studying money in school.

Real money?

Who's she kidding?

I have two teenagers in the house,

I'm not allowed to carry money.

They can sniff out dollar bills faster than

pigs can sniff out truffles.

(I've been waiting for years to use that useful

tidbit of information I gleaned from my fourth grade reader.)

My wallet was emptied.

It wasn't enough.

The piggy bank was shooken/shooked/shaken

until I felt like I was getting carpal tunnel.

The restaurant owner conceded to accept

the amount that slid out of Mr.  Piggy Bank,

who's not the truffle sniffing kinda' pig.

The change was tossed into the tip jar,

and I finished up the dishes.

Just like in a real restaurant.

Is Your Life a Barrel O' Fun?

How much fun are you having in life?

A barrel of fun?

Barrel O' Fun used to be a local business.

I say used to, because I used to live in Minnesota.

We even toured the factory in Perham, MN for a homeschool field trip.

Of course, that was before digital photography.

I have no pics to boast about watching the conveyor belt

dump mountains of chips into open bags.

By the way, the same chips go into about ten different bags.

I saw first hand that generic doesn't always mean an inferior product.

Contrary to urban legend, they don't save all the broken,

discolored chips for the generic bags.

Same chips, different packages.

Anyhoo....

I forgot how much I missed their products until I read Linda's

blog about the Old Dutch Caramel Corn

she made for her adorable vintage Graduation party.

After Linda's blog started my salivary glands craving caramel corn,

I bought  four bags of puffed corn in North Dakota.

It was SO hot, I thought the bags would explode in the car.

They were more bloated than a pregnant woman's

ankles in August.

I arrived home with only three.

 

OOPS!

Snacking helps you stay awake when you have to drive

1380.20 miles...

in the heat....

with no other driver...

and you haven't had much sleep for weeks...

 

The back of the bag has the perfect recipe to make this...

...turn into this.

Sweet, delicious, melt-in-your mouth,

you've-never-had-caramel-corn-this-good-before

deliciousness.

After mixing all the ingredients,

Jon stirred the gooey stuff every 15 minutes.

 I'm not a bad photographer,

he didn't want his picture on my blog.

I promised him I wouldn't show his face,

so I purposely cut off his head.

Yea, I'm a good mom,

I am.

We carefully put 1 cup in each bag,

because we knew that the first one to the tub of caramel corn

would be tempted to eat it all.

Especially if that first person was me.

The fairness dividing routine wasn't enacted just for the kids.

Wouldn't this treat be sweet in these little boxes?

Remember that insane work I put into Graduation?

Whoever named their company

had great insight into the psychology of snacking-happiness.

Eating this stuff, especially carameled, is a

Barrel O'Fun!

**********

Recipe:

Caramel Coating (mix in 2 quart sauce pan)

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup light corn syrup

1 cup brown sugar

Stir and cook for two minutes or until bubbly around the edges, remove from heat. 

 

Add one tsp. baking soda to cause foaming, this will allow for proper coating of pops.

Pour caramel stuff over corn pops and stir until coated.

Place in 250degree oven for 45 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes.

Remove from oven and pour onto waxed paper.

Spread apart before it cools so will cool separately.

(Linda's recipe above is for the microwave.)



What's On Your Tongue?

My cupboards are always messy.

My burners always smoke when they're turned on.

My stove is always  a caked-on mess.

But, all my kids cook better than I do.

I clean better, but that has been necessary

follow-up for their cooking endeavors.

Awhile back, Rebekah decided to make Strawberry Shortcake.

I'm not even sure how she got the idea,

but she just started baking it...

...with a recipe and without help from me.

Golden delicious shortcake cooling on the rack.

It was just waiting for the whipped cream and strawberries.

One delighted cook, enjoying the fruits of her labor.

They were so good, she whipped up a batch

for a dress-up tea party she was invited to attend.

For a special touch, we used small cookie cutters for our

slices of strawberries.

Adorable little shortcakes,

made by my adorable daughter.

This is why I keep wiping up my stove,

over,

and over,

and over,

and over,

again.

Occasionally, I fuss and crank at the kids for making messes,

then their creations fill my mouth,

 and there isn't enough room for the complaints.

Do You Sacrifice Burnt Offerings?

As newlyweds, Scott and I cherished our new life together.

We loved being married,

we loved serving one another,

we loved serving the Lord together.

We were perfectly happy.

When an older man made the following comment,

I initially assumed my godly submissive attitude was showing.

"I hear you worship your husband..."

I was a tad confused, worship was for the Lord,

but I did adore my dear groom.  I nodded hesitantly.

He continued,  seemingly unaware of the doctrinal dilemna I was facing.

"...and you offer him burnt offerings every night."

I think the word that was going around was more about my

lack of culinary skills,

not my abundance of godly character.

It seems my daughter, Rebekah, is following after me in the "worship" department.

Only now, I am the object of her affection.

(All you Box T campers, please notice the plate!

I bought these in honor of Florence and Lewellyn!)

Burnt to a crisp.

Apparently, she turned the stove on, put the bacon in the pan,

then went to do something else.

Don't worry, I bought fire extinguishers this week.

Other people blog delicious recipes,

I blog about kitchen fires,

burned cutting boards,

burned on burners.

This sparked my memory.

Or should I say

ignited?

 

My Amazing Grace in February 2006.

This is what happens when you turn the grill on high,

slap on some steaks,

and leave.

"Grace, do you know how to turn the grill on?"

"Yea."

"Grace, do you know how to grill steaks?"

"Yea, Mom, I watch Dad do it all the time."

This is what happens when you delegate,

then walk away.

Considering she is now an amazing cook,

who rarely grills, it was a worthy sacrifice.

This is what happens when you put a microwave cake pan

in the oven.

Yea, a whole lot of

burnt offerings

sacrificed in our home!

Exodus 29:25

You shall receive them back from their hands

and burn them on the altar as a burnt offering,

as a sweet aroma before the LORD.

It is an offering made by fire to the LORD.

When the children of Israel made offerings,

the Lord was interested in their hearts,

and the scent of true worship arose to the heavens.

With kids in the kitchen,

their heart to serve thrills me,

 and as the scent of their endeavors reaches my nostrils,

I reach for the baking soda or  fire extinguisher.

kIdS iN tHe KiTcHeN - Hair and Mixer Don't Mix!

I found a memory while digging through my

cedar chest.

A chunk of hair.

I had put it in a ziploc bag and  had one of the kids

write a brief description of what happened.

I was wise enough to know at the time,

 that I would forget what happened.

I was right.

This traumatic situation had nearly evaporated from my mind,

the evidence only vaguely prompted a memory.

My kids are in the kitchen at a young age,

but I can't imagine that I actually had a 4 year old

running an electrical applicance unattended.

But, apparently I'm not the only one with memory issues.

When I asked Grace if she remembered anything
about getting her hair caught in the mixer,

she couldn't remember details.

I tried to prompt her memory.

MOM - "Do you remember what house were we living in, Grace?"

GRACE - "Oh, this one."

MOM - "That can't be.  It says you were four years old."

GRACE - "Well, then I did it twice, because I did it once in this house."

MOM - "Are you kidding? You got your hair caught in the mixer twice?"

GRACE - "No, I'm not kidding. We have pictures of it."  She walked towards my computer then stopped.  "Oh, I guess it wasn't my hair that got caught in the mixer, it was a wooden spoon.  I was trying to scrape the edge of the bowl, but didn't stop the mixer and it got caught in between the beaters."

That explains it.  No wonder I had to buy a new mixer and why the other new mixer only lasted a year.

It also explains why when people tell me how "lucky" I am that I have kIdS iN tHe KiTcHeN,

I always give a little shudder, because LUCK has nothing to do with it.  More like insanity.

Their comments also show they haven't read my blog about my stove, broken eggs, dipped pretzels,   messy cupboards, or my cooked cutting board.   

And, apparently, they haven't allowed their kids in the kitchen much, or had the privilege of pulling a huge wad of hair or a wooden spoon out of their beaters.

I guess I am just "lucky."

What's That Smell?

kIdS   iN   tHe   KiTcHeN

One of my goals in life,

 is to make sure all of my kids

know how to cook

when they leave my home.

Another goal is to make sure

 I still have a home to cook in

when my kids leave home.

I learned early in parenting,

that for about

every 15 minutes of kids in the kitchen,

I'm going to have roughly one hour of cleanup.

If you allow more than one in the kitchen at a time,

that ratio is multiplied with great amounts of exasperation.

(Little Gracie, about 3 years old)

But, this little mess maker

 turned into my Thanksgiving dinner baker.

There is always hope!

I am thinking of writing a cookbook with our family's favorite recipes,

but I think I'll have to include "fire extinguisher"

 in the list of items needed for each recipe.

I learned long ago that I can never have too many potholders,

because they traditionally get burned up.

It is the first initiation into cooking with mom,

a tradition followed haphazardly by all my kids.

They have also started dishtowels on fire,

because when they can't find a potholder,

they like to grab the towels hanging on the oven.

But, they always dangle on the element and start on fire,

of course.

This week I smelled something I haven't smelled

since I burned the entire bottom out

of my Tupperware sugar cannister.

I guess making jelly, talking on the phone,

and having five little kids around was just

TOO MUCH

multitasking for me.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Somebody also turned on the wrong burner.

It took days to get all the plastic removed.
Remember my clean stove with

the brand-new drip pans?

Wanna knows who has guilty hands

with bright blue fingernail polish?

Yeah.  OOPS!

I assured her that the cookbook I got for my wedding,

had an identical burn pattern on it.

Apples are falling from both sides

of the family tree.

Lemme show you my husband's secret ingredient for

our Southwest Roast...

Should I be wondering why having

kids in the kitchen is such a disaster?

They come by it honestly.

From both sides of the family.

Anybody want to come for dinner this week?

I double-dog dare ya'.

My Stomach Benefits, My Stove Suffers

People often say to me,

"You're SO lucky your kids can cook!"

They seem to think it was a genetic disposition

that brought my kids into the kitchen

to cook and create,

dream and destroy.

I don't always get credit for teaching them,

wiping up after them,

forfeiting my right to have any set of glasses longer than two years,

and committing to about one half hour of cleaning

for each 15 minutes they spend cooking.

"LUCK"

had nothing to do with it.

It was patience,

mixed in with a lot of tongue-biting,

stirring in a little eye rolling,

folding all ingredients together with love.

  

Maybe I should have kept these drip pans

to give to the next person

who wants to tell me how

"lucky"

I am.

 

They looked this good in October,

a few months old.

I tried scrubbing them.

It was a waste of time. 

I didn't want to spend the money to replace them

after only a few months,

So,

I looked at this for months.

EEEWWWW!!

I was SO excited to discover enamel drip pans in Target

last month.

They were a little more expensive,

but I thought they would be worth it. 

They're still dirty,

but not rusty,

and are not impossible to clean.

The enamel is slightly damaged in this one already,

but it doesn't show up very much.

Why do I take this abuse?

Because I don't have to cook 

the Thanksgiving meal,

or buy Krispy Kreme Donuts

or make breakfast anymore.

We like to challenge people to

"count the cost."

So, I can cook less,

but buy new drip pans more?

Sounds like a bargain to me!