More words I hate and more quinoa.

The other day, I expressed my irritation with a product I was reviewing on my other site, Nivea Creme. Yup. You read it right. They misspelled "cream" and didn't even misspell it right, "crème." Also, I ain't French or nothing and it's been pointed out before that my French is really bad, but wouldn't it be Creme [sic] Nivea rather than Nivea Creme? I would have been most pleased with Nivea Cream, but no one asked me. This annoying detail probably a lot to do with my preference for Fresh's Crème Ancienne or the famous Crème de la Mer. I prefer Fresh's crème for many reasons, one of them being that it's available right here in my town at Pout. But I digress.

I am also irritated by American shopping malls named "Such-and-Such Centre." As far as I know, "centre" is not a word in English, which is fine, but they need to call it "Centre Such-and-Such" instead. Which is stupid, because everybody's just going to call it "Such-and-Such Mall" anyway, now aren't they? Upon reading my mini-rant, a friend sent me this e-mail:

I JUST thought about you when I washed my face. I was using a sample and the directions said "use about half the packette". Excuse me, it is no longer a packet. It is the much more sophisticated packette. I am getting in my bedde to have a blissful sleepe now.

which cracked me up. My friend, incidentally, owns a shop located in "The Shoppes at W--." You know that place, "W-- Mall." *snort* She is a funny lady, my friend. She e-mailed a couple days later.

I used the rest of my PACKETTE last night.

which cracked me up again. Guess what other word I hate...eatery. It's a freakin' restaurant, a café if you must. It seems I have even more Bad Words than I thought. And I haven't formed a complete opinion yet on "artisan." We'll see.

In Quinoa Week 2009 news, I plan to toast a little quinoa and pine nuts to toss in a salad tonight, a salad that will accompany beef brisket from Eubank Farm, turnip greens and collards from the All-Local Farmers' Market cooked with Miso, Parmesan foccacia from Heather's Artisan* Bakery and Carolina Plantation Gold Rice from Rosewood Market. Yes, I am bragging. I'm also really looking forward to dinner.

By the way, someone asked after my last post if I rinse my quinoa to remove the bitterness. I do not, even when I get it from the bulk bins at Rosewood. I re-cook it after boiling, either by roasting or toasting. Maybe that removes the bitterness. Also, as TF mentioned in the comments section, roasted or toasted quinoa is delicious with just a little balsamic vinegar. The batch he used had been toasted with lemon-infused olive oil from Perrone's. You could go nuts and add a handful of herbs, too. Just sayin'. Please excuse me. I gotta' go marinate a brisket.

Namasté, y'all!

* Huh. Can't hate that word when the bread is so damn good.

Quinoa Week 2009!

So. I love quinoa. I really do. It's a nutty grain, chock-full of complete protein. That's a lie. It's not a grain. It's seeds. But still, it's delicious and I love it. To participate in quinoa week, you will need to boil a large pot of quinoa and refrigerate it, cooked, in a sealed bowl. If you are going to eat quinoa every single day for a week with me, you'll want to pre-boil it, because I cook it again once it's boiled, because who likes boiled food? So go ahead and get that out of the way. Incidentally, you'll need to combine one part quinoa with two parts water and boil the whole mess, covered, for ten to fifteen minutes. Since you'll be re-cooking it, there's no need to boil the crap out of it.

Today's quinoa delicacy is a stuffed red pepper, several actually. Why be selfish? Start with your peppers. Find a casserole dish that holds them exactly, because non-GMO peppers are not always flat on the bottom and you want them to stand up in the dish. You do use organic, non-GMO peppers, don't you? If you need to add more peppers than you have diners, never fear, the dish reheats well.



I forgot to tell you this, but you should have pre-heated your oven to 450° F, so do that now unless you are the kind of person who reads ahead. I'm not, which leads to recipe disasters, but I like surprises. Drizzle the peppers with olive oil and roast them for about ten minutes.

While they cook, put a scoop of cooked quinoa for each pepper into a frying pan of heated olive oil - I highly recommend lemon-infused olive oil, available at your local Fancy Mart. Throw in a handful of pine nuts, a really big handful.



Toast the nuts and quinoa in the frying pan for a few minutes, probably until your peppers are ready to come out of the oven. While your peppers cool a little bit, mince a handful of herbs. I used basil, mint and chives, but go nuts and use whatever you like. If you don't have one of these, get one.



Don't bother with an expensive one unless you're giving it as a wedding gift. Even then, only get the expensive one if you actually know the couple. Just make sure it has two handles like mine, so you can easily rock it back and forth as you chop all sorts of stuff, like garlic, ginger, herbs and Sour Patch Kids. These are the chopped herbs. I took the chopped herb picture with my old camera. I hate my old camera. Is that mean? Whatever. It's not a person, it's a camera*.



In a bowl, mix the toasted quinoa and pine nuts, chopped herbs and a handful or two of some sort of crumbly goat cheese. I used Split Creek Farm goat Feta and Oh. My. Gosh. Was it ever good! You might think this is gross, but I used my finger to wipe the remaining goat cheese from the inside of the container and ate it. My beloved Rosewood Market** carries Split Creek Farm goat cheese. Enjoy! Drizzle more olive oil and maybe some salt into the bowl as well.



And now, we are ready to stuff the peppers. So, um, stuff them. Pack the stuffing in with a spoon so you can get a lot in there.



Put their little hats back on and roast them until they're a little black on top, ten to fifteen more minutes. You can do everything early in the day - or even the day before - and leave the final roasting for when you're ready. If you want to pull one out and save it to roast for lunch the next day, go for it. Here we have the stuffed, not yet re-roasted peppers.



Bring a bottle of balsamic vinegar to the table and harass everyone until they pour some over their pepper. I didn't take a picture of the final product because I was hungry and couldn't wait to eat. Yum, yum, yum. At least in my world.

Namasté, y'all!

* Why is there only one picture in here with my old camera? I could skip this explanation, but I don't want anyone to lie awake at night. I broke my new camera by dropping it on the bathroom counter. That's not as creepy as it sounds. I was taking a picture of a beauty product for my other blog, not nude photos of myself. Why would I want a record of that? Anyhow, I made this dish the other night, before the rock stars at Southern Photo fixed my camera in record time. I didn't like the way it came out, because I didn't par-roast the peppers before stuffing. I also didn't like the pictures, taken with my old camera, which I now know for sure is a piece of sh*t. So I made it again, but I forgot to take another picture of the herbs and I thought you should see them. I'm embarrassed that I didn't even ask the Southern Photo guy's name, so excited was I about having my camera back. Thank you, Southern Photo Guy. Did you ever know that you're my heeeeeeeero? You are the wiiiiind beneath my wings! I love you, man.

** Hey! Guess what! Rosewood started carrying my favorite fish taco seasoning by Simply Organic. I bought a bunch, but I left some for you, so you can make fish tacos. Ooh! Know what I just thought of? You could add quinoa to the fish as it's cooking and it would add a nice texture. Must try later this week.

Have had far too much coffee to start that detox today.

And the coffee will remain in my system for a while, so I think I should wait a few more days. Also, I'm having dinner at Dianne's tonight with some friends and I don't think I can detox just yet. I am, however, trying to be a touch healthier. I pulled out my old copy of Vegan Vittles, which is a surprisingly good cookbook, considering there is no meat or cheese or even butter in any of the recipes. So, they have this recipe for dip, Glorious Green Olive Dip, to be exact. Although you may find this shocking (I know this avid meat and cheese eater did), the dip is pretty glorious, on everything from chips to celery.

I did not exactly have those ingredients, so I improvised and I really, really like my new dip. Yo.

My New Spicy I-Can't-Believe-It's-Vegan Dip

In a food processor, combine the following:

• 1 box soft silken tofu. You can find this in the Asian section of most grocery stores. You don't even have to go to the Fancy Mart, but you can if you like, because the service is better. But I digress. Do not look for silken tofu in the refrigerated section, because it is not there.
• 1 garlic clove.
• 1 Chipotle pepper in adobo sauce and a spoonful of the sauce, more if you like it hot. These peppers can be found in a can in the Mexican section of the grocery store.
• a few heaping spoonfuls of Nutritional Yeast. It sounds gross. It looks gross. It does not taste gross. I promise! Sprinkle it on popcorn with a little salt. And it is very, very healthy. And not gross. My favorite Fancy Mart, Rosewood Market, carries it in bulk.
  
• 5 or 6 green olives and a splash of olive juice from the jar.
• a handful of fresh basil.
• a dash or two of salt.
  
• some lime juice. I would recommend a lot of lime juice. I like lime juice. I used about a third of that plastic squeezy lime.

Purée everything until it looks creamy. Now add a splash or three of olive oil and blend for a few more seconds. I liked the dip with celery, but it was even better with red pepper. Tortilla chips would not be a bad vehicle for this dip. It also made an excellent sandwich spread. And was healthy. Woohoooo!

I will be detoxified in no time. Or not.

Namasté, y'all!

Risotto = Advanced San Francisco Treat.

First things first. Dear Ron Aiken, I like to steal your idea of using Something=Something for a title. S'funny.

Now, let's chat about risotto. It has a fancy-sounding name. It's often referred to as a rustic dish by fancy food people (Rustic = You must be very fancy to achieve this dish, originally prepared by peasants far more sophisticated than you.) With all this fanciness going around, we must assume the dish is fancy. Thing is, it's delicious, even better than the the San Francisco Treat you adored as a child. And thanks to its fanciness, you can serve it at a dinner party, a fancy dinner party. And I know, because I am Miss Super Fancy Pants.

Do not fear risotto, intimidating as it may be. I learned to make it from The New Basics Cookbook*. Anyhow, The New Basics taught me two essential rules:

1. You need about four times as much liquid as dry rice.

2. All in all, the rice should cook a total of 25 to 30 minutes.

If you follow those, you're golden, just like your risotto. Use a recipe the first time or two, then improvise away, like I did yesterday. I was forced to make Sunday lunch for my family, because my parents went to early church**. As I was home in my pajamas, a trip to the grocery store wasn't appropriate, so I opened the fridge. I found Arborio rice***, a single serving container of cream cheese from Panera, a leek, some turkey stock I had frozen, the last of some marinara sauce from Moe's Italian Grapevine, pine nuts, white wine and the end of a container of shredded Parmesan.

Leek Risotto

Heat about two tablespoons olive oil in a big pot. Add one leek, sliced into half-inch pieces. Sauté the leek until it's soft, about three minutes.

Add about a cup Arborio rice to the pot and set your kitchen timer for 25 minutes. Stir the rice until it's coated with oil.

When the timer is at 22 minutes, add about a half-cup stock, which should be simmering on another burner. Keep stirring. Remember Risotto Rule #1: You need about four times as much liquid as dry rice. In this case, I had a little less than four cups simmering, so I added a half-cup white wine.

When the stock is absorbed (i.e. When you scrape the spoon across the bottom of the pot, you should be able to see the bottom for a few seconds before the risotto settles), add another half-cup. By the way, use a wooden spoon, which is gentler on your rice than metal, and a pot without non-stick coating. Non-stick coating does yucky stuff to rice and food in general. You don't need a non-stick pot, you need to use more oil and keep a better eye on your heat.

Keep adding stock, a half-cup at a time until almost all of it has been added. When almost all the liquid has been absorbed, add about a half-cup marinara sauce, a single serving container of cream cheese from Panera or wherever and maybe a little pepper. Keep adding the rest of the stock until it's all gone.

Have you been keeping an eye on the kitchen timer? You did set it for 25 minutes when I told you to, right? Well it should be almost at zero now. You may, if necessary, add five minutes more.

At the last minute, stir in a handful of pine nuts and about a half-cup shredded Parmesan. You may, of course, add salt and pepper if you like. Now eat it. Don't wait, because risotto should be served hot, hot, hot!

Namasté, y'all!

* Which you should get. I used mine so much, it fell apart. My friend Gabrielle kindly offered me an extra one she had. I'm breaking it in, because all my favorite pages in the old one had food on them. I can't find anything in the new one without using the index.

** We go to the 9 am service. Not true. I force TF to go with our kids while I stay home and laze around in my pajamas sucking down coffee and reading the paper, because Sunday is the only damn day I can do that and I went to church as a child and TF didn't, so now we're even. And I don't feel guilty. Dammit. work. My parents usually go to that service and take us out to eat afterward. Because they went earlier, we would have had to pay for lunch ourselves. Have you heard? Apparently, the economy is less than stellar at the moment.

*** This site provides an excellent, brief and very funny explanation of Arborio rice.

Stuff southern people like.

One thing we like is Frogmore Stew, also known as Beaufort Stew or Shrimp Boil. I like to call it Frogmore Stew because that seems elitist and I'm nothing if not fancy. That's not true. I just like the way Frogmore sounds. Also, once I visited Frogmore and it was pretty, although I didn't eat stew there. I think I had spaghetti or ham, but that's beside the point. Actually, something kind of interesting happened involving a really old woman sitting buck-naked in her parlor drinking rum puréed with a fresh peach after an early morning swim in her pool, but the details escape me.

Last night my brother-in-law, sister-in-law and their three children came for dinner. I planned to order pizza (told you I was fancy), but changed my mind after my awesome sister* gushed about her New Year's Day dinner with my aunt. My sister is on the low end of the adventuresome spectrum when it comes to food, having only recently ventured beyond Cheerios, bananas and yogurt. She described a delicious meal consisting of corn, shrimp and sausage. How could she have missed Frogmore Stew? She grew up here. I can only imagine she saw it, suspected it had "weird stuff" in it and headed towards the chicken fingers. But I digress. She's had it now and that's all that matters, praise the Baby Jesus. Besides, if the stew hadn't been so notable, she might not have mentioned it and I might not have remembered how easy it is to make. She even sent me a recipe**.

I varied the recipe a little for a smaller crowd and also because I can't stand to follow directions. Maybe you like to follow directions.

Frogmore Stew***

Get a huge pot. I love this pot, a wedding gift, and think about the friends who gave it every time I use it****.

The pot was already out, as I had used it earlier to make turkey stock with the leftover carcass from the barbeque at our party. I know what you're thinking: That party was a while ago and the carcass must be rotten. Au contraire. The carcass had been in our neighbor's freezer - ours was stuffed with party food - and they brought it back, frozen, a couple of days ago. Now I have a freezer full of turkey stock. I know what you're thinking: The freezer is full of party food. Au contraire, silly. We ate the party food at the party. We had the space and had simply forgotten about storing the carcass at the neighbors. I'm proud to report they returned it, rather than keeping it for themselves, which proves they aren't thieves. Good neighbors are worth their weight in shrimp. Hoo-whee, did I ever digress right there, y'all.

Put 3-4 quarts of water in the pot. If you like, substitute seafood stock for some of the water. I like this one:

Add 1/2 cup Old Bay Seasoning, as many shakes of cayenne pepper as you like and a couple of heaping spoons full of sugar to the pot and bring everything to a boil.

Once the water's boiling, add about 1 1/2 pounds of new potatoes, sliced in half, and let them cook for 15 minutes. I wholeheartedly endorse the cooking times in the recipe my sister sent, so I copied them.

Next, add 2 pounds sliced Andouille Sausage. I found some at the Social Pig, in the fish case. They must have known what I was thinking.

After 5 minutes, add 6 ears of corn, cut into thirds or quarters.

After 5 more minutes, add 3 pounds of shrimp, beheaded, not peeled. The Social Pig carries Port Royal shrimp. Excellent.

Cook everything a few more minutes, until the shrimp is done. Drain the water, cover a table with newspaper and dump the stew.

Stand around and eat it with your hands and your beverage of choice. My husband enjoyed his customary pink bubbly (or "Dry Rosé", as he likes to call it), with ice because he's even fancier than I. My brother-in-law chose Bud Light, while his wife sipped Chardonnay. I stuck with the holiday theme and had some sparkly Pol Clément Brut. Miraculously, they all worked. Forks are optional.

Namasté, y'all!

P.S. Yes, y'all, that is the New York Times. Just more evidence of our consummate fanciness. So is my use of the word "consummate." You know what word I hate? "Tout" and all its derivatives. That word irritates me so much.

P.P.S. Please see important addendum to this entry here. Merci, y'all.


* As opposed to the un-awesome one - you know who you are, hooker - who keeps beating me at Scramble on Facebook.

** My other sister, the hookerish one, would never send me a recipe. She'd be too busy playing Scramble. Well, actually not, because she's nice, probably nicer than the other sister. But I still think she stinks.

*** I have a feeling I'm going to get in trouble for claiming my recipe is for Frogmore Stew. Oh, well. Go ahead and school me. I've been schooled before.

****K, M, S, S and L: Love you. Love the pot. Think it's way cool you're still such a huge part of our lives. The true beauty of the pot is that we would never have bought such a thing ourselves, a huge, heavy-duty behemoth of a pot. It came from the Gourmet Shop, stuffed with all sorts of cool stuff like fancy olive oil, super-fancy balsamic vinegar, grapeseed oil and an iconic stainless steel ladle. We wouldn't even know about grapeseed oil, a mildly flavored healthy oil perfectly suited for stir-fry thanks to its ability to withstand high heat, if it wasn't for that gift. I love grapeseed oil, I love that pot and ladle and I love y'all. I really do. *sniff*

Whine.

I hate buying toilet paper, hate it. There's nothing fun about it, it's not all that cheap and it's a hassle to carry, especially when you buy enormous quantities, like I do, because I don't want to have to go back to buy more for a long, long time. One of the happiest times in my life was when I bought something like 144 rolls of paper and didn't need more for almost two years. That was great. So, yesterday, I had to buy toilet paper. It was definitely time, because we had been passing one roll from bathroom to bathroom and, really, each bathroom should have its own roll, for convenience. I try to avoid big box stores, but I try to avoid buying toilet paper even more, so I get it wherever they sell the biggest package. I had to take Baby J; it was not fun. I was feeling put out.

I love that phrase, "put out." I'm pretty sure it's exclusively Southern. It's used to describe someone who acts like they're being asked to do something entirely unreasonable. When I was younger, and whining about cleaning my room or something even smaller, like putting my own dish in the dishwasher, my mother would say,

"Oh, stop acting so put out."

Like many things my mother used to always say, that's become one of my catchphrases, because I've become my mother. Anyhow, yesterday I was feeling put out, after having to buy toilet paper in a big box store with Baby J. Still feeling put out, I went to my favorite non-hippy grocery store to buy a mix to make cupcakes for the X-Man's birthday today. The big box store didn't have lemon cake mix, which is what he wanted. I am ashamed and embarrassed about what happened next.

I wasn't concerned about going into the second store*, because every grocery store in town, including that one, has free cookies for kids and shopping carts with trucks on the front for toddlers to ride in. The truck carts are hard to push, but well worth the effort when you have a toddler who likes to be held every moment of the day. Baby J loves trucks and cookies and started talking about them as we pulled into the parking lot. I was really looking forward to peeling him off of my neck, strapping him into the truck and quieting him with a cookie. When grocery stores first started putting the cookies out, I whined about it to anyone who would listen.

"Why must we reward kids with unhealthy food just for doing something they have to do anyway? It's normal to go to the store and they have to accept it. When I was little, they had broken cookies every once in a while, but it was a special treat and a surprise, not a given. Ugh."

Which is why my behavior yesterday is so embarrassing. When will I learn that acting superior never, ever pays? Baby J was in the truck, chanting,

"TOOKIE! TOOKIE! TOOKIE!"

There were no cookies. I waited at the deli, thinking for sure they would give me one. I was going to buy one if they had no free ones. I'm not an unreasonable person. I thought everyone behind the counter was busy. Baby J got louder. And I noticed one of the employees pouring himself a Mountain Dew and poking at it with a straw. That really got my goat (another Southern expression for you). I marched over and said, "Excuse me!" rather aggressively. I asked about the cookies. I got a long, boring explanation about people taking more than one and how they just couldn't put cookies out anymore because of blah, blah, blah, blah. I said that was fine, but that I was switching grocery stores, forever.

I was going to buy the cake mix anyway when Baby J informed me that it might be best if we left the store, right that second. On my way out, I ran into L, a nice, polite lady from my church. I needed to vent, so I told her why I was leaving. L. has three (redheaded) children of her own and sympathized with my plight. She thought I should talk to a manager, but Baby J was about to lose it, so I had to go.

The very efficient L. sent a very brave grocery store employee out to my car to explain the cookie situation and ask me to continue shopping at the store, which I will. Mainly because she told me the cookies will be there in the future.

L. and the grocery store employee should start a PR firm; they saved the day. I called her on my cell phone and left a message, apologizing for my temper tantrum and thanking her for talking me down off the ledge and saving me from having to find another store. She left a message back saying that she hadn't noticed any sort of tantrum and that she had done similar. Did I mention what a kind person she is?

Namasté, y'all!

* I should have been concerned. It was five o'clock and I have three children. When will I learn? maybe next week. *sigh*

Business with a heart.

The other day I went to Rosewood Market, macrobiotic cookbook in hand. I was in the produce aisle, trying to figure out which yucky looking root was burdock. One of the most excellent and informed employees came over and asked if I needed help. I asked her a few questions about macrobiotic cooking and various ingredients. It is so nice to ask questions in a store and actually get the answers. Last week, I went to the big box office store where my husband bought his laptop. I needed a new charger thingy. The manager had no idea if they carried one that fit. As luck would have it, the two of us were able to sort it out, but what should have taken two minutes took fifteen. Grrr!

So, I'm not naming the employee, because I wouldn't want to get her in trouble for simplifying macrobiotics for me so well. She said it was really just a bunch of whole grains and fresh, seasonal produce. When I expressed my dismay that most of the soups were made with water instead of stock, she assured me that cheating was allowed. She showed me the burdock root and explained several different ways to prepare it and informed me that I should probably skip it, because it tastes gross. When I said I was interested in it for the healing properties, she told me how to make it as palatable as possible. Since we'd been chatting for a while, I felt the need to explain myself.

"I have to admit that I actually have no interest in macrobiotic cooking. Most of it seems really nasty and you know how much I love food."

Someone I love is sick with pancreatic cancer. Although I wish I had more faith, I don't believe that macrobiotics will heal him. I wish it was that easy. I do know that he needs to eat and I was hoping to find a way to make it a little bit healthier. Cheating at macrobiotics seems the way to go. And this is what touched me: I don't know the employee who helped me very well. She knows my name and I know hers, we have a few mutual friends and we see each other around town sometimes. I like her. She said that, knowing my love for food, her first thought when she saw me with the cookbook was, "Oh no! I hope someone isn't sick!" And that is one of the bazillion reasons to shop local.

She also showed me which cookbooks were best for tofu, because I have all these pesky pescetarians in my house*. She even went to the trouble of looking up and writing down the name of an out of print vegetarian cookbook she thought I'd like. I'd say it was a much better experience than the computer store, but I didn't ask the manager there about food, so I guess I shouldn't compare the two.

I bought the burdock and a bunch of other stuff that was vaguely macrobiotic-y. When I got home, I decided to make cabbage stew, because I read that round vegetables are considered to be good for the pancreas by macrobioticists**. And I didn't use plain water, I used some turkey stock I had made and frozen a while ago. The vegetables I used to make it were organic, though. Do I get points for that?

Namasté, y'all!

* My kids. We are not vegetarians, but they are. This came about gradually, but the deal was sealed when O read Chew on This, by Eric Schlosser, author of Fast Food Nation. The slightly less puritanical X-Man soon followed in his much admired older brother's footsteps, but has recently declared himself "the kind of vegetarian that eats saucisson." That's my kind of vegetarian.

** Did I just make a new word? Oh, it would appear not, as a quick Google provided me with a few hits, thirty eight, to be exact.

Give Me a T!

What starts with a "T," is awesome and, but for one syllable, rhymes with "lederhosen"?* That's right...TRADER JOE'S! A few of my lady friends and I made a short shopping/talking/eating/drinking trip to Charlotte this weekend. On the way out of town, we stopped at Trader Joe's to stock up on low-priced treats. I'll spare you my list, but I think the four of us spent about a thousand dollars all together. That isn't an exaggeration. If you love TJ's like I love TJ's, or if you care about me and want me to be happy, please email them and let them know how much you would like them to open a store here in my town. Thanks.

One reason TJ's is able to keep the prices so low is by cutting out the middle man (or woman, as the case may be) whenever possible. Guess what! You, too, can cut out the middle entity, right here at home! How? By going to the All Local Farmers' Market! It happens twice a month, on the second Saturday at Gervais and Vine and on the fourth Saturday at Yo Burrito. I may have mentioned it a few times before... The fourth Saturday of this month falls on January twenty sixth, the day of the Democratic Primary in South Carolina. But I digress.

Oh, wait, no I don't digress, because the primary is on my mind. Yesterday afternoon, my children and I got to see Senator Hillary Clinton address a group of local women. Baby J was not interested and left after several minutes. O and the X-Man, on the other hand, were riveted. I was thrilled to see them feeling so involved in an election. The Brave O got in trouble for weaseling away from me through the crowd Hillary's autograph and a handshake. She asked him his name and looked him in the eye.

Ladies and gentlemen, this may or may not be the moment you have all been waiting for. The Daily Digress has decided to officially endorse Senator Hillary Clinton for President of the United States. I rarely admit so openly which candidate I support, mostly because I hate discussing politics. If you want a long conversation with me, ask me about the dress I bought at Coplon's big sale in Charlotte (It is so totally awesome that I might have to have a party for it). I won't bore you with all of the reasons I've decided to place myself firmly in Hillary's camp, because I'm pretty sure no one reads this for the political insight.

The woman I hope will become president talked about a lot of things yesterday, including several that are close to my heart. She talked about health care, how we fall short and how we can do better. She talked about teen pregnancy and the need to prevent it. She talked about the need to support local and minority-owned businesses by including them. She specifically talked about small, organic farmers and how we can make sure they survive and thrive. I think she'd really like our twice monthly market. Maybe she'll stop by the day of the primary for an all-local breakfast: Anson Mills grits, Wil-Moore Farms eggs and Caw Caw Creek sausage with a side of hot coffee. She'll need a good breakfast for the long day ahead!

And that's all I'll say about that, but for a short Public Service Announcement for South Carolina lawyers:

The South Carolina Bar Association conference in Charleston will be going on during the primary. If you plan to be at the conference and will be unable to vote locally, please make sure to get an absentee ballot. Democratic absentee ballots must be received by January 25th, I think.

Namasté, y'all!


* It comes closer to rhyming with the singular version, lederhose, but who refers to lederhosen in the singular? Nicht ich, mein Freund, nicht ich.

Childhood Mystery, Solved

When I was growing up, junky snack food was rare in our pantry. I was the oldest of four children. By the time my brother, the youngest, was born, mom and dad had gotten looser with the grocery budget and he got all kinds of good stuff, like Pringles and fancy cereal. When there was good snack food, you had to be very careful not to eat the last of it, because you would then be accused of "EATING IT ALL!"

You would open the pantry, hoping for something good, even though it was usually filled with healthy (i.e. tasteless) cereal, canned vegetables (the only kind we ate), canned soup and boxes of stuff like instant mashed potatoes and Hamburger Helper (bought on sale and saved for a special occasion.) Once in a while, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a box of Triscuits! Or a bag of Cheetos! Or something crazy like Apple Jacks! And I would want to eat it, all, but I wouldn't. Not because of some innate sense of fairness, but because I was afraid of being humiliated. So I would eat half, or slightly less than half, leaving a thoroughly respectable amount for the next lucky snacker. And if the bag wasn't open yet, I wouldn't touch it, because I wouldn't want to get in trouble for eating something that was being held in reserve for a higher purpose, like bridge club.

Whenever my mom had bridge club, there were treats, none of which were for us kids, not even a bite. There were never any leftovers, either, because drinking heavily and telling dirty jokes playing bridge makes ladies very hungry. I remember seeing the milk carton of Whoppers on the counter, reaching for them in awe and immediately hearing my mother yell, "Stop! Those are for the ladies!" Apparently, ladies eat a hell of a lot of Whoppers. And you thought they just ate little sandwiches. Now that I'm a grown up, I have Whoppers at all of my parties. And I let my kids eat them. I even let my mom eat them, because I'm not one to hold a grudge.

Sometimes, I would open the pantry, see some extravagant trans-fat-filled delicacy and eagerly reach for the box, only to find it was surprisingly light. I would look in to find four Doritos or a half of a Fig Newton. Torn, I wouldn't know what to do. If I alerted anyone to the presence of this paltry amount, I'd have to share and I'd probably be accused of eating the rest anyway. If I ate it stealthily and someone walked in, I'd hear, "UGH! WHY DID YOU EAT ALL OF THE FIG NEWTONS?!!" That would alert mom, who would give me a lecture on health and the dangers of eating an entire bag of Doritos in one sitting, which I HAD NOT DONE, but never mind. As my sisters got older and more athletic, I was hesitant to incur their wrath, because they could and would beat me up. I hate pain.

Whoever it was that ate (nearly) all of the forbidden fruit knew exactly what they were doing. They never ate the last one or took the last sip, so they never had to leave a tell-tale empty container in the garbage. And if it was something that came in a bag, like chips, they would roll the top of the bag down an inch or two, leaving a large amount of empty space, and put a chip clip on top. When the next hopeful child came along, they would reach for a seemingly full bag, alerting the household to the presence of junk food with the crackling sound, only to have everyone rush in and accuse them of "EATING IT ALL!!" It was very, very scary.

So, my sister is staying with us right now. I've always begged my sisters to come stay with us if they ever had time. I envisioned a warm, fuzzy bonding time for my boys, who adore their aunts and don't get to see them enough, because they live out of town. For the most part, this visit has been lovely. Oddly, around the time she got here, I began to find boxes of crackers with only three crackers in them, cereal with less than a tablespoon left, apple sauce that could only be obtained with a rubber spatula and even a bag of these, with only three left*. When I found a chip clip, carefully clipped to the top of an empty bag, I knew. I knew that the mystery had been solved. It was her, it was always her. But I didn't say anything, because I was afraid she would beat me up. Frankly, it was enough just to know the truth.

Namasté, y'all!

* By the way, I'm totally aware that this stuff doesn't exactly qualify as junk food, but I'm mean and don't buy actual junk for my kids to eat at home. I have this theory: If I feed them really healthy at home, then I can let them eat whatever they want when we're out. Just today, for example, my husband and I took these to Sunday school, to make the kids like us to share with the students we teach.


I let my big kids have two, each. I even let Baby J have one, a whole one. Not my finest moment, but it was so cute when he toddled over to the box (which he recognized, which should tell you something about the purity of my commitment to healthy eating) and grabbed one. After shoving the small piece I had given him into his mouth, he toddled off mumbling, "Mmmmm...mmm...mmmmm," the sugary snowman getting crushed in his tiny grip. Please do not call Child Protective Services. I'm ashamed and embarrassed and I'll never let it happen again.

We were doing Savasana (AKA Hippy Mommy's Little Helper) and the teacher told us not to think about our grocery lists, which I was. How did she know? Thing is, I like thinking about my grocery list. It actually clears my mind. I like going to the grocery store after Yoga, without kids, and eating a cookie while I shop. It is an especially awesome day if they have the cranberry orange oatmeal cookies. Otherwise, Virginia Spice or oatmeal raisin is just fine. Last night, as I napped (yeah, yeah, I know you're not supposed to, but I have a one year old who still nurses at night) in Savasana, I did NOT think of my grocery list. This turned out to be a big mistake, as I did not send the grocery energy out into the universe and ended up having to come home without making it to the store. Grrr. So I'll go today with the three boys, which is fun too, but means I won't get a cookie. Here is my list:

pine nuts (for pesto to make with the basil we got in our CSA bag)
parmesan (ditto)
cherries
bananas (yuck. but I am the only one who despises the vile fruit)
bagels
pizza crust (the yummy sprouted wheat one to make eggplant mush pizza. I already have the eggplant mush in the freezer. Yay.)
apples (green, because they're pretty)
tea (the expensive kind in the pink can, because it tastes good and I recently realized that it isn't more expensive, because there are twice as many bags)
dried figs (for salad and snacks)
slivered almonds
feta cheese
mixed greens

Ahhhhhhhhh...do you feel as relaxed as I do now? And here is one of my favorite salad recipes:

mixed greens
slivered almonds
chopped dried figs (the good unsulphured kind in the bulk section)
feat cheese, crumbled
balsamic vinaigrette

Sounds like a lunch.

Dinner is a bit more challenging these days because O is a vegetarian. I will admit that I tried to talk him out of it. I taunted him with visions of delicious barbeque (nay, not just visions, but the physical manifestation, which the rest of us ate, with glee.) he didn't take the bait and has been a vegetarian for a week. But, I am a good Hippy Mommy (well, a Lipstick Hippy Mommy, more on that later. I know you are on the edge of your seat now.) So, I have to be supportive. I'm no short order cook, so I'm just bulking up the vegetarian portions of our regular meals. Luckily, the Eggplant Mush Pizza we're having tonight is vegetarian. I've got to rename that thing; it's really quite good.

Eggplant Mush Pizza

Heat some olive oil in a big frying pan (I love this one, 14 inches)

One by one in a food processor, ground the following, adding it to the pan as you go:

one eggplant, peeled and cubed before it goes into the food processor. Let the eggplant cook for a while before you add the other stuff. You may want to salt it slightly, too. It should absorb all the oil before you add other stuff.
an onion
one box of good mushrooms, like crimini
one or two red peppers (or one red and one yellow), seeded please
a hot pepper or two, if you like, NOT seeded, because the heat is in the seeds
if you have fresh herbs growing (oregano, basil, thyme, chives, whatever) toss those in the pan too

As this mixture gets less liquid, add a can of tomatoes, drained (Rotel if you like it spicier or plain if you don't) and cook the mixture until the liquid is mostly gone.

This makes enough mush for four pizzas, so divide it up and freeze three of them for nice easy meals later.

Take out a pizza crust (or make your own, you over achieving freak.) I love this one (Alvarado Street Bakery California Style Sprouted Wheat Pizza Crust) Put it on a pizza stone or pan. Duh. Unless you are one of those pretentious chef-types who believes the pizza must be cooked directly on the oven rack. Frankly, this makes no difference and just leaves a mess on the bottom of your oven. There is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.

Spread basil pesto on the crust (I like to make my own and freeze it in ice cube trays. I use 4-5 cubes for this pizza. Ready made pesto is just ducky, too.)

Spread one quarter of the eggplant mush on top of that.

Sprinkle mozzarella on top. You can mix in other cheeses too, if you have them and are trying to use them up, like if you're about to leave town for vacation or to avoid arrest. Fontina and parmesan or asiago are good. You can use shredded mozzarella or, if you have fresh, slice it thinly and use that.

Cook it according to the instructions on the package of crust. It's not rocket science, so if you already threw away the bag, ten to twelve minutes at 400-450 should do it. Just make sure the cheese is melted, dumb dumb.

Other variations:

My sister in law likes to add ground beef to the mush mix.
You can use tomato sauce instead of basil pesto and leave the can of tomatoes out of the mush mix. I would recommend adding fresh basil if you do this.
I sprinkle dried red pepper on top of the finished product, but that is no great innovation.

Okay, off to the store. Namaste, y'all.