16 and Pregnant

I watch a lot of trash on t.v., which is something of a feat in and of itself considering we don't have cable. I just had to share my most recent addiction, 16 and Pregnant on MTV. Kudos if you guessed the premise.

This particular episode's couple, however, was startlingly mature. The couple, Catelynn and Tyler (or is it Taylor? I can never get that name right), give their daughter up for adoption, knowing they cannot provide a good life for her. I was mesmerized by how self-possessed both of them were, given their unfortunate family situations (Tyler's father was just released from jail, and Catelynn's mom calls her a bitch, and both parents don't agree with their decision to put their child up for adoption - it's dysfunction at its worst).

I thought I'd share because 1) these kids are remarkable given their situation and 2) a few posts back I was discussing things that make you cry. Grab a tissue.

Episode Here

If a girl places a chocolate cake in her cart, don't judge, okay?

Oh yeah, there's the good stuff.

Pictured: Wegman's "Ultimate Chocolate Cake"

It's a good thing I don't live with a worrier. Case in point: last night. laying in bed, I heard buzzing sounds. "Do you hear that?" I asked Matt. "Oh yeah, I saw a hornet in here earlier." Lovely.

And I won't get into the specifics, but I've been feeling the effects of the recession personally at my job for the past year. A lot of additional cutbacks were just initiated, leaving us bewildered, worried, and a bit poorer, and wondering how safe our jobs are (not very). Last week when I learned of all of this I announced our American dream was all over, we'd lose the house, and won't be able to care for our daughter (who, yes, is our dog...to each their own, eh?). I was hyperbolic, and I was taking no prisoners.

"And Matt, I know you think you're getting a computer for your birthday, but, well, in light of recent economic developments, you're getting an egg toaster, okay?" (Don't get me started on his silly egg toaster contraption.) Matt didn't miss a beat and said he wanted some Xbox games if I was going to rob him of his right to a speedy computer. Only if they're used, I said. Fine, he said. Deal; now go clear the dishes, will you?

While Matt was loading the plates and forks in the dishwasher and doing some financial calculations in his head, all the while saying we'd be fine and not to worry about it, I was already thinking about dinners comprised of tuna and mac and cheese, and oh, the horror, cutting back on my favorite designer boutique. And by "favorite designer boutique", I mean Target. Obviously. I looked at Penny and wondered if she could be a show dog, or a dog model for extra cash, and by golly, I think the old girl has it in her, if it wasn't for her coffee-brown teeth. "Roll over!" I demanded. She looked at me, tilting her head. "Come on, roll over!" This time she looked at my plate, with it's stray lettuce and dressing and a noodle or two. "Eat it now, Penny, before it's all gone," I said as I placed the leftovers on the tile.

"Oh no, here we go," said Matt. "Look we're fine, Kathryn. Okay?" I responded that we shouldn't have bought our two new rocking chairs, which were sitting on the porch, as if two chairs would save us from financial ruin. Then as I was rummaging in the refrigerator, I saw that Matt's lunch meat cost eight dollars. "Matthew, this is insane, your turkey breast is eight dollars!" And you know what the boy said? He said it's ALWAYS eight dollars. Aghast, I closed the frig door and sat down. "What else haven't you been telling me?"

"You need to calm down," he said. My uber-frugality was short-lived as this weekend at the market I indulged in a $4.50 fresh loaf of rosemary bread, $7 of blue cheese, and an "ultimate" chocolate cake from the bakery - a girl has needs, okay?! Matt, eyeing the cake, said, "Are you sure you want to..." and that's when I gave me a cold, hard stare and, "What, Matt, are you judging me?" In all fairness, just the night before I insisted 1) I need to get in shape and return to the gym after my gazillion month hiatus, and 2) we are poor. However, in my defense, I DID return to the gym that morning (and, oh, 40 minutes on an elliptical machine watching SOAPNet burns off an entire chocolate cake, right?), and Matt DID insist we were "okay" financially. I then added, for good measure, that this was a "hard time for me" and that "it's the little things like cake that brighten my day." He said okay, and I placed the cake in the cart. Sucker.

Savory Zucchini Soup

Yes, gazpacho isn't the only summertime soup!

I'm sick, so I decided to make an old summertime (well, anytime) standby: zucchini soup. It wasn't such a smart move because I was already sweating before cooking, and afterwards had to get yet another cold shower. But it was totally worth it. This soup is rich (but not too much so), and has a buttery savoriness with tender pieces of chicken and piles of shredded zucchini. We just can't get enough of it and I'm already looking forward to leftovers at lunch tomorrow. This makes enough for a couple days (for two) - and I swear, it's even better the next day.

Zucchini Soup

• 3 chicken breasts, cut into cubes or strips
  
• 2 pounds zucchini (about 6 of those suckers), shredded
  
• 2 small - medium onions, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed
• 2 tablespoons flour
• 3 cups chicken stock (1 carton)
• 1/2 pint light cream
• salt and pepper / olive oil
  

Saute chicken in olive oil until almost cooked through.

Like so. (Just do everything in the stock pot - easy breezy.)

Dang, look at all that zucchini!

Add onions to soften. Then add zucchini, and garlic.

In the beginning of cooking.

Cook mixture for about 10 minutes, or until zucchini breaks down and softens and releases juice.

After 7-10 minutes the zucchini gets juicy and soft, like this.

Next add the flour and cook for 1 minute. Add the stock and let the soup come to a boil, and then let simmer for a couple minutes. Add cream and simmer for 2 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with crusty bread or crackers. Makes up to six servings.

Save some for me.

Perfect Sundays

Sunday is a double-edged sword; Monday looms but Sunday mornings just whisper, "Stay in a bed a little longer" and, "Who cares that you just got syrup on the comforter?" Every Sunday Matt or I makes the other breakfast. Matt is the pancake and waffle aficionado, and can make a mean omelet, flipping it in the skillet like those men at the omelet stations at fancy brunches. I tend toward scrambled eggs and muffins (it's hard to mess up either). Sometimes we make a bagel or donut run. Sunday mornings are not meant for cutting calories.

With food on our laps, and magazines and books strewn (and invariably the laptop out), we watch CBS' Sunday Morning. I love this show in all its old-timey delighfulness, especially because the host, Charles Osgood, wears bow ties and sometimes plays the piano: need I say more? (For those who haven't seen it, no, it's not in the vain of those wretched primetime "news" shows like Dateline. It's a hundred times more intelligent, thoughtful, and focuses more on the arts and culture.)

So Penny gets her breakfast kibble and licks the syrup off our plates after we're done eating (this morning we had summery blueberry pancakes and then polished an additional pint of them while clicking through the political round tables of Face the Nation, This Week, and Meet the Press). Recently, Matt has been doing countless house projects, so he usually gets up and leaves me to the NYT's "Celebrations" page (this is where the Times profiles engaged and recently married couples - it's a hoot comprised of Rockefellers and doctors' daughters - I wholeheartedly endorse viewing the video feature).

Right now Matt is sealing our driveway. I'm not sure what this entails, as we just had it paved last year. Now, after spending a small fortune on paving it, we have to seal it. The good thing is that I don't have to help (and yes, I offered, and yes, it was rather meekly, but regardless he said no. I did ask why he declined and he said the following, "You'll do it wrong and it will start a fight.") Nevermind I am reasonably intelligent and able-bodied - he thinks I do everything "wrong" (which is semi-true because I like to cut corners on everything, which means if you ask me to clean the bedroom, all the junk will go under the bed, and if you ask me to paint a room, I'll consider one coat good and done), so I just hold my tongue (for once) because it gets me out of the manual labor. Sometimes he asks what I've been doing all day (reading and watching Netflix, which he is keenly aware of), but I say something I always hear on made-for-tv movies, like, "I've been working to keep this house and family together, Matt!" Nevermind our family consists of just us and the dog, and my version of cleaning is hiding questionable items.

So happy Sunday to you - whether you're slathering sealant on the driveway or sweeping dust balls under the bed.

Only bad part: runny mascara "racoon" eyes

I had this Lichtenstein print in my dorm room all four years during college. Sexy while in fear of drowning, rebuffing a man's help, and all the while crying? Yes, absolutely.

You know when you watch a movie, read a book, or read anything, and you just have to cry afterward? My sprinkler system is often and constant: I cry a lot. I cry when making an argument. I cry watching those Purina commercials showing dogs in shelters. I cry thinking about dogs in shelters. I cry listening to good music on Sunday afternoons. I cry reading the last paragraphs of a deliciously good book. I cry reading Modern Love in the NYT. I cry watching PBS documentaries. I cry out of frustration watching Glenn Beck spout ill-informed, nonsensical garbage (oh god, just listen to it, you will too...it's everything that is wrong with the modern conservative movement and Fox, er, Faux, News).

And right now I'm crying while writing this post. I just watched Gran Torino - it was a moving film - so of course I had to cry. This past weekend I finished reading Corelli's Mandolin, and yes, I cried. Earlier today I was trying to make an argument about something - I can't even remember what - to Matt. Out of frustration, I cried. (He is use to this and hugs me and says, "Oh, is my poor K crying again?" This is when I swat at him.)

But enough about what makes me cry (booooring). I'd much rather hear what incredibly moving, sad, hopeful, agonizing form of media you listened to, read, or watched that reduced you to tears. Or, fine, just simply moved you.

I'll start. Sobbed like a crazy woman during Pixar's Up. Yeah. You know...that animated movie. As in...cartoon.

Owen is a first-rate name!

Don't try to deny a baby hedgehog isn't cuter than a human baby!

"So, are we going to talk about kids?"

That was the second thing my GI said during my check-up, right after she asked how I was feeling. When Matt and I moved in together, I felt like we were two big kids playing house. When we got married and actually bought a house, I felt giddy and thinking about our future, ostentatiously said things like, "Our kids certainly aren't going to have a t.v. in the bedroom!" and, "I hate how parents today smother their children!" (Like I know anything about anything when it comes to kids.)

But then I got sick, and had to make a major health decision. I agonized over surgery - I consulted multiple GIs and surgeons, I collated all my medical records and made countless copies of small bowel series work-ups and CT scan results. You wanna cut me open? Then gosh darnit, I was gonna do this right. It's funny how much you try to control something when the situation is utterly uncontrollable, whether its being sick or even watching a game show. (I turned off "The Bachelorette" the other night when my favorite bachelor, Reid, was about to be kicked to the curb; if I didn't watch it, then it wasn't going to happen. Poor Reid from Philadelphia.)

Which gets us back to my GI appointment. In that moment, I have never felt more like an adult. And I am an adult - in our culture of perpetual adolescence its startling to realize I'm three years from thirty. "You will never feel better than how you feel now," she said.

And she's right. Matt and I don't know a thing about babies, other than potential names (who doesn't play the, "If we ever had kids, what would you want to name them" game? And not that you care, but I will absolutely not share said names, since my parents already ruined one idea by screeching how "awful" it is. When did Owen become awful anyway?!)

So there you go. My co-worker, who is six months pregnant and glowing (and a pregnancy evangelist by the way), said, "You're never going to be ready, Kathryn. You just jump into it." And yesterday morning hot doc (aka my surgeon) said, "Go for it! Have fun!" a bit too emphatically. Who am I to argue with a hot surgeon?

**********************************************************************

PS: Yes, I watch "The Bachelorette". Email me and we can talk about the virtues of Ed versus Kypton, although I have to warn you this household is Team ED all the way.

Summertime salads

I know how to use the "close-up" function on my cheapo Kodak camera. No, no, applause isn't necessary.

When I think of summer foods, I picture fresh produce. I imagine the farmer's market downtown on Saturdays with vendors selling organic greens and berries, fresh seeded bread and eggs from free-range hens. I think of the small produce stands on the highway in Maryland and Delaware on my way home from the beach. "Sweet corn in 1/2 a mile!" signs sing. "Local peaches straight ahead!"

With all this garden-friendly roughage, my appetite inevitably veers to salads. Aren't they incredibly versatile? A plate of greens cries out for ground beef and Colby Jack when it's a taco salad, or slivered almonds and Mandarin oranges for more Asian fare. A summer salad needs berries or tomatoes from the garden.

This evening I altered a recipe found in Real Simple. It's a classic summertime salad: mixed greens dressed with rich olive oil and balsamic vinegar, topped with grilled caramelized red onion and grilled sweet peaches with creamy Gorgonzola and toasted pecans, with a grilled chicken breast on the side. It was savory with the slightest sweetness from the peaches, and buttery-rich from the olive oil. It was also damn easy, and made for a glossy magazine pretty picture.

A Summertime Salad with Peaches, Pecans, and Panache

• 4 chicken breasts
  
• mixed greens (for 4)
  
• olive oil and balsamic vinegar
• salt and pepper
• 2-3 ripe peaches, cut into wedges
• toasted pecans (optional)
• 1 extra large red onion, cut into 1/2 inch rounds
• Gorgonzola cheese, for sprinkling

Heat grill to medium-high. Brush the chicken with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. In a bowl, toss the onions with additional olive oil and salt and pepper.

There is nothing sexier than a man smacking raw chicken with a rolling pin. In this candid pic, our viewer sees Matt flattening chicken breasts for even grilling. Whatta hunk.

The onion and peaches drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper. (And awaiting the grill.)

Grill the chicken and onions until the chicken is cooked through and the onions are tender, 5 to 6 minutes per side. Grill the peaches until charred, 2 minutes per side.

Don't let this happen to you!!! We ran out of propane in the middle of cooking. I am conveniently blaming Matt for this. Here he is doing the walk of shame...to the gas station for another canister.

Since I had an extra twenty minutes due to the above-mentioned episode, I decided to add some toasted pecans to the salad (the original recipe did not use nuts). To toast, simple drizzle some buttah on pecans and roast them on a cookie sheet for 10-12 minutes or until they're aromatic and nutty. DO NOT eat straight out of the oven. You will burn your tongue. Penny and I know that now.

Here's Matt's hairy arm checking the chicken temperature with a meat thermometer. Cook chicken to 165 degrees.

Peaches before.

And after.

Toss the mixed greens with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Top with grilled onions and peaches, Gorgonzola, and pecans (if desired). Serve with the chicken.

Serves 4.

I'm loving the foodie colors: purple, peach, green, rich brown...eat up!!

Basil This!

Nothing excites Matt more than grilled salmon with basil aioli and a basil caesar salad. Nothing.

I returned from vacation expecting my basil to be limp and wilted, a testament to the weakness of Matt's "irrigation" system (which is a hose with holes he pierced in it). Instead, it was bushier than ever. Oh. In fact, all our newly planted trees and plants were thriving, except for our two tomato plants which were oh-so-casually missing their top third due to a deer bandit.

In a state of basil bliss, yesterday evening I made grilled salmon with a basil aioli and a basil caesar salad (both original recipes courtesy of Epicurious). I made them together because the caesar dressing and the aioli called for very similar ingredients, and lo and behold, they were quite identical. The dressing had a bit more kick (due to some parsley and additional sardines), and the aioli was a tad mellower. In fact, today I combined both to make a chicken caesar salad and it turned out splendidly. Both dishes are light and delicious, and a perfect accompaniment to summertime. Just add a glass of Riesling and you're set.

P.S. If you get all willy nilly about raw egg, then these aren't for you.


Grilled Salmon with Basil Aioli

Ingredients:

• 2 egg yolks
  
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 anchovy fillets, minced (1 1/3 teaspoons)
• 1/2 teaspoon red wine vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1 cup olive oil
• 1 tablespoon warm water
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 - 1/2 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
• salmon fillets
  

For basil aioli:
Whisk egg yolks, basil, garlic, anchovies, vinegar, and Worcestershire sauce in medium bowl. Whisk in 2 tablespoons oil a few drops at a time, then gradually whisk in remaining oil in thin stream. Whisk in 1 tablespoon warm water, lemon juice, and hot pepper sauce. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Cover and chill.

Note: To ease prep, aioli can also be made in a food processor.

For salmon:
Prepare barbecue (high heat). Brush grill rack with oil. Brush salmon with oil; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Grill salmon uncovered 5 minutes. Using 2 large spatulas, carefully turn fish over. Grill until fish just begins to flake in center, 4 to 5 minutes longer. Transfer salmon to platter.


Note: This recipe makes a full cup of aioli. Extras can be kept in the frig for a few days - use it on salads, fish, poultry, or a dipping sauce for potatoes or other yummy treats.


Basil Caesar Salad

Ingredients:

• 1 (10-inch) piece baguette, cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided
• 1 garlic clove
• 1 large egg
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon anchovy paste (I subbed with 4 anchovy fillets, which equals slightly less than a tablespoon of paste, being an anchovy novice.)
  
• 1 cup basil leaves, coarsely chopped
  
• 1/2 cup flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped
• 1 package romaine hearts (1 pound), leaves separated and washed well, then halved crosswise
• 1 cup coarsely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Preheat oven to 375°F with rack in middle.

Toss bread with several tablespoons of olive oil and salt and pepper. Spread on a cookie sheet. Toast in oven, stirring halfway through, until golden, 12 to 15 minutes.

Make extra croutons; trust me. (I don't trust anyone who can deny themselves fresh bread dipped in olive oil.)

Meanwhile, with motor running, drop garlic into a food processor and finely chop. Add egg, lemon juice, anchovy paste (or anchovies), and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and pulse until combined.

I was scared, too.

With motor running, add remaining 6 tablespoons oil in a slow stream, blending until emulsified. Add herbs and blend until dressing turns green and herbs are finely chopped.

It will look like this.

Can you guess which is the basil caesar dressing and which is the aioli? Fine! The dressing is on the right. (These look disturbingly like healthy veggie drinks or something. Salud!)

Toss romaine with dressing, croutons, and half of cheese in a large bowl. Sprinkle with remaining cheese. Makes enough salad for 4-6 (dependent on if a side dish, hunger, and all that sort of stuff).

And there you go.

Every salad deserves its close-up.


This is Penny lurking at the side of the table, waiting for food.
She's devilish.

This is me being a bad dog owner and giving her table food.

Again, the aioli and dressing are similar; make one and place grilled fish or chicken on a bed and lettuce and top with some basil yumminess.

Next up? Chicken with grilled peaches and arugula, accented by grilled red onion and gorgonzola. Tell me you aren't salivating.

Enough already.

I want to thank CBS, NBC, ABC, and FOX for repeatedly reminding me - and the world - for the past week and a half that yes, Michael Jackson is indeed dead, that he was a musical genius if not a cultural mess, and that he will be honored today in a ceremony at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. I woke up this morning hoping to get some real news from one of the morning shows. (That in and of itself is laughable.) The Early Show, Good Morning America, and The Today Show all failed to deliver. A commentator actually just said, "Oh, how we watched him lose his soul for the last ten years."

What has happened to American culture, the American broadcast media...the American people?! At least The New York Times has the story below the online fold. I don't mean to be rude, but Michael Jackson was a troubled pop star who has been culturally irrelevant for the last 15 years. Wasn't North Korea just "testing" more missiles? Aren't there new protests unfolding in China? And, for a good giggle, didn't Sarah "Barracuda" Palin just resign? Thank you.

Until next week!

I'm going on vacation today (cue confetti and maracas). First with Matt's family to the Jersey shore, then down to my family's place in Chincoteague/Assateague Islands, Virginia. I should have WiFi in Chincoteague so I'm sure I'll find someway to regale you with loathsome, annoying tales of capsized kayaks and drooling dogs (there will be three - in a very small space) - no worries there. This was my Crohn's packing list:

• Industrial-sized bottle of Pentassa (8 pills/day)


• Folic Acid (to counteract the leaching effects of the Pentassa, thank you very much)


• Tylenol (a joke of a pain reliever, as far as I'm concerned)


• Percocet (only if something terrible happens, I have visions of stinging jellyfish and sand sharks; I'm an alarmist)

I'm feeling good. I would almost say terrific, but yesterday I did the sin of all sins - I helped myself to some Diet Coke. (Don't tell Matt; he whips himself in a furry when I do idiotic stuff like this...rage does not do that boy good.) Diet Coke is so evil (don't sue me for libel!), but first of all, it's loaded with aspartame, which just wrecks my digestive track. I probably went to the bathroom 10+ times yesterday because of this. And heck, I didn't even mention the carbonation and caffeine in that crazy Coke. Oh well - lesson learned - for the 30th time. (Shut up.)

Thank you for reading, and look for some vacation ditties coming soon! Now I have to pack (oops).