food and cooking | matching tracksuits

Soup

Monday 11 August 2014 | 2 Comments

L is a picky eater -- no doubt about it. Certainly she has some odd tastes, odd by the average American girl standards, I think. Still she can throw us a curve ball, protesting something that seems so logical for her to life. Soup is always a hit with her, but K's tomato soup from yesterday wasn't a hit. Not sure why: it used to be a big hit. But it wasn't. And it wasn't any better tonight when we finished up the leftovers. She basically ate next to nothing, leaving almost a whole bowl of soup. Granted, she got nothing else for the evening with the understanding that she would have to finish the soup before she could have anything else. Nothing.

Tonight, during prayers, we reached "Give us this day our daily bread," and I pointed out to L that she would get that soup back at breakfast. "We're not going to waste food, especially when it's something that you used to like and eat willingly. She fussed, predictably, but then, thinking about reading the news and the horrors occurring in Syria and Iraq as ISIS sweeps through and imposes strict Islamic law, committing their own brand of ethnic cleansing, I decided to give the Girl a little perspective.

"L, there are children in a country called Iraq now who are literally dying because they don't get food or water."

"Why?"

Brief overview appropriate for a seven-year-old, includes terms like "bad people" and oversimplification.

"So these children are so hungry, L, that you could spill that soup on the floor, and they would willingly lap it up like they were animals."

Silence. Wide eyes.

"You're lucky: you fuss about being given something you don't want to eat. These children, if they had the energy to fuss, would fuss about not having anything to eat. At all."

We'll see tomorrow what happens. I'm hopeful, but I know how stubborn L is. Besides, that "kids starving in [insert country]" argument seems rarely to work.

Pickles Redux

Tuesday 08 July 2014 | 0 Comments

We tried our preserved cucumbers (i.e., in a vinegar solution as opposed to brine).

I think we’ve got the recipe of champions.

So we did another batch tonight…

Cukes

Thursday 26 June 2014 | 0 Comments

And by the way, the pickles turned out perfectly.

Pickles and Picnics

Friday 20 June 2014 | 0 Comments

The Boy has some strange tastes, some strange favorites: pickle juice is a favorite drink. Finish off a bottle of pickles -- the American, vinegary type -- and he'll jump on that bottle immediately.

The Girl has always had some strange tastes, too. It's only been in the last year that she's even ventured to try that favorite of American kids from coast to coast, the humble (and not-so-good-for-you) hot dog.

What to make to make of this? Nothing more than the obvious: kids too are individuals, and their tastes grow and change with time. For now, we're happy the Girl loves so many Polish soups and the Boy just loves everything. Likely to change, but for now, it's good.

Na Oko

Tuesday 17 June 2014 | 2 Comments

“Ile czosneku dajesz?”

“Na oko, na oko.”

When you’re getting recipes from Babcia, they tend to take that turn. “How much garlic do you add?” you might ask. “Just eyeball it,” comes the reply.

How can I possibly eyeball it when I’ve never done it in my life? Dziadek taught me in a similar way how to prepare the brine for meat when preparing pork for smoking. It was actually experience that taught me that, in reality, the proportions don’t matter so very much as you might expect.

Given the fact that the instructions Babcia provided for making pickles roughly approximated the instructions Dziadek gave for making the brine, I just eyeballed it.

Dill, whole allspice, some garlic, bay leaves — the Polish basics. I decided to add some fresh oregano and basil, knowing it probably wouldn’t have any effect given the amount of other spices I was putting in the brine.

I’ve always loved pickles, but it was in Poland that I learned what a true pickle could be, not preserved in some vinegar solution but made in a brine that leaves behind the look and taste of raw cucumber but transforms it just enough that it’s not, well, raw cucumber.

Given the number of cukes we’re pulling off our vines every day this year, we knew fairly early in the growing season that this would be the year we finally learned how to make our own pickles. Such a simple process: some herbs, some salt water, some cucumbers, a ceramic pot, and a bit of gauze to cover it all.

“You should be able to eat the smaller ones after four days or so,” Babcia explained. It might be difficult to wait that long.

Goodies for the Teachers

Thursday 05 June 2014 | 0 Comments

The chocolate treats we sent L’s teachers were such a hit we decided to do the same for E’s teachers. And when I say “we” in that sentence, I mean K.

Eating Meatballs

Tuesday 03 June 2014 | 1 Comment

We were heading out to check the mail this afternoon, L riding her scooter and E in my arms, when a old, loud pickup truck roared up the street. The Boy waved furious and shouted, "Hi Truck! We going to eat meatballs!"

In short, the Boy gets excited about the prospect of Swedish meatballs.

Pre-Party Saturday

Saturday 10 May 2014 | 0 Comments

Tomorrow is the Boy's birthday party. His actual birthday isn't until Wednesday, but who really throws a birthday party on Wednesday when we can do a double-duty birthday/Mother's-Day party on the preceding Sunday?

The upshot of this plan was simple: K kicked everyone out of the house in the early afternoon to work on the cake. It was one of those moments really to make me realize just how ineffably wonderful K is: how many would make a Black Forest cake as opposed to simply buying a cake at this or that bakery? In the end, it's not important how many would bake versus buy, it only matters that E and K are lucky enough to have a mother who bakes.

So the Boy and I headed to a park while the Girl went to a neighborhood friend who recently got a puppy. Everyone was happy. K had a quiet house in which to bake and clean; E had a playground to overwhelm him; the Girl got to play with both a friend and a puppy.

We all returned afterward for cake decoration, which doesn't go quite as planned, and fresh fruit with whipped cream -- as in heavy whipping cream that's been whipped -- and some last-minute playing in the yard.

The whole time, the Boy was thrilled.

"Who has 'happy birthday' tomorrow?" we all asked in turn.

The Boy points to himself and shouts, squeals, or barks, "Happy birthday!"

Morning Rituals

Thursday 17 April 2014 | 0 Comments

The day should begin like this. Every single day. Of course, it's April, which, according to the cliche, brings showers, indicating gray skies. Still, such an April is rare here in our part of the South.