Recipes from the Bottom of Our Stomachs

Kiwi Try to Eat What I Cooked? Pretty Peas?

The microwave: cooking
appliance or instrument
of torture? You decide.

Let’s face it: along with “peace” and “good will,” the holiday season is also filled with stress and hunger pangs.

Here’s an excerpt from my upcoming cookbook for parents with finicky toddlers/preschoolers, aspiring vegetarian tweens, spouses who cannot boil water, and microwave ovens whose sole function is to burn anything placed within.

LITTLE SPROUTS’ BOUNTIFUL HEALTH SALAD
Avoid future eating disorders with this classic.
4 T cubed cooked free-range chicken
4 T cubed mild cheddar cheese
2 T organic whole milk vanilla yogurt
2 T petite peas
2 T corn niblets
1 T raisins

Place all ingredients on a plate, but do not let any food item touch another. Squish peas between forefinger and thumb; flick results at siblings. Give chicken to cat lurking beneath the table. Smear yogurt in hair, on pants, and on dining room wall. Lick cheese. Eat raisins. Ignore corn. Ask for a Popsicle.

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BECOMING A PRE-TEEN VEGETARIAN IS A MISSED STEAK
Encourage your tweenager’s culinary independence.
2 c vegetable stock
1 c wheat berries
½ brick extra-firm tofu
½ c petite peas
1 carrot

Announce conversion to vegetarianism to live more harmoniously with nature and BTW, Justin-Taylor-Zac-Pattinson Whatzhisface is vegetarian, like! Totally! OMG! (Translation: “By the way, I’m extremely excited that as a fellow vegetarian, I improve my chance of becoming the future Mrs. Whatzhisface, oh my gosh!”)

Food to parents.
Ammunition to kids.

Dice tofu; squirm at unexpected slimy texture - way gah-ross, makes me wanna vom, not EI (translation: “So disgusting that I tend toward regurgitating rather than eating it”). Place wheat berries and vegetable stock in Mom’s favorite Calphalon sauce pan; boil off too much vegetable stock so that wheat berries form crusty, reeking gunk in bottom of pot. Grrr and WE! (Translation: “Whatever,” with a frustrated growl.)

Join siblings’ pea-flicking fight. Hit younger siblings with carrot before shredding both carrot and first knuckle of left hand on grater; sniffle that cooking is like hellacious 2 D max and I’m sooooo over it. (Translation: “I find food preparation horribly difficult, and surrender to defeat.”) Offer tofu to cat (who refuses). Steal siblings’ unlicked cheese cubes.

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BIG DADDY’S AIR SANDWICH
Perfect for those “on the go” meals: just slap it together.
2 slices artisan whole grain bread
1 slice smoked turkey
1 slice Monterey Jack cheese
2 T cranberry-orange relish
Alfalfa sprouts

The family cat: a
surprisingly effective
replacement for a floor
mop. (But sheer hell
on upholstery.)

Layer one slice of bread on the other. Hear roar of the big game’s crowd on TV in the next room. Sprint out the door with bread clutched in hand; leave turkey, cheese, relish, and sprouts on kitchen counter till post-game show ends. Stagger back to kitchen; discover cat has eaten the turkey and cheese, cold-shouldered the sprouts, and spilled and tracked cranberry relish from the counter, across the floor, and onto the new cream throw pillows from Crate and Barrel.

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NUTHIN’ BUTT PURE RUMP ROAST
Enjoy California casual dining at its finest.
1 boneless beef rump roast (4-5 lb.)
10 garlic cloves
5 medium onions
6 c water
½ c all-purpose flour
¼ c vegetable shortening
2 c Holiday M&Ms

Your kids may cheer for
the Pizza Guy louder than
they cheer for your
rump roast.  Really.

Trim excess fat from rump roast. Think about fat on rumps in general; think about fat on own rump in particular. Make a New Year’s resolution to join Weight Watchers. Eat toddlers’ leftover corn and tween’s tofu. Begin chopping onions; get a little teary-eyed. Eat two handfuls of Holiday M&Ms when kids aren’t looking. Stop to play with toddlers; when they ask why you smell like chocolate, respond with a straight face: “All mommies smell like chocolate.”

Resume chopping onions. Cry harder. Eat remaining M&Ms; lick the bowl. Wipe toddlers’ tears when you refuse to play more so you can cook. Get stomachache from pea, corn, tofu, and M&M mixture. Abandon rump roast; shoo cat away. Direct husband to clean up rump, yogurt smears, wheat berry gunk, wilted sprouts, and empty cranberry relish jar; remind him of the ruined throw pillows if he protests. Phone in pizza order: one “Say Cheese, Please” for the kids and one “Carnivore Special” for the grown-ups and cat.

Bon appétit!

*** Happy holidays!  (I'm taking a blog break for a month.)  Stay tuned for the January 15 blog: "The Interviewer Strikes Back." ***

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