V. Day 2013, Part II

Yeah, I know it’s a week later, but I’ve been revising, and that’s my right as a writer.  If you want to complain, I guess that’s your prerogative, too.  Just don’t expect me to listen.  As it is said, complaining is like sitting in a rocking chair.  It gives you something to do, but it doesn’t really get you anywhere.

For those who just want me to finish the story, keep your pants on (please!) while I explain to those who are lost that they need to go back and read the previous post (14 February 2013) to catch up.  Hurry up.  I won’t wait long.

In honor of the “holiday” that, in my opinion, is a mild form of the extortion of the males of this species, I ordered Amy flowers, which were delivered on the 13^th— lilies and orchids (I think).  On the actual day itself, I had to go to class (boo!)   So, I had my colleague (Thanks, Katrina!) drop off a package at my house while I scooted off to sit in a hard, plastic chair for another 150 minutes.

The package contained one stuffed skunk—plush, not a taxidermy special, one card which read “Happy Stinkin’ Valentine’s Day!,” and one poem (which has since been revised).  Awwww.

How’s that for Mr. Unromantic?

For those who care, or are curious, here’s the poem in its most recent version.

“Portal to Your Soul”

Reposing on the gentle bank,

                                                                                              I gaze into

your soul’s portal:

two hazel pools

where I can skip glances

across the glistening surface

or flirt with the smile

hiding and dancing

behind the gray-green

stained-glass—

flecks of brown and gold

and blue floating,

reflecting

the laughter

and life.

But it’s the calm, dark profundity

beneath the shallows

that intrigues me most,

lures me in,

and keeps me captive,

spellbound as a waxless sailor straining

to hear the siren’s song,

longing to

fall in and drown

in your depths.

And in return, I received the most freaking awesome V Day present ev-er.

BACON ROSES! CRAZY DELICIOUS!

V.Day 2013, Part I

In my mind, this is how it started.  One night at dinner, the kids were discussing valentines and their upcoming elementary school parties.  I believe it was Brooklyn who mentioned that she didn’t want to give a valentine to a certain person in her class, and Zac, being ten, suggested that she give him one that said something rather malicious.  Immediately Amy corrected his pre-teen-ness.  I, having subjected myself to dealing with seventh graders who had been especially moronic that day, mumbled under my breath, “You could just say ‘Happy Stinkin’ Valentine’s Day!’”

Of course, Zac heard it and burst into fits of laughter.  Amy and the rest heard it, and being the good father that I am, downplayed what I had said and rendered my comment inappropriate.  And the conversation went on.  But unbeknownst to the rest, an idea had hatched in my brain.

Earlier that day I had been contemplating using Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem “Valentine for Ernest Mann” in my classes.  I’ve referenced that poem before (see the entry for 24 March 2011), but for those who are unfamiliar with it, I’ll include the full text here:

“Valentine for Ernest Mann”

You can’t order a poem like you order a taco.

Walk up to the counter, say, “I’ll take two,”

and expect it to be handed to you

on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.

Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,

write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.

So I’ll tell you a secret instead:

poems hide.  In the bottoms of our shoes,

they are sleeping.  They are the shadows

drifting across our ceilings the moment

before we wake up.  What we have to do

is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife

two skunks for a valentine.

He couldn’t understand why she was crying.

“I thought they had such beautiful eyes.”

And he was serious.  He was a serious man

who lived in a serious way.  Nothing was ugly

just because the world said so.  He really

liked those skunks.  So, he re-invented them

as valentines and they became beautiful.

At least, to him.  And the poems that had been

       hiding

in the eyes of skunks for centuries

crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us

we find poems.  Check your garage, the odd

    sock

in your drawer, the person you almost like, but

    not quite.

And let me know.

So I was thinking about skunks and their beauty.  And then I remembered one of my first experiences interacting with Amy.  It was February or March of 1996 when this incident happened, and we were both in the Missionary Training Center preparing to proselytize for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—I was going to Spain, and Amy was headed to Guatemala.  Our time was drawing short before we all left for our respective assignments.  On my own, I had come up with nicknames (in Spanish) for some of the people in my district that reflected one facet of their personality; however, I hadn’t finished with everybody.

One evening, as I was finished with my studying, I glanced around the room to work on my name collection (Side note: I never finished it.), and I saw Amy (Hermana Walker at the time).  She was wearing a black jumper with some lighter flower prints on it.  She looked up for a moment, and her bright shining eyes contrasted against her dark hair and her dress.  And a perfect image came to mind: a skunk.  (Another important side note: it was those same gorgeous eyes that first attracted me to her when we met again two years later.)

When she found out that I called her a skunk, I believe I hurt her feelings until I explained that I was thinking of Flower from Disney’s Bambi—because of her eyes.  I don’t know if she believed me at first, but it was the truth.  She definitely wasn’t a stinker.  That would have been some of the others.

So I took the skunk images, both from the poem and my nickname for Amy, and added it to the dinnertime conversation, and I conjured an excellent idea for my valentine!

To be continued…

(Tune in to Part II if you want to see this all ties together.  Mwa-ha-ha-ha!)

Don't Hold Your Breath

By my calculations, I left you hanging with four undelivered food posts from December.  As a peace offering in my attempts to make good, I am posting today about some dadgumlicious pork chops I made the other day.  They were so awesome that I didn't even take a picture of them when I ate them.  I had to wait and capture the leftovers.  The subtlety of the garlic was even better after they hung out in the fridge overnight.

Chops with rice, gravy, and apple slices.

Ingredients for the breading include crushed Ritz crackers, Parmesan cheese, a healthy helping of garlic powder, sage, and a touch of salt.  Smear the chops in plain yogurt before coating.  These are single-coated, but I've been known to double coat as well.  Some of you might remember that crazy P-day/transfer day where our apartment in Jerez turned into pork chop central for everybody passing through.  Dang, those were scrumptious!

The gravy is cream of mushroom soup and sour cream--nice and thick.

These were baked, but frying is good, too, just not as healthy.

So, there. One down, three to go. Don't expect them at any regular intervals.  I'm trying to be a little healthier and lower my sugar intake.  We'll see how that goes.

Introspection

About a week ago I noticed that my previous post was my two hundredth since I started in October of 2009.  I thought I should attempt to compose something profound, but this ramble will have to suffice. I took some time and thought about why I even started Joe Average Writer.  Good question since I can’t seem to manage keeping up with it.  The establishment of this blog was supposed to be, for me, a step away from my comfort zone, a “leap” into technology with which I was not familiar.  It has been.

But now I am comfortable; despite the fact that I am a little lax in my posting (despite my best road-paving intentions).  I still do not consider myself a professional blogger, nor will I ever.  And I still consider my postings selfish.  I do this blog primarily for me, not my readers, or those random people who stumble onto my ramblings.  Sorry, but it’s the truth.  If you are offended, well…that’s your deal.  Hopefully you can glean something from my introspection today.

Writing has been an outlet for me: a way to reflect and remember, a way to think and learn, a way to challenge myself and grow as a writer as well as a teacher and a human being.  Sometimes the writing extends to others.  You can usually tell which posts have a target audience and which ones are just for me.  This, for example, is more for my own sanity.  I need to write.  It helps me deal with my thoughts, interactions, experiences, and my self.  (Yes, I meant to leave that as two words.)

So, as I continue to write, perhaps those few who read this will realize that you are witnessing me happen.  It’s raw.  Genuine.  Granted, it’s an asynchronous observation of bits and pieces of what’s flying around the Ninja blender that is my head.  However, sometimes the pieces all come together to give birth to a worthwhile thought.  That is my intention, at least.  But sometimes—well, frequently, for me—I just need to pause and dump.  There is no processing, just a dump (like this post).  As some of you have read before, I try to teach my students to vomit all their thoughts onto the paper.  It’s messy, but if you sift through the chunks, eventually you make sense of what’s happened with your ideas.  It’s the same with your (my) thoughts.

I’ve been extremely occupied lately.  There have been rare moments for me to breathe, think, or write, but they have been few and far between.  I don’t intend to sound like I’m whining.  On the contrary, all of my endeavors have been worthwhile, especially those involving my awesome supportive wife and my five-ring kid circus.  But for now, I’m pondering the question asked by a wise religious leader: “In this fast-paced life, do we ever pause for moments of meditation—even thoughts of timeless truths? (Thomas S. Monson, April 2012).  Writing, and dumping helps me to do just that.

Now, to address your concerns, I have every intention on completing my food post endeavor, as well as the other ideas I hinted at previously.  But for now, I’m done.  More substance will come soon.

And...?

Yeah, I know I haven't posted in almost a month.  It hasn't stopped some of you from checking back every once in a while.  However, this is just a quick post to say that I am not dead or ill or overrun by the undead.  I am just busy.  And I have several posts done in my head...a few in notation format, and a few that are almost complete thoughts.  They just haven't had enough time to congeal.  And I haven't had three spare seconds to type them.

Stay tuned.

P.S.  I will still finish the food posts...some day.  Don't worry.

Hog and Eggs

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, they say.  So why not start it off with something delicious.  And even if I don't make time every day, there's just something about bacon and eggs that gets your morning going in the right direction. These scrambled huevos also have milk, cheese, onion, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper.

The raspberry peach jam on the toast is amazing as well.

P.S.  For some reason, Facebook wouldn't let me post more than two of my catch-up links yesterday.  Don;t forget to check those out as well.

Ultimate Comfort Food

It's taken me a while, but I'm finally caught up with my food posts.  Today, the family took a lazy day: we didn't do anything we didn't want to.  I didn't get dressed until just before noon.  Grazing was the main order of the day.  However, around 6:30 or 7:00 we hauled everything out of the fridge for a leftover night.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love leftovers--especially for breakfast or lunch.  Most of these goodies came either from Christmas dinner at Mom and Dad's house yesterday or from other meals previously highlighted on this blog.  See how many you you can recognize on my plate.

I think the only ham, turkey, and funeral potatoes are the only things I haven't posted before.

Holiday Cheer

Merry Christmas!  Today we're just going to kick back and cool off with three of my favorite beverages: a collection of Henry Weinhardt's vanilla cream, orange cream, and root beer.

Tradition!

No, Tevya, this is not Kosher eating today, so sorry.  Every Christmas Eve (yes, this is the retroactive 24th post) we have a tradition of going to a matinee and gorging ourselves at the Brick Oven.  So today's food that makes me happy comes to you from the Brick Oven.  Back when I was working my way through college, I was the Brick Oven.  For two and a half years I slaved in the back of the house, but I still never tire of this American-Italian cuisine.  Today's fare included a sample platter: all-you-can-eat pizza, soup, and salad.

Om nom nom nom nom nom nom!

Beat the Reese's!

Yep, they're better when they're homemade.

Some of the 200+ peanut butter cups my awesome wife and mom made.

The filling is just peanut butter and powdered sugar.  The chocolate is just melted milk or dark, whichever you prefer, and painted into candy molds.

Devour.  Be careful because they are extremely addicting.

Oh, Yeah...I Blog...Kind Of

Santa needed a little more help than I thought the past few nights, so now I get to play catch up.  I know I've let the few of you readers down, but I promise I'm still going to post one food post per day this month.  Each day might not have one, but there will eventually be one for each day of December (31).

To kick off my repentance process, I'm going to showcase the other white meat done south-of-the-border cycle.  This is a variation on the Mexican pork recipe from the Better bites cookbook that I've referenced earlier.  I'm not going to post the exact recipe because I changed it.

Start by rubbing about four pounds of pork shoulder with a healthy dose of Kosher salt, black pepper, chili powder, and onion powder.  Sear it in a pan (with olive oil).  Put it in a crockpot  with a mixture of enchilada sauce (about two cans), salsa (maybe 1/2-3/4 cup), brown sugar (2/3-1 cup), a bit of Worchester sauce, and a couple swallows of apple juice (cranapple also works).  Cook it on low for at least 7 hours.  I let this one go for about 9 1/2.  Then shred it.

 The way I mix the spices it's a little different each time.  More often than not it turns out better than Cafe Rio (and cheaper, too).

Add whatever fixings you want.  We like to eat it burrito style with pineapple rice (just add crushed pineapple and lime juice), black beans, cheese, lettuce, sour cream, guacamole, hot sauce, and all the other trimmings.  Add some homemade ranch sauce for an extra flavor bonus: mayo (not miracle whip), lime, Hidden Valley ranch packet, garlic, milk and green salsa).

Scarf!  You'll be tempted to inhale, but don't forget to chew!

Game Time!

So, to ring in the bowl season, we packed up the whole famn damily and headed to my parents' house to watch BYU destroy SDSU and make homemade peanut butter cups. (Thanks, Amy, Mom, and girls.)  Of course, the menu needed to include classic sports food: pizza and wings.  I'm not a wing snob, or a pizza snob, but I do enjoy the good stuff when I can get it.  And, yes, I do know the difference.  This particular fare rated fair on my scale.  Those that know me well, know that even though I love all foods, I could live off pizza for every meal eight days each week (as long as there's variety), i.e., trip to Philadelphia where all I ate for three days included pizza, stromboli (pizza's cousin), and cheese steaks.  But back to this pizza here and now.  It served its purpose and vanquished my hunger both last night and this morning.  The wings were Dad's responsibility, and I have no idea where he got them, although I believe they were pre-seasoned for our postseason match.  (Pun very much intended.)  He got honey barbecue and chile lime.  Not bad.  The burn is still smoldering somewhere in the recesses of my intestines.

24 Hours

What a great way to start the morning.  Sometimes, when I either forget my breakfast or "forget" my breakfast, I head to Floriberto's for one of their wonderful breakfast burritos.  And although I enjoy every single one of their offerings, my favorite is the potato, egg, and bacon burrito (and cheese, of course).  The drive-thru lady knows that she doesn't need to ask me about sauce.  I always get one green and one red.  These burritos are so amazing tat several of our faculty stop there in the mornings.  Many eat half for breakfast and save the rest for lunch.  I just can't stop eating one in time to think about lunch.

 My favorite part of these burritos?  The fact that it's open 24 hours a day, and there isn't a bad time EVER for a bacon and egg burrito. Don't believe me? Try it, and become converted.

Kid Stuff

How can Jell-O not make you happy?  As a kid I loved any time my mom would make jigglers, which was not very often.  She hasn't made them since...well...honestly I don;t remember...probably since Nicole was about six or seven.  It's a good thing Amy's grandma makes them for just about every family potluck occasion.  They don't last too long around here either when Amy or I make them.  The only downside (as far as a concerned--cough--parent is concerned) is that they only want Jello-O for dinner.

Oh, yeah.  Eating jigglers makes me laugh and shake like a bowl full of this stuff...or Santa's belly.

Recipe: 1) Choose your flavor.  2) Follow the instructions on the box.

We All Scream for Ice Cream!

It seems like it's a cheap way out, but everybody likes ice cream.  Well, everyone except my daughter Ally.  Then again, she doesn't really like many desserts.  I have no idea where she gets that from.Weird kid, but she's still awesome.

Still, there is great comfort in ice cream no matter the flavor or the toppings or the occasion.  Just ask all of us overweight ice cream eaters.

As Amy's Grandpa Walker would suggest, every occasion calls for a dish of ice cream.

Up in Your Grill

Yes, it's the 17th of December and I'm still grilling.  I actually grilled on Saturday night, too.  There is no bad time or weather to grill in/through.  The day before yesterday the kids wanted tube steaks (hot dogs), so today I decided that I needed some real steaks.  So I grabbed a few different cuts and drown them in the marinade for about 20 hours.

Now, I'm not a marinade snob--I'm pretty versatile when it comes to the marinade--although, I am a stickler about letting the juices stew for quite a while before the meat is cooked. This batch soaked in the Grillmates rendition of "Backyard Brew."  When I grill for large groups as I am sometimes asked to do, I like to provide plenty of variety, so I'll mix and match and every once in a while just make up my own.  But that doesn't happen too often.  Every summer the young men in our ward get together for a steak preparation/missionary preparation metaphor BBQ.  It's pretty cool as I liken the boys unto raw meat.  They could serve a mission raw and provide a tasty meal.  However, aren't all missionaries and steaks so much better is they are well seasoned and tenderized before they start?  The better prepared the missionary, the more effect he is.  The better prepared the steak, the more delicious it is.  Call if you want to book a party.  My rates are usually pretty cheap.

Tonight, though, I kept it simple.  So, please make sure that you grill responsibly.  Friends don't let friends grill poorly.

On Top of Spaghetti (or Rice)

As it's getting late and Santa's helpers need to be busy, I'll just add this quick post for meatballs.  Yep, meatballs.  Not the imitation meat thingies that come in a can of Chef Boyardee or even the frozen meat nuggets you buy at Sam's Cub in a bag of 26,000 (Those aren't too bad, though).  Nope, these are homemade balls of real meat--no filler--100% ground beef, although I suppose you could make them out of any meat you wanted to.  That includes ground turkey for all my not beef friends...or ground venison for my hunter friends...or even tofu for my vegan buddies.  However, for this recipe I'm just gonna call it meat.  That way you can salivate over whatever tickles your hungry bone at the moment.  I'm also going to post two sauce recipes.

Nobody sneeze!

Sweet and Sour Meatballs (This recipe comes from Our Best Bites: Mormon Moms in the Kitchen by Sara Wells and Kate Jones.)

1 lb. ground beef (or whatever)
2 Tbsp. dehydrated onion (the kids prefer them without)
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 egg, beaten
1/4 c. bread crumbs

Sweet and Sour Sauce
 3/4 c. packaged brown sugar
3 Tbsp. flour
1 1/2 c. water or pineapple juice
1/4 c. white vinegar
3 Tbsp. soy sauce

1. In a medium bowl, combine meatball ingredients.  Shape into 1 inch balls and place on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil and sprayed with nonstick cooking spray.  Place under broiler in your oven for 5-7 minutes or until the meatballs begin to brown.

2. In a large saucepan, whisk together the sauce ingredients and bring to a boil.  Add the meatballs and reduce heat, cover, and simmer fro 20 minutes, stirring often.

Another sauce that we like at my house is to simply mix a jar of grape jelly and a jar of chili sauce and let the meatballs, or little smokeys, or whatever simmer in the crockpot on low until game time (3-4 hours).

These meatballs can also be tampered with, seasoning them with more of an Italian flair to add to your spaghetti and marinara.  Or you can spice them up and serve them albondigas style.  Also try your favorite meatloaf recipe and make it into balls instead of a loaf.  It's great for sandwiches.  They freeze fairly well, too.

Getting Back to Simple...Sort Of

As I scroll through social media and watch the news, I see a lot of stones cast about, fingers pointing, and general confusion and despair.  And in light of the recent Connecticut school tragedy, I should expect that.  Some might even call me calloused or uncaring when I don't want to talk about it.  The truth is that I can't without releasing a backlash of emotion.  It's kinda like the electricity Clark Griswold uses for his Christmas lights.

What I think everyone needs to do (in this chaotic, mixed-up world) is to take a deep breath, slow down, find your faith, and have a good meal.  No, don't go out.  Stay home, hug your kids, and have a good, home-cooked meal.  It doesn't have to be elaborate, just comforting.  We all have our comfort foods.  That's what this month is all about: food that makes me happy.  I never said that I was a gourmet chef, or I was opening a catering service.  And everybody knows that I don't compete (nor want to) with all those fancy-schmancy cake decorators and semi-professional food bloggers and stuff.  I don't care about that.  (I don't do cute either.)  It's just about sharing some of my comforts with you.  And although she never outright said it, my Grandma Anson always believed you could fix a problem better on a full stomach.  The shape of the family can attest to that. ;)

One of the all-time comfort foods in this nation, I believe is a grilled cheese sandwich.  Yes, you heard me, and you know you want one.  Maybe with a nice bowl of soup.  So here's today's post--food for the soul, food for healing, whatever you want to call it.

However, it's my own little twist.  And although it's not as ginormously deliciously disgusting, greasy, or bulk enough for a football team to devour, I felt like the Sauce Boss from Epic Meal Time could have narrated the construction of this Big Boy Grilled Cheese with a side of (Not Yo' Arts and Kraft) Mac & Cheese.

This cheesy stick-ti-your-ribs carbo-heaven isn't like the grilled cheese your momma made when you were still drinking out of a sippy cup.  No artificial processed wrapper cheese here.  This here's got three types of cheese: mild cheddar, sharp cheddar, and mozzarella.  It's also got roasted sweet orange peppers. (I was out of most other colors.) They camouflage nicely with the cheesy ooze, too.  It's got bacon strips, a spoonful of potent mac and cheese, topped with two grilled hot dogs, and even more bacon strips, and enough hot sauce to make the paint peel off the walls.  It's reverse toasted between a bagel.  No Wonder Bread here, softy.  Sprinkle more cheese on top.  Let one side burn so you get some good char as well.

The mac and cheese that the kids wanted for dinner transformed when I added more hot sauce and tons of chopped bacon, freshly fried in  a greasy pan.  Salt and pepper until your heart's not content but rather sitting on the edge of its seat, challenging the heartburn to "bring it."  Add some tortilla wedges (see my post from December 10) and some peppers and greens for colors.  Prepare the moo juice.  The pictures are evidence that I do not always drink out of the jug. Ha!

When you've cleaned up your mess, hug you kids, hug your spouse.  Take advantage of the time you have.  Comfort food makes everybody feel better, even after senseless tragedy.  Then go sit in another room, because soon nobody else will be able to stand being near you for at least 24 hours. Just kidding.  Try adding jalapenos and tomatoes next time if you want a tamer grilled cheese experience.

Creme de Menthe Bars

So, is the lull in viewers due to the fact that the past entries aren't sweet enough?  Regardless of the reason, I've decided to include this holiday treat that is so extremely awesome that my mom had to limit my brothers and I to only one per day.  (Yeah...like that really happened.  Sorry, Mom.)

I don't remember when she started making these, but it was sometime when I was a kid.  I don;t remember this lady she got the recipe from either.  Oh, well.  I still remember how they taste because I've only had four today.  I brought a plate to share at lunch, and they were gone quicker than Twinkies when Hostess announced they were done for.  In fact, one colleague told me that these should be today;s post.  Thanks for taking the picture, Katrina.

Marc and I would eat one of these before and after seminary every morning when they were in the house.

Creme de Menthe Bars recipe originally from RaShell King
(Everyone else calls them mint brownies.  Do not confuse these with the signature item from BYU catering services.  They are different, but just as addicting.)

1/2 c. butter
1 c. sugar
4 beaten eggs
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 c. flour
1 lb. can of Hershey syrup (chocolate, duh!)
     Warning: this is not the same as the squeeze syrup for making chocolate milk; it's different)
1/2 c. butter (yes, again)
2 c. confectioner sugar
4 T. creme de menthe (1 t. mint flavoring)
6 T. butter
1 c. chocolate chips

Cream 1/2 c. butter and granulated sugar.
Add eggs, salt, flour, and syrup; blend.
Pour into greased 9"x13" pan.
Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes; cool.
Mix 1/2 c. butter, powdered sugar, and mint until smooth.
Spread on base, refrigerate for one hour.
Melt chocolate chips and 6 T. butter and spread on top.
Keep refrigerated.

This is what remained after 5 minutes at lunch.