The Easy Way Out

As I was making tacos for the kids last night, a departure from the usual "Mom and Dad are going out mac and cheese", I recalled seeing a recipe for taco filling in Mom's cookbook.  Can you imagine making taco filling from scratch?  Did they not have the prepackaged taco dinner in a box when I was a kid?  Honestly, the most effort I exert when making tacos is opening that box and shredding some lettuce.  How in the world did my mom do this - and with six kids in tow?

Mom used to always opine about the ridiculous nature of all the "gear" kids required these days - boppy pillows, bouncy seats, bottle and wipe warmers.  When Regan was born, she was quick to point out the silly nature of these items, which were littering our apartment and taking up more space than the furniture.  She would reach for a freshly warm wipe and laugh, "You have got to be kidding me!  How did I ever raise six kids without a wipe warmer?"  Indeed.  How did she do it?  Do all these gadgets make our lives as moms easier, or have we only complicated our lives to a level that seems out of control?

When I was a kid, I walked to school every day - two blocks - and I came home for lunch. Mom would make me a homemade lunch every single day of my life, K through 6.  Grilled cheese, soup, peanut butter and jelly on saltines, maybe even a taco here and there. She didn't rush in the morning to fill a lunch box with pre-measured, prepackaged 100 calorie snack bags.  Do you know you can even get pre-cut carrots packaged in snack size bags?  I do.  I've got them in my fridge right now.  And I don't think these things make my life any easier.  They may shave some time off my morning rush, but they certainly don't make me feel like I'm living up to Mom's expectations.  I think that we are a generation who has made our lives so difficult and hectic, that the only way we can come to terms with that is to have someone else package our kids lunch snacks for us.

I grapple all the time with how crazy and competitive life has become for us and our children.  Sports at the age of 3, and not just one sport but several sports.  Music class, a class which I took with my kids before they could even walk or talk - Mom had a field day with this one!  Playgroups, playdates, carpools.  Everything I have done has been in the interest of streamlining the life that I have created to be so completely hectic for my kids, and for me.  If they don't play the right sport at age 5 then they won't make the travel team in 4th grade and they won't play varsity in high school and they won't get into the right college and they won't get into the right graduate school and they won't make enough money to care for me when I am old because I spent all my money on their grade school activities.

There are days where I wish I had a job to go off to so someone else could deal with the craze of my day.  Don't get me wrong.  I wouldn't trade my life for anything else, and I am half-heartedly poking fun at myself.  But I do wonder how to get back to the simple way things were when I was a kid.  I realize that's not entirely attainable, but maybe I can get back some semblance of the easier way.  So, we've started walking to school.  We only live two blocks from school but, more often than not, I'm flying out the driveway in the car to get the kids there on time.  Admittedly, not the best time of year to undertake this initiative as we have to dodge five foot snowbanks, but it's a small step.  I've pared down the sports my kids play - if they aren't interested in it, then we're not going to do it and I'm not going to worry too much about their future varsity career.  I've stopped participating in the ginormous soccer carpool.  It makes my life a little tougher, but it's really nice to have only my kids in the car and converse about their day for a few precious minutes while we drive to the field.  I can't promise that I'll make taco filling from scratch every time, but I will start to cut up my own carrots.

Taco Filling

1 lb ground beef (or turkey)
1/8 tsp oregano
1/8 tsp cumin
1 clove garlic or 1/4 tsp garlic powder
salt and pepper to taste
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 green pepper, chopped
4 oz tomato sauce

Brown meat with onions and pepper.  Add spices and tomato sauce.  Cover with water and simmer for 45 minutes.

Friendly Eggs

There's this egg and sausage casserole Mom used to make on special occasions, which has now become a staple in my household.  I went to make it this morning, as Jed and his family were staying with us, and I almost cried when I saw the picture next to the recipe.  It's a snapshot of the Westfield gang - all Mom and Dad's best buds.  Friends they made, much like I have over the past eight years, from the newcomers group in Westfield.  Friends they have been blessed to have in their lives for over 40 years now. Some of whom we call Aunt and Uncle, some of whom have left this world all too soon, some of whom have moved away, all of whom I love dearly and have been part of my life from day one.

I looked at this picture, taken on the steps of Mom and Dad's house in Mantoloking, and I just relished in the smiling faces peering back at me.  They called themselves the End of Summer Group and would gather on a weekend at the end of September every year.  It was a weekend filled with lots of food, alcohol and antics.   I imagine it was comparable to The Big Chill, minus the pot smoking of course, and the stories that came out of these weekends were legendary.  Frankly, as a kid, these stories scared me because I just couldn't picture my parents racing lobsters across the kitchen floor or tossing someones bra onto a neighbor's roof, but that's for another blog.

As I studied the picture, I could just picture Mom waking up before the masses arose, stumbling down to the kitchen to make her cup of tea (how she raised six kids without ever consuming coffee is beyond me), and beginning to prepare a breakfast feast for her friends.  Once she got past all the dishes and glasses left from the night before, only because Aunt Fran got too tipsy to finish washing them all, she would set about to make this casserole.  I can picture these folks trickling down, one by one, grabbing a bite of Entemann's coffee cake, and waiting patiently for the egg casserole (dubbed Egg Shit by this crew).  I can picture them wandering around in their robes and sweats, fumbling for a Bufferin to ease that mild headache, picking at the bits of egg shit left in the casserole pan, reveling in stories of the night before and planning all sorts of activities for the day ahead.

I have wonderful friends in my life, and I am blessed.  We've gone through the births, disappointments of losing a pregnancy, difficulties managing the hectic lives we create for ourselves, husbands who work long hours, the fallout of the recession.  We have gotten ill, really ill, and we've made the meals, helped with the carpools, arranged the play dates.  We have only begun to see all that the End of Summer Group has seen and I can only hope, that when the time comes, I can sit in my kitchen making egg shit for all my friends.

Egg Shit

6 eggs

1 pint of small curd cottage cheese

1 lb grated cheddar cheese

1 C milk

1 stick melted butter

1 C Bisquick

1 lb breakfast sausage

Preheat oven to 350.  Brown sausage and drain.  Mix all ingredients, except sausage, and beat well.  Add sausage to mixture.  Pour into a greased 9x13 casserole dish.  Bake for 40 minutes to an hour, until slightly brown on top.  Serve with salsa, ketchup or hot sauce.

Eye-to-Eye

It's no mystery that Mom and I didn't always see eye-to-eye.  I gave her a really hard time during my teen years and as I grew older, we managed to get much closer.  Once I was married and had children of my own, I would talk to Mom on the phone every day, sometimes more than once a day.  I loved to share with her stories of my day, the kids' days, things that were happening in my life.  I loved to ask for advice, then promptly dismiss it because my way was the right way.  I loved to chat it up with her, giving her all the scoop on my neighbors and gossiping like BFFs.  Yesterday, I so wanted to call her so I could bitch about my neighbor who refuses to shovel his sidewalk.  She would have appreciated that and validated my utter bitchiness about the whole situation.

When I was pregnant with Regan, I was completely neurotic.  I worried about everything - what I ate, how I ate it and how it was cooked.  Mom came to visit us in Chicago and I distinctly remember standing at the kitchen sink scrubbing a grapefruit with hot water and soap.  Mom thought I was nuts - she couldn't understand why I would worry about the pesticides sprayed on the outside of a grapefruit when I had no intention of eating the outside of this grapefruit.  In true Mimi fashion, she made no bones about expressing her opinion of the situation, which only fueled my desire to scrub harder. I'll be damned if she was going to prove me wrong, so I spouted all sorts of empirical data that supported my effort to scrub the crap out of that poor fruit.  I'm not sure if I ever even ate that darn grapefruit.

It's not as though Mom and I argued all the time (well, maybe all the time until I went away to college).  See, I am the female version of my dad in many ways, and I think that drove Mom nuts.  Not that we don't all love Dad but I was pretty anal, not very flexible and very quick to judge (shocking, I know).  As far as my siblings were concerned, I was the "mini mom", always tattling on everyone and trying to enforce the rules.  Bottom line, I was just pissed that Mom had so many kids.  I only got 16 months to relish in the glory of being the only child, so I had a big chip on my shoulder and I think that's one of the reasons why Mom and I didn't always see eye-to-eye.

So, tonight as I perused the cookbook, I decided to make Chicken Divan.  Normally, I would attempt to revise this dish and make it healthier, substituting skinless chicken breasts and low-fat soup for the original ingredients.  Instead, I decided to let Mom be right this time and follow the recipe exactly.  I would give anything to not see eye-to-eye with her these days.  Love you Mom.

Simple Gifts

Mom gave me the most incredible gift before she passed away - time.  Time to come to grips with losing her.  Time to say goodbye.  Time to tell her all the things I wanted her to know about me as a mom, as a wife, as a woman.  Time to thank her for all she had done for me in my life.  Time to reassure her that we would take care of Dad, take care of each other, and all get along.  And, most importantly, time to get to know her.  Not as my mom, but as a person - free from all those tensions found in the mother/daughter relationship, free from any reservation or judgment.  Time to really get to know her.  What a precious gift.

The weekend before Mom passed away, my sisters and I spent a few days and nights hanging out with Mom.  We took care of her, started to get Dad ready for life on his own, cried, laughed and drank a hell of a lot of wine.  Mom told us exactly how she wanted her memorial service to go, right down to the music and readings.  We rifled through her jewelry box and she dolled out some goodies, each with specific instructions and specific meaning to the recipient.  Mom was giving out her last gifts.

As we all sat on her bed, her jewelry spread around us, I asked Mom if I could have one thing.  One thing that meant more to me than anything in that jewelry box - her shaker of cinnamon sugar.  I thought she was going to fall out of the bed laughing so hard but that shaker always reminded me of Mom and her cinnamon toast.  A simple treat she would make when we were under the weather, a quick breakfast when we were teens on the run, a little shake that made plain toast a delicacy.  I believe the shaker actually predates my existence and Mom would always refill it once it ran empty.  She claimed she couldn't find cinnamon sugar in the spice aisle and it was easier to have it on hand, particularly at the rate the six of us consumed cinnamon toast.

Now that shaker sits prominently on my stove and I've introduced my kids to the delights of cinnamon toast.  I realize they don't need extra sugar in the morning, but a little shake of love from Mimi is the best way to start their day.

(I'm going to skip a recipe this time - cinnamon toast is pretty self-explanatory.  Enjoy!)

The Baking Dish

My grandparents would come and visit us for every holiday.  Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas - they'd pack up their Mercury Grand Marquis, get a trip tick from AAA, and leave Indiana headed east to New Jersey.  Although it meant abandoning my nice bed to go bunk on a cot in Jed's room, it was really fun to have them come visit.  The thing I looked forward to the most was Grandma's lemon pancakes.  She would actually bring her own glass baking dish to make the pancakes, necessitated by the fact that Mom did not have the proper dish in her cache of kitchen accessories.  Truth be told, the baking dish was just a regular old 9x9 Pyrex (the light brown version made popular in the 60's) and she just liked to give Mom a hard time.  That said, it did create an aura of mystique about these pancakes, and it also meant we only had them when Grandma was in town. I'm fully confident Mom could have rocked the lemon pancakes.  I think she just enjoyed letting Grandma have the honor every time she came into town.

Grandma was a tough cookie and didn't have the most patience for the completely chaotic vibe created by the six of us, but she was a good soul.  Dad was an only child so Grandma wasn't accustomed to the noise, bustle and apparent lack of structure that a household with six young kids produced.  Visits that lasted longer than a few days tended to test her will, and sometimes you could feel the tension build (and not just because Mom's baking dishes were inadequate).  Nonetheless, Grandma was a master storyteller, extraordinary artist and queen of the lemon pancake, and we all enjoyed her visits.

I have to admit that I have never baked the pancakes from scratch.  I found a mix at Williams-Sonoma that does the trick and, honestly, I was always so intimidated by Grandma's undying confidence in her skills and that Pyrex dish, that I never felt up to the task.  Funny thing is, Thomas absolutely loves these breakfast treats (known to many as German pancakes or Dutch babies).  I've gotten in the habit of making them at least once on the weekend, and T and I will sit over the stove eating the pancake before it's even cooled.  Grandma must be turning in her grave - the audacity to eat such a delicacy straight out of the pan!

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to attempt to make these from scratch.  Kind of wish I knew where that baking dish of Grandma's was, but I've got the Williams-Sonoma mix on hand just in case.

Lemon Pancakes
1 stick butter
1/2 C flour
2 eggs
1/2 C milk
Lemons
Powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 450.  Melt butter in in glass 9x9 baking dish in oven.  Beat eggs slightly. Using a whisk, alternately mix in flour and milk until blended well.  Doesn't need to be perfectly smooth.

Pour in the baking dish and bake for 15 minutes.  Top with lemon juice and powdered sugar.

Snow Day

Ahh, the snow day.  A source of so much joy and elation for children, and so much pain and suffering for parents.  I was actually looking forward to this particular snow day.  I thought it would be a nice chance to bond with the kids over sledding and hot chocolate, and avoid the hectic pace of our after school activities. That said, I'm fairly certain if you check back with me around lunch time, my outlook on this day will be far more jaded.

I have very fond memories of snow days as a kid.  Waking up in the wee hours of the morning to the quiet, snow-laden world.  Hunkering down around the radio and listening anxiously for 1010 WINS to announce our school closing.  Rushing to be the first of the six kids out of the house so I could take the inaugural run down the swing set slide, which always caused a great deal of consternation among the siblings.  You see, the first one down got to push all the snow piled on the slide to the bottom.  There wasn't anything very special about that snow, just the fact that you got to be the only one out of the six who could do it - once that snow was gone, so was the thrill of the slide.  Mind you, I often tackled little siblings on my way out the door and I was so darn tall that my legs fit half way down the slide while sitting on top.  But I'll be damned if I was going to let anyone get there first.  The resulting arguments among the six of us would force Mom to lock the back door and leave us outside for the remainder of the day.

Once we got past those early morning spats, playing in the snow was pure joy. Snowmen, forts, snowball fights with the big kids up the street, ice skating on Mindowaskin Pond - quintessential outdoor fun. And Mom would never disappoint. Nestle hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, chocolate chip cookies and her famous chopped meat soup.

As a family, we've created our own traditions for snow days.  The kids always have scrambled eggs and cinnamon toast for breakfast, we've found our favorite sledding hill a few towns over, and I cook up a huge batch of chili for dinner.  This time around, I'm reverting back to the traditions of my childhood and swapping out the chili for chopped meat soup.  Enjoy!

Chopped Meat Soup
1 lb ground beef (or turkey)
16 oz can of stewed tomatoes
8 oz can of tomato sauce
2 C water
10 oz package of mixed frozen vegetables
1/2 envelope of onion soup mix
1 tsp sugar

In a large soup pot, brown the ground beef and drain.  Add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil.  Simmer for at least 1/2 hour before serving.  Can be frozen.

Beginning to Cope

I lost my mom, Mimi, to cancer in June.  She had just turned 67.  While I knew her passing was impending, and I had plenty of time to prepare, I never really gave myself the time or the permission to grieve once she was gone.  I'm a mom to three kids.  I take care of the house.  I attempt to cook a dinner here and there.  I drive an insane number of carpools.  And, I commit to far more volunteer activities than I have the time or patience to fulfill.  I'm your typical suburban housewife and once my mom was gone, I let my crazy life take control and I tried to forget about how sad I truly was.

For Christmas, my sister gave everyone in the family the most amazing gift.  She rifled through Mom's old recipe box and compiled a cookbook filled with all the best Mimi had to offer.  It is incredible and filled with all these great photos of Mom, the kids, her friends.  Priceless.

Although I read through the cookbook on Christmas Eve, I let life run its course and promptly shelved it with my other cookbooks.  Last night, I was having a moment.  A moment where I felt really guilty about not feeling sad that my mom was gone.  I'm not sure if I just haven't dealt with it all or if I just don't want to go down that path.  I'm the oldest of six.  I'm the strong one.  I'm the one who didn't need Mom a lot while growing up.  I can handle anything.  Or so I thought.

Anyway, I broke down.  I have only done that once since Mom died.  I sobbed and cried for what seemed like hours.  I sat on the stool I am sitting on right now and scrolled through photos of my mom on the laptop.  As I turned to refill my wine glass, I caught a glimpse of the cookbook.  And I took it off the shelf.  And I read through each and every recipe.  And I cried, and I smiled, and I laughed.  Exactly what I needed.

Then it came to me.  I should actually go through the cookbook and make these recipes.  Better yet, I thought it would be fun, and therapeutic, to borrow from the plot of a recent movie and share these wonderful recipes and stories about Mimi via a blog.  I'm going to pick a recipe and make it - even the lasagna which I never liked.  Somehow, I think this process will make me feel better.  Maybe it will make you feel better too.  If nothing else, Mimi will continue to live on through all her great recipes and all the amazing memories they conjure up.

Welcome to Mimi's Kitchen!

Rich Muffins (or as my kids call them, Chili Muffins - because I always serve them with chili!)
2 C flour
1/2 C sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1/2 C oil
1/2 C milk

Preheat oven to 400.

Mix dry ingredients together in a medium mixing bowl.  In a small bowl, mix all wet ingredients together with a whisk.  Add wet ingredients to the dry, mixing well with a wooden spoon.  Pour into greased muffin tins.  Bake for 15-20 minutes.