Category Archives: Homemaking

Betty Crocker

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My oldest brother, aged 5, was playing with a friend when the friend declared, “Let’s be superheroes!” My brother, living as he did in a 1970s American home without a television, wasn’t sure.

“What’s a superhero?”

“It’s someone with a special power,” his friend responded.

“Oh,” said my brother after contemplation. “I’ll be Betty Crocker.”

By the time I could remember, there was a television in our home, and I don’t recall the power of Betty Crocker dominating my mother’s cooking. But then, despite my mother’s best intentions, I left home without ever learning how to cook. I survived college eating Rice-a-Roni and Life cereal. Somehow, despite my lack of culinary skills, I got incredibly lucky: I married a man who loves to cook.

We got by for a while on my husband’s weekend masterpieces, leftovers, and my mediocre Rice-a-Roni dishes. Then I got pregnant just as we were moving, so I quit my job. In our new home, I suddenly had a lot of time on my hands. A baby was coming, but what do I do in the mean time?

Swallowing my pride, I decided that my role as a wife and mother-to-be was to cook dinner – a “real” dinner – for my family. I collected my husband’s recipes and I started searching the web for cooking tips. And then I tried to cook.

With each meal, I dreaded the next 60 years of nightly cooking. I placed the dishes in front of my husband with an apology on my lips. My cooking was pretty bad. But my husband always thanked me and told me I was a great cook. I didn’t believe him. Sometimes he suggested salt or spices or herbs or “something in the soup other than leeks and potatoes.” But he said it with love, and I knew he made suggestions because, to him, cooking was a riddle to be solved.

My son joined our family. I was a bit distracted and I didn’t cook. My husband was home for a week and he may have cooked, but I honestly don’t know what we ate for the four weeks after he returned to work.

One afternoon, in the midst of baby cuddles with my newborn, I had a weird desire: I wanted to cook.

I found a recipe, and I cooked dinner. I don’t recall what I made, but I cooked, and the end result was satisfying. I knew it could use more salt or spices or herbs or something, but for that night, it was fine. I’d figure it out next time. I had cooked dinner for my husband, and I didn’t apologize for it either.

Somehow, in the months that followed, I found the riddle my husband had found: cooking is a problem to solve. For each problem, there is a solution: I just needed to learn the tools of the trade.

  • It’s still bland: how much salt?
  • The sauce is too thin: what did I forget?
  • The sauce is too acidic: what can I add to balance the flavor?

Now it’s just a few more months down the line. Chicken piccatta, chicken parmesan, steak gorgonzola, fettuccini alfredo, risotto: I can make the dishes I want to eat. They aren’t fancy, but I like them. And, to be honest, home-made anything tastes better than a restaurant. I can make it how I like it. And if it’s not good, I’ll do it better next time.

My husband’s praise hasn’t stopped. Every night after dinner, he tells me I’m the best cook he knows. I tell him he’s the best cook I know. Regardless, I feel confident that when I make him a meal, I don’t need to put an apology on the table with it. It’s okay, and most days it’s pretty darn good.

I can be a “Betty Crocker” Wonder Woman for my husband, one dinner at a time.

Oh, and one other thing: my son is growing up in a home without a television. I hope he doesn’t mind the “Betty Crocker” variety of superhero for now.

To my husband, my culinary inspiration

True response for the July Write-Away contest at Scribbit

Mothering Update and Further Questions

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Signing

After I asked you for your opinions on signing and other things, I decided to sign every word I can remember to Paul. The day after I started signing everything, Paul started “babbling” in sign. It was so cute! Now he consistently signs “More” but I don’t think he actually knows what he means. Video here.

(I’m starting to feel conflicted as to which site to put these things on: it’s about Paul so it should be on Paul’s Page, but I’m the one trying to figure things out, so it should be on my page. I guess I can’t separate him from me anymore!)

Sleeping

As for sleep, Paul’s been going from 6:30 or 7 p.m. until 6 or 7 a.m., except for the few days lately when he’s awoken screaming in the night or in the early hours. I’m pretty sure it’s teething but I’m hoping we can get back to a normal schedule. I like the waking up at 7 a.m. thing! I wish it happened more often.

Eating

I’ve figured it out what to cook for Paul. I refuse to make food for myself without salt, so for now I’m still making two separate dinners. Paul eats at 5 and we eat at 8 anyway, so it’s not that big of a deal. But Paul’s food tastes pretty good these days! I really like pumpkin. It’s a good base for just about everything.

TV/Movie Watching

When do kids actually notice TV/movies? We don’t have a TV but I did try to introduce Paul to Winnie the Pooh, watching it on my computer. He didn’t pay attention for more than 5 or 10 minutes.

I ask because I want to buy Signing Time and I’m not sure it’s worth it for such a little boy who won’t sit still anyway. It’s not that I want to encourage TV watching anyway, so I might as well wait, I guess. We do have an actual TV screen in storage, so we’ll have it again when we return to the USA. (We still won’t have TV, though.)

Toys

What is the best kind of toy for a 9-month old? I’m still relying on his rattles and other 6-month-old toys and they are just not enough for him. (I was going to wait until we got back to the USA to get more toys, but I’m tired of waiting and he’s bored!) I got him a ring tower and today I’m going to look for a peg puzzle. Any other ideas?

“Lime Cordial, Delicious!”

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When my sister and I were young, we watched Mary Poppins almost every day. One favorite part was when Jane, Michael, and Mary were taking their medicine after being caught in the rain.

“Lime cordial, delicious!” says Jane.

“Strawberry, Mmmmmm!” says Michael.

My sister and I would take a spoon, pour water or something in it and pretend it was magicked into delicious lime or strawberry cordial.

This last week, I bought cordial.

Cordial = Kool-Aid.

It was so disgusting. It was so disappointing.

Questions for Mothers

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I’m just a first time mom. I’m sure some of the rest of you “pros” could help. Please, share your insights!

Sleeping

  • At eight months old, how long can my baby go at night without eating (i.e., how long can he sleep)? Is it okay to expect him to sleep 10-12 hours?
  • What’s a reasonable bedtime for an eight-month-old? (Right now, he’s asking for 5:30-6. OR ELSE.)

Baby Signs

My wonderful sister gave me a baby signing book for Christmas and I’ve been signing to him, pretty much just some basic signs: FOOD/EAT, MOMMY, DADDY, BATH, MORE.

I haven’t gotten any indication from Paul that he understands these signs, but he did start communicating via his own sign.

Smacking his lips together/opening his mouth and closing it = I WANT TO EAT NOW

It’s quite cute to realize I can understand what he wants!

  • If you signed to your baby, how long before they actually started to respond? Did they make up their own signs?

Eating

  • Canned baby food tastes like dog food here; not really an option. What did you feed your no-longer-pureed-food-but-still-not-quite-adult-food baby?

What I Learned from the CIA

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As I mentioned when I read Michael Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking, I’ve also been reading one of his other books about food, The Making of a Chef. This book is Ruhlman’s behind-the-scenes look at what a “culinary education” entails, particularly what it takes to earn a certificate or degree at the CIA (the Culinary Institute of America).

I have become very interested in cooking and what makes a “good” cook. What does it take to be a “chef?” About one-third of the way through this book, I began to realize that I never want to be a chef: it does not sound like fun.

However, as I read about what a chef must learn, how a chef must prepare each day before the restaurant doors open, and how to approach each day in the kitchen, I began to think differently about food and cooking. Here are some concepts that I appreciate better now (I listened to the audio book, so I can’t give page numbers):

Mise en place

Ruhlman defines this in The Elements of Cooking as “literally, put in place;  the kitchen term for your setup, the gathering and preparation of all the tools and food you need to complete the task at hand.” In The Making of a Chef, Ruhlman discusses his time in the Skills kitchen at the CIA, learning to cut and prepare food. He discusses the time he spent working in the restaurants of the CIA, where he spent hours preparing his mise en place before the restaurant opened its doors and he actually began cooking. While I certainly don’t care how I cut my carrots, I was impressed with the time that was always given to make sure everything was ready to go before starting the grill or turning on the stove. As Ruhlman pointed out, if you have everything together before you begin, and you are familiar with the cooking plan (or recipe), then everything will fall into place when you begin cooking. If you aren’t prepared, then things could fall apart and you’ll find yourself “in the weeds.” If you are prepared, ye shall not fear. (Even nonfiction cooking memoirs are inspirational!)

Cooking is a series of problems solved.

I loved this concept, and it really is true:

  • My chicken burned on the grill; what do I do differently next time? (I always burn chicken on the grill)
  • My ____ tastes boring; what do I add?
  • This sauce isnt thick enough; how do I thicken it?
  • I’m out of ____; what do I substitute?
  • My _______ is [insert problem]; what did I forget?

I find myself wanting to solve the problems before they are unsolvable. (One chef in the book suggested that any food is fixable unless it is burned. Then you’re out of luck. You can’t un-burn it.)

What does it take to be a good cook? Basic understanding, passion, and balance.

I loved how balance was an essential part of being a cook in one chef’s equation. The chef told Ruhlman that those chefs that worked too much and didn’t do anything else really were not the best cooks. In my case, I think being a “good cook” is realizing that “good” is not the same as “perfection” and “cook” is not the same as “chef.” My family doesn’t need perfection, and they don’t need a chef. They need a mom and a wife who happens to prepare dinner every night.

President Metz (president-chef of the Institute) never eats anything he cooks without a critical eye.

I like the concept of being critical of my own food; if cooking is a series of problems solved (as discussed above) then I need to recognize the problems in order to improve on them. However, I don’t think it’s necessary to always eat critically. I’m not a chef; I expect to take some days off!

When we put food on the table, we make a value statement. Your own values and your own standards: that is all.

I think this is the crux of my goal in cooking. I want to be able to put food on the table that I feel good about. I will cook to my standards, accepting the fact that I will take days off from caring and critiquing what I put in my belly.

My Conclusion

This memoir is very different from the last Ruhlman book I read. In some respects, I recommend this book over The Elements of Cooking. Elements is a reference book for the more-confident cook. It is above me in some ways. This memoir, on the other hand, is a delightful look into the world of professional cooking and what makes the difference between a good cook and a professional cook. It helps me think about cooking in a completely new way. I think any home cook, any waiter, and any semi-professional cook could benefit from this inside look at cooking for the food industry. I needed that, probably before I read Elements. Now that Ive read The Making of a Chef, I feel I should go back and reread the essays in the beginning of Elements.

There is a lot to being a cook! Understanding the elements behind it is just part of it.

The Chef’s Craft in Every Kitchen?

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I have mixed feelings about Michael Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking: Translating the Chef’s Craft for Every Kitchen.

The Elements of Cooking is one-part opinionated essays about cooking (pages 1-50) and one-part alphabetic encyclopedia of opinionated “essential” elements to cooking. There are things I liked about both parts and other things that bordered on ridiculous. (For example, Sharpie is included in the list of essential elements to cooking. Its definition: “This brand of permanent marker is excellent for dating and labeling food; keep one in your tool drawer along with painter’s tape.” p. 215)

I didn’t realize why I was annoyed by this book until I started reading Ruhlman’s previous best-seller, The Making of a Chef. I haven’t finished that book yet. It is the story of how one is trained at the Culinary Institute of America to become a chef. Only as I read this second book do I realize what the problem is with the first book: I don’t want to be a chef. Therefore, it’s not necessary to translate the chef’s craft for my kitchen.

According to The Elements of Cooking, a chef is a leader, as in the head of a restaurant kitchen, and is firstly a good cook. A cook is what I do aspire to be. I don’t want to be a chef: I don’t want a restaurant kitchen. I want good home cooking for my home kitchen.

Because I don’t want to be a chef, some items on the alphabetic list of essential elements seem a bit ridiculous. I don’t need to learn about aspic (gelled stock), offal (innards of animals), and foie gras (duck liver). I won’t be cooking them in my kitchen. I don’t need to learn the French terms for my macaroni’s cheese sauce. I don’t need to know decorative knife cuts for cutting vegetables. I don’t need to know kitchen terms (for example, commis is a prep cook in a professional kitchen).

However, on the other hand, as a cook, some of the terms, even the French terms, may come in handy if I happen upon a recipe that uses them.

Also, as a cook I found the opinionated essays about cooking incredibly interesting. Those essays are the reason I would recommend this book to the average cook. They make me think about cooking in a different way. I plan on rereading them regularly. Ruhlman included essays on stock, sauces, salt, the egg, heat, and tools of the kitchen. I think I’ll revisit them in subsequent posts — they are very informative and, I think, discussion worthy.

One book he recommended reading is On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, by Harold McGee. This is a scientific explanation of food, from eggs to meat and fish to plants and on. The author has degrees in science and literature so provides scientific descriptions the layman can understand. When I read it, I’ll let you know if that is true.

Ruhlman’s last essay is about finesse. This is where I feel I’ve departed from his main point of his book: I’m not a chef and so I’m not hoping for “refinement” in my cooking. As a cook, I hope to provide fundamental home cooking for my family. However, I suspect Ruhlman is correct to some extent, even for my home kitchen: “The concept [of finesse] rest[s] on a conviction that paying attention to a few small details in any given preparation has an enormous impact on the finished dish and is the final gratification for the cook in his or her pursuit of excellence” (p. 46).

While I’m not looking for approval of my food as a restaurant chef or even as an amateur chef in any sense of the term “chef” and I’m not vainly pursuing excellence (perfectionist though I am), I think a reward to my efforts at cooking will be a gratifying and edible supper every night with my family, recognizing that there is always room for improvement.

I recommend Ruhlman’s book to the family cook only half-heartedly. It’s great to get you thinking about food, but only with a few tablespoons of salt.

The Great Big Vegetable Challenge and What’s Your Vegetable?

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I have never liked vegetables. I don’t know why. Maybe I relied too much on bagged iceberg lettuce and ranch dressing in my college days and I got tired of it. I like fruit, however, and always enjoy fresh fruit. I have a sweet tooth, and the natural sweetness of fruit is my favorite.

My husband, on the other hand, prefers vegetables. If I set dinner on the table and I have forgotten the vegetable (which happens more often than I should admit), my husband will ask “Where are the vegetables?” and he’ll prepare something.

I could go a long time and not eat green.

But last night, the meal I was making just wouldn’t work. When my husband got home, the kitchen was still dinnerless. (He got home after eight so it’s kind of sad I hadn’t worked something out by then. I was starved.) He said, “Why don’t we just eat these greens?” I had a bag of rocket (known in the USA as arugula) in the fridge. Surprisingly, none of it was wilted (they usually don’t have very good greens here). I consented. But when my husband put the greens on our two plates, there were two huge piles. I tasted some. It wasn’t very good. (And then I had rocket breath — ha ha.)

“I can’t eat that much!” I protested. There’s nothing like a salad for someone who doesn’t like vegetables to begin with.

My husband wasn’t convinced. He pulled things out the fridge for our salads.

“Cut up the leftover steaks,” he began.

I cut up the steak and added it to the salad. Then, at his suggestion, I added olives, sun-dried tomatoes, and shaved Parmesan cheese.

In the meantime, he sliced some red onions, cooked them in balsamic vinegar, and piled them on our salads. He added mustard and olive oil to the remaining balsamic, whisked it into an emulsified sauce, and heated it with some black currant jam. (He’s so good!) He poured that over the salads.

He says that the dressing was too sweet, too much. I don’t know what to say, other than I ate every last piece of green on my plate: it was delicious!

I admit: I left some of the olives. I’ve never like olives. I ate most of them because I’ve been inspired by some food bloggers at The Great Big Vegetable Challenge in London. Here’s their story: Freddie, age seven, did not like vegetables. To cure him of his vegetable-phobia, his family is eating their way through an alphabet of vegetables, getting recipes from around the world and rating each vegetable recipe 1 to 10 (10 is best) on their blog. I think that if Freddie doesn’t like a vegetable in the end, he doesn’t have to eat it, but here’s the catch: he has to try it prepared in at least two different ways. Sometimes it’s the recipe that isn’t good. It seems to me that he’s always rating things from 6 to 10. That’s inspiring.

I can see how different preparations can make a difference: I don’t think I would have liked our rocket salad last night if I’d tried to eat it with Italian dressing and tomatoes, which is what I would have done. I would have eaten a few forkfuls before being disgusted and bored with the greens and going for desert. But the combination of the black currant balsamic dressing, the steak, and the other “goodies” made it very tasty. I was too full to eat ice cream.

I’m going to take the Great Big Vegetable Challenge in my approach to food: if I don’t like a food, that’s OK, but I have to try it a few different ways before I claim I don’t like it.

I’ve eaten mushrooms a number of ways (both raw and cooked), and I still don’t like them. Find me a “good” mushroom or a good mushroom recipe and I’ll try again.

So far, olives are OK, but not my favorite. My husband says we need to find “good” olives and then maybe I’ll like them more. I love a good olive oil — I’d even eat it by the spoonful — so if I could find an olive that tastes that fruity, maybe I could say I love them too.

On the average night, I simply prepare frozen vegetables for dinner. My default vegetable is broccoli: salt, pepper, butter, broccoli … mmm. My husband will always default to peas: “They are like little explosions of taste in your mouth!”

Note that I don’t consider potatoes a vegetable: I consider them a starch. (We have potatoes in some form every night.)

What’s your favorite vegetable?

The Ants Came Marching

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If you despise bugs, you may not want to read this post.

On the other hand, if you want motivation for always wiping down the counters, cleaning the dishes, and otherwise cleaning the kitchen on a regular basis, this may be the post for you.

I think I keep a pretty tidy kitchen. I wipe down the counters thoroughly at least once a day. I regularly unload the dishwasher and load it again to keep the sink empty. I try to keep it clean.

The other morning, we put our dirty breakfast dishes in the sink — the dishwasher had clean dishes in it. I went back two hours later (when Paul was happier) to empty the dishwasher, load it, and make brownies.

Ants were crawling into the sink, around the sink, on the counters, and under the kitchen counter.

I didn’t scream. But I do think my heart literally skipped a few beats. I thought I’d fall over. “Oh, my! Oh, my!” was all I could say. No one except Paul was there to hear me.

I killed the ants with ant poison.

In case you wanted to know, it took almost 5 hours (over the course of that morning, that afternoon, and the next morning) to wash all the silverware and utensils in the drawers, wash all the pots in the one cabinet, and wipe down the entire pantry (even though the ants hadn’t made it that far).

I’m beginning to suspect that there is a nest under our house — last month they came in near the front door and the month before that they came in through the bathroom.

The good side of this horrendous problem is that now I am very motivated to wipe the kitchen table and counters immediately upon finishing eating and immediately after I get them dirty. I haven’t left dishes in the sink. I now have a clean pantry.

So there are some bonuses. But I’d rather the ants hadn’t invaded.

One-Year Anniversary

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No, this is not my wedding anniversary: this is my blogging anniversary.

In the past year, a lot has happened. My husband and I moved to Australia. I had a baby. I went from working full-time to being a mom full-time. I learned to cook. I had abdominal surgery.

I guess that doesn’t sound like a lot, but I feel like I’ve learned a lot this year.

In the past year, I’ve written more than 80 posts. Here are some of the things I experienced and learned (and wrote about):

For good measure, here are my favorite recipe and my favorite photographs.

In looking back over these posts, I realize that not many of them have anything to do with being in Australia. I could have learned these lessons anywhere. I guess that’s the point of life: we learn what we need to learn, wherever we are.

As a stay-at-home mom, I know that I need an outlet where I can develop my creativity and my own thoughts. That’s why I like my page: it is mine.

Notice that I call it “Rebecca’s Webpage.” It is not our family page. (I don’t think my husband even reads it; if he does, it’s a month after the fact.) At the same time, I will write about my life, and of course my family is a huge part of that.

This page is my personal forum and journal, online. And I love having a place to write. When I think about this blog, I feel satisfied. And I think that’s the reason I write it.

Reflections on “A Spoon Full of Sugar” and “Just 30 Minutes”

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For every job that must be done
There is an element of fun
You find the fun and snap!
The job’s a game.

I’ve been listening to Disney music lately. One thing I bought in the States is a five-disc Disney song Classics collection. I’ve enjoyed the retreat to childhood as I revisit favorite songs and introduce my infant son to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” and “When You Wish upon a Star” and dozens of others.

Another thing we brought back from the States is a Swiffer and a hundred dry Swiffer rags. This was a gift from my mother-in-law, who believed me when I said that a Swiffer was all I wanted (I couldn’t find them here!). Despite Swiffer’s claim otherwise, you really can’t throw away the broom and the mop — the dry Swiffer doesn’t catch three-dimensional things and the wet Swiffer doesn’t do a great job at kitchen messes — but overall, the Swiffer is a great floor-cleaning tool: it catches the dust and hairs and dirt that just don’t get caught without it. I feel efficient when I’m Swiffering (yes, I believe that is a verb now), and I don’t have to try to catch the mess in a dustpan as I use it.

As I was Swiffering our huge hardwood floor the other morning, I started humming “A Spoon Full of Sugar.” I realized that something as simple as a tool I liked made the task less annoying. Cleaning the floor wasn’t as much of a bother because I felt like I was being efficient. The Swiffer was my “spoonful of sugar” that helped the medicine of cleaning “go down.”

Later, I was telling my husband about a silly website I visited.

“I know I have better things to do,” I said.”But it was fun. Besides, it was just a half-hour, if that.”

He looked at me. “Just a half-hour? How many half-hours do you get every day?”

He wasn’t accusatory at all — I imagine he really doesn’t care what I do. It’s my time. But I realized that this question was coming from a man who had a limited number of “free” half-hours every day. Many of his half-hours are filled with work responsibilities.

How many half-hours do I get every day? And what do I do with all of them?

Yesterday I began a testing process. Here was the test: what can I do in a half an hour? Here’s a list of the chores I can do in half an hour:

  • Shower, dress, and do my hair and makeup (unless I iron my clothes)
  • Clean three bathrooms (at 10 minutes each)
  • Starch and iron 1½ shirts (at 20 minutes each — I’m really slow. My husband usually irons his own shirts, but I really should iron for him, given how many more “free” half-hours I get each day. Maybe I’ll get faster as I do this more often.)
  • Swiffer and sweep, thoroughly, the hardwood floors (lots downstairs, some upstairs)
  • Vacuum the carpeting (three rooms and two large rugs)
  • Dust the bookcases, shelves, and ceiling corners of the house using a Swiffer duster
  • Wash the dishes in the sink (by hand) and wipe down the counters and the microwave
  • Make a quick dinner

Some things take half that time:

  • Feed my son
  • Eat breakfast
  • Eat lunch
  • Fold and put away a load of laundry and start the next load
  • Unload the dishwasher and load it again
  • Wipe the kitchen counters and table and set the table for dinner
  • Tidy the living room (by actually putting things away, not just hiding them)
  • Swiffer, quickly, the hardwood floors

Some things take twice as long:

  • Make a longer dinner (you can’t rush risotto)
  • Get groceries at the supermarket and unload them and put them away

Obviously, some things can’t be done when my son is demanding my attention. (When he wants attention, then I can do some of the fun half-hours: cuddle him close to me, read Winnie-the-Pooh to him, sing a few primary songs, get on the floor and play with his toys.) And how do I vacuum when he’s napping without waking him? But when I put these things in half-hour increments, I don’t feel wrong asking him to entertain himself here and there through the day. Letting him play by himself for 30 minutes while I shower and get ready every morning can’t kill him. Also, he was happy to watch me wash dishes and wipe down kitchen counters because I was talking with him and singing to him as I did it.

As I tested how much of each chore I could get done in a half hour, I felt an urgency to hurry and get it done. It was almost like a game.

The end results were the biggest bonuses. I felt so much better about myself when my hair was done and my makeup was on. I felt a sense of glee when I found that folding and putting away an entire load of laundry took half as long as I thought it would. I felt a sense of satisfaction when I looked at the living room, free of unnecessary clutter, and knew that everything was put away where it was “supposed” to be. I felt very good as I set a well-balanced meal in front of my husband at the end of his long work day.

Those 30 minutes I spent visiting a “who does your son look like?” webpage seemed like “just a half-hour.” It went fast. I think I’ll try to think of chores as “just a half-hour” and maybe that will make them go faster.

Even with the challenge of “how long does it take?”, I don’t think these chores are fun, and it isn’t really a “game” to do them. But I think the satisfaction of having a clean, put-together home is a great reward.