Spicy Chicken and Black Bean Enchiladas

Ah, here we are again, two months passed and not a single post to show for it. Yes, I am a slacker. But it's summer, so I prefer to think of it as a vacation. The husband is off for the summer, so I am too....

Oh wait. I forgot. I still have to go to work everyday. I'm reminded of that every morning as I'm showering, frantically searching my closet for something to wear (an act that 13 years of Catholic school has made extremely difficult for me on a daily basis as an adult--seriously, sometimes I wish we all could just wear uniforms in life!), and still finding time to consume a healthy breakfast and spend a few minutes rubbing my dog's belly, all while telling her, "You're the most beautiful girl in the whoooooole world!" because, well, she is. This is my summertime routine. I run around like a maniac every morning doing all of these things in the span of about forty minutes because no matter how hard I try, I cannot wake up any earlier. I've tried. I've tried. My body will not allow it. So this results in my giving dirty looks and sticking my tongue out at my husband as he sleeps peacefully. I know, I'm like, so mature. During the regular school year, he's up early and his clanking around in the bathroom is usually what wakes me. He's my human alarm clock that I have come to rely on. Which means when summer rolls around my alarm clock stops working and I actually have to get up all by myself. Insert scream here. The horror! It wouldn't be so infuriating, though, if he didn't actually revel in the joy of reminding me about it. On Sunday nights, as I'm hanging onto every last trashy second of 'The Real Housewives of New Jersey' (God, I so miss Dina and wish she would come back to the show), he actually laughs at me and taunts, "Ha ha! You have to go to work tomorrow!" He thinks he's so hilarious. But just wait. The end of summer is making haste. It will be here before I can sing neener-neener-neener right back at him. Ahh...sometimes it feels so good to NOT be the bigger person.

Anyhoo, I've been meaning to share my very simple recipe for Spicy Chicken and Black Bean Enchiladas. Black beans have become a true staple in my diet and I try to incorporate them into meals whenever I can. This recipe involves all ordinary ingredients that you most likely have on hand. The key to these is the cayenne pepper. It's what gives the enchiladas their true kick. I consider cayenne, paprika, cumin, and chili powder to be my Four Horsemen--without one man, they lose their power. I recently made these not realizing I had run out of cayenne, and I had no choice but to skip the ingredient. Sadly, it resulted in pretty boring enchiladas. They were still tasty, but they lost their pizazz. So make sure you have plenty to keep the other Horsemen alive!

Enjoy my friends...


SPICY CHICKEN AND BLACK BEAN ENCHILADAS
(WW points plus: 7 points* per enchilada)

-2 large chicken breasts (equalling 9oz), trimmed of fat, diced
-1 medium onion, chopped
-3 cloves garlic, minced
-1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
-10 Mission or Chi-Chi's brand multi-grain wraps
-1 15oz can enchilada sauce (I use mild or medium)
-2 oz shredded cheddar cheese (about 1 cup)
-1/2 cup water
-1 tbsp olive oil
-1 tbsp cumin
-1 tbsp chili powder
-1 tsp paprika
-1 tsp cayenne pepper (if you're afraid of too spicy, use 1/2 tsp)
-salt and pepper to taste
-sour cream (optional, with extra points)
-cilantro, scallions, or parsley to garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Coat bottom of a 9 x 13 in baking pan with 1/3 of the enchilada sauce.

Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add olive oil and let heat till it gets the shimmer effect. Add onions and saute till softened, about 5 minutes. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Add garlic and stir for about 30 seconds till fragrant. Add diced chicken to pan.

Stir chicken till no longer pink and cooked through. Add extra oil if needed, but sparingly. When chicken is cooked through, add all seasonings to pan and stir to coat the chicken mixture. The pan will be a little dry, so add the 1/2 cup of water. Scrape the bottom of the pan to release the fond. This will form a flavorful little sauce. Add the drained black beans to the pan and stir to combine. Cook just till heated through. Remove from heat.

Using the edge of your cooking spoon, divide the chicken and bean mixture into ten even sections in the pan, thus assuring each enchilada receives the same amount. One by one, spoon a section out onto one of the wraps. Wrap tightly, but gently, and place seam side down into the coated baking dish. You may have to push them tightly together to fit into the pan.

Pour remaining enchilada sauce across the wraps. Top with shredded cheese. Bake for about 20 minutes till cheese and sauce is bubbling. Let cool 5 minutes.

*For a slightly fatter enchilada, you can decrease the amount of wraps to eight. Just add one extra point to each for an 8 point enchilada.

Enjoy!

Giggles and Nostalgia

I have been so bad about posting lately. I thought I was on such a good roll but then I went and disappeared again. Woops! Life has been rather crazy lately. I had my entire family in town--my father, all three of my sisters, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, nephew, and neices--a couple of weeks ago. My sister Beth graduated with her masters degree and it happend to coincide with my sister Lauren's trip to Disney with her twin daughters, so naturally my twin sister Meghan flew out here from Texas to join in the fun. It's such a rare occasion to get all four of us in one state, let alone one house. Between the four of us, we're spread out across half the country and it takes some serious fancy footwork to make a group gathering possible. But we made it happen and even got to all spend a night in my house together.

We kept meal times as low key as possible, which was a lifesaver. It was much easier to order pizza and make sanwiches than try to go out for every meal. My neices, who are twins, are only 18 months old and into everything. They were so much fun to have around and possibly two of the silliest little girls I've ever encountered. I spent the entire weekend laughing and laughing at their words, their giggles, their impish smiles, and their flowery personalities. We were initially a little worried how they were going to react to our dog Nella. Nella is actually a big pile of wimpy mush and is basically scared of her own shadow, but to the unsuspecting she's still a large dog with teeth. The girls were a little skiddish at first, but luckily Nella remained freakishly calm the entire time they were here (I was such a proud mamma!), and by the end of their trip the girls were constantly petting her and offering kisses and hugs and telling her repeatedly the word, "Soft!".

On the one night that everybody stayed over at my house, I discovered a small issue. While I certainly have room for several people to sleep in my house, I realized very quickly that I don't own nearly enough pillows and blankets. Everybody kept telling me not to worry about it, but I felt so bad and pretty embarassed. Between the spare room, the couches in the living room, air mattresses, and the floor, I had people EVERYWHERE. I was literally scrimping to find things to cover people with and was having to resort to using couch cushions for spare pillows. I've had people stay over at my house before, but never that many at once, and for whatever reason it was the one area that weekend that I was very unprepared for. Lesson learned! But overall, it was a very successful weekend and a lot of fun to have some time with my dad and my sisters.

Tomorrow is my 3rd wedding anniversary, which I cannot believe. I still feel as if I got married just yesterday. Actually, that's not true. I feel like I've been married to David forever (which I take as a good sign), but I feel like I just planned a wedding only yesterday. Weddings are such funny things. You spend so much time pouring over these small, ridiculous details (at least I know I did) to the point where it consumes the majority of your life and time, and then POOF!, it's all done and overwith in a day and you never have to deal with it again. I single-handedly planned about 97% of my wedding all myself. I was one of those brides that didn't want anybody helping me. It wasn't to be a jerk, though. I was merely very practical and knew what I wanted and didn't want. We were on a modest budget for our wedding. I wouldn't call it tight, but for today's typical standards for weddings, it was certainly modest. Both sets of parents contributed, as did David and I. We contributed quite a bit actually. We were able to pull off a very beautiful wedding, complete with excellent food, open bar, and an unbelievable Hawaiian honeymoon for a pretty reasonable amount. I discovered during the wedding process that there most certainly is something to be said for limited choices. I think when you're on a budget that could probably pay for a mansion in Boca Raton you might find yourself with a rather ridiculous amount of things to choose from, which often leads to "whoa, whoa...we're getting way over budget here...this is getting out of control.." moments. But when you know that the line is drawn very sharply, you have no choice but to keep your feet on the ground. Plus, you get your creative juices flowing like you never realized they could! We were able to cut so many corners on some of the details that weren't that big of a deal to us that we were able to afford some of the things that were a big deal. A friend of a friend of mine actually paid something like $4200 for her wedding invitations. That was the craziest thing I had ever heard. I actually saw that invitation. It was very pretty, yes, but how many of those ended up in the garbage can? I bet quite a few of them. We made our invitations ourselves. I paid about $30 for a boxed set of simple invitations with envelopes and responses cards from Target, in which we added a beautiful font in chocolate brown ourselves. I even borrowed David's exacto knife (it's an artist tool that is similar to a doctor's scalpel) and cut two tiny slits at the top of every invitation. I bought a reel of satin chocolate brown ribbon (for about $2.50) and slid a small piece of ribbon into the slits which I tied into perfect bows, adding a pretty touch of color (I considered pink since that was my other wedding color but the brown was much more elegant). Voila! Invitations for less than $40. It really isn't hard to plan a wedding. You just have to be decisive, creative, and have a plan of action. Do I miss those days of pouring over countless Knot magazines and bridal websites? I thought I would, but heck no! Looking back, it was fun at the time, but I would never want to do it again. Besides, it's everything that comes after the wedding that's the best part. The flowers are beautiful, the cake is delicious, the party is fun, but it's not all about the prime rib and champagne cocktails. It's the love, love, love! Did I really just say something that sappy? Yes, I believe I did. Can you tell that my anniversary is tomorrow?

Deep Dish Pizza Casserole

Hurray! A cooking post! When it comes to cooking meals, whether simple or extravagant, I'll be the first to admit that I am not very creative. You know those people who have that capability to observe what's in their pantry and come up with these *fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-but-end-up-looking-and-tasting-simply-marvelous recipes? Yeah, I'm not one of those people. I hope that one day I will be, one day when I truly feel I have learned to cook. Until that day, I continue to feel like I am still constantly learning. A student, if you will.

*My sister Lauren is very good at this. She can take nothing ingredients and turn it into something amazing. I remain jealous as always.

Nobody taught me how to cook. I taught myself. I was never very interested in cooking at all growing up. Despite having a mother who produced dishes so delicious they could make a grown man cry, I never took much of an active interest beyond scrambled eggs. I blame it on plain old immaturity. It wasn't until around the year 2003 when my ears finally perked up. That was back when Rachael Ray was a newer figure on the scene of the Food Network--before her voice got all raspy like a truck driver and her show turned into The Yummo! Show. One day I managed to catch an episode and I was hooked. I didn't particularly care for the actual recipes she concocted--Cheeseburger Salad? Really?--but I was fascinated by her unskilled skills. Watching her chop an onion was mesmerizing, like watching a sculptor create a life size masterpiece. I wanted to be able to chop like that! I wanted to pull steaming hot dishes out of the oven like that! I wanted to make soups--or stoups, as she calls them--like that! It had been a long time since I had a real hobby, and I was excited to have discovered a new one.

I started very slowly, buying one or two cookbooks. I made one overzealous attempt to jump into the shallow end of the pool head-first when I attempted to make homemade ravioli. Not just a premade ravioli with a homemade sauce. I'm talking the sheets of pasta, the filling, the sauce, everything from scratch! Needless to say, it was far from a success--oh, those little torturous bricks of ravioli!! But I have since soldiered on and have improved greatly over the years. I still think I am far from a good cook. Endlessly, I beat myself up when I have completed a recipe. My husband gets so annoyed with me when I do this. He thinks everything I make is wonderful, but I am my own worst enemy and always find some flaw in the dish. At the same time, though, I welcome those flaws because to me, the flaws are what really teach me. So the next time I go to make that recipe, I'll know what to do or what not to do.

Hmmm...This was supposed to be a cooking post, wasn't it? Okay then....

I figure one day I'll develop a little more creativity in the kitchen. Currently I still prefer to follow a recipe. I do this so I can experience making it and tasting it someone else's way. If I want to put my own spin on it, I will do that afterwards. There is one dish though. One dish that I actually managed to come up with myself. It's been so long since I first made it that I hardly even remember how I did it in the first place. It requires so few ingredients that it's almost ridiculous, but it produces such a quick and comfy meal. It's the perfect meal for a weeknight because it takes such little time to make.

I give you Deep Dish Pizza Casserole....




Starring Players








The Supporting Players




1. Preheat your oven to 425 degrees.
2. Spray a 13 x 9 baking pan with cooking spray(I prefer to use a glass Pyrex dish when making this so I can monitor the dough easier)



3. Open the dough (or in my case have your husband do it since those exploding cans scare the doo-doo out of me!) and lay it inside your sprayed pan, pulling the edges up to the top of the pan as close as you can manage with the tips of your fingers (the cooking spray makes this a bit of a chore, but unfortunately the spray is essential). Set aside.



4. In a meduim saute or fry pan, brown your ground round (1 lb.) over low to medium heat.





5. Drain off fat (and make good use of those useless Christmas mugs taking up room in your cabinets).






6. Add one can of tomato sauce to the meat and stir to combine till heated through. Add as much or as little oregano, garlic and onion podwer as you desire. You could certainly use real garlic, but come on, this is supposed to be a speedy dish!



7. Add the meat and tomato mixture to your uncooked dough shell and spread evenly. Place in your preheated oven for 10-12 minutes.

8. Remove from oven and sprinkle 1 and 1/4 cup shredded cheese evenly over meat. Put back in oven for 5 minutes or until cheese is melted. (Whoops! Forgot to document this step!)





9. Let cool for 10 minutes. Slice into 6 pieces and enjoy some ooey-gooey goodness!








Deep Dish Pizza Casserole

Serves: 6
Weight Watcher Points Per Slice: 8

- 1 can Pillsbury brand Pizza Dough
- 1 lb. Ground Round
- 1 15 oz. can Tomato Sauce
- 1 1/4 cups Part Skim Shredded Mozzarella Cheese
- Cooking Spray
- Oregano, 1-2 tbsp. or to your liking
- Garlic Powder, 2 tsp.
- Onion Powder, 2 tsp.

- Preaheat oven to 425 degrees.

- Spray a 9 x 13 baking pan with cooking spray. Open pizza dough and spread in pan, pinching edges of dough up to sides of the pan. Set aside.

- Brown meat in a medium sized saute or fry pan over medium heat. Drain off fat.

- Add tomato sauce to meat, stirring to combine. Add oregano, garlic powder, and onion powder to meat mixture and stir to combine.*

- Pour meat mixture into dough shell and spread evenly. Make sure to pull up any dough that has slid down. Place in oven for 10-12 minutes.

- Remove from oven and sprinkle mozzarella cheese evenly over the meat. Put back in oven for 5 minutes or until cheese is melted.

- Let cool for 10 minutes and enjoy!


**I would like to add, that I purposely do not add salt to this dish. In my opinion, the canned sauce contains enough sodium to season the meal. By all means, add salt, but with watching my weight, I figure I don't need it. I didn't miss it anyway. It still tasted delicious!

Bigos. No Other Words Necessary.

Today I am back at work after a few days off. My husband, who is a teacher, was off for his spring break, so I decided to join him part of the week. We came up with this grand list of all the things we were going to accomplish around the house. Afterall, it isn't very often that we have five days off together where we aren't darting off on some vacation. Due to a lot of heavy rain and my inability to decide on what color to paint the guestroom after over a year of painting strips of color samples all over the walls, the flower beds still need weeding and my guestroom walls are still colorfully polka-dotted. Normally I would beat myself up about not getting most of the things I wanted to finally finish, well, finished, but not this time. Dear hubby and I decided it was nice to have a few days together where we got to be truly lazy and sleep in every day. We'll see if I still feel that way a week from now when I will undoubtedly wander into the guestroom and sneer in complete disgust, "Why can't I decide on a color? Why is the perfect shade of maize so hard to find?? Should I just paint the room blue? I give up. Paint the room bright orange for all I care, honey!" Put money on it. It will happen.

One nice perk this past week was that two of our neighbors, who we have become close friends with, also took the week off. We all took advantage of the situation and drove down to the lovely historic city of St. Augustine, which is only about a forty-five minute drive away, to wander around for the day. I love the rare chance to visit St. Augustine in the middle of the week when the tourists are not out in full force. The parking is so much easier, the restaurants not nearly as crowded, and you're a lot less likely to get stuck behind a horse-drawn carriage going one mile per hour. We didn't do anything or go anywhere outlandish or exciting. It's mainly nice just to mosey down St. George Street and check out all of the shops. There you'll find everything from beachwear shops to ice cream parlors to wineries to the oldest school house in America. Being the oldest city in the United States, it's a really neat little town that everybody should experience. I actually lived in St. Augustine for close to four years around 2002 to 2005 before moving back to Jacksonville, and I still have moments where I really miss it.

Walking past Potter's Wax Museum, we took a turn down Aviles Street. Aviles is lined with tiny cafes and bakeries. It's funny, I lived there for several years and I know I walked down Aviles Street many times, yet there was something I somehow managed to never notice. Right there on my left was a sign that read Gaufres & Goods, a European style cafe. On the window was a sign that said Polish Food. That stopped me in my tracks. I enjoy many foods--many, many varieties. There really isn't much I don't enjoy. But one thing that I love--and when I say love, I am referring to the deepest, darkest depths of my soul kind of love--is Polish food. I possibly even love Polish cuisine more than I do Italian, and that's saying quite a lot. I grabbed my husband's arm as tightly as I could and said, "David. David. Polish food. Right there." He was almost as excited as I was. I stress almost because, in general, I am a freak of nature and I'm not sure it's possible that anybody could be as excited about Polish food as I.





I converted David to Polish food when we last visited New York City. There is a true treasure of a restaurant on the Lower East Side of Manhatten called Little Poland. My oldest sister, a groovy Brooklyn dweller, took me there several years ago, and I found it to be not only one of the most delicious spots I've ever stepped foot in, but the closest I've tasted to my mother's own schnitzel--basically a breaded and fried chicken cutlet (mind you, my mother was not Polish, but Ukrainian, and the cuisines are extremely similar).
I dragged David in there for lunch, determined to make him a fan. I already knew I was ordering schnitzel with egg noodles and cucumber salad, but David didn't know what to try. I suggested a combo plate so he could try a variety of items. He ended up with a plate of peirogies, stuffed cabbage, and something neither of us had ever heard of--bigos, otherwise known as Hunter's Stew. When the plate was set in front of him, bigos appeared to be a pile of sauerkraut mixed with different types of meat and mushrooms. We each took a taste of it and nearly fell out of our chairs. It was, despite its rather unsavory appearance, one of the most comforting and exquisite things we'd ever tasted. My schnitzel paled in comparison (but of course I still ate it...what are you, crazy?). From that moment on we were officially bigos-lovers.

So as we stood in front of Gaufres & Goods, I had high hopes. It's a tiny place with only a few tables. The small menu was a mix of Polish, Greek, Italian, and a few others. We immediately asked the owner, who was also our waitress, about bigos. She seemed very surprised that we knew what bigos was. It was actually rather funny--maybe we don't look worldly enough to know about the novelties of European fare (hmph!). However, to our delight, bigos WAS on the menu. David and I split a serving, while our friends split a plate of peirogies. Our bigos was served in a bread bowl, which it wasn't in Little Poland. This bigos was good, but sadly, nowhere near as good as in New York. Bigos is one of those dishes that is rarely made the same way twice. Everybody in Poland has their own version, especially considering the dish dates back centuries. The bigos we ate at Little Poland was a little meatier and loose, where this bigos was filled with more mushrooms and prunes, very little meat, and was somewhat soupier. It was still tasty, and I certainly enjoyed the bread bowl, but I wasn't thrilled with it. The peirogies on the other hand, were fantastic! David and I have a wedding anniversary coming up soon, and I decided that I think a lovely and quiet dinner out at Gaufres & Goods might be the perfect place for the occasion. Only that time I'll be sure to order the pierogies.

I've never attempted making bigos at home. Supposedly, the true way to prepare it takes about a week. I cannot fathom my house smelling like sauerkraut for a week. My dog would probably roll over and die. Plus, if I attempted it and it tasted awful, I fear that the mysticism behind the dish itself would die. I could not do that to bigos. I owe it to the bigos gods, and to Little Poland, to keep it as a special treat only when I visit up north. Bigos, you complete me.

For anybody who wants to take a crack at it, here is an example of a simpler recipe for bigos. Good luck!

Bigos (a.k.a. Hunter's Stew)

1/2 pound of bacon
1 pound lean pork or wild boar meat
1 large onion
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 cups cooked dried Borowik wild mushrooms (Boletus)
2 apples, cored and cut into chunks
2 or 3 prunes, cut up into pieces
2 root vegetables (swede, turnip, or carrot), cut into chunks
1 pound smoked sausages (Kielbasa), cut into small chunks
1 can of plum tomatoes
1/2 pound of sauerkraut (pickled cabbage)
1/2 cup of red wine
1/2 cup of stock (vegetable or meat)
A few Allspice Berries
Salt and pepper

1). Chop the bacon into ¼ inch pieces, cook until crisp, remove from the fat, and set aside.

2). Cut the pork or wild boar meat into small cubes, add to the fat in the pan, and brown the meat lightly.

3). Mix in the onion and cook it until it is tender. Cover the meat with hot water and simmer, covered, until it is well done.

4). Add the garlic, apples, prunes, Borowik mushrooms, vegetables, and tomatoes and continue cooking for about 5-10 minutes.

5). Combine the sauerkraut with the meat along with sausages and the reserved bacon. Add the red wine and stock. Mix these ingredients together and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cook, uncovered, until the sauerkraut is tender and the bigos is of the consistency you prefer. Serve with crusty white bread or if you prefer traditional Polish bread.

When Irish Tummies Are Hungry

Once again, forgive the belatedness of this post. Last Thursday, as you all know, was St. Patrick's Day. Hurray! A day of validation for everybody in the country to get pissed--as in drunk. I for one usually skip the green beer and Guinness since I am not much of a drinker. My husband David, however, would probably bathe in Guinness on a daily basis if society permitted. In his opinion, it's the greatest invention since sliced bread. Speaking of bread....

The reason I look forward to March 17th year after year is for the food. Corned beef and cabbage, to be more specific. In my house growing up, my mother always made corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day. I vividly remember how giddy my father would become when it was brought to the table. I always ate it and enjoyed it--afterall, I can count on one hand the number of foods I don't like--but I don't think I ever truly appreciated the meal until I was a little older. Looking back, I see how special it was; the way that turkey is special on Thanksgiving Day. Technically, one could eat corned beef any day of the year, as many do. But to save it for that one special meal, served piping hot with cabbage, potatoes, and carrots on the side is the stuff that true comfort food is made of. And the extra special touch? Irish soda bread...mmmm.....but first, the meat...

I decided to cook a big batch to feed a few of my neighbors. I enjoy cooking for people whenever I can. It leaves me with a very pleased, grandmotherly feeling inside to stuff people senseless. I would've loved to have used my giant Le Crueset dutch oven to cook the corned beef in, simply because I relish any excuse to use it (it's even bright orange so it goes with the Irish flag!), but the day fell on a Thursday, so I had to leave the job to the old crockpot to handle while I was at work. Between the 5 lb. hunk of beef, the head of cabbage, six potatoes, and several carrots, there was no way it was going to all fit in my dinky crockpot. I ended up having to borrow my neighbor Becky's extra large sized crockpot and actually ended up splitting all of the ingredients in two--even the XL pot couldn't hold all the food. So, side by side, the crockpot neighbors did their thing while I brought home my share of the bacon. Just a figure of speech of course--there's no bacon in my corned beef and cabbage!

I had it all planned out. I would arrive home from work with the food cooked to completion, and I would be all ready to get my June McCleaver on and serve. I was a little distressed to discover that my crockpot seemed to outdo the XL one by quite a bit. When I removed the covers, my pot was bubbling away like a magical Irish love potion. The beef was falling-apart-tender and the cabbage, carrots, and potatoes were steamy and soft. Perfection. Clearly, my little crockpot's lid does exactly what it's supposed to do--stay tightly sealed so none of the needed steam escapes. The other lid must not have gotten the memo because, while indeed cooked, the meat was much tougher when prodded with a fork, the cabbage still in a crunchier state than the limp, wet (I know, it sounds gross) state it should've been in, and the potatoes and carrots were definitely not fork-tender soft. There was no love potion a-bubblin' here. It was more like a I guess I kinda like you potion that stood pretty still. I cranked the heat up to the high setting and put the lid back on, hoping that maybe an extra 45 minutes or so would soften them up more by the time my neighbors arrived. It didn't help much. It was absolutely edible, but it just wasn't quite as scrumdiddliumptious as the rest of the feast.

The presentation would've been a lot more attractive had I piled it all together on the platter like a true peasant would, but instead I took the opportunity to use my modern, yet retro looking serving bowls to dish out the veggies.


My other opponent--the bread! Irish Soda Bread. Have you ever tried this gem of a baked good? If you haven't, grab your keys, get in your car, and immediately head to your nearest pub, you know, because those are everywhere in America. It's a very dense, floury tasting bread that tastes equally delicious sopping up whatever juice remains of your corned beef or shepherd's pie or just toasted plain with a little butter (my personal favorite). My mother also had this baby cornered. She could bake Irish Soda Bread like it was nobody's business. My sisters and I were all unanimously greedy when it came to this bread. With it's crusty crust and sweet interior, I couldn't get enough of it. It's truly the crack of all breads. Nom, nom, nom....

Moments like these are when I particularly miss my mother, because my bread this year was a complete and utter disaster, and I could have really used her expertise. I took a gamble on an ingredient that did not go my way. These were the ingredients that I used to make the bread:

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/3 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 cups buttermilk
1/4 cup butter, melted

Pretty simple, right? All very usual ingredients that I always have on hand. The one thing I did NOT have was buttermilk. I had forgotten this one necessity, but I improvised. I decided to try using powdered buttermilk, which I had on hand. Yes, such a thing exists in the baking aisle.



When liquid is added to a few tablespoons of this stuff, voila!, you have buttermilk. Easy-peazy-Japanezey! But I forgot one very important thing about powdered buttermilk. When using in a recipe, you're supposed to add the powder to your dry ingredients, THEN add whatever amount of water is required to equal the amount of buttermilk the recipe calls for. My brain was clearly somewhere else. I decided to make two loaves of bread so there would be plenty. Rather than mix two loaves worth of ingredients all in one bowl and divide between two baking pans, I decided to do each loaf back to back. I have a very large bowl, but I was concerned that with the amount of ingredients I was using it would be spilling over the edges and I would have flour all over my kitchen. The recipe I decided to use this year, in leau of my favorite Julia Child Irish Soda Bread Recipe, which tastes almost identical to my mother's(that was my first mistake), called for me to mix the egg and buttermilk together. Hmmm...but I was using powdered stuff. Would this still work? So I mixed the powder with my egg and added it to the dry ingredients. This was when I was supposed to add the water. Did I remember to do that? Nooooo. I couldn't understand why my dough was so abysmally dry! The water step was a million miles away from my mind, probably in Dublin getting drunk on Guinness. So I decided to soften up the dough with some milk--plain, skim milk. I probably added a cup's worth. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I figured I had a second loaf to possibly do a better job on. It was then that the water step I'd missed dawned on me. "Oh, ffffffffarfegnugen!!" I screamed. I was only halfway through and I'd already screwed this up. I'm not entirely sure I even followed through correctly on the second loaf either.

I mixed the powder with the egg once again, but for whatever reason I added the water directly to that mixture before dumping it all into the other dry ingredients. I'm not sure if that was the right or wrong thing to do, but either way, it didn't produce a fantastic result. Loaf number one spewed in the oven like a doughy volcano. It literally barfed all over itself in it's pan and onto the oven floor. Loaf number two stayed in its pan, browned nicely, but still didn't turn out how I'd hoped.



The crust was not a crispy crust and the interior had the texture of a poundcake rather than a bread. It didn't even taste like real Irish Soda Bread. It tasted more like a biscuit--still good, but NOT soda bread. I was so disappointed. It was just all wrong from start to finish. But I like to think of every single cooking/baking session as a learning experience, and what I learned is this:

1. Never cheat on Julia Child. She is the Messiah of all kitchens, and to cheat on her bread is like selling your soul to the devil.

2. If a recipe holds such importance that it could be compared to crack, just use real buttermilk and save the powdered stuff for the pancakes on Sunday!

3. Use an oven liner. They're worth their weight in gold.

Lesson learned!! I'm still slightly bitter that I didn't get to feast on real Irish Soda Bread on St. Patrick's Day, but it's not the end of the world. At least now I know if I'm ever in the mood for biscuit bread, I've got it in the bag!

What did YOU eat for St. Patrick's Day?

Better Late Than Never

Yeah, so I'm a little late for a New Years speech. I decided that my last post of 2010 was so brutally depressing (for both myself and probably the two people who read it) that I wanted to stay away for a while. There was no need to further bum anybody out during the holidays. I do, however, want to clarify one thing about my last post. I went back and reread what I wrote, and I feel as if I came off very harsh about my feelings on people around me being pregnant. I am never, ever in no way unhappy or angry for anybody who announces they are with child. Let's just get that straight. I have sisters, cousins, friends, aquaintences, etc. who have all been pregnant/had children in the last several years, and I have been genuinely happy for every single one of them. Does it sometimes remind me that I am UNpregnant? Of course. Does that sometimes lead me to indulge in such grand pity parties that chilled champagne might as well be served? Absolutely. Do I sometimes feel pressure from family members to hurry up and birth some babies which then leads to more inner-anxiety? Damn straight. Am I human? Yes, the last time I checked (despite the name of this blog). So you now know this about me. I'm a human being who is both capable of feeling happy for others while at the same time occasionally falling into the slippery slope of wallowing in self-loathing. SUE ME.

However, I always pick up my chin and grin and say....Woops! Got off track! Anyways...

Winter is already at an end here in Florida, which I'm kind of sad about. I was really enjoying all the windows in the house being open constantly. Already I'm beginning to feel that heaviness in the air that starts to linger when the heat returns--my hair is very afraid. I haven't made the move yet to actually turn the A/C on yet, but I know it's coming. Sadly, with winter, our poor grass hasn't made it. My husband and father-in-law bravely installed a sprinkler system themselves in the early summer--a fete that one would think would keep our lawn looking crispy green! But when a project that supposedly will only only take a weekend to complete snowballs into a three week long fiasco, the lawn undoubtedly suffers for it. Needless to say, by the time the system was a go, our green, velvety grass took on the appearance of a burned cornfield--brown, dry, and crunchy. (sigh) Next project? Start from scratch, re-sod the yard, and make good use of the fancy-schmancy sprinkler system. Hopefully by early summer we'll be rocking more green velvet than Scarlet O'Hara.

On a pretty ecstatic note, I am delighted to report that my weight loss is moving along swimmingly. As of my last weigh in, I've lost a total of 42.8 lbs since the first week of September. Weight Watchers introduced their new program in late November, and I have to say, I really love it. I've been making so many changes in the way I eat, look at food, think about food, everything. I've also started to really pay attention to trigger foods, which are the foods that might as well have a DANGER sign attached to them. For me, these are things like chips and chocolate. Once I have one, it's very hard to stop, so it's better to try and avoid them as much as possible. I've also been cooking a lot of great meals. Why on earth did I think that eating healthier meant no yummy foods?? I have been so wrong about that way of thinking that's it's actually pretty scary. I'll have to post some colorful dishes very soon...

Some of the best parts of losing weight? I forgot how darn GOOD it feels. I forgot how good it feels to get into that pair of Old Navy jeans that I've had forever--my favorite pair from when Old Navy actually still made decent jeans with the correct inseams--that I hadn't been able to squeeze into in several years. I forgot how good it feels to look in the mirror and actually start to see your face again; to see YOU. Just this past week I actually looked at myself and said the words, "Oh there you are." I forgot how good it feels to open the box of "skinny clothes" that's been buried in the back of my guestroom closet and see all the beautiful items that I can't fit into yet, but almost can, and will. I forgot how good it feels to walk and jog (or some semi-pathetic version of jogging) and not feel like I'm standing at death's door afterwards. Best of all, it just feels great knowing that I'm eating healthier, behaving healthier, and getting healthier. It's simply mah-vell-uss!!

Some of the downfalls to losing weight? Are there any? Sort of. With weight loss comes its share of battles and trepidation. Most of the time I feel like I am on high-alert. I have to be aware at all times of what I'm eating and how much. During the week when I'm at work it isn't so bad. It's more routine than anything. The weekends are trickier because I don't always know where I'm going to be, and what food will be served. It's about CONTROL. If the control isn't in my hands, I tend to feel overwhelmed and as if I'm screwing my whole week's effort up. It can be a little exhausting sometimes.

There's also the fear that I'm being annoying. Annoying? Why would your losing weight be annoying? Well, in a perfect world it wouldn't be, but I know that having someone around who is constantly asking things like What did you cook that with? What kind of oil is that? Are those canned vegetables or fresh? Can we possibly eat at this restaurant instead of that one because that one isn't very point-friendly? can wear down on people. It's MY thing, MY issue, and I know it has to drive people a little crazy sometimes. It's hard trying to completely alter your lifestyle when no one else around you is. It's very HARD. Ultimately, I try and keep my Weight Watchers talk to a limit when around certain people. I'm proud of my accomplishments so far, but this journey is really for myself and myself only. I figure, why turn myself into a pariah while on the journey? Does anyone have any thoughts on that?

So far, 2011 is shaping up to be a more positive year than 2010 was by far. Hopefully I will be a little more diligent about posting. In the meantime, take care everyone!

Blue Christmas (Warning: Do Not Read If You're Actually Feeling Happy)

So it's the Christmas season. Yes, I said Christmas. In this uber politically correct world we live in, I am not afraid to state what I actually celebrate. So there! As I was saying, it's the Christmas season--the season of joy, giving, and going broke. Christmas is definitely my thing. I can listen to the music day and day out, I watch all the tv specials that revert me back to a five year old, and I even enjoy the insanity inside the stores. It's the whole mad-cap package that tickles me. This year however, I find myself feeling very down.

Do you know that feeling when you have to force yourself to smile, and it's almost borderline painful when you actually do? That's kind of how I've been feeling lately. I think it stems from being fairly unorganized this year and with funds being tighter than usual. Gone are the days of Christmas bonuses. This crappy economy forced all of my coworkers and I to take a pay-cut this past year--a BIG pay cut--so it's been kind of a scary year. I know Christmas is not supposed to be about presents. Heck, I went to Catholic school for thirteen years. I know exactly what Christmas is all about. But it still doesn't make me feel any better when I receive these lovely things from friends and family and have barely anything to return the favor, especially to the people I care about the most. It makes me feel like poop actually. Money is so tight that several times a day I find myself burying my face in my palms with a huge sigh, sometimes even having to escape to the ladies room to shed a few solitary tears. It hasn't been a day at the beach.

Of course I am also reminded that this is another Christmas where I don't have a baby yet. I just turned thirty two a couple months ago. When my mother my age she had four children. FOUR. I've been getting asked a lot lately when my husband and I are going to have a baby--a question that I now understand why people should think before they ask it--and I fear I might go postal on the next person who inquires about the goings-on of my uterus. Nobody wants to actually have to tell someone that yes, we want children. We want them very badly. In fact, we've been trying for two years and it hasn't happend yet, a fact which causes my heart to break every single time yet another person I know announces that they are pregnant. That would be awfully awkward to explain, wouldn't it? Yeah, I think so.

So all in all, so far it's been a very blue Christmas season, and here I am having my own holiday pity-party. (Did anybody bring punch??) I'm trying my best to push past these icky feelings and just be thankful for the things I do have--family, a roof over my head, etc.--but some days are harder than others. I'm usually quite good at looking at the positive side of things, but I'm struggling this year with that. I need a Christmas miracle...or something. Seriously, did anybody bring punch? Spiked punch preferably? Anybody?