Bell's Oberon Carnitas and Happy Peony Season

I love my peonies.  When we moved into this house it was late winter/early spring.  There was nothing growing at all.  That spring was fun to see what our yard produced.  Let me say that we bought this house for the yard.  We were accustomed to Chicago-sized lots where your garden was basically a window-box.  So that first year when multiple peony bushes sprouted all along our driveway and front beds was good times.  Almost makes buying this house at the very height of the market worth it.  No, no it doesn't.

So peony season is the best.  I cut those suckers just as fast as they bloom and fill the house with flowers.  Last week we were backing down the driveway and I caught sight of the first burst of peony color.  I might have screeched in excitement.  I might have screeched loudly and intensely enough to make Carter slam on the brakes like he'd backed over the dog, whip his head toward me and yell, "OHMYGODWHAT?"  It was then that I'd realized my misstep.  "Um....I'm just pleased to see the first peony blooming" was not quite as satisfactory of an answer as I needed.  He then did that thing he does where he puts his face in his hands and then looks up to the sky and pretends to be asking God for help.  It's cute.

So I could go on and on about the peonies. (Mr. T. voice: "I pity the fool who goes on about the peonies.  Because you've won that contest.")   But a bit more:  they were about three weeks early this year.  They were cut and arranged for Memorial Day, which hasn't before happened.  We had special guests this year, and there wasn't a lot of sleeping going on.  What there was a lot of, besides peonies?  CARNITAS.

Bell's Oberon Carnitas (for 4-6)

2ish lbs. pork loin, cut into about 2-inch chunks

Spice rub
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp chile powder

Mix spice rub and coat the pork chunks.  Heat a heavy, oven-proof pot to medium high and add a few pieces of pork at a time to sear.

Remove pieces when seared on all sides and continue to cook remaining pork.

When all the pork is cooked and removed, add one of these beauties (Bell's Oberon, Go Michigan!) or something similar to the pan, with the juice of one orange.  Scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to scrape up all that spicy pork loveliness.  Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Nestle all the pork back into the beery sauce, cover, and cook in the 250 degree oven for 2 hours.  Shred with two forks and go to town on this business because it is so flipping good.

Serve with any or all of the following:
Warmed corn tortillas (warmed in microwave and covered with a damp kitchen towel
Guacamole or avocado slices
Lime crema (me being fancy for Greek yogurt mixed with a bunch of lime juice.  really good.)
Green salsa, also known as salsa verde for those who speak Espanol
Chopped fresh cilantro (always funny to put a spring on your front tooth and smile widely at your guests.  Always.)
Thinly sliced radishes
Chopped green onions
Chopped lettuce
Chopped tomatoes
Cheese - a good Queso Blanco or Mexican blend (not really necessary but go Dairyland!)
Beer

So there we were.  Memorial Day weekend.  Special guests.  Calling "Pork me" when a new taco was needed (or wanted).  Really good corn on the cob that came from elsewhere than here. (Eat locally except when you want early corn.  Or citrus.  Or bananas.  Sorry.)  Crowdpleaser.

Watermelon, Feta and Cilantro Salad. Plus how I feel about birds.

A few years back my friend Heather sent me a "recipe" for a salad she raved about.  I was dubious.  Her concoction:  Throw a bunch of chopped seedless watermelon into a big bowl with a handful of chopped cilantro, about the same amount of Feta, some chopped red onion and a big squeeze of lime.  

Ah, yes, that's why we're friends.  As she'd never steered me wrong, I gave it a whirl and it was great.  I'd forgotten about it completely until I found myself last weekend with a big watermelon and a need for a side dish.  

Every so often we let the boys take turns in planning our meals for the day.  It's usually a Sunday and we usually let them only pick the main course for dinner.  Because one can have only so many pancakes in a 24-hour period.  So last Sunday was D.'s turn and he wanted ribs.  I looked at Carter suspiciously then I looked at D. and asked if anyone had influenced him in his decision.  Maybe I should've been a detective?  I mean, perhaps I've been watching too much True Crime, but I think I nailed that interrogation.  Anyway, he claimed he had arrived at the decision by himself.  So I made ribs.  And cornbread muffins.  And corn on the cob.  I needed to round out the meal with something light and lively so I rethought Heather's salad.  Something light and tinged with citrus to go with the heavy ribs and buttery corn?  Perfect.  

Watermelon, Feta and Cilantro Salad (for 6 as a side dish)

5 cups cubed seedless watermelon

1/3 cup finely crumbled Feta

1/3 cup chopped cilantro

1/3 cup chopped red onion

1/2 lime, juiced (add lime zest for more flavor)

1/2 teaspoon salt

Combine all ingredients in a bowl, give a good stir and refrigerate until serving.  

Reviews

Carter:  "I didn't think I'd like this but I really do."  When I reminded him that was almost exactly the same thing he said when I'd served it three years ago he replied, "Well there you go.  Do I need to be worried about 2015?"

D: "What is that white stuff?"  When I replied: "salty cheese," he was good.   

H: "May I please have another rib instead?"  As he asked politely, we indulged and just gave him a wedge of plain watermelon.

So our family dinners go much more smoothly more than one of us has a hand in planning it.  This one was great.  It was a beautiful evening, we ate outside on our deck.  The jr. eaters were enthusiastic and the talk was lively and not just us telling them to (pick one) chew with their mouths shut, keep their voices below screeching level, elbows off the table, don't say pee/poop/butt at the dinner table, etc.  

What was most annoying at this dinner?  THE BIRDS.  They were so loud in general and we have some mourning doves who are tearing up our deck furniture cushions, ostensibly to build their nests also on our property and to further terrorize us.  They scare me because I think they're going to go after my hair as a nesting material.  Honestly if I were a bird, I probably would.  My hair, while not that attractive as hair, would make a kick-ass bird's nest.  

These are the same birds that have prevented me from hanging baskets on our front porch because they build nests in the baskets and get super territorial when baby hellion mourning doves are concerned.  I do not care for birds.  Especially the pigeon-rat variety of birds.  

Our township had an item on it's voting ballot to allow homeowners to shoot mourning doves as they do game birds.  I voted yes.  Needless to say, it didn't pass.  

I hear you, Betty. (Shooting her neighbor's homing pigeons, one of my favorite moments in television.)

The end.  XOX.

Pork and Mango Skewers and also Shopping Sucks.

As much as I love food and the planning and preparing of meals, I really don't like going to the grocery store.  Awful.  I shop like a hoarder because I dislike it so much.  Or maybe I just like having six bottles of barbecue sauce in my pantry.  We ran out of ketchup once and Carter was dumbfounded.  WE NEVER RUN OUT OF KETCHUP.  It was like watching Dan Jansen fall during that Olympic speed skating race he was a shoo-in to win.  (I can't believe that's the first comparison I thought of.  Yes, it was EXACTLY like that.)  Witnessing the impossible.  But I truly do get twitchy if our reserve rolls of TP number less than ten.

Part of my anti-shopping bent is for sure my attitude toward my fellow shoppers.  I don't like them. They bug me as follows:
1. Stopping their carts in the middle of the aisle so nobody can pass on either side.
2. Stopping to slowly compare nutritional labels directly in front of the yogurt/cheese/cereal I want.
3. Other people's kids.*
4. Check writers.  At the very least use a debit card.  You obviously have a bank account.
5. Asking me about the items in my cart.  Just pony up the two dollars for the same tortillas and give it a whirl.
6. Kids over, say, 5 years old who are allowed to ride in carts.  Because these are usually the kids who would benefit from not riding in carts.

Wow, only six?  I'm much less of a B than I'd thought.  Nice.

*Now, my boys are not, by any stretch of imagination, particularly well-behaved.  There was an 'incident' at Target C. 2008 when my strategy of buying them a bag of popcorn at the snack bar to keep them busy while I shopped turned horribly wrong and they began sticking the kernels up each other's noses and shooting it out of their nostrils while shrieking with laughter.  Not my parenting high point, but I pretended I was their nanny and announced very loudly that their 'mother' was going to be disappointed when I told her how poorly they were behaving.  So there was that.  But what really gets me are the parents who pretend their child's behavior isn't a cause for concern.  I recently witnessed a woman whose child was chucking - not simply tossing - items out of their cart and the woman did the Parenting Magazine bit and was like, "Nigel (oh for Christ's sake NIGEL), we don't throw things out of Mommy's basket.  Would you like an organic grape?"  You know the tone she used.  You know it already.  Placating and dulcet.  KILLS ME.

So because I would rather poke my eyes out than go to the grocery store I've become pretty good at using what we've got on hand to make a meal.  Last week Carter called on Wednesday with news that his Thursday meeting in California was cancelled and that he'd be home for dinner.  Super.  Except there was no dinner.  And there was no way I was going to the store.  I should add that in no way does he expect a home-cooked dinner, but I kind of feel like it's the least I can do.  I have come to despise the whole airport "process" and he does it every week.  So I make him dinner.  I had a pork tenderloin in the freezer that I pulled out to thaw.  Then I checked out the contents of the fridge.  I had a mango and some zucchini that needed to be used.  Ding ding ding.

Pork and Mango Skewers
Cube the pork in about 1 inch pieces.  Do the same to the mango.  Place on skewers.  I love the word skewer.

Pour some sweet chili sauce over the skewers, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate.

Sweet Chili Sauce. 

Ready to grill.

Grilled. Fini.  

So I served these over rice and they were, excuse the brag, fantastic.  Will make these again.  Will make these for guests.  

For the vegetable, I served zucchini super thinly sliced and tossed with a little olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper and thyme leaves.  I used my mandoline to slice the zucchini, but as I'm typing this I'm thinking a vegetable peeler doing long thin slices of zucchini would maybe be better.  But as it was:

I love zucchini but overcooked zucchini?  Holy yuck.  That's the thing: it goes from great and firm to overcooked and mushy awfulness in an instant.  That's why I love serving it raw, as above.  

So it was a really good meal, with just using what we had on hand and without going to the grocery store and, God forbid, using the self-checkout line.  Self check-outs. Christ.  Signs should be posted on those things that read: "We've thrown the concept of customer service out the window.  Welcome."  I've given up on them completely after my last attempt left me talking back to the thing like a crazy woman. "I DID place my item on the belt, you a-hole."  Anyway, it takes me longer to find and scan those dumb barcodes and key in my produce numbers than it does to wait in the longest line.  So I choose the line with the real person.  And the National Enquirer.  The End.  

"Hail to the Victors' Salad" plus P.F. Chang's Lettuce Wraps

The boys were born at Mott Childrens' Hospital at the University of Michigan.  I'm not sure if they give kids a shot of something at birth, but they both LOVE the Michigan Wolverines.  I guess maybe it's more just living in Ann Arbor and going to school with so many friends with parent/grandparent alumni whose influence has infiltrated our everyday life.  "Go Blue" has been a part of their vernacular since they were three.

Mostly because of their friends they've been singing or trying to sing the Michigan fight song, "Hail to the Victors" for years.  The song goes, "Hail! To the victors valiant..."  Except they give it their own twist: "Hail! to the victors' salad!"  They think it's about salad.  Awe.some.

There they were with Vanderbilt hats (from the Smiths), yet I fear with an injection that made their blood Maize and Blue.  This town is something else. 

Fast forward six years and those tiny creatures have grown into little Michigan fans with their own ideas about what to eat.  They do pretty well.  When they both loved these lettuce wraps (albeit the holy mess they make while eating them), I knew that no matter what team they cheered for, we were going to be ok.  

P.F. Chang's Lettuce Wraps (via Cooking Light)

2 Tablespoons olive oil

3 Cups coarsely chopped shiitake and baby portabella mushroom caps (I do half and half)

1 1/4 lbs. ground turkey

1/2 teaspoon minced garlic

1/2 teaspoon minced ginger

1 cup thinly sliced green onions 

1 (8-oz) can sliced water chestnuts, drained and coarsely chopped

Lettuce leaves

Sauce:

3 Tablespoons hoisin sauce

2 Tablespoons soy sauce

1 Tablespoon rice vinegar

2 Teaspoons Sriracha (Rooster!) sauce

1/4 teaspoon salt

1. Heat 1 tbsp olive oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat.  Add mushrooms, saute 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Place mushrooms in a large bowl.  

2. Heat second tbsp of olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add turkey, garlic, and ginger to pan, cook 6 minutes or until turkey is browned, stirring to crumble.  

3. Add turkey mixture, onions, and water chestnuts to the mushrooms in the bowl; stir well.  

4. Spoon 1/2 cup turkey mixture into each lettuce leaf.  Combine hoisin, soy sauce, rice vinegar, Sriracha and salt into a small bowl, stirring with a whisk.  Spoon sauce over lettuce wrap.

This dish is all about the sauce.  We make two bowls when we eat this with the boys and cut way down on the Sriracha for theirs.

Bowl of goodness.

Oh yeah.

I usually buy butter lettuce to serve these wraps.  The perfectly uniform iceberg they serve at P.F. Chang's?  Crazy genetically modified space lettuce available only at P.F. Chang's.  Any big leafy lettuce will do; besides, the lettuce is only the vehicle for the sauce anyway.

This dish has great memories for us because the first time we made it, probably three years ago, it was a fabulous summer night and we sat on the deck with good friends drinking beer and devouring this as our appetizer.  Since then, we've moved it to main course status because the main course was always a letdown after the lettuce wraps.  You do what you have to do...

I also have good P.F. Chang's memories because there was one in Chicago between my office and Carter's and we'd meet there for lunch as often as we could (about once every other month).  It was a treat.  Every time we see one now one of us starts, "Do you remember in Chicago..."  We're super super cutesy like that.  Every time we speak to each other it's like a love poem.  For instance, this past Valentine's Day I received a text that read, "Happy V.D."  Ahhh...after I realized the holiday and that the text wasn't a reference to venereal disease, I was really touched.  Poetry.

"Hail! to the victors' salad!"

Le Pique-Nique, Part Deux

On our trip to Europe in September we rented a car which marked the first time either of us had been there with wheels.  It changed the whole feel of the trip to not be beholden to train schedules.  Freedom!  (Remember Freedom Fries? Oh my.)

So we got ourselves a sweet Renault Picasso, which I have to believe is the PT Cruiser of France.  Not stylish in the least.  But we enjoyed the new luxury of being able to leave our un-necessary items in the car instead of packing our hotel rooms.  And we also enjoyed having a ready-to-go picnic in the back seat.  Good sweet JESUS the French know how to picnic.  Good bread, good cheese, a ripe piece or two of fruit, a selection of cured meats, some assorted olives (anchovy stuffed goodness), and once in a while a bottle of Rose.  Happy travelers?  Yes we were.

We have several great picnic memories.  On the banks of Lake Geneva, high in the Italian Alps, on a public beach prior to checking into our swanky hotel in Cannes....all good.  But the one that sticks out most in my mind was our last of the trip, on the day we made our way to Versailles and back to Paris to fly home.  We saw a roadside sign for a "Parc Floral" and decided to make it our lunch stop.  In keeping with some sort of really really good kismet/mojo/karma we were granted on this trip, it was gorgeous; one of the top places we'd seen.  And we were there a good month past the garden's prime.  Still amazing.

Setting up le pique-nique.

Carter relaxing while I was checking out the rose garden.  They had these loungers all over.  The picture would've been funnier had he been about three feet to the left.  Yes, I've been living with 

three boys for too long.  

 Ahh...this is what I pictured every dreary day this winter to lift my spirits.  This and those olives.  

Dahlia garden.  Amazing.

We returned home with lightened spirits and a renewed wish to travel more.  I personally returned home with a desire to have more picnics.  And to make something resembling those splendid baguettes we bought in France.  I had some pretty spectacular fails before I came across the King Arthur website. They brought in the concept of a starter that had to set overnight.  It was different than all the other recipes I looked at or tried.  And it was better.  Original recipe here.  

Baguettes

STARTER

1/2 cup cool water

1/16 teaspoon active dry yeast or instant yeast

1 cup Unbleached Bread Flour

DOUGH

1 teaspoon active dry yeast 

1 cup to 1 1/4 cups lukewarm water

all of the starter

3 1/2 cups Unbleached Bread Flour

1 1/2 to 2 teaspoons salt, to taste

Directions

1) Make the starter by mixing the yeast with the water (no need to do this if you're using instant yeast), then mixing in the flour to make a soft dough. Cover and let rest at room temperature for about 14 hours; overnight works well. 

2) Mix yeast with the water, then combine with the starter, flour, and salt.  Mix and knead everything together—by hand, mixer or bread machine set on the dough cycle—till you've made a soft, somewhat smooth dough; it should be cohesive, but the surface may still be a bit rough. Knead for about 5 minutes on speed 2 of a stand mixer.

3) Leave the dough in the bowl of a stand mixer or place in a lightly greased medium-size bowl, cover the bowl, and let the dough rise for 3 hours, gently deflating it and turning it over after 1 hour, and then again after 2 hours.

4) Turn the dough out onto a lightly greased work surface. Divide it into three equal pieces.

5) Shape each piece into a rough, slightly flattened oval, cover with greased plastic wrap, and let them rest for 15 minutes.

6) Working with one piece of dough at a time, fold the dough in half lengthwise, and seal the edges with the heel of your hand. Flatten it slightly, and fold and seal again.

7) With the seam-side down, cup your fingers and gently roll the dough into a 15" log. Place the logs  onto a lightly greased or parchment-lined sheet pan or pans.

8) Cover them with a cover or lightly greased plastic wrap, and allow the loaves to rise till they've become very puffy, about 1 1/2 hours.

9) Towards the end of the rising time, preheat your oven to 450°F

10) Using a very sharp knife held at about a 45° angle, make three 8" vertical slashes in each baguette. Spritz the baguettes heavily with warm water; this will help them develop a crisp crust.

11) Bake the baguettes until they're a very deep golden brown, 25 to 30 minutes. Remove them from the oven and cool on a rack. Or, for the very crispiest baguettes, turn off the oven, crack it open about 2", and allow the baguettes to cool in the oven.

Yield: Three 16" baguettes.

 Not so sure about this...

 Feeling more sure.

Ooh la la Sassoon.  Still not as good as the French, but I'm gaining.  Now I just need 

re-access to all that cheese.  

Orange roses on my beautiful new tray (thanks Beanie and Puff!). The end.  

"I'm Totally Going to Marry a Dude. Girls Stink."

The boys' preschool teacher was very good about teaching kids very early on that families can look different.  Indeed, that families should look different.  She asked the kids how many people it took to make a family.  Most of the kids counted the members of their family on their fingers and said that number.  But their teacher said it actually only took two people to make a family.  And that could be a number of different combinations:  mother and child, father and child, man and woman, man and man, woman and woman, etc.  There was nothing that was strange about any of those possibilities.  And if your family had more than two people, well good for you.  A family is a family.  The end.  No right, no wrong.  No natural, no unnatural.  Just people who love each other and wish to make a life together. How I wish Mrs. A. could've been the teacher to the nation for the past, oh, seventy years.

The boys had a gay family in their preschool class and I wanted to re-iterate what their teacher said so I was talking to them about different families and I mentioned that B, in their class, had two moms.  D looked puzzled and said, "B has two moms?"  

"Yep," I replied, somewhat frightened of what was coming next.

"Whoa.  She. Must. Get. Yelled. At. A. LOT."  That was his takeaway.  

Although it doesn't reflect positively on me, as their primary caretaker, I still loved it.  Having two moms was not an oddity but more of a concern because, in his experience, moms yell more than dads.  I honestly believe my kids' generation will be the last to live in a United States where citizens do not have equal rights.  At least that's my most sincere hope.  

I hate that, with his history-making statement last night, the President immediately made the upcoming election about same-sex marriage.  And that is what it will be about.  But I agree with what Charles Blow wrote in the NY Times:

"Today, we are an inch taller as a nation. Today, we are a mile closer to the ideals described in the Declaration of Independence. Today, we have been transported light-years beyond where many ever thought we would be."

Amen.

We were watching the news months back when New York passed their same-sex marriage bill.  The boys had questions about why people were crying and laughing and celebrating.  When I told them it was because, that now, in that state, people could marry whomever they wanted, man or woman.  They both then voiced their support for equal rights: "We're totally going to marry dudes.  Girls stink."  Should the sentiment endure another 20 or 30 years, I hope they can.

I can't promise you boys a lot in this world, but I can promise you that we will love you no matter whom you love.  The end.

Le Pique-Nique, Part Un.

We were very fortunate to have been able to take a trip to France (and Switzerland!  And Italy!) last fall.  Adults only.  That just made us even more fortunate.  My in-laws volunteered - VOLUNTEERED - to come stay with the boys so we could take a vacation.  It was our 10th anniversary and I still had my engagement ring so we figured, let's celebrate!  Seriously.  I lose jewelry like it's nobody's business; this was celebrated along with hitting the 10-year milepost.

We talked and talked (and also talked) about where we wanted to go.  Carter had about a gazillion frequent flier miles, so ticket cost wasn't an issue.  We had taken a trip to London and Paris the fall we were married and had a blast.  What engineer loved the Chunnel train?  What engineer excused himself saying he wanted to "look around" and came back 45 minutes later after making friends with the conductor?  God love him.

So we were thinking Europe again.  I'm not big on non-direct flights.  There are too many variables.  Our time was precious and I didn't want to spend it in the Atlanta airport (which I've done previously).  But there was a daily Detroit - Paris flight that left at a decent time.  "Book it," I said, "and we'll figure out the rest."

Best trip ever.  We cashed in hotel and AmEx points to get free nights in Montreaux, Switzerland (my new favorite hotel in the world), and Cannes, France.

Le Palais Montreaux.  Please may I go back to there?  The bed was like sleeping in a puffy cloud of puffiness.  Plus our AmEx night included a crazy good breakfast the next morning in an amazing room with a full wall of windows looking out on Lake Geneva.  I think Carter maybe had a tear in his eye it was so gorgeous.  And I might have had seventeen courses at breakfast but some of them were fruit so I'm not judging myself.

One of the nights we didn't have a reservation booked we ended up in Vichy, France, at this amazing spa hotel (Hotels.com!).  In the morning we awoke to a gorgeous day and tried to visit the spa but, as it didn't open until 10 a.m. and we were there at 7:30 a.m., one of the staff directed us to the rooftop pool.  It was a swim-out jobber and out was about eight stories high overlooking some lovely 18th century homes and gardens.  And also we were the only people there.  Later we discovered there was some Russian women's sports team of some sort staying there too.  It's pretty much a diet hotel, but it was beautiful.  And we dined out.

The pool.

The view from the pool deck.

Later we left in our rental car to make our way to back Paris, with a stop at Versailles, because Carter needed to see Versailles.  We stopped at a Boulangerie (bakery) on the way out of town.  It was the kind of place where the locals went every single day to get their bread.  I queued up and got some good looks, as I was clearly an outsider, but I persevered.  When I reached the front of the line, I made my request in French and even understood when the matron asked if I wanted my baguettes "bien cuite" (well done).  I replied, in French, "Not so much," and got approving nods all around.  I paid for and gathered by bread to calls of "Bonne Journee" (good trip) from everyone in the joint.  It was fantastic.

I WON FRANCE.  The end.

Alone Again, Organically. Plus Carrot Ginger Soup.

I'm looking at a pretty full month of single parenting (save a visit from my mom, who ok technically is the grandparent but for sure is an adult and a reinforcement, which is all I need) so I'm going all in on this year's garden.  Group activity and also forced family fun (the Triple F, as we call it).  Yea!  I could be painting our hallway and also all the trim. OK, I could stand to repaint every single wall in this house.  I could be cleaning out and organizing the basement, ditto the garage.  But I figure those things have been on my to-do list for so long that they can perish there a little longer (like 2014 at this rate).

Alright, already.

I have two little friends at home who are very supportive of this idea, "as long as our garden is organic."  Oh Jeez, Ann Arbor, you win already.  "Mostly organic?" I asked as I hid the jumbo sized container of Round-Up behind my back.  "All organic.  No chemicals," they both replied.  Right.

Their school classes took a field trip to an organic farm last fall.  It stuck apparently.  I was a chaperone on the trip and was chatting with a couple of the other moms about how all the farm workers were really strikingly beautiful and maybe it was because of all the fresh air and hard work and all the organic (!) food they eat.  And their skin!  How it glowed, etc.  I was potentially rambling.  Hard to tell.  Anyway, one of the other moms leaned into me and with a lowered voice said, "You do know they're all like 23, right?"  There was also that.  But it was probably more the organic food.

So Sunday we (broken down as 87% Carter, 12% me and 1% the boys combined) framed and dug new raised beds.  My 12% was plenty of work.  We then went to the store and went crazy buying seeds and starts.  They boys were really into it, although if H. had his way we would plant only pumpkins and gourds (for craft projects, naturally).  I'm thinking about all the fresh veggies we'll be getting and all he wants is gourds.  Organic gourds.  For the love.  We bought him one at the grocery store a couple years ago and he promptly named it "Gordie" and slept with it until it started to mold, at which point we got "Gordie 2" and you can see where this story is headed...

Number one on D.'s list was carrots.  I'm good with that one.  Especially since one of our favorite soups  (and it freezes beautifully) is Carrot Ginger.  So easy, healthy and fast.

Carrot Ginger Soup

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 - 1.5 lbs. carrots, peeled and chopped into big chunks
4 cups (32 oz.) chicken broth
1 teaspoon ginger (fresh or jarred)
Salt and pepper, to taste
Greek yogurt and chives, for garnish

Add about this many carrots (I know, I annoy myself too).

1. Saute the onion in the olive oil.

2. Add carrots and broth, cover and let boil on medium heat for about 15-20 minutes, until the carrots can be pierced easily with a fork.

3. Transfer in batches to a blender (or blend with an immersion blender) and blend until smooth.

4. Add ginger, salt and pepper.

5. Serve with a spoonful of Greek yogurt and chopped chives.

What could go wrong?

I made this on Friday and we heated it up after the boys' soccer game on Saturday.  The soccer game where we had to pull out parkas and hats and mittens.  That game.  Go Wolf Pack.  I've discovered I'm nothing if not a fair-weather sports fan.  This soup was all I could think about.  Well, that and what indoor, temperature controlled sports they might like to play.

  Gardenia topiary (one of a pair) that I bought WAY too early to put outside but, even in their ugly nursery pots, they are gorgeous and making the house smell like there aren't three boys and a dog living here.  I'll probably kill them (talking about the Gardenias here) by the time I can transfer them outside. That's H.'s pig, Mr. Porcine.  The kid loves his crafts.  That is all.  XO