It'll Nearly Be Like a Picture Print By Currier and Ives ... or Not

Just be glad I'm not cooking your holiday meals. Today it's a turkey for the Crow side of the family. Mr. Tom Turkey is in the oven, and I bleached the kitchen and myself up to my elbows. "Linda, what is that wonderful holiday aroma wafting from your kitchen?" "Bleached Turkey Sink."

Sunday Dinner - How I Coped

It is no secret that I am not a good cook. However much I like to watch the Food Network, like to bake, like to decorate what I bake, like to eat, I just don't cook well. Other than eggs, maybe.

When my kids were little, they would take the most beautifully decorated treats into their classrooms for their birthday parties, but then they might come home to eat over-cooked meatloaf, under-done baked potatoes and a side of canned corn. I would give cooking "the old college try," with the goal of offering protein, fruit, vegetable, grain, dairy and limited fats, but somehow, it just didn't look/taste like my mom's meals. But they lived. And they learned to appreciate cafeteria food.

But I can make a fabulous long-haired puppy cake or giant decorated cookies on a stick with people's names on them.



Anyway, I think most people enjoy doing what they're good at and the converse (That's not the right word. Help me, people, I'm on Benadryl.) of that. Thus: I don't enjoy cooking.

Last night, however, I spent nearly 4 hours in the kitchen preparing Sunday's meal: Cubed steaks for the crock pot, peeling and quartering potatoes for mashed potatoes, chopping and assembling a giant salad, deviling eggs and mixing Oreo Dirt Pudding.

Guess what? The experience wasn't that horrible. The reason? It finally occurred to me use my newly-inherited-from-my-daughter Ipod while I slaved in the kitchen.

Ohmygosh. Time flies when you're working with Tom Petty, Maroon 5, The Spinners, REO, Duffy, The Jackson 5, George Michael, Nora Jones, Joan Jett and John Mellencamp.

Thank you, my new best kitchen friends & Ipod. You have lightened a load, put a lilt in my step (albeit an awkward step) and allowed me to sing loudly without hearing myself. Of course, there was that one moment when I let an Aretha-worthy note fly, and Jorge, asleep on the couch, jerked, knocked the remote onto the wooden floor and jumped about four feet.

Anyway, my playlist made time in the kitchen fly. This is nothing short of miraculous.

And in honor of this momentous discovery, I had so much energy and "lilt" that I created a new mac and cheese dish in honor of Rob Thomas: "Pepper Jack Mac."

Who are you listening to currently?

He Arrived March 8, 1989

He is 21 years old today. The world sees him as just another guy. Just another man on the planet. But he is so much more to me.

His name is Jordan Michael.
He is my only middle child.
He is my only son.
He is my pride and joy.
He is everything I hoped having a son would be, and is NOT everything I feared a son would be.
He is smart (very smart), sensitive, compassionate, loves justice and equality.
He loves to laugh.
He used to love the Ninja Turtles, his blanky, his pacifier (boopy) and milk.
Today he loves sports, being around his girlfriend and his life in general.

He is 21 years old. Twenty-one. Twenty-one years ago today, the longest pregnancy in the history of mankind came to and end, and I had a son.

He is my great, great joy.

Love you, Jord. Happy birthday!










Coconut Cake

Ingredients:
1 box yellow cake mix (not the kind with pudding in the mix)
14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk
1 sm. can cream of coconut (about 1 c.)
1 envelope dry Dream Whip
1 container Cool Whp
Coconut flakes for topping

Directions:
Bake cake as directed; cool 15 mins.
With the end of a wooden spoon, poke holes in cake 1" apart, half-way down, all over cake.
Mix together cream of coconut and sweetened milk. Pour over cake, making sure to pour into holes.
Refrigerate 24 hrs. If you can't do 24 hrs., remember the longer it sits, the better it gets.
Ice with mixed Dream Whip and Cool Whip. Sprinkle with coconut.

Pepper & Fall Into Flavor

Recently a friend shared about her toddler grandson who stuck part of a crayon up his nose.

(To the mom of this toddler I say, "Be of good courage; this stage lasts but a short time, and then in the blink of an eye, he will wreck your car.")

A quick-thinking relative told them to put pepper under his nose so that he would sneeze the crayon out.

To be honest, when she got to that part of the story, I was a nay-sayer because pepper never makes me sneeze when I cook, but it worked, and they avoided a trip to the ER.

So I was telling Kristin about this as I was cooking, and we decided to try it.

She sniffed first and had quite a sneezy facial expression but never sneezed.

Then I sniffed it, still talking about how it never makes me sneeze.

About the time I finished that sentence, I cut loose a sneeze that felt like it had drilled a hole through the earth from China, shot up into my feet and slammed into my nasal passages.

And then, you know what happened next.

So I RAN to the bathroom, tripping over Zoe who was barking and going crazy because I was sort of "barking" and going crazy myself.

Yeah, so after a few moments I returned and began the whole seasoning process again, a humbled and cranky middle aged woman, victim of her own pepper assault.

And so now we're all in the mood to cook. Let's Fall Into Flavor.



The holidays often mean carry-ins. A co-worker brings these Wonton Sausage Flowers to our carry-ins, and we snarf them down like only a church staff can.

Wonton Sausage Flowers

Ingredients:
24 wonton wrappers
1 pkg of bulk pork sausage
1/2 c. chopped onion
1/4 c. chopped celery
1/4 c. green pepper
1 clove garlic
1 3oz pkg cream cheese, softened
2 T. Chopped green onions.
Cheddar cheese for sprinkling

How to:

1. Oven 350*. Lightly grease miniature muffin pan.
2. Cook sausage, onion, green pepper, celery and garlic. Drain. Remove from heat.
3. Stir in cream cheese.
4. Press wontons into muffin pan so that edges extend over top of well.
5. Place 1 T. of sausage mixture into each wonton.
6. Bake 10 minutes or until edges begin to brown.
7. Transfer to platter and dollop each with cheddar cheese.

Let's link up!

Weekend Update: Embarrassing T-Shirts, Julie & Julia

Good Last Day of August to you.

I hope you had an enjoyable weekend.

Saturday morning I went to my 2nd-ever cross country meet which I found out is abbreviated by all the cool people as "XC."

My daughter has just started "XC" this year, after giving up many years of dance. So since our son never participated in this sport, I'm still learning so much about it.

Like, there is no regular, obvious way to follow them because, well, it's cross country, not cross asphalt. So they run around cornfields and into woods and around schools and through crowds of screaming parents at various points en route to the "chute" which is not a slide as in "Chutes and Ladders" at all, but the finish lane.

And, all parents of all teams at invitationals wear T-shirts with pithy, sassy sayings on the backs of them, like, and I quote:

XC Parents Need:
No bleachers or chairs, only comfortable shoes.
No announcers, only coaches screaming out splits.
No shelter from rain or shine, only a poncho or umbrella.
No popcorn or hotdogs, only a snack in our pocket.
No cheerleaders or mascots, only a loud voice.
No time outs, only a straight 5k.
And, at the end of the chute, all we need are our runners.

Yes, Jorge and I actually wore shirts with this manifesto on Saturday and will be expected to wear them every Saturday through October. Not to mention that I ordered a size too big for myself, so I'm wearing a frump shirt with all that wise-crackin' talk on the back. I would like to amend mine to say:

Some XC parents need:
Lawn chairs, because we are older than you young parents in skinny jeans, not that we're bitter.
To know what the "split" is that the coach is screaming out. Some of us thought those were things you did in cheerleading.
Shelter because rain makes us cranky.
More than a "snack in our pocket" which should instead say "pockets" because there isn't one giant universal parent pocket, but that's nit picking.
Also, I would like a hot dog, thank you.

I do appreciate that there are not time-outs, though. Time outs are torture, as I remember from our son's sports.

Once again, my intrepid daughter was thrilled that she did not come in last place and that she beat her own time by a few seconds. I always knew she was awesome, and now she has proven it to the universe. She is awesome and very cute, but she doesn't like for me to say those things, so let's just pretend I told you, "My kid is totally average in every respect. More accurately, she is merely one teenager in a nebulous cloud of teenagers."

Saturday night, I went with three friends to see "Julie and Julia," which was a great little entertaining movie, even though, as you know, I cannot cook. J & J contains both funny and sweet moments, but it wouldn't be "Lid the Prude" talking about the movie unless I mentioned that there were also a few bad words and overly sexy scenes in an otherwise pleasant little diversion. I'm sorry, but you just don't need the images of sex and Julia Child within five minutes of each other in any context.

However, Bloggers, this is a movie about blogging among other themes, and I think you will enjoy it. From the time Julie creates her blog to getting her first comments to getting bigger recognition, you will relate and/or fantasize. When tension grows between her husband her because of blogging, you will relate. When she worries about not having a post for her readers, you'll understand her anxiety. When she realizes the narcissistic nature of blogging, you will recognize that truth once again and laugh.

My friends often leaned forward in their seats to see my reactions to the blogging parts of the movie, and I'm sure the row behind us behind us wondered what I must have done to inspire this group action.

This is the first time I've seen blogging featured in a movie. It made me think a lot about why I do this and why you do this and how long it will last for all of us.

Here's a good article on Julie Powell and how her blog "The Julie and Julia Project" inadvertently made her famous, and since I didn't give a true plot synopsis, here is the trailer:



Have a great Monday! Bon appetit!

You Know What Happens When I Get Interested in the Kitchen ...

You know what happens when I get interested in the kitchen.

Look out.

For instance, yesterday I was trying to make a pork loin roast and rice. I spilled rice all over the counter top and floor. After that I was looking for the meat thermometer and spilled wooden skewers all over the floor. And the day before that, I broke a mirror in the kitchen, just passing through. So basically the kitchen has been a mine field for Zoe.

Kitchens are bad.

But I did happen to find this site yesterday that I think was created for people like me and 12 year olds who are beginning to cook.

Just kidding.
No I'm not.

Kathy Maister's startcooking.com was an official honoree in the 2008 Webby Awards for step-by-step tutorial sites, and although not each recipe has an accompanying video, some do, which is a nice plus. Just for fun, I watched the "How to Fry an Egg" video. Not because I needed help, mind you, but just because, well, you know.

OK, I admit it. I was starting out with my skillet too hot. And I was cooking them too long according to this 1 minute video:



Here's a video for Tex-Mex Cheeseburgers, which I will be making soon:



I love the "stop-action" way the videos are shot with tiny little sound effects, like ketchup going, "Phhhhphth."

So this site isn't exhaustive in it's number and scope of recipes, but you should just check it out anyway. It's a lovely site that I'm only slightly envious of.

I need to find my niche, people, and do some cool videos.

You know, where people "see what you're saying." :)

Alert! Another Kitchen "Misadventure" and Update on my Dad

Admit it. Sometimes you think I make things up, especially about cooking disasters. Hence, I created the label you see at the top of this post which records actual data when I mess up incredibly weirdly and report it to you. It's like my own private Ripley's collection.

But I am considering a new label: "Epic Culinary Failures." And today I created what would be a first entry into that new label.

As a treat for my father who was just released from the hospital last night, I decided to bake a fruit cocktail bread. I must tell you that my dad is one in ten million people on this earth and maybe a few on another planet who like fruitcake. That's a badly written sentence, but you know what I mean. Actually, that was a poorly written sentence. Oh well.

So I put it all together and baked it. And baked it. And baked it. I could never be quite sure it was done. So I baked it more. And more. Finally, when the outside looked like fossilized amber, I took it out, slid the knife around the edges, tipped it onto a plate, and watched the juices flow.

FLOW? Bread isn't supposed to flow.

So I scooped up the caramelized parts and some of the inadvertent compote parts and plopped them back into the loaf pan and stuck it back in.

And here's what came out:

So Jorge, hair rising on the back of his neck in anticipation of my explosion, swiftly offered a deflection: "Hey! You made a cobbler!"

No, I concocted a puddle of molten flour and corn syrup with some bald grapes thrown in for fun.

Seconds, anyone?

I didn't think so.


I also made a batch of gluten-free brownies for my mom which I think turned out OK except I'm not sure why it folded over on itself.

And now the rest of the story regarding Dad, which actually has a twist worthy of a TV drama.

Saturday night: ER with chest pains, tests. I went home at 1:00 AM.
Sunday: Observation and interpretation of tests. All looked good. Lots of time at the hospital where my brother pestered me.
Monday: Observation and two more tests. Brother continued pestering. Test results showed small "blip" on lower portion of heart. Ordered to stay another night to be seen by a cardiologist Tuesday morning.

Segue: My mother told me on the phone that he had to be seen by a specialist, and she couldn't remember what kind (she's 83) so she said, "It sounds like Ollie-ologist." So I said, "Oncologist?" And she said, "Yes," and I said, hesitantly, "That is a cancer doctor." I fully expected the pieces to fall into place for her and that she would break down, but she just said, "Yes."

So I get to the hospital and through the conversation of two nurses figure out that the specialist is a cardiologist, not oncologist. (Duh. But I just didn't think differently after Mom confirmed oncologist because there was a spot on his heart. Cancer seemed plausible to me.) Later Mom told me she thought she said it sounded like "oncologist" but that that wasn't it. However, she did not complete the thought with me. That explains why she was so emotionless at the threat of cancer, from my perspective.

Then--get this--last night about 9, a doc came in and told Dad that his record had been switched at the hospital with someone else's and that he was free to go home-just like that!

Can you believe it? Oh, it was good news, all right, but I felt so sorry for the person at home who would get the call with bad news!

Anyway, thanks for asking and caring. I haven't talked to him yet today, so I'm going to call him now. I wonder if he's feeling up to a fruit cocktail volcanic compote created by a chef called "Lid?"

I Think I Know Why Mick Can't Get No Satisfaction

'Cause he has never eaten my version of Banana Split Dessert, that's why.

First of all, it helps when you are assembling this to have the radio tuned to the oldies because it just feels right. Banana splits are so retro.

It also helps if The Stones are singing "Satisfaction" because you feel very witty when you come up with the idea that they couldn't get no satisfaction because they never had this honkin' good dessert.

And then you hold up a mixer beater like a microphone, sing a few words, then get distracted by the cream cheese and sugar clinging to the beater and lick it off.

Ta-da: Satisfaction.

OK, I put you off long enough. The recipe:

Mix 1 + 3/4 c. graham cracker crumbs, 1/3 c. sugar, 1/2 c. melted margarine. Press into the bottom of a 9 x 13". Freeze crust for 10 minutes.

Soften 2 8oz. pkgs. of cream cheese. Beat cream cheese and 3/4 c. sugar with a mixer. Spread over crust. (Just showing crust and partial frosting here. Frost the whole crust.)



Top with 20oz. drained crushed pineapple.

Slice two bananas and place over pineapple.



Add any toppings you'd like. This is where you personalize-I chose to add: chocolate chunks (not chips), maraschino cherries, strawberry preserves (wanted hunks of strawberry). You could also drizzle chocolate or butterscotch syrup or add coconut--whatever you might like on a banana split.



Pour 2 c. milk into a mixing bowl, add 2 small boxes of instant vanilla pudding. Beat until well blended. Fold in 1 c. of Cool Whip. Spread over top of other ingredients.

Refrigerate at least 5 hours; right before serving, add nut topping, if desired.



Long time readers of 2nd Cup: I am judiciously, prudently adding this dessert to the label "Ken Lee" because it is deserving. Wow. You know this is big.

New readers: Ken Lee means this.

In honor of the latest inductee to the Ken Lee Hall of Fame:

What I'm Currently Faving

First of all, thanks to all of you who offered opinions yesterday on laundry room decor. That was fun for me. Let me know if I can ever return the favor. I think I know a color/theme, but I'm keeping it under wraps until the big reveal. Fun!

And for the record, I like the wrinkly Rupert, too. Which is a sentence I never, ever expected to say for any reason whatsoever in my life, but there it is: "I like the wrinkly Rupert."


Each Friday, Susanne at Living To Tell the Story invites us to share a list of ... join me now, Julie Andrewses: a few of our favorite things.

If you are new to this blog, the joke is that I hate musicals, and one of my blogging buds, Dena of Green Acres made me this button during the height of Musical Madness.


Back to Friday's Fave Five. And the categories this week are:



1. Favorite Food: Fresh green beans from the garden of my friend, Cindy.



When I was a kid, we ate our haricots vert (ooh-la-la! Honh, honh, honh!) after they had simmered for hours with ham and potatoes, and then we put butter all over them. Now I like them a little crisper and greener so that you can actually tell they're beans and not just a conduit for "seasoning," otherwise known as "fat and starch."


Honh, honh. I make zee joke.

2. Favorite exercise: Ball Hamstring Curl. This exercise is kicking my derriere.

(Image from Fit Sugar)

But it's so worth it because now I look like this:









3. Favorite movie I've seen lately:



There is one spot that contains bad language near the beginning of the movie; after that, it's a clean, funny movie. I love Ricky Gervais AND Greg Kinnear (a Hoosier). Ricky Gervais plays the museum curator in Night at the Museum, and he wrote or produced or somethinged the BBC's "The Office." Greg Kinnear is rottenly cute as he was in Sabrina. No one does "the cad" like Greg Kinnear.

4. Favorite gift-blessing of the week:

These beautiful hand-crafted cards from my blogging friend and Co-Lid, Linda at A Merry Heart, given to me for no reason at all except to bless me, and I promise you, I appeared to be very blessed as I opened the box and saw the sweetness. Even my 22 year-old girl said, "I want to make these!" Thank you, Merry Lid!


5. Favorite song this week and maybe one of my all-time favorite videos ever:



Have a wonderful weekend; I'm going to Lake Tippecanoe with my girlfriends!

You Had Me at "Mango" - 'Cause You're So Smooooth

Man it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun
I hear you whisperin' words that melt everyone
But you stay so cool ....

You've probably wondered what inspired Rob Thomas to write those words, haven't you? OK, I'll tell you. Read on:

I made my own Mango/Pineapple smoothie yesterday (Rob had a premonition, like, 10 years ago about this Smoothie), and since I died and went to heaven upon the first sip, I thought I'd send you this missive from above so that you, too, can taste "The Mango Madness" as I am dubbing this creation.

Mango Madness

In a blender, blend: (Duh, that's why it's called "blender," Lidna, duh.)

1/2 c. Dole frozen mango chunks (60 cal)
1/2 c. Dole frozen pineapple chunks (50 cal)
1/2 c. nonfat vanilla yogurt (55 cal)
1/2 c. Dole Pina Colada juice (60 cal) (I am also a big fan of the coconut, so this excites me.)

And, look! It's all half-cups, so it's easy to remember!

These 225 cals of tropical ambrosia [which I drank right from the pitcher, oh yes I did] pack a boatload of vitamin C.

If I had a little paper umbrella, I'd sure throw it in before I glugged it out of the pitcher.

So there you have it: "Mango Madness Smoothie By Lid." I beg of you, as does Rob Thomas, "Let's don't forget about it."

Mango Salsa: Un-Cha!

My friend Cindy can cook. And I'm not even jealous because she reads my blog and that makes everything OK with me. I think blog-love covers a multitude of sins, like someone being talented where I'm not. So even though she's the one who ladled up a can lid out of soup I made for a group once, it's all good.

Plus, she's the one who turned me on to LOST, so, you know, "Live together; die alone." [Kinda like "May the force be with you."]

Anyway, Cindy made this mango salsa, and I've been in the Bahamas ever since tasting it. I thought I would share it with you.

You need:
1 bag of frozen mango chunks, thawed to the point of being still super cold and therefore will slice rather than mush under your knife. Cut into small chunks.

1/4 c. red onion, minced

2 kiwi, peeled and cut up

1/4 c. red pepper, minced

A small handful of cilantro (or as desired), chopped

Juice of two limes

Preparation:

Place all ingredients in bowl; gently fold together until evenly mixed. Refrigerate.




Imagine this ambrosia over grilled chicken or salmon or on chips. Un-cha!


But the whole time I made it, though, I kept hearing the poetic line in my head: "Go and catch a falling star/Get with child a mango root." Which is totally incorrect; the phrase is "mandrake root." John Donne was probably rolling over in his grave laughing at me: "Ditzy blonde!" or maybe swearing: "No where/Lives a woman true and fair." But I am quite pale.

Just like George Michael of Wham! (You'll notice that due to Wham's recurrence in this blog, they have their own post label) probably laughing at me today because I was cooking dinner and belting out, "Last Christmas, I gave you my heart/The very next day, you tore it apart" but apparently, according to my menacing, incorrigible, mocking daughters, the accurate phrase is, "you gave it away."

Then I said, "But 'heart' rhymes with 'apart,'" and my sassy English major daughter said, "They were going for internal rhyme, Mother: 'day-away'."

Good grief.

Just make the mango salsa. It will make you think "WHAM!" and feel like you're in the Bahamas at Christmastime, which is a lot for one salsa to accomplish.

Un-Cha!