charlie

Sneak Peek at my Birthday Presents

May 26, 2011

Yes, it was my BIRTHDAY today!! And after last year’s dismal performance, this year shined brightly. It was a great day. The sun was actually visible!!! I got sunburned!!!

Anyway. I just had to share this gift that I got from my kids. And it wasn’t some, get-it-at-the-only-store-in-Watertown kind of thing. Morgan actually picked Charlie up after school and they drove to the CITIES to shop.

Today Charlie said, “I can’t wait to give you your present. It’s so awesome. You will love it.”

And then I opened this.

I shit you not.

And I’m wondering, “hmmmm.”

Is it bad that I really DO love it, or does that make me dysfunctional?

The Kids Cook Monday Five. Charlie Take Two!

February 16, 2011

My Favorite Ragout – Redux

Note that doesn’t say “Charlie’s Favorite Ragout.” The reason for that is many-fold:

He never has any idea of anything that is going on. Not that it’s Monday, Not that it’s Kids Cook. Not that he’s cooking. Not what he wants to make. Nothing.
Ragout is a really horrible, terrible looking word in English. Really. Who would ever pluck that out of a cookbook? Certainly not Charlie.
Obviously, I made the decision to make the ragout. (Because — repeat this with me — I had all the ingredients on hand!)

But, as has been happening when the kids cook the meal, they suddenly seem to love it a lot more when they make it versus when I make it. So maybe it really is Charlie’s Favorite Ragout. Problem is, I can’t ask him. Because if I said, “is that ragout you made for Kid’s Cook one of your favorites,” he would say:

what do you mean?
wait. what’s a ragout?
i don’t know what you are talking about.
i didn’t cook a ragout.
oh are you talking about christmas eve? the spaghetti?

And then I would lose my temper and start yelling at him to pay attention and start sounding like a non-moron. (somehow that sounds better than to say, “stop sounding like a moron.” am I right? Or is it still horrible?) So, I prefer to just speculate instead. Let’s just pretend that it is his favorite ragout.

There seems to be an emerging trend on Mondays that goes something like this:

Morgan/Charlie. You are cooking tonight.
Noooo. No. Mom! I can’t! I have: a) homework b) saxophone c) soccer d) a bad attitude
Yes you can. There is plenty of time. I can help get you started. Come on. Get moving
Grumble. Grumble. Grumble. Why doesn’t HE/SHE have to help? Why do I have to do EVERYTHING?
You didn’t do squat last week when he/she was cooking. Stop complaining. Get chopping!
Grumble. Grumble.
(15 minutes in, visible change of attitude. )
Next week, I’m going to make __________.
You don’t cook next week Morgan/Charlie does.
Well you know what I mean. Next time I cook, I’m going to start planning earlier. I’m going to…. (fill in grandiose verbage)
Dinner is served
Glowing, smug, self-congratulatory accolades for their meal. Fishing for compliments, etc. (See? They do take after me!)
Next Monday: All memories of glow and success have vanished. Start at #1 again.)

Anyway, I’ve already posted this recipe before here. We didn’t make too many modifications. All kidding aside, it’s pretty cool to think that my 13 year old boy knows how to brown chicken breasts and is learning to follow a recipe. Isn’t it?

At the last minute he opted to roast some squash I froze from the garden.

Dinner was faaabulous.

Here he is checking the thighs for doneness. (Is doneness a word?)

Roasting frozen squash is… kind of gross. But it tastes good!

The final touches. Yum me!

The Kids Cook Monday Three. Charlie Take One.

February 1, 2011

I want a MANWICH.

…Seems to be the sub-theme for the evening’s menu. Charlie, on his first solo Kids Cook flight, chose STEAK, POTATOES and KALE (I may have wielded some influence in this category).

It sounded just fine to me.

So we rummaged around in the freezer and found a nice looking ribeye and a less-nice-looking top round. I took the sword and offered to eat the round steak. I actually like round steak, though this particular specimen didn’t show promise.

It was yet another Monday with no school. So, he had plenty of time to ask me questions. All day, in fact.

He seemed to be looking for direction as to the actual recipes for his meal and I happily steered him in the direction of things we had on hand. (Hence the kale). For the potatoes, he made my friend Bev’s “Special Potatoes” with my modifications. That is to say, half and half instead of cream, and half the butter, which is replaced with plain yogurt. (They are still special.)

Early on in the day he declared “I want a sauce.”

No elaboration. Just “I want a sauce.”

It was up to me to decipher what kind of sauce and for what. It was clear he wanted to make a sauce for the steak, but not clear what kind. Bernaise? Hollandaise? Butter? What?

“Just a sauce.”

So I suggested a balsamic reduction. Which was fine with him.

I knew I’d have to do more directing and answering of questions. No, not because he’s a boy and younger, but because he is Charlie. It’s part of the M.O. since he could talk. He asks questions and I answer them. Until I can’t take it anymore, snap, and start screaming at him to stop. I like to think I’m developing his character. You know — getting him ready for the real world.

But I know that’s not true. I’m just basically unpredictable and mean. And Charlie being Charlie loves me anyway.

As Martha used to say (or does she still say it?): It’s a Good Thing.

We found out late in the game that Dave was not going to be home, so we didn’t have to use that round steak after all. But it was just as well, because I think it had already been in the freezer for well over a year. Seriously, who would ever want to eat that?

(Lola wanted to eat it. So we gave it to her.)

You might be wondering where the Sous Chef was in all this. Yes, I was wondering, too. She has the uncanny ability to make herself scarce at times like these. So I whispered some ideas to Charlie — who would never make his sister do something she didn’t want to do — and he put her to work on bread sticks. I had some wheat dough in the fridge just waiting for her.

Meanwhile Charlie cooked up the kale with dried cranberries

Warmed up the balsamic reduction…

Broiled the steak (a new venture with the new oven). Worked great, but honestly, how do you clean those broiler pans? It’s impossible!

Served what was left of the potatoes… They love these potatoes and basically started eating them out of the crock pot from 3pm on. There were barely any left for me! (see recipe below)

I do have a question, though, if anyone can help me: when exactly is it that boys start to be aware of clashing colors and dress accordingly?

Of course, Charlie thought this was the best meal he had had in weeks. Simply the best! And how about that balsamic reduction? Really good, isn’t it? Isn’t it?!

Why, he’s a chip off the old block! I’m so proud of him! Fishing for compliments like that… Just like his Mom. Brings a tear to my eye.

(The bread sticks were tasty, too)

Bev’s Special Potatoes

serves 10

2 bags of frozen hashbrowns (like Ore-Ida)
2 pints of heavy cream
1 stick of butter cut into pats and layered into potatoes
1 tablespoon Lawry’s Garlic Salt

Put in crock pot on high for the first hour and stir. Continue to cook on low for several hours until crusty on top and cooked. You can use a baking dish and bake at 350 for an hour, but they aren’t as dreamy.

Jennie’s Special Potatoes

2 bags frozen hashbrowns
2 cups 1/2 and 1/2
1/2 stick butter
1 cup plain yogurt
1 T Lawry’s seasoned salt (I honestly just saw now, as I type this, that it is supposed to be Lawry’s Garlic salt. I had no idea…)

Same directions as above, but if things start to seem dry (they should be sort of saucy), add some milk, half and half or yogurt until you get the right consistency.

Will the Real Jennie Menke Please Stand Up

June 14, 2010

Now GET TO WORK!

This is an entry to myself. It is born of unmotivated, sloth-like behavior.

It is raining.

It has been raining for — I haven’t kept track — nine days? It certainly has not been sunny in at least seven days, that I am certain of. We have received over 6 inches of rain. My garden is growing mushrooms instead of vegetables and fruit. I am growing mushrooms.

It is dank.

I should be working. Because I am broke. (Thanks all you bright-eyed graduates.) That’s quite a gig you got going: your parents pay for school, then all your parents friends pay for your social life.

I was going to write about the Meatless Monday side dish that never was. But I’m not even motivated to do that. But I will! I will!

Right after I go have another latte…

I’m back. I’m here to tell you about my cooking failures. I will tell it like it is. I suppose I always tell it like it is, but sometimes I suppress information when I deem it might reflect on me in a negative light.

Take Meatless Monday Twenty Three, for example. The one I haven’t written about yet. We had it, oh yes, indeed. I took pictures of part of it. Then I ran out of time and never finished it. I intended to finish making it and sort of infer that it all went together. I wouldn’t have lied, mind you, I just wouldn’t have told the whole truth that they were spread out a few days.

But I never actually finished the side dish. I~~t’s still sitting in my refrigerator~~. I don’t even know when I made it. I have to go to Aperture to see when the photos were taken. Hang on a sec…

6/2/2010. It is now ~~6/11/2010~~ 6/14/10. That was ~~nine~~ twelve days ago. ~~It’s still in my fridge~~. I was still planning on finishing it. I’m coming to grips with the fact that I’m going to have to give it to my chickens. ~~But I’m not quite there yet~~. I’m still not quite there yet. Yesterday, Dave deemed it chicken-fare. He took it out there without even taking a picture for this post. (I swear it still smelled just fine.) The nerve! Then, making matters even worse, when questioned about it, he had this to say:

Me: “Did you give it to the chicks?”

Dave: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I wanted to give it to the chicks and not the rooster… (silence) You know, did you put it in the new coop?… (silence) The small coop. The one with the fence your dad made… (silence) DAVE! Come ON! Did you give it to the rooster or the chicks? It’s a simple question!”

Dave: “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Me: (raising voice) “HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT? The rooster is in the OLD coop. The one in the big fenced in area! The chicks are in the NEW coop. They are still SEPARATED!”

Dave: “New coop, old coop. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Charlie: (can’t restrain himself any longer listening to two idiots) “Dad. The playhouse is the new coop. The old coop is inside the big fence with the electric wire around it.”

Dave: “Oooooh. Why didn’t you just say that?”

Jennie: (has lost all control. Is screaming now.) “We’ve had chickens in this set up for YEARS. How can you not know there is a new coop and an old coop?”

Dave: “I hate the chickens. I don’t pay attention.”

Jennie: … speechless. Because, he’s right. And since that almost never happens, she wisely decides to be quiet. Which also almost never happens.

(about 60 seconds pass)

Dave: “Do you want a beer?”

Jennie: “Sure!”

So it goes.

It (the side dish) was Israeli Cous Cous with Kale. I planned to make a cold salad with vinaigrette (I had NO idea vinaigrette was spelled that way. Absolutely no idea… I was spelling it vinegarette. That’s your spelling-lesson-betterment for the day)

I got my new rice cooker for mothers day and have been wanting to stretch myself beyond the norm and use it to its full potential. I did it all in the rice cooker:

When it was done, it looked like this:

No wonder we gave it to the chickens.

Make Way for Little Ducklings

June 6, 2010

Our Friday Adventure

I finally, finally finished cleaning the pool cover the other day. I had sopped off the dead worms and green algae well over a month ago, but I’d never finished. I like to scrub it all off so that when it rains on the cover I can just run that water into the pool without it being all dirty and gross. Usually that entails lots of towels and brushes. It’s a HORRIBLE job.

And don’t let this photo fool you. The child-labor thing was a once-in-a-lifetime event, taken back in 2008. I have never been able to duplicate it.

However, last year, I bought a fairly cheap little power washer. I’ve never had one of those before. Actually, to be honest, I gave it to Dave for Father’s Day. It’s a little trick of mine. I give gifts to people close to me that I want for myself. Then I try to tell them how much they will love it. When left idle for a week or so, I pounce on it and make it my own. The power washer was a brilliant gift. I went to town last year! And really, before you rise to Dave’s defense, consider that all my projects were like extra gifts to him. Really, it’s true. I was a busy beaver. (though I can’t find the pictures of the teak furniture I tackled with it to show you. oh well)

I haven’t used it much since last spring. I’d already gotten onto the pool cover in about 3 inches of water (which turns into about two feet of water once you step onto it and sink down, pulling all the surrounding water to the deepest point) and used a carwashing brush to scrub the whole thing, when I finally remembered we had a power washer. Duh.

I used the cover pump to pump the dirty water off and the power washer to direct it there. A totally new approach that ended up taking just as much time. But you know what I’m realizing?

WHO CARES?

My point is that the entire time I was doing this, I kept hearing this “bird”; first from one direction, then from another. I actually set down my tools on occasion to try to spot this “peeping” bird in the nearby trees. I never found it. Then, with about about a four foot radius left to clean, Charlie (out of school and bored) suddenly showed up and said “need some help?” Both kids are famous for showing up with ten minutes left of a two hour project, willing to help…

Lola, the dog, was all fired up about something in the area where the pool cover rolls up and finally Charlie says, “Mom, there are DUCKS in here!” So the entire time I was looking in the trees for the “bird” it was actually ducklings right under my feet as I stood on the diving board with the power washer. I seriously don’t know how I could have missed them.

Never did I see a mother duck, so I figured they had been abandoned. So, we set about fixing up a nice little home for them in an old rabbit hutch until we could figure something better out. I was thinking how funny it was, since a good friend had recently called to ask how to take care of a duckling. I told him how easy it was and then hung up thinking “Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that!” And here I was suddenly with not one or two, but NINE of them!

Charlie and I spent about an hour bringing the hutch down from the barn, outfitting it with a pond and rocks, a little kennel for shelter, food, bedding… And right about the time we were done, sure enough, a frantic Mallard mom starts circling overhead honking her head off. The ducklings went MENTAL trying to get out.

Moral conflict.

Should we let them out? Will she land? If she does, will she accept them? Oh! The angst!

I was thankful it was Charlie with me and not Morgan. Morgan would steal a baby AWAY from it’s mama if it meant she could keep it. Charlie was all torn up because the babies wanted out. So we undid all our hard work and they scurried away into the deep grass.

I watched for a long time, but never saw the mom come down. I was bummed because I wanted to capture it on camera and present a complete and happy ending to our story. But I can offer you this:

No cat has showed up with a baby duck.

That’s a happy ending, isn’t it?

Crazy Cake!

June 2, 2010

On Charlie’s First Official Day of Summer Vacation

And…

He’s already bored. So I told him to go make a cake. Oddly enough, he seemed to take me seriously, so I rooted around in my recipe box for my Crazy Cake recipe. I wonder if I am the only one who remembers this cake fondly? Is it popular? Does anyone still make it?

My mom made it a lot when I was a kid. Then, in 8th grade Home Ec class with Mrs. Kahnne, we made it at school. Remember Home Ec? Oh my gosh, what a lot of who-ha to make a pot of macaroni and cheese. I think the lead up to actual cooking took 75% of the quarter. I remember it being painful. I also remember the teacher said “measure” like “may-zure,” which I thought was distracting. I could remember nothing else after she said it, as the word replayed in a loop in my head. I wondered things like:

Maybe she grew up with her mom pronouncing it that way…
Why doesn’t she just roll over and say it the way everyone else says it?
Does she think she sounds sophisticated?

Then along came Martha Stewart pronouncing the “H” in “herb” and I thought the same things all over again.

Anyway, this cake takes about 10 minutes to prepare and 40 minutes to bake. I am not a huge chocolate person, and I find it just perfect. I have heard of die-hard choco-manics adding tons more chocolate chips or — horrors! — frosting it. Yuck!