Voluptuous Delights

I treated myself to a new cookbook from Anthropologie this week that I haven't been able to put down since purchasing. Aptly titled Miss (Sophie)Dahl's Voluptuous Delights, it reads as much like a short autobiography that is as engaging as the colorful photos that tempt one to make (and eat) every single recipe. Organized by season, as well as meal of the day, it's very easy to find a recipe to utilize the last of the swiss chard from your CSA box or a soup that will use the verdant bouquet of watercress that tempted you at the farmer's market but with no idea of how to prepare. Indeed, Sophie uses many whole ingredients that normally make me nervous. My mother, when we lived in Eugene, Oregon, went through a phase of cooking through the New York Times Natural Foods Cookbook, which on the whole is a very good cookbook, but our family likes to summarily dismiss this period as Mom's barley lentil kasha days...days where, in an effort to feed us as wholesomely as possible, we unfortunately sat down to bland, if not plain old uneatable meals that made me suspicious to this day of anything too, you know, healthy. Things like quinoa (which is not pronounced phonetically, making it even doubly suspect), spelt, buckwheat groats and tofu all make me inwardly quake and turn up my butter-loving nose, but this book has changed all that.

Sophie's recipes are healthy, balanced, mostly vegetarian and you can't help but love a girl who went through a very public weight gain and loss to come out the other side writing appreciatively about all bodies "we have to deal with what we've got, appreciate it and move swiftly on. We all spend far too much time focusing on what we don't have and undermining what we do in the process. It's a cunning little distraction from what is truly important." Lest you think she sounds a little too much like an Oprah clone, never fear. Sophie Dahl inherited her grandfather's wit and writing ability and her personal stories that are interwoven throughout this delightful little tome add rather than detract from the recipes. Having enjoyed a stint as a model working with iconic photographer's from Vogue to being black listed because of weight gain to dealing with criticism for rapid weight loss and rumors of eating disorder (which was mostly due to a major illness she had while filming in India), she has run the gamut with food and come to a place of balance in her approach to food. Clearly, for her, it is about family and friends and the joy of sharing a meal with the ones you love. She summarizes at the end "sexy is inherent in a healthy appreciation for food, in having the energy to romp with your beloved, pick up your baby, cook dinner for your friends, go for a run or simply take a gentle walk to the market. Sexy is in feeling sated, having options and feeling alive." In sharing these recipes, she's definitely given options I feel good about making for our family, in particular these pear & ginger muffins (made with spelt flour) which were devoured by five hungry boys within minutes of coming out of the oven. Loaded with healthy ingredients but never lacking in flavor, moisture, or texture, this is one of many recipes I will be reaching for again and again.

Pork Butt

Here in Southern Wisconsin, there is still a blanket of snow on the ground at least a foot thick, and as much as I love winter, I'm beginning to long for warmer weather. I'm not even talking about Spring. My vitamin D deficient body has fantasies of sitting on the beach somewhere very very south of here, turning myself over like a pig on a spit and roasting in the sun until my marrow thaws out. The gist of it is this: I'm tired of constantly being cold. No matter how high the thermostat, no matter how many layers, no matter my woolly tights and my rated -23 degree Sorel boots, I'm always cold. Since I don't have the ways and means right now of hopping on a plane for Mexico, I decided we needed to bring the warmth of Mexico to our kitchen table. How serendipitous then that my friend Freya called with a recipe for Shredded-Pork Tacos. Freya has an equally lovely and amazing sister named Annie, who gave her this recipe from Martha Stewart. Freya made it, ate it, and called me raving about it and sent me the recipe quicker than you could say "chipotle!"
When I went to the grocery store with the recipe and scoured the meat dept., I saw nothing with the words Pork Shoulder stamped on it, so I braved the deli counter and asked the butcher. He gave me a disparaging look and said, "it's not called pork shoulder, it's pork butt" and handed me a 3lb. slab of meat. Ryan and I looked at each other, a bit confused. "Is it just me or is the shoulder in an entirely different section of the body than the butt?" Ryan asked and I was just as perplexed, but we crossed our fingers and bought it anyway, seeing as though there were no other likely options.
On the way home, Ryan googled it on his iPhone and sure enough the two are interchangeable. Which is just as well because it made for a lot of laughter over the dinner table. The boys thought it was hilarious because frankly, when you are 7, 5, and 3, just saying the word "butt" can send you into a paroxysm of giggles like nothing else. I suppose the dinner table isn't the proper place for such talk, but we made an exception in this case, and it got the boys to eat their dinner.

All potty talk aside, this seems like an economical meal since it yielded enough leftovers for Ryan and I to eat 3 lunches and 1 more dinner. I didn't simmer it quite as long as it called for because we were all to hungry to wait another 35 minutes but it wasn't too soupy and I wouldn't change a thing. The queso fresco is a must as well as the cilantro and the corn tortillas blackened nicely on our gas burner. So thank you Annie and thank you Freya and "Pork Butt!"

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 6 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
• 2 bay leaves
• Coarse salt and ground pepper
• 3 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1 (3-pound) boneless pork shoulder, cut in half lengthwise
• 1 can (28 ounces) whole tomatoes in juice
• 1 large chipotle chile in adobo sauce (from a small can), minced (about 4 teaspoons)
• 16 (6-inch) toasted corn tortillas
• 1 cup crumbled queso fresco, feta, or goat cheese
• 1 cup fresh cilantro leaves

Choo-Choo-Chaboogie

Ryan's former bosses from Ancora very sweetly gifted our family with a gift certificate to the Mid-Continent Train Museum in North Freedom, WI.

My brother Noel was in LaCrosse for military training and brought his friend Joe to our house the weekend they had leave. I tried to feed them as well as possible, especially since I thought poor Joe may have got more than he bargained for when he agreed to come.
Saturday dawned gorgeous and warm so after a huge country breakfast, we decided to take in the country side by vintage Wisconsin train.
The boys were wowed by all the amazing trains in the yard.
Felix thought this water tower looked just like the one at home.
Inside the train shed were all sorts of trains, some of which had been set up with scenes of rail road journeys in the past (Victorian coach, 1920's Dining Car, etc.).
After looking around, we waited in the lovely station house.
"All ABOARD!"

The horn made Felix very upset, so he spent most of the ride safely encircled in Uncle Noel's arms.
Enjoying our 50 minute round trip ride on a 7 mile stretch of the former branch line of the Chicago & Western Railroad.Sam and Oliver had fun watching the car ahead of us swaying to and fro down the line.

Devil's Lake was 25 minutes away, so we finished the day with a beautiful hike to our favorite look out.
Thank you George and Sue!

Mom's Potatoes

My Mom flew in from Virginia to spend a week with us and to meet baby Jasper. I tried to convince her to pack everything in a carry on to avoid extra charges from the airline, but she declined, saying she had too much stuff to bring. Upon arriving at our home, it turned out that the reason for the checked bag was a considerable stash of vegetables from her garden. I love that the night before she flew out, part of her packing ritual included running out to one of her beautiful raised beds and digging up about 10 lbs. of her gorgeous potatoes and picking close to 2 lbs. of yellow and green waxy beans. Talk about a bountiful harvest!

I felt honored to be charged with cooking such lovely vegetables (although Sam was quick to remind me that potatoes are actually tubers. Sorry for the lapse.) and a little anxious to do them justice. I wanted to do something that would bring out the flavor of both and not hide the amazing flavor of such freshness. Fortunately for the potatoes, Bryan Kennedy came to mind. Bryan is a friend of ours from Seattle and he and his wife Freya enjoy good food as much as we do. Freya and I, when not talking about God and family, have been known to have long phone conversations detailing out meals that we have had or plan to make, as well as generous swapping of recipes. I remembered her telling me about Bryan's invention of Roasted Potatoes with Bacon, Cherry Tomatoes & Gruyere and started salivating just thinking about it. The day before, I prepped 2 lbs. of chicken legs by rubbing them with a mix of salt, cracked pepper and cayenne, refrigerating them for a few hours before dumping in a gallon of buttermilk for them to swim in overnight. The menu was beginning to take shape in my mind's eye:
A little more sophisticated approach to a Southern staple of fried chicken, green beans, potatoes and lemonade. What could be more appropriate, especially for two women with enough Southern blood to insure membership in The Daughters of the Confederacy if we so chose (God Bless the Fain Family and General Lee and May the South Rise Again). I called Freya and traded her my sweet tart with honey sweetened creme fraiche & fresh raspberries for Bryan's potatoes, got to work breading the chicken and got the boys snapping the beans and juicing lemons for lemonade. It all came together like a finely trained orchestra, if I do say so myself (oh dear, I sound like Mrs. Elton from Emma...)
When the potatoes were reaching the end of their tenure in the oven, I blanched the green beans, sauteed a few cloves of garlic in olive oil, added the green beans for a few minutes to heat them through and added a handful of good feta.

The result was a delectable, finger-licking, good-to-the-last-bite meal that was as fun to eat as it was to prepare.



We stuffed ourselves silly and had to go for a walk before diving into the Lilikoi cheesecake Sam & I made using passion fruit butter my mom had brought us from her place in Hawaii.

Could someone please explain why it's taking me so long to lose the extra baby weight?


If you've got a stash of potatoes that need to be eaten up, I highly recommend the following scrumptious method of consuming them:

Bryan Kennedy's Roasted Potatoes:
5 lbs. of Yukon Gold potatoes washed and cut into bite size pieces
5 oz. bacon
Pint of cherry tomatoes
1/2 cup grated gruyere

On a rimmed baking sheet, pour a few glugs of olive oil on pan. Throw on potato pieces and stir; salt and grind pepper generously. Place in preheated 425 degree oven and set timer for 10 minutes. Chop up about 5 oz. good bacon (I used a local pepper thick sliced bacon that was delish) and sprinkle over potatoes when timer goes off. Set timer for another 10 minutes. Wash and dry a pint of cherry tomatoes. Throw them in, give the whole thing a good stir and set timer for another 10 minutes. Grate about 1/2 cup of gruyere and sprinkle over the mixture and bake until melted and starting to bubble. By this time, many of the tomatoes will have popped, oozing their juices over the bacon and potatoes. If not, bake for another 10 minutes or so.

Baby Love

Last Weekend in Redux

(Warning: Ridiculous amount of family photos to follow.)

We had a very full and lovely weekend last week:
Saturday found Jasper and I at the Maple Bluff Neighborhood Garage Sales, and despite (or maybe because of) the soft drizzle coming down, we had a great time together.
(happy even though I woke him up early)

Maple Bluff is the richie rich neighborhood that sits on the north side of Lake Mendota and houses the Governor's Mansion, so everyone comes out in droves hoping to land the deal of the century. My anthro buddy found practically new Frye boots for $15 (which she promptly resold on ebay for a killing) and a Marc Jacobs coat for next to nothing at last year's sales, so my expectations were high. Whether it was the rain or miserliness, no one can say, but I didn't find any designer deals. I did, however, score a pair of Saucony's for Sam (nice alliteration, right?) for $1:
a great set of vintage enamelware, all with lids, for about $20,


a new compost bucket (the compost was free),
and a gorgeous vintage LBD for $5! The woman I purchased it from used to work on Broadway and said she wore it frequently to events in NYC back in the day. Just lovely!
When Jasper and I arrived home, we found that a sandbox had been built by Ryan:

(which in all honesty, I'm secretly regretting. the sand. gets. everywhere. but the kids LOVE it.)

Some soccer was played





as was some freeze tag:

followed by some dreaming under the trees and clear blue sky.
(photo by Sam)

A good ol' Wisconsin meal of brats and dogs and homemade sparkling lemonade was eaten,
followed by raspberry creme fraiche tart,
finished off with a long draught of baby gazing:

Life is immeasurably full for us right now. My cup, indeed, runneth over.

Put Your Lovin' Arms Out Baby

Ryan and I like to play a little game in the car (or anywhere, for that matter) called Name That Band. The rules are simple enough- whoever says the name of the artist first when a song comes on gets a point. I don't want to brag or anything, but I kick butt in this game. I think it has to do with my weird memory for things - you know, like license plate #'s, who dated who in Hollywood, and guitar riffs (the important things), but whatever the reason, I crush Ryan. Sometimes we get bored and hit scan and usually, without fail, I recite the band names without hesitation- "Led Zeppelin, The Killers, Lady Ga-Ga, The Shins, um, Mark Knopfler, John Cougar, etc.". However, one particular evening as we approached the exit for Hwy 138, we scanned the hip-hop station and Ryan says, "ohhh, it's Jeremiah." I have a brother by that name so I was momentarily confused until Ryan explained that the song was "Birthday Sex" and the artist's name is Jeremiah.

Now for those of you who know my husband, you will understand why this little story is so funny. And you will find it as amusing as I do that he frequently comes home, as of late, singing inappropriate songs.

Blame it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol...

P-p-p-pokerface, b-b-bump up the bass...

You say it's 2008 and but you're so 2000 and late...I got that boom-boom-BOOM...

I think Mad Town's #1 Station for Hip-hop has created a monster.

This current shift in our listening habits no doubt has to do with the fact that Oliver and Felix love to dance. So do I. I'm not saying I can dance, but I like to think that given a chance with a Dancing with the Stars kind of set up, I could hold my own. Whatever the case, there is a certain amount of joy and freedom in putting on some good music and just letting loose. This got me to thinking about my personal current favorite hip-hop songs out there. The first, you are probably familiar with if you've ever seen this Adidas commercial:


I mean, can you believe the people they got to come to this party? The Run D.M.C. guy, Beckham, Missy Elliott, and I'm pretty sure I spotted Chris Rock and J.T. as well as a host of "others". I couldn't find the 30 second spot to post, but the full length is better anyway. This is the kind of party I want to go to, minus the excessive making out, drunkenness, celebrities, and licentiousness, of course. But invite all your favorite friends over, let the kids skate board on a half-pipe in the living room (or street)
stay up way too late,















throw on some great music, and dance til you fall over.

That particular song is a re-make of a Franki Valli and the Four Seasons song by Madcon. So fresh. The beat is infectious and I defy you to stay immobile if this song comes on the air.

Echo by Gorilla Zoe is a current favorite around here too. I'd love for Ryan's band to remake this song with my friend Beth singing vocals. Really, such a beautiful song melodically. But hands down, American Boy by Estelle (with Kanye West) is the most requested song in our house. I love questioning the boys -Would you be my American boy?

All About My Mother

You didn't think I was going to let the day get away without paying tribute to you, did you mom?


Since the day I started this blog (which was only a few short days ago, mind you), I've been thinking about my mom and all that she has taught me. Which is everything I know about being a mom. She was the reassuring voice on the other end of the line encouraging me that my instinct as a mother was God given and that "parenting books are fine and all, but sweetie, listen to your gut." She was the one modeling healthy eating habits, raising most of our food organically in our back yard long before it was the trend to do so (in fact, I think most of the neighbors thought we were strange). Making just about everything from scratch. Trying to teach me to sew, quilt, crochet, knit, and embroider long before DIY became its own genre in the blogworld and bookstores. She's the smartest, most truly intellectual person I know and yet she would never make you feel bad for not knowing what the Nicene Creed is or for mispronouncing Nietszche or Proust, both of which I've done on several occasions! She has a pure and insatiable thirst for learning and talks about the things she's passionate about in a way that is inspiring and not patronizing. Despite being such a smartie, she saw the value in staying home with us four rambunctious kids until we were all in school, waiting until then to go back to school and earn her degree. She taught my brothers and I the value of hard work, a job well done, and tenacity in the face of adversity.

I swore up and down when I embarked on this blog that I wasn't going to make it too personal, but it's Mother's Day and I think it's my prerogative to break the rules every once in a while. So, Mom, I hope you know how much I love you, how much I rely on you, and how grateful I am to have you as my mom.