Do good by your friends: Food for new parents

Do you know anyone who could use some good food? Over at my doula blog I've collected some of my favourite recipes to make for new parents. No one you know had a baby? Maybe you know someone who could just use some extra love. They like food, too.

What are your favourite things to make new parents?

Magic happens here

It’s the fruit bowl. It is, for me, what I can only describe as a happiness trigger. A full fruit bowl makes me feel rich, like the house is ready to support anyone who needs it. There is plenty of food to eat and even to fill a pie, and when someone says they need a snack, I know just where to point them. It’s a little thing, but also weighty, and I feel very thankful for that filled bowl. Eating from the Ground Up

I've had a few friends kindly inquire after my sanity with the number of food blogs I read. It's true. I may follow a good long list of them (some of my favourites are this one, this one, and definitely that one, though there are far too many to list here, see above re: sanity). Of course I love to eat and so part of my interest comes from sleuthing around for new ideas to try, like these baked peaches I tried last night (just perfect) or this heirloom tomato salad I'm hoping to try after my fruit and veggie box delivers more tomatoes tomorrow (my fruits and veggies come from here, if you're looking for a good service in Toronto--thanks, Tanja, for the excellent recommendation!). But as much as I love all the food, it's only half of the story. The other half is the kitchen.

The kitchen in my house growing up had this awkwardly placed counter in the middle of the room, one side of which had bar stools for me (and presumably, other people) to sit on. If I calculated the hours I spent talking with my mum while she cooked or washed dishes the total might reach in the trillions. I think I learned a lot about life from sitting there across from my mum. I know that I learned how to be a good friend as she'd talk me down from some girlfriend related drama I'd share with her while she made dinner. I know that I learned how sharing your biggest worries with someone else could make them feel a lot less overwhelming. I also know that I learned the perfect ratio of olive oil to tomatoes, how not to overcrowd mushrooms, and how to dredge the chicken first in the flour, then in egg. And I learned about salt, glorious salt!

The kitchen is where the magic happens. No matter where a kitchen is found it can easily be transformed into the centre of a home, drawing absolutely everyone inside its boundaries (partners, children, parents, second cousins, that lovely woman you met the day before). You see it wasn't just me who settled herself across the counter from my mum--by the time high school rolled around most of my friends had found themselves there at least a dozen times. By graduation it was me on the other side of that counter cooking for my friends. I remember how exciting (and I mean exciting) it was to start cooking with and for my friends, especially when it was food not ordinarily found in my own house. I felt mature, powerful, and like my life was really my own. I could create things, enjoy things, and sit for hours with people I loved.

Of course this isn't everyone's experience of the kitchen, but I wish it were. When I read these glorious blogs I find more than ideas of what to bake (and eat) that week, but I also find that excitement, that passion, for all things kitchen. These people who share so much of themselves as they offer this or that recipe, remind me every day how important my kitchen is, to my family, to my friends, and of course, to me. And so I will continue to steal moments from other people's kitchen through their blogs, even if I'll never have the opportunity to pull up a stool next to them, or roll out a pie crust for them to enjoy.

But the best, the absolutely best part about my kitchen? Sharing it with the two tiny people who wander in and out of it every single day. They ask to do the dishes, to whisk the pancake batter, to crack the egg. Sometimes they just park themselves on the floor, usually next to Hille the cat, and go about their business of enjoying their day. In my kitchen.

P.S. I don't want to forget to mention how much I adore this blog.
P.P.S. And this one.
P.P.P.S. Ok, I'll stop already.

Lemonade

We're in a heatwave in southern Ontario, not my favourite part of summers here. But I really do love lemonade and I know it tastes best when it's unbelievably hot outside, so I'm choosing to make the most of this opportunity. Last week, during Shira's nap, Alyce and I made some lemonade. Alyce's excitement at the prospect of using the lemon reamer could have reached the moon and back. Every day I'm learning that she's just bursting to learn new things and all I need to do is give her a little responsibility and she's at her happiest. I've never seen someone wash lemons as joyfully as my little one did in preparation for our juicing. After she washed them in the sink she dried each one with a tea towel (her insistence, not mine), I sliced them in half, and then she juiced away. Twenty lemon halves later (and a little extra squeezing from me, since I'm not content to accept six droplets of juice from a lemon), we were ready to add the sugar and water. It was exactly what we needed.

Fresh Lemonade
Inspired, as much as one needs inspiration for lemonade, by Martha Stewart

10 lemons
1 cup white sugar
water
lots of ice
fresh mint or thyme, if you like

Squeeze the juice of 10 lemons, straining for seeds and pulp. Mix lemon juice with sugar before adding water to taste, around four cups. (Some people prefer to make a simple syrup of sugar and a little water so that it dissolves more easily with the lemon juice and water, but we didn't have any problems just mixing the plain sugar in.) Serve over lots of ice (and the herbs if you're using them), find a seat in the shade somewhere, and enjoy.

Alyce enjoyed four glasses, thank you very much.

You get what you get and you don't get upset. On second thought, scrap that.

It's Friday, let's do this. I haven't posted for a few days and I just spent the last twenty minutes crafting a depressing post about something or other, but I scrapped it in favour of not being a downer at the start of what could be a wonderful weekend! Who wants to read a sad post about how lonely it is to grocery shop at ten o'clock at night? Not me. I'm depressed just thinking about that post.

Instead I thought I'd share some photos from our day at the Royal Ontario Museum this week. Alyce had an appointment in Toronto Tuesday afternoon, so we all headed to the city with Matt in the morning (since we only have the one car) and me and the girls needed something fun to keep us busy. A museum! I miss the Philadelphia Please Touch Children's Museum so much (so much), and I've been grieving its absence for a year now. The ROM, while no Please Touch, was everything Alyce and Shira needed. Its hands-on, discovery exhibitions kept the three of us busy for hours. We dressed up as queens (Alyce), knights (Shira), dragons (me and Alyce), butterflies (Alyce and Shira). We dug up dinosaur bones. We watched bees make honey and fish swim. It was a good day.

The depressing post-that-almost-was has gotten me to thinking about what I want this blog to be. I've been writing and posting for a year and half now, using this blog as venue for conservations about parenting, breastfeeding, eating, baking, being married, leaving graduate school, and starting over. I've urgently pointed you in the direction of so many of my favourite recipes that I've had friends suggest that I might need a food-related intervention. (By the way, no intervention needed. What I could really use is this cookbook. And maybe this one, too.)

Everything lately feels so out place. And I mean everything. When I wrote about having lost my sparkle I think I was on to something. It's a serious claim, to have lost one's sparkle, but I've given it a lot of thought, and yes, I'm a bit dull. Subdued, maybe. Holding myself back. Spending the day in the city with my girls, however, made me feel a bit shiny. Since we'll be moving to Toronto in five weeks I'm going to go ahead and say right now that I'm completely over-the-moon-excited to start fresh in the city. This move will mean a lot of things: that we have are both employed, we will have our own space, and that we'll all be starting something new. The move feels like one enormous opportunity to sparkle again.

But. I think we're often too quick to look beyond the opportunity that is already sitting right in front of us, right here in the actual present instead of five weeks into the future. So I will not wait five weeks to brighten up. I will start now. A very wise woman suggested the other day that you won't get what you want unless you know what you want. This piece of advice makes me think of Alyce, who repeats on a daily basis something she learned at school this year: You get what you get and don't get upset. At first I loved this lesson of hers, something to help her to manage her four-year-old disappointed feelings when such tragedies occur as not getting the pink plate at breakfast, or having to eat a cookie without chocolate chips. But no, no, no. This is truly terrible advice. I will get upset, thank you very much, and I'll channel my own disappointment into something good for this year. For many, many years.

When I read Helen Jane's advice I was both relieved to realize that yes, of course, I need to figure out what I want if I want that sparkle back, and exhausted by the knowledge that this is going to take some work to figure out. Thank goodness I like lists so much already. Next week is devoted to making lists in attempt to bring some of that good focus to my life. Less complaining, more sparkle. Vibrant, even. Lucky for you (maybe) this blog is just the place to figure this all out, a good place to find some of that focus I've been craving. That, and also what I'm going to cook this week. No matter how I envision my blog and my writing, I just can't leave out food. It is simply too important a detail to ignore.

Our day at the museum did more for my motivation than anything has in ages. I can't tell you why or how, but I can tell you that it felt good. I can also tell you that it felt good enough that we're getting a family membership.

P.S. Stay tuned for another interview this coming Monday! I'll give you hint: he's devastatingly handsome, has two daughters, and he's my husband. Tune in Monday to see if you've guessed right!

Make this food: Breakfast

Grilled cheese with mascarpone, apricots, and chocolate from Not Without Salt

I have never met a grilled cheese sandwich that I didn't like, and the same goes for french toast. So I think odds are good that this grilled cheese sandwich, filled with mascarpone, stewed apricots, and chocolate, and supported with challah french toast, might be the greatest thing that has ever happened to my breakfast.

Passover begins this Friday night and with it comes eight days of not eating delicious sandwiches like this one. I've never made it more than a couple of days bread-free, but this year I am determined (more on that later). I will tuck this recipe away and in two weeks from now I will be eating it for breakfast. In the meantime, I think you ought to try this out and report back to me.

Where do you find your best breakfast recipes? You do eat breakfast, right? I'm a firm believer in first and second breakfast, so I'm always looking for ideas.

Photo by Ashley Rodriguez

Food that caught my attention in March

April started today and I'm pretty excited about that. But before I run headfirst into this new month, I thought I would share some of the food I dreamed about in March:

It rained (as spring does), so I thought about soup. Especially this minestrone and this coconut milk and squash bisque.

I made this salad this week, though without the mint. I didn't have any mint on hand, I was hungry, and the salad just couldn't wait. It was still delightful. If you're not roasting beets at least a few times a month, you're doing something wrong. Or, at least, maybe you should think about starting.

Asparagus+potato+poached egg+creme fraiche = something I should be eating right now. Let's get started, shall we? Asparagus will be in season here in Ontario before we know it.

Did you know that you can bake brown rice? I did not know that. But that's what I'll be doing this week.

Because is there anyone in the world who doesn't love hot fudge sauce? Probably not. Plus I'm a sucker for a post wherein someone reveals an upcoming baby. Because is there anyone in the world who doesn't love babies? Don't answer that. I love them enough for everybody.

I want to make this chocolate cake, but I would rather if you made it for me.

And I might serve you this Lemon, Ginger, Basil cooler if your came over for dinner and brought that cake with you.



Did anything catch your attention in March? Do tell.

My two

On account of poor planning, feeding six people, and a love food, I find myself at the grocery store multiple times a week. And these two seem to follow me everywhere. I would like to point out three things:

• Shira is in love with Alyce. Most of the time this love is returned. Other times, not quite.
• No matter how hard she tried, Alyce did not successfully sneak a bottle of salad dressing into our shopping cart.
• Alyce and Shira are still carrying around their valentine's cards, which means that I am faced with looking at pictures of Barbie on a daily hourly basis. 

I didn't get around to posting these earlier in the week, but here some things I've been reading this week about, you guessed it, food:

Re: dinner time. We totally follow these strategies when it comes to Alyce, especially the one about never telling her what we're having beforehand (a guarantee that she won't eat it).

The comments following Design Mom's recent post on feeding children in France are worth reading.

I love the way she writes about feeding her family. Here is a post from last week.

I struggle with keeping a "family table." Stephanie at The Knitty Gritty Homestead has a different suggestion.


Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!

This week in stay-at-home parenting

 There were many walks to and from school. The snail pace at which we moved gave me a chance to welcome the sun back into my life. I feel as though it had been grey for years.

We enjoyed spending time with some friends amidst the chaos of the bookstore-turned-playdate venue. These crazy new bookstores reel you in with giant tea cups and enormous train tables, but then they get back as you purchase your weight in books on your way out. Here Alyce is reading to her friend my most hated Barbie story, wherein girls at a charm school stab each other in the backs in order to get ahead. I don't allow it in our home so she's taking full advantage of its availability at Chapters.

 The Children coloured approximately 2,293 pictures of the following: butterflies, rainbows, bees, trees, ponies, and princesses. And one stunning portrait of a baby we know. I will be talking about this for a long time, so bear with me, but watching Alyce go from squiggles to elaborate (humour me) portraits of people we know astounds me. I just can't comprehend how she's gone from being a baby who eats crayons to drawing, if you will, masterpieces.

 With my first full week at home with the girls I took advantage of the extra time in the kitchen. This past Wednesday found me and Shira in the kitchen (Alyce was at school), where we made tomato soup and oat bread in time to enjoy for lunch. I'd love to offer you a recipe for the tomato soup, but I would be embarrassed to call it a "recipe." Instead I'll call dressing up a can of whole tomatoes with a some onions, a little olive oil, some stock and some cream. But it was exactly what I wanted. And one of the reasons that Shira is one of my two favourite daughters is our shared love of all food. She literally threw herself into our lunch. A perfect date.

And I would also like to point out that we discovered green things growing in the woods next to Alyce's school. Green things do not grow in Canadian Februaries, but here is the proof. I think even the leaves must have been excited that it was Tu B'Shevat. 

Lest you think that our week was all sunshine and artistry, I'll share with you the following story: On the morning of the bookstore play date, after dashing like a madwoman to get the three of us dressed, snacked up and in the car, and after chasing these two around aisles of books for an hour, I finally managed to carry Shira, my bag, a coffee (obviously), and Alyce out of the store and back into the car. It sounds easy when you say like that, but it wasn't. Shira won't walk holding my hand for more than a few steps, so I have to carry her everywhere (why oh why do I always leave my Ergo in the car?); I was determined to finish my coffee, so there goes my other hand. Always the model of safety, I asked Alyce to hold on to my jacket while we walked through the parking lot to get to the car. We were a sight. So we're finally in the car, all of us buckled into their seats, when Alyce comes out with this: Mama, I probably should have told you before we left the store, but I need to pee. Bad. For thirty seconds I cursed loudly in my head, cried out in horror, again, in my head, and then got over myself and admitted that we were all heading back into the store. Honestly, it made me laugh a lot.

How was your week? Are you ready for the next one?

Scenes from my weekend (and some missing scenes)

 

This weekend was a good kind of busy. By Friday night the entire house was ready for exhausted, though my mum and stepfather did find the energy to pack for the holiday they were leaving for the next morning. Did you catch that? We have my mum's house all to ourselves for an entire week!* 

Don't even get me started on all the things that are going down this week in honour of our new found freedom. All I will say for now is that I kicked off their holiday by inviting eight friends over for dinner yesterday. It was the second meeting for our cookbook club, and I'll tell you all about it in a few days. I should at the very least offer you some photos from our amazing afternoon of cooking, eating, and talking with our mouths full, but I didn't get any photos! I was too busy ensuring there were enough forks for everyone and that I didn't burn the toasted baguettes again (I did, by the way, burn them). I'll give you the details soon, and maybe my friend Amanda will share a few photos with me to share with you here.

The rest of our weekend was made up of much smaller events, though just as important. Alyce and I started making her valentines for class next week (and no one is more surprised than me that I got this process started almost two weeks before the big day). There were baths, drawing sessions, and not enough naps. (Speaking of naps, I need this card.) But one of my favourite things about the weekend was taking Alyce to see her first 3D movie. There is nothing like sitting next to your favourite four year old, popcorn and smarties balanced on her lap, oversized glasses on her face, to brighten your day. She has seen Beauty and the Beast at least a dozen times at home, but this was special. My favourite part was watching her reach out her hands in front of her, trying to catch the images that flew in front of her face. No wait, my favourite part was listening to her belt out the songs mid-movie. I was prepared to make a scene if someone asked her to stop singing. No one did, obviously, because what kind of monster would step on the joy of a little girl singing about true love?

Hope your weekend was filled with events, big and small. Any suggestions for how we should celebrate our much emptier house?

*Don't get me wrong. We love them. But sometimes things feel just a bit crowded. You understand.

Good thing I'm always hungry

It's no secret that I think about food a lot. I mostly blame the internet, though, with all its temptations and good ideas. Here are this week's offenders:

-Chicken Pot Pies are a weakness of mine. These individual pot pies are inspiring me to eat them more often.
-A soup made with roasted, caramelized cauliflower. My Sunday afternoon should be filled with this soup, except that we got hungry and ate the cauliflower for Shabbat dinner on Friday. We have no one to blame but ourselves.
-I was on the hunt for a good blueberry muffin recipe and found this one. I'm often disappointed with blueberry muffins, but these were not too sweet, the good kind of crumbly, and worked well with my frozen blueberries. I used whole wheat flour and no one was the wiser. Now if someone can please tell me how to store my muffins so that they aren't all gummy and sticky on top the next day, I will love you forever.


I'm looking for some good ideas for meals that store well in the fridge over the week. I've been in the habit of making a batch of something on Sunday that I can take to work for lunch a few days that week. So far I've made chili and a chick pea stew. I think it's time for something non-tomatoey. Any ideas?

Sometimes we let them eat in public: Eight tips

 

1. In honour of some shame-free enjoyment of food, let's all go out for dinner, shall we? Burgers at Milestones it is, then.

2. When taking young children to a restaurant, keep in mind that the meal will be eighty-nine percent colouring, six percent bathroom trips, and five percent eating. So don't skimp on the crayons and paper. Usually restaurants will provide the paper and crayons, but always bring your own, just in case. Don't make the same mistake I've made in the past. A crayonless meal never ends well.*

3. If Shira is joining you for dinner, keep in mind that the percentages are a little more fifty/fifty, split between colouring and eating (no bathroom trips for this diaper-wearing girl), so be sure to order enough food. Plus she'll finish Alyce's meal, too. She's good like that.

4. Order food for the little ones as soon as you sit down. Alyce is familiar with this practice and now simply orders pancakes and syrup from the hostess as soon as we walk into a restaurant, even if they don't sell pancakes. But just in case, bring snacks. Lots of them.

5. Here is the ideal restaurant meal schedule: Order food for the kids before taking off your coats, get them colouring right away (no messing around with pleasantries), order your own food when the server brings their food, and then, and this is key, make sure their dessert arrives at the same time as your own meals. My children don't talk or move while consuming ice cream=the perfect time to enjoy five minutes of your meal in peace.

6. That wasn't a typo. If you can get five minutes of quiet, you're winning this game.

7. Don't mess around. Get the bill as soon as you can and get out of there before any meltdowns begin. I repeat: no dawdling. It never ends well.

8. Pat yourself on the back for exposing your children to the world of public eating. And then admit that you think you'll just eat at home from now on.

Enjoy!

*In cases of emergency, little creamers can be used as blocks with which to build towers.

On shame

October Unprocessed update: Meh. Last week we had successes (yogurt, eggs, homemade turkey soup-thanks, mum) and a few un-successes (ordering pizza the other night upon the surprise arrival of much loved dinner guests, ice cream), but progress has been made. I’ve turned down some very appealing processed food, and I had a bit of a moment while at the grocery store last night, coming to realize that so much in the store had been manhandled in some way. I’m inspired to create some delicious food that has only been womanhandled by yours truly. (Or, if you want to make some food and send it my way, I’ll gratefully accept your handling. We’re friends.)

***

Whenever I start focusing on what I eat, I inevitably think about shame. Truthfully, I don’t think about shame so much as I feel it. Sometimes deeply. Caring so much about the food I put in my body comes from many places--health, respect for my body (if it can grow such perfect babies I ought to treat it right), wanting to reduce my carbon footprint--but it also just has to do with weight. And as soon as it has to do with weight, the shame creeps in and starts messing with my head. I’m even ashamed to be writing this. Enough already.

But what I need to say, because then maybe I can get over myself, is that I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t feel ashamed of my body in some way. This isn’t to say that I’ve hidden myself away and not enjoyed all the wonderful things a body has to offer, such as the ability to dance long hours into the night, or say, make those babies I’m always talking about. I have a deep respect for my body, but like so many things, it’s a terribly complicated relationship. I’ve never felt that my body was just ok, but instead that it owes the world some explanation. I’ve never been terribly obese, and for most of my childhood I think I was pretty normal, but I’ve always felt as though just that little extra weight, those few additional curves, or that extra fifteen twenty pounds of baby weight (ahem) put me in this category of “People Who Should Apologize for Their Size Fourteenness and Not Have That Extra Piece of Cake.”

So I’m a bit all over the place on my opinion on this body of mine. I spent years training in classical ballet and I loved how that made me feel. I was strong, I could pirouette for days, and overall I was pretty good. I loved dancing so much I think I actually vibrated in class. But it was also in ballet class that I began to doubt my body, with thanks to puberty. It was clear to the world that I was going to do puberty right. I got the hips, the boobs, but didn’t grow a single inch to compensate for all that extra me. And when it was that time to begin training for my professional ballet exams, my teacher sat me down and warned me that I’d probably fail because of my body. Not for what it might do, like miss a step, but for its very size.

I passed by the way.

It wasn’t just coming from my ballet teacher. My uncle once asked my mum (when I was in the room), if I wasn’t too fat to be a ballerina. I had just bought my first pair of point shoes, so that was soul-crushing. My grandfather routinely commented on my size, sometimes even helpfully suggesting that I not have the dessert that everyone else in the room was having. My family doctor once asked me why I ate so much. But a lot of the time the shame wasn’t coming from anyone else but myself. I dreaded gym class because I imagined that my friends were laughing at my attempts to run track, that if I didn’t do it as well as they did that they’d assume it was because I wasn’t as skinny. When my friends would tell me all the time how beautiful my mum was (and she still is one gorgeous woman), I imagined them wondering what happened to me. And when someone told me that I was pretty, I just felt even more embarrassed, because in my head I could hear them say, if only you weren’t so fat. When I have lost weight at different times in my life, I’ve often been mortified when people comment on how I look. They tell me that I look great, but all I hear is how bad they thought I looked before.

So when I start thinking about how I’d like to eat, or about weight I’d like to lose, it’s hard to feel positive. Instead I feel like I need to apologize for how I look now, for what I’ve eaten, for what I’d like to eat. And then mix-up all those guilty, shameful feelings with how much joy I get from cooking and baking my own food, for myself and for others, and things just start getting messy. And then I get messy.

Why am I telling you this? Because for the love of all things, this has got to stop. I have these two stunningly perfect little girls, and when I hear myself talking to Matt about how I don’t like my body or how I shouldn’t eat something, I also hear alarm bells going off. If Alyce or Shira were to begin feeling this way, and then have their feelings confirmed by my own actions? No way. Not going to happen. Instead I want them to know this:

1. Bodies are awesome.

2. Differently shaped bodies are awesome.

3. Food is delicious. Eat lots of good food.

4. Sharing food with family and friends, or even people you just met, is a wonderful way to live. Don’t let anything stand in the way of enjoying a good meal.

5. Don’t even hide because you think your body isn’t good enough. If there is something you want to do or wear or make, there is nothing stopping you. Your body’s got your back.

I am trying very hard to believe these things for myself.

And now, that’s enough talk about shame for one day.

Most of October Unprocessed

You know how when you’re trying to lose weight, it is often recommended that you keep a food journal so that you get an accurate understanding of what and how much you’re actually eating? Maybe you don’t, and that’s ok, I still like you. But for those of us who enjoying eating just that little bit extra, it’s good to keep track of all the delicious things you eat. My list is usually a long one.

So I should have known better than to jump right into October Unprocessed without first coming to terms with just how much processed food we eat in our house. But me, I just assumed that it couldn’t be very much, because I cook almost everything from scratch! I bake all the time! I even sometimes bake my own bread! Aren’t I fabulous?

But it turns out that we consume way more processed food than I realized. While I do cook most things from scratch, I also love frozen pizza (I just do), scones from Starbucks, deli sandwiches, and milk chocolate. Among other things. While the definitions of unprocessed as many (and often competing), a lot of the time it’s a no-brainer. The founder of October Unprocessed, Andrew Wilder over at Eating Rules, defines unprocessed food as "any food that could be made by a person with reasonable skill in a home kitchen with readily available, whole-food ingredients." Ok, I can work with that, or so I thought.

But as much as I like to think myself an unprocessed-girl, the first morning of October (the first day of the challenge) found me facing a delicious piece of pizza and some chocolate cake at a birthday party for Alyce’s friend, Ruby. The food was neither unprocessed nor particularly healthy. But I was hungry, I didn’t have any good snacks with me, and I am the world’s biggest sucker for pizza. That whole first week I kept finding myself faced with unprocessed food on the go (one of my many weaknesses) and I was weak, I tell you. A hungry belly + any food, and I can’t just can’t be helped. Lesson learned: never, ever leave my house with snacks from home. Ever.

I really want to be up to this challenge. For many reasons (and I’ll get to those later this week), I want to eat more and more unprocessed food. So while the first ten days of October were not so unprocessed, I have big hopes and expectations for the rest of the month. I’m putting myself out there for you to encourage (please only encourage, or at least mock kindly). There will be a few exceptions (it is birthday month, after all), but from now on the rest of the month will be known as Most of October Unprocessed.

Let the eating begin.

A new year (again)

Sorry for the mix-up. For those of you who read this blog through Google Reader or some other such contraption, you were delivered a half-finished post last night. Think of it as a preview. Or maybe just the consequence of a full day of cooking and celebrating the Jewish New Year with good friends. By the time last night rolled around, I was toast.

So, let's try this again. L'Shanah Tovah, everyone! As someone who loves fresh starts, I adore the extra new year celebration that Judaism sneaks in. Another chance to think about old and new goals, another excuse to bake. This Rosh Hashanah was extra special for me this year, because it marked the first time that ringing in the new year felt like a holiday to me. I'm a convert to Judaism and no matter how much I've studied, and no matter how many new habits I've embraced, it takes time to reprogram my internal holiday schedule. I've always loved Rosh Hashanah in all its autumn glory, but this year the day felt special. I spent the day baking and cooking, preparing for friends to join us for dinner. Alyce made taped a new year greeting on the door. There were babies, food, and many wishes for a sweet year ahead. Not a bad way to spend a fall day.

And there was food. I made this challah, and I think it was a personal best. I substituted about two or three cups of whole wheat flour, and the results were a slightly more wholegrain bread that was still light and airy. For dinner, along with the apples and honey traditional to Rosh Hashanah celebrations (the honey helps everyone to usher in a sweet year ahead), I made this chicken, which I adore. I did learn, however, that I shouldn't overcrowd the chicken trying to fit it all in one cast iron pan (took longer to cook and didn't get as crispy). And for dessert we dined on these brownies and some peach and apple crisp. The company made everything worth it, especially the chance to help baby J celebrate his first Rosh Hashanah.

It should also be noted that Alyce enjoyed the traditional Rosh Hashanah gift of her first Barbie doll (well, it might be a tradition one day). Alyce and Barbie had a lovely day together (pictured above). I think they were fast friends.

Happy New Year!

Our week so far

Applesauce. Delicious. Everybody is a winner. But there are still thirty pounds of apples in my kitchen. Back to work.

 

Going through some old boxes at my mum's this week, I found my old tutu. She's feeling the magic.

Shira's been nursing. The usual.

And everywhere I turn in this house, I find another princess. Please, send help.

And your week?

Four things about my weekend

1. Yesterday morning it was my turn to sleep in, so after nursing Shira at 5:40 I returned to bed and let Matt monitor the morning chaos. It was heaven. But even better was when Matt woke me up at 8:15 with my coffee, toast, and the computer in hand. Here, he said, I thought you might enjoy some breakfast and computer time without the children. That's right, he sneaked past The Children on his way upstairs, so not only did I get breakfast in bed, but I go breakfast in bed by myself. It was not Mother's Day or my birthday. I'm sorry, you can't have him. He's all mine.

2. After killing my body with a hot yoga class later in the day, Matt sent me upstairs for a nap. Enough said. No seriously, I slept in and had a nap.

3. This morning, with the help of my good friend Kaylie, I crossed yet another thing off my Life List. It's a small thing, but I've wanted to pick my own apples for years. I have such romantic notions of fall and the idea of picking my own apples sparked big dreams of making pies and applesauce. I have to tell you: picking our own apples was everything I dreamed it would be. Me and the girls met Kaylie at a local orchard between Cambridge and Toronto, grabbed a cart, and spent the next hour getting lost in the apple trees. The sun was brilliant and the apples numbered in the thousands, though we held ourselves back and picked only a bushel each (the internet tell me that a bushel equals around 42 pounds of apples!).

Now I have plans to make a few pies and a lot of applesauce. I will use the the recipe and canning instructions from Simple Bites (it never lets me down), and for the pie crust, I'll use Martha Stewart's recipe for pate brisee . It's been years since I made pie crust from scratch and I haven't tried Martha's recipe before, but some of of the people I trust most follow Martha's instructions on this, so I feel confident that it's the way to go--see here and here for some other pie crust inspiration. I'll return with some evidence of my apples later this week.

4. Alyce wore her princess gown while she picked apples. Of course she did.

How was your weekend? Did anyone attend an apple festival? The last time I attended one I was pregnant with Alyce. I can't even begin to comprehend how fast the time goes.

A little heat, a lot of snacks

It's been a strange couple of days around here. I think the summer's heat has sparked Alyce's crazies, as I witnessed this afternoon while she cried, screamed, and whined for forty-five minutes. I think the meltdown was technically sparked by me not having arms long enough to reach into the backseat (while driving) and remove the clothes from her bear, but I suspect that it had more to do with just having spent a few hours in the sun at the zoo. Whatever the cause, I could go my entire life without listening to that again. But our time at the zoo was delightful, heat and all.

I should mention, though, that the two three-year-olds among us spent more time asking for lunch and snacks than they did communing with the animals. At one point Alyce just sat down in the middle of a very busy trail of people and declared it the perfect spot to have a picnic. I think the two hundred other people trying walk around us felt differently. In the end, we found some shade and some grass and had ourselves some lunch.

Speaking of food, Matt and I have reached the point where if Alyce asks us for another snack, we might just have a meltdown of our own (we're none of us perfect). Lately I've felt compelled to sit down with new parents, or even with people just thinking about having children in the future, and let them know that their life will soon be defined by the fixing of snacks. It's not that I want to warn them against becoming parents--no, no, having kids is my favourite thing to do--but I do want to offer some insight into the world feeding young kids. Here's just a glimpse, if you will:

6:00 am: For Alyce, offer breakfast of cheerios and milk, and peanut butter toast, not toasted. Throw in some berries. Give Shira her own bowl of cheerios and berries. Prepare mentally for the all the cheerios you will soon be cleaning up from the floor. Get some towels ready, too.

6:05 am: Spread more peanut butter on the non-toasted toast, since the Alyce has not eaten the non-toast but has instead licked off the peanut butter. (Repeat at 6:10 and 6:14). Replace bowl of cheerios and milk for Shira, because you know the first bowl is already on the floor.

7:00 am: Alyce asks for a snack. You tell her that snacks will come after she's dressed and brushed her teeth, and remind her that she finished eating breakfast 46 seconds ago.

7: 05 am: Alyce asks for a snack, again. Remind her again.

7:07 am: No, Alyce, not yet.

7:09 am: Seriously, Alyce, you will get a snack in a few minutes. Now please get dressed.

7:11 am: Offer (finally) Alyce a snack of fruit. She asks for mac and cheese instead. Remind her that it's not yet lunch time and that fruit is all I have. Watch her calculate the odds of actually getting mac and cheese before eleven. She accepts the fruit.

7:23 am: I am not kidding, she asks for another snack.


You get the idea. This goes on all day if we're not careful. This week we've been brainstorming some ideas to handle the constant snacking, and we've had some success with leaving a snack tray on the table that she can have access to all day. She's slightly annoyed by our insistence that the tray stay on the table instead of following her around from room to room, couch to couch, or in the bathroom, but she's managing. Somehow. She's also finding ways to cope with having to wait for me to bring the dinner from the kitchen to the table, a wait that she often finds unbearable (see top photo for evidence of her very difficult life).

If anyone has any suggestions about snacking and limits, please do let me know. I like to encourage a healthy approach to eating and I don't want to spend too much time trying to control food and meal times, but it can get a little annoying. How do you handle the land of snacks?

P.S. We came to the bed last night and found that doll tucked in our beds. We were both thoroughly creeped out. Thanks, Alyce.