Tag Archives: Food

Spring has sprung and so has my brains!

I think my battle with the evil pink eye super bug has left me mentally compromised. If not the wicked bug then it was the massive amount of eye drops I’ve absorbed but either way, I’ve gone bananas.  And if you need proof just look….

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In case you can’t make out the little specks those are chickens people, fowl feathered friends.  Somewhere along the way I decided that I wanted farm fresh eggs but didn’t exactly want the farm.  So, much to my neighbor’s dismay, I settled for eight super charged egg laying peeps, four of which we got last week and the other four are due to arrive this week.  I figure eight layers should keep my food devouring kids egged up and happy for awhile.  And when they get sick of eggs? Well, I’ll come up with some creative recipes or shove eggs down their throats.  Whatever works.

I tried to be a considerate suburbia neighbor and bought these peeps from a place that could guarantee these downy babies would be hens and not annoying roosters.   We’ll see.  If any should happen to be roosters did I mention I have a retriever bird dog?  Just KIDDING (not about the dog but about the fate of poor rooster).  I’m sure I’ll find a farmer who would be happy for Mr. Roaster to take up some table, I mean, yard space.

The coop is up and ready to go except for the outdoor run.  I have been nagging gently asking Mr. Pavlov to finish the run because these peeps are growing quickly and pooping a lot!  N a s t y.  I’m told the run will be completed this week which, is a good thing considering how filthy these egg layers are.

While we wait they eat, sleep, poo, pick, poo, flap their wings, poo, flap their wings and actually fly, poo, peep, poo, poo, poo and they are still small.  If the amount of poo is any indication of what I can expect to come then I am in WAY over my maximum lifetime poo limit. Plus we still have four little poo makers to come.  Yikes.  Let’s hope they produce as many eggs as droppings and then maybe we’ll call it even.

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As we await the other four peeps and their completed home, they bask in the heat of their red glo lamp.   This photo was taken just minutes after I changed their bedding…wanna take a guess what a few hours looks like?!?

Didn’t think so.

I’m going to collect my brains now.

A healthy dish that didn’t taste like sand or worse…

I’d like to share this recipe that I found over at clean eats in the zoo.  If you’re anything like me you get sick and tired of your kitchen rut and shoving the same stuff down your throat.  I like to try new things and my family members (much to their dismay) are my taste testers.

We try to eat healthy but let’s face it, many of those “healthy” recipes wouldn’t even gain a sniff from my food obsessed Lab.  Yeah, they are pretty bad.  But I have to wonder if these healthy foods are the way food items really should taste and are we so strung out on processed foods to recognize the taste of good food?  Could it be?!?  Then I bite into a brown rice biscuit that crumbles apart in my mouth like sand and can’t help but feel the longing for a moist ooey, gooey white one loaded with leaky gut causing gluten and wheat.

But I digress.  Here is a truly kick-butt, mouth watering, healthy recipe that even the kids ate.  Well, they picked away the cabbage but that was totally expected!

Enjoy!!

Spicy Asian cabbage rolls with sliced avocados and frozen bananas

Recipe: Spicy Asian Cabbage Rolls

1 large head cabbage

Chicken marinade:

2 lbs boneless skinless chicken thighs, diced small

2 TBSP sesame oil

2 tsp. minced ginger

1 tsp. salt

1 TBSP coconut aminos ( I picked mine up at Whole Foods)

2 tsp red chili pepper flakes (you can use more or less depending on how spicy you want it)

In the skillet:

2 TBSP olive oil

1 TBSP sesame oil

4-5 green onions, diced small

salt and pepper to taste

In a Ziploc bag, combine all the ingredients in the chicken marinade. Close and let sit in fridge for an hour or two. *Note: You can do this without marinating, but the flavors are much better after sitting for a while.

Fill a large pot with enough water to cover a full head of cabbage. Bring to boiling. Meanwhile, take out the core of the cabbage with a paring knife. Turn off burner, and place whole head of cabbage into pot. Heat “in the skillet” oils over medium heat. Add contents of Ziploc bag to skillet and cook for about 5-6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add green onions and continue to cook for another 2-3 minutes. Remove from heat.

Gently pull one full leaf of wilted cabbage off of head with tongs. Drain off water, lay in a 9×13 pan, and add chicken mixture. Roll up tightly and lay in pan. Repeat with the rest of the leaves until the chicken mixture is used up.

Cover tightly with foil, place in 350-degree oven and cook for 20-25 minutes. Remove from oven and top with sunshine sauce, if desired. (I tried it with and without the sauce, and it was great either way!)

This is how the REAL women do it.

At least that’s what I’ve been told.  By women.  I’d be slightly more suspicious if it were the men who were dishing out this info while dishing some of the fruits of the real women’s labor into their traps.

Three generations of us real women (the 14yr old 4th generation was exercising her right to protest in front of the TV) gathered in my kitchen today and bulked up our biceps, triceps, glutes, fingers, and sweated buckets, almost as heavy as the ones we were lifting…

….to and from my stove.  Here are some of this year’s kitchen sights:

The prep

My peachies in their new homes

The trap filling goods of real women. All in a day's work! Much more bicep building ahead.

This sweat labor includes peaches, salsa, and pickled green beans.  Next on the agenda is massive amounts of plain ‘ol greenie beans (which are next to impossible to find this year!)

If it were not for the crack that my mom secretly snuck in those beans last year (I just know she did) then I wouldn’t be taking on this time sucker.  But once you take a bite, you fly like a kite (at least your taste buds do).

So what’da think?  Do you feel we sweaty and questionably bulked up women are real women? Now I know why farm girls can be scary and sport biceps rivaling that of their male counterparts.  OR do you believe as my daughter, who took one look at our living off the grid faces and repeated multiple times,

Real women go to the store!”

Do they?  I am at the store a lot.  And I can food (this year I actually did ’cause my Mom wouldn’t let me play the learner card).  Does that mean I am a real woman squared?!  All of you bulked up real women raise your canning jar or shopping bag because this is how the real women do it.

Enjoy this post that I wrote last year during another real women feat.

GUESS WHAT MY MOM TAUGHT ME TO DO?!?

Here’s a hint…..

Yes, we busted out her pressure cooker, blew off the dust, brought it to my home and began the adventure.  I respect those individuals who can because it is a lot of work!  Truth be told my mom did most of the work since I was “learning” but still, we’re talking hours here people.  Even with all of the work there is just something satisfying about looking over rims and rims of jars.  See….

….and thinking ‘I did that!’ Wow.  Now, one may consider tomatoes to be enough for the day but not my mom.  She is a true slave driver and we tease her mercilessly about her whip crackin’ demeanor.  In addition to the gazillion tomatoes, she brought a bushel of green beans too.  My 80+ year old Grammie began slaving away with those experienced bean snapping hands.

Grama threatened instant death…like snapping my neck rather than the beans death….if I placed anymore than a photo of her hands on this site. Sooooo, I will comply since I have a fondness for my cute little neck.   Since Grama is hands off, enjoy more photos of the beans!

OK, enough of the bean photos.  My mom did not say anything about keeping her photo off this site so here is the woman who taught me all I know 🙂
Thanks MOMMY!!!!

Teetering the crazy line

I love to eat.  Eating is my passion and favorite pastime.  When I am in consumption mode (especially with foods that I particularly love) everything else becomes a blur which is why I was not on my A game this particular Friday night.

Late Friday (early Saturday AM) Mr. Pavlov and I took the kids to Eat-n-Park after attending a meeting.  They were claiming starvation and muscle wasting and it would be inhumane to deprive them of a meal – i.e. MY stomach was rumbling. 

Tres, who was barely awake to begin with but didn’t want to miss out on anything, fell asleep promptly after placing his cheeseburger and fries order.  He conveniently sprawled out across the oversized booth and utilized my lap as his personal pillow.

Our order arrived just in time because we were all about to join Tres and go horizontal.  The deep-fried onion rings were serenading me and I entered my food induced state of oblivion.  It was only me and the onion rings and maybe my garden burger from the moment they landed on our table.  My head was in the trough and I was happy.

I didn’t notice the group of young males stalking our table.  I was blissfully unaware of the frequent pass bys and testosterone filled grunts.  I had my onion rings. I was complete.

My beautiful daughter jolted me to her reality with this statement,

“Mom, that table of guys over there keeps staring this way and pointing.”

Then Mr. Pavlov, who was seated right next to her (we had a LARGE booth and he was in the middle of Uno and Dos) replied,

“The one keeps walking by like he stole something!”

Dos, also in awareness mode added,

“Yea, he seems twitchy!”

With fried onion ring crumbs hanging from my mouth I replied,

“Are they staring at you and walking by to see you?”  

Smiling, she glanced over her right shoulder to where an ancient couple was sitting dutifully cutting each other’s blueberry pancakes and replied “W e l l……” 

Wow.  How did I miss this?  I am always on it and my guydar remains in a constant and finely tuned state.  My daughter is a cutie and boys know it!  But before I could wipe away the onion ring crumbs from my mouth and ponder my failure we received visitors….

Two “scruffies” as Dos called them interrupted my our feeding frenzy. Clearing their throats they ventured:

“Excuse me….uh, er, well my friend over there…the one in the corner…well, ah, he wants us to give you this (handing my beautiful baby a folded piece of white paper).  He thinks you’re, um, cute.  It’s his…ah, number and um, well, he wants you to call him.”

The beauty, Uno, smiled and said one simple word…O K A Y.  Mr. Pavlov glared and echoed Uno’s OKAY only in a much more menacing tone.  I finally wiped away my crumb residue and entered the here and now as I watched them walk away giving each other high fives and fist pumping the air.  The “Corner Guy” remained standing in the corner stalking observing Uno and her response.  I believed it was the intimidating glares and peacock posturing of Mr. Pavlov that drove him from the corner and sent him back to his seat with his friends until…..

….we were getting ready to leave when the brazen little punk decided to approach our table himself!   With Mr. Pavlov standing and peacock posturing beside him, he apologized for the behavior of his friends and in front of her entire family, asked our beauty to call him.  Mr. Pavlov gave a nod, the type of nod that says “Boy, you better move while you have the chance” and said,

“Let’s go!”

Corner guy finally retreated without the committment from Uno he wanted.  I guess I was somewhat high on my recent ingestion and wasn’t thinking clearly.  Feeling all warm and fuzzy from the fried food I heard myself call after him,

“You have good taste!”

He smiled.

Uno chuckled and replied,

“Good one Mom, but at least you didn’t threaten him with statutory rape this time!

Now that I am clear in the head and have given the scenario some thought I must ask, can you believe the boldness?  Maybe I am old school but boys would never approach a young girl in the presence of her family especially with her father seated right beside her.  Am I old school?  Is this the progressive style of the youth today?  I don’t like it.  Do you?

The youth of today are bold and daring.  I think the genetically altered, steroid laced food we consume has pumped them up and left them…

…teetering the crazy line!

The Virus and The Bread

Whew, I’m back.  If I ever hint that I am thinking about getting another puppy, hit me….hard.  My friend’s dog, The Virus (Mr. Pavlov’s affectionate nick name) was a trip and turned our home upside down for a while.  Toys that managed to survive the puppy stages of our (now mellow) Lab, were destroyed within seconds after meeting The Virus. 

One time during our dog sitting, I left our daughter with The Virus while I ran an errand.  She texted me A LOT during my brief time away.  The child has over 3,000 texts a month but seldom sends any my way.  I am text deprived and become a little too excited when I receive one.  If I had a tail it would wag uncontrollably and I just might slobber at the sound of a text.  When her number popped up on my phone I was about to wag and slobber but I knew something was up.  The first one read “When are you coming home?” 

I had just left.  She never requests me to return so soon.  Thankfully I wasn’t driving when the text came through.  I don’t text and drive – I’m old school and not that coordinated.  Texting aside, my phone really isn’t that car safe considering  it is all touch screen and I can’t “feel” the numbers when I attempt to dial.  I embody Helen Keller as I guess the location of the numbers and have been known to dial many wrong numbers.  It is most embarrassing at times especially when, after hearing a brief hello, I immediately begin the conversation with something like “Hey sexy, what time will you be home tonight?”  Awkward.

 After the initial  satisfaction of receiving a text from my cool girl dissipated, I replied, “I’m barely gone – why is everything ok?”

Her: “Yea, he’s just crazy. Come home soon!”

I was about to tell her to crate him when I got distracted by the bread that was on sale for .99cents.  We go through loaves and loaves of bread each week so .99cents was excitable.  It doesn’t take much to excite me people but you know you’re borderline pathetic when you palpitate over the price of bread.

Another text came through and before I could mount any excitement – which is actually a good thing because the endorphins from .99cent bread and a text would probably kill me on the spot – I noticed the single word “MOM!”

Then in rapid fire an avalanche of texts bombarded my technically advanced phone causing it to glitch and freeze momentarily.  Pictures followed.  My heart missed several beats.  My fingers cramped.  Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead.  I couldn’t keep up with queen text and I needed more bread!

The texts read “He dug up your potted plant to get a hidden toy lizard. Dirt is everywhere!” Wow, the toy lizard?  He saw it?  Tres, our youngest, buried that sucker a few years ago and no one ventured to remove it….until now.  The picture that followed contained the lizard and a pile of dirt all over my floor.  I wish I had the photos to post but in my haste, I deleted them.

“He ripped open a ton of stuffed animals, their stuffing is all over the floor and he is raping another.”  Stuffed animals?  I thought I had put those in places where he couldn’t reach.  Raping?  It was these next few pictures that caused my armpits to spring forth fountains of living water.

“He chewed the corner off of your woodwork.”  Really? The entire corner?  I had never had a dog chew off my woodwork corners…until now.

“He destroyed a baseball hat.”  I hope it wasn’t this year’s baseball hat!  I am cheap enough to make my dear son wear a mangled hat if it is at all functional. The photo quickly followed and it resembled the left overs from a flesh-eating beast .  It was ripped apart and had several teeth marks indentations. Near one of the indentations I made out the marking “2005″ Ahhh, I exhaled – until this time I had been unknowingly holding my breath.  It was a ball cap from our older son’s Dos, 2005 baseball season.  Younger Tres had been wearing the cap and left it in an accessible place for doggie teeth and death.

“He chewed the leashes.”  All of them?  Now how were we going to walk these furry beasts? I’d venture to say that our fatty helped him destroy the key item that made her physical activity possible.

“He shredded some of the boy’s toys.”  Hopefully it was the cheap, plastic McDonalds type!  The photos confirmed that most of the debris was from el’cheapo toys.  I never had a dog help with cleaning out toys…until now.

“He snacked on the bathroom garbage and you know what’s in that can!” Oh noooooo, that garbage can contains the remnants of Mother Nature’s monthly gift.  I bet he dined on my carpet.  He did.  I had the photos to prove it.

“He ripped apart my Abercrombie flipflops…we need to go shopping!” Hmmm, as traumatized, palpitating and sweaty as I was, I smelled an opportunistic rat.  By this time I was caught up in the sequential texts.  I waited for the photo.  I even began to talk to my phone.  Show me the photo, show me the photo.  I waited.  People took my bread.  I waited.  People asked me to hand them some bread (I was defensively blocking the bread shelf). I waited.  The bread supply dwindled.  I waited.  No photo.  No photo.  No photo….ever.

Texting paused, my mental faculties returned and seizing the moment, I texted “CRATE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  Then, I scarfed up more bread and bolted for home.  

All was in order.  The tornado pathway of destruction?  Cleaned.  The virus?  Peacefully sleeping in his crate.  My daughter?  Looking haggard.  Taking a deep breath she said “I didn’t know a dog could tear it up so much – until now.  But you can reward me with shopping.” 

I gave her a loaf of bread.

Looking up sustains life

During the craziness of life I have found that when I keep my mind and thoughts positive things look better and lives are spared. 

Like today, when the dog took a Goliath size dump right in front of the door I wanted to practice my blood-letting skills on her but instead, I took a deep breath and said “at least it’s on the ceramic tile.” 

This outlook saved her life….and the fact that we are dog sitting a rambunctious 1yr old lab who wouldn’t let her do her business outside.  He is a nut, a beautiful nut.  His color is fox red and is personality is fiery!  Our poor, fat, mellowed 5yr old lab experiences daily harassment and physical activity rape.  With her eyes she pleads for salvation and questions whether his presence in our abode is permanent. 

Although I believe a dog should physically combust before releasing any waste material in MY home, I gave her a one time pass.  She will live to die another day! 

 

Ours is the fat white one visually pleading for salvation in the background!

 

Help me...I must rest...must get air!!

Because usually the scene looks like this – ALL day long:

Play with me...pant, pant...play with me!

 I try to talk to our fatty in the spirit of looking up and viewing thing positively.  I explain that all of the exercise she is receiving is a good thing and will allow her to table surf for many more years.  Then I throw her a piece of food.

Oh yea, incase I forgot to mention her most recent conquest was an entire mixed berry pie, a loaf of bread and a batch of bananas all of which were consumed in under two minutes.  Really.  I turned my back for two minutes and that’s when she preformed her perfected air assault, paw maneuver causing (in one swoop) those three items to fall from their secured spot on the counter and into her enormous gastric holding area.

She chose to dine on the mixed berry pie on the solo carpeted living space we have.  It figures that the last piece of carpet left in our home was the feasting spot of my homemade, organic mixed berry pie that didn’t even touch my taste buds!  But I got to experience the heart warming joy of cleaning up the residue….look how close she was to dining on wood….grrr.

The mixed berry mess

 

It is still present but now faded.  I have scrubbed.  And scrubbed.  I thought about taking her far away from home and dog dumping her butt and I smiled.   When I realized that I would be the only one smiling, I decided to engage in some positive thoughts and secretly wished she developed an upset stomach or diarrhea – outside.  It helped and again, her life was spared at the thought of her gut spasming and cramping.  Looking up, it really works.

Now…how do I get this stain out of the carpet?????

A whole lot’a ugly!

I walked into my local grocery store today and guess what? The price of food has gone up…AGAIN.  All food.  Even the cheap, processed, fake junk is on the rise.  Speaking of fake, processed…I never understood why grocery store meat contained the little caption “caramel coloring added.”  Caramel coloring?  Meat has color to begin with so why the need for added coloring?  WELL, I recently discovered that meat will naturally turn grey as it sits on the shelf.  Yes, I don’t eat much meat and I have limited exposure to the stuff. I was BFs with meat until my younger brother went on a vegetarian kick that turned into a life style when he was a teen.  He took it upon himself to rescue his carnivorous family from our evil ways.  This salvation consisted of him shouting unpleasant stuff  like “That’s gonna rot in your gut for months!” with each meat laden fork-full we tried to enjoy.  If the above approach failed then he was thoughtful enough to provide us with a never-ending supply of putrid meat articles (conveniently placed at our meat fest place settings).  Before I knew it, I began to think animal flesh was rather gross and fiber became my new BFF. Sigh, he had me at gut rotting.  

….Grey meat.  Grey is a good thing.  Grey is our body’s friend.  We shoppers don’t like to see grey meat because it looks old and gross so enter our little friends caramel coloring and sodium nitrate.  Caramel keeps the meat looking pretty while we cook it and sodium nitrate allows it to remain the cancer causing neon red color for months of shelf-life. 

Disturbing. 

You can buy nitrate free lunch meat for a body part OR just tell your family the stuff is evil and move on. If they fight you just show them this:

Today, during a moment sale price enticement, I bought 4#s of evil for the kid’s lunches.  I also bought a grand daddy size of Benefiber.  I’m thinking if I dose enough in their food they will blow a load before the wickedness is actually absorbed.  I like my delusions and I like Benefiber.

To make me feel like a better mom and smooth my 4# guilt, I raided the fruit and leafy greens isle. The clementines that my family loves to devour are now priced $1 more per box.  Fresh fruit and veggies are nearing organ and body fluid donation prices. I’m partial to having two kidneys even though science informs me I can survive on one.  Maybe Mr. Pavlov can take one for the team and donate some of his boys.  He loves to boast of their swimming ability and should get a respectable price = lots of fruit for the donation.  Hmmmm…..that gives a whole new concept to “…fruit of thy loins…”

We want to eat healthy and we are making better choices but these prices aren’t making it easy for us.  And two of my three bambinos are professional eating machines.  Puberty, hormones, and growth spurts are causing raging appetites and with them, food bills.

How do you guys manage? 

From bogus meat to price gouging…it’s all ugly to me.