I made a mistake as a parent I would suggest anyone reading this with young kids avoid: for a while — and waaaaayyy longer than I should have — I made separate meals for certain kids who did not like (maybe even refused to put one bite in his mouth) of the general dinner. On a given night that could mean I made four dinners. I know, I know, I know! This is CRAZY and goes against every parenting book out there. I took the path of least resistance, what can I tell you? (And I know I’m not the only one out there.)
First our apologies. Mike the Gay Beer Guy did his part: He got his post about beer and risotto in plenty of time for his monthly post … and then we blew it. We meant to post it on Friday, we really did, but then M got sick and Rachel forgot and Janet didn’t check in because she was too busy and, well, here we are on Monday putting up Friday’s post.
But we know you know how that is so we’re hopeful to have your forgiveness.
At any rate, here are Mike’s pearls of wisdom. Enjoy!
Hi Janet, Hi Rachel. As both of you know, moving is a pain. I moved a few weeks ago, and my new kitchen is simply a chaotic mess … pots and pans everywhere, random ingredients strewn about, AND, in the middle of all this confusion, someone ordered the wrong stove and fridge, so we were stuck with only a microwave for a few days! Although the process of moving is a pain, a benefit is finding all of your kitchen items at the old place that were stuck behind things (I know I know, “things” is a very ambiguous word, but seriously … it’s all just THINGS). On cleaning, I stumbled upon Arborio rice that I had once bought to make risotto. PERFECT COMFORT FOOD. Here is my quick and easy risotto recipe, with chicken stock almost from scratch (I fudged a few things since I don’t have my kitchen completely set up yet.)
We had good friends over for dinner and Susan (she of Fake It Til You Make It fame) requested enchiladas. I blithely said sure and kept this little secret to myself: I had actually never made enchiladas before.
I know, I know, it seems incredible after this many decades of cooking but so it goes. I had made tacos and burritos and even fajitas but never enchiladas. I also had never eaten an enchilada — none of which I was going to share with Susan. After all, she can still whip out the Cool Whip story on any given day in front of anyone. (See same post on Fake It Til You Make It.)
John here: Before Rachel got pregnant, I knew two truths about pregnant women: they are hormonal and they are picky eaters. Rachel’s always been hormonal, I have tools for navigating that, but the food issue had me nervous. I can’t eat pickle sandwiches for dinner, I just can’t. Rachel did have a pickle phase but it was short lived and stayed mostly to eating them out of the jar and not in weird combinations like with ice cream or something else ridiculous. I could deal with that and I did. While I was expecting the worst from my beloved pregnant wife, sneaking yummy snacks so as to not be too hungry when her urge for okra or uncooked rolled oats kicked in, she was busy building a formidable hunger and unending desire for the staple food of her pregnancy: Hot Wings. Whoa…. Am I the luckiest man alive or what?