Kitchen Wins from a Non-Cook
Back to the kitchen. Grumble, grumble, grumble.
I am probably late to this game (Jessica Seinfeld anyone?), but a SIX POUND winter weight gain coupled with motherhood propelled me to finally try Black Bean Brownies.
Pros: Simple. Smooth. Protein. Fiber. Chocolate. Kids ate ’em right up and the only bean they have previously eaten is of the jelly variety.
Cons: Bland (hence no link to recipe but google it, there are a million of them). I think a high quality cocoa would help tremendously (I have no-name cheapie stuff) but until I find some, I will either increase the brown sugar and/or mini-choc chips. Look at that – I already forgot about those six pounds.
Stop this post! I have successfully cooked fish. Chili, Lime and Cumin Cod
I do not tackle flesh. I might cook some sausage or curry some chicken, but I am mainly a veggie girl. Kris handles the meat in this house. HEYYYY! But sometimes you just gotta do.
Pros: Easy. Fast. So delicious.
Cons: Didn’t make enough of it.
My hand hurts from patting myself on the back for this next one. In Pot Pie of Despair I wrote about dinner table difficulties and the peace treaty negotiated (can one negotiate with oneself?). This bit is about success so please, follow along!
I have had a juicer for almost ten years. The only time I really haven’t used it is when we lived in Bermuda where produce cost a fortune. I like veggie juice, especially in the winter, and I really used to like it with vodka but that was then and this is breastfeeding. It dawned on me this winter that I was making juice for myself and buying juice for my kids. I don’t … what … this is … NO.
I stopped buying juice and the kids started making their own.
Farrah Star is the filler. Arlo is the pusher. Farrah is the stirrer. Arlo is the pourer.
Man, are they into the juicer! That machine is loud and it pulverizes solid matter into liquid. And they make that happen. I think they would even turn off Paw Patrol to make juice. But here’s the deal – they have to drink it if they want to make it. The drinking part still comes with plenty of reminding from Kris and me, but it gets drunk. Drank. Dranken. Drunken? Vodka!
That’s cantaloupe juice right there. My kids refuse to eat cantaloupe. They also make apple/carrot/cucumber juice. My kids refuse to eat carrots and cucumbers. Now they get it all and get it raw. RAW, Baby! I’ll take a little pulp in my success thankyouverymuch.
I know what you’re thinking – well, why not have them help me cook too?
I derive no pleasure in cooking and I work to erase all traces of it – meaning I clean constantly while doing it. I like my kitchen like I like my bowels; empty and clean. Fiber! No kids allowed, in either space.