Can't it just be delicious?

While preparing for a Mother’s Day get together, I decided to buy big. We shopped Costco and came home with 3 lbs of flank steak and 2 fryer chickens. Far to much for the party, but enough for the party and easy cooking for the rest of the week. The flank steaks went on the grill with a homemade spiced rub and the chickens roasted in the oven heavily doused in butter and paprika. With the leftovers, and an Everyday Food recipe, I sliced the flank steak and served it with stir-fried snap peas and asparagus. I prepared fajitas another night and the following night there was of course my favorite stand-by: enchiladas.

As I was digging through the fridge and pantry to see what else I could add to my chicken and cheese enchiladas, I came across little baggies of pureed sugar beets in my freezer. Out went the thoughts of how I was using leftovers to save time in the kitchen while still serving tasty and healthful meals, and in came those of intentions gone awry.

I had roasted and pureed them after a visit to the farmers’ market in an attempt to build my freezer reserve necessary to prepare the recipes from Jessica Seinfeld’s cookbook. Yes, I caved. Yes, I bought the cookbook that I swore smugly to myself I would not. My children eat vegetables, I told myself. Deceptively Delicious? I want my children to KNOW they are eating vegetables. No deceit here, thank you very much. And add to the bulging wallet of a woman married to a celebrity who bleeds green? Must not do it!

Then one night I noticed the Moppet happily taking apart her green beans to get the teeny tiny peas inside and then discarding the rest on the floor. Yes, she’s still eating a part of it, but my floor shouldn’t be getting the bulk of her vegetable serving. So could adding more veggies to their diets in any form hurt? And that’s how Deceptively Delicious found a home on my cookbook shelf.

A month later and I haven’t gotten beyond the roasted and pureed sugar beets in 1/4 cup serving sizes stored in baggies in my freezer. Apparently you REALLY need a food processor. I’m still saving up for one. Well, have been for the last 10 years. Not to mention time to prepare the purees.

But back to the enchiladas. I plopped a baggie of pureed beets into the meat mixture. I also added leftover brown rice to pump up the fiber content. As for the Monkey and the Moppet? They did what they always do with enchiladas--devoured them. Still, I couldn’t get the image of Ms. Seinfeld smiling to herself while her children unwittingly ate their disguised vegetables as she describes in her introduction. So as soon as the Monkey paused from relaying one of his Speed Racer adventures, I chimed in, "Hey, can you taste the beets in the enchiladas?" "Sure, Mom," he replied as he took another bite. Unfortunately, he didn’t really care that I was talking vegetables, he just heard my question as a familiar cue to stop talking and, well, eat.

Platano Rolls

After picking up the monkey from preschool (not an actual monkey, but my four-year old), the three of us (including the moppet) headed out to the Latin markets downtown in search of platanos maduros (ripe plantains) and queso frito (actually called queso para freir or cheese for frying, a Nicaraguan staple). We lucked out on some perfect, ready to slice-and-fry platanos, but our search for queso frito found only a package of expired cheese. The monkey and I were rather disappointed, but we were still pretty hungry so home we headed where the real adventure began.

"Should we have platanos and avocado rolls for lunch?" I asked rhetorically, for I didn’t care what answer they gave. I was looking forward to it. Since I was a kid, I’ve been making avocado rolls with cooked corn tortillas, smashed avocado and salt and pepper. The kids sometimes enjoy them. They’re kids after all. The monkey said he didn’t like avocado rolls. "Really? Let’s just try it," I answered. "I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich...please," he responded. I told him that we would try what I made and if he was still hungry, I would make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

While the platanos were cooking, the monkey asked if he could have a platano roll instead of the avocado. "You want the platanos wrapped in the tortilla?" I asked somewhat quizzically. It didn’t sound like the monkey who usually liked all his foods neatly separated from one another. But as I was arranging his roll (with avocado, mind you), I thought, well Cubans have platanos in their sandwiches, why not? So I tried it, too, but with mine I smashed the platanos along with the avocados. It was delicious. Sweet and savory and just enough flavor of home that I didn’t miss the queso frito. I raised a roll to the monkey at the table and toasted his concoction. The monkey loved it as well. The moppet picked her platano out and licked the avocado off her tortilla and asked for more platanos. "But you have some on your plate," I pointed out. "Dirty," she replied.

After lunch as I was washing the dishes feeling like a cool mom for 1) getting the kids to eat Nicaraguan style foods and 2) fostering the monkey’s creative juices, the monkey came up to me and asked if he could have his peanut butter and jelly sandwich now.

Visit France for....

Yeah, yeah, bread, wine, cheese, chocolate, pastries, delectable items at cheaper-than-Safeway prices. Of course you should go to France for all that. Here's what we REALLY need though:

What are these crazy little boxes, you ask? They are very yummy cracker-ish snacks that go perfectly with a champagne apértif. (And you know you spend time sitting around wondering what to serve with all the champagne you consume...) We tried these at my friend's parents' house and they went immediately on the list of Things I Like About France. What's not to love?

1) They come in small boxes. No opening a huge box of crackers that becomes stale overnight. They are just big enough for a small dinner party to enjoy with a pre-dinner drink. 

2) They have cool flavors. We had crackers stuffed with tomatoes, goat cheese and herbs when we were in France, and then were sent home with 4 (yes FOUR) boxes of different flavors. The two you see above are Roquefort (blue cheese but better) and Tarama (roe-- which I like much better in a cracker than on an ivory spoon). 

3) They are CHEAP. While these foodie crackers taste like the equivalent of $7.00 crackers available at Andronico's, they are available at Monoprix, a ubiquitous supermarket found all over France for around $2.00. Cheaper than Wheat Thins! (Not to malign this staple of preschool snacks, but I wouldn't serve Wheat Thins with champagne...)

So if you happen to be a buyer at any store I visit frequently, put this on the list of "Things We Should Import." And then make sure the price stays low...

Loaf of Meat

With two kids under the age of four (and still recovering from a day spent walking great lengths for tantalizing city bites and drinks only to come home to the two kids needing to be washed up and put to bed), I wasn’t in the right mind set the following night to tackle a meal that would require chopped ingredients or thought. I happily decided on scrambled eggs and took a rest on the bed calling out orders to the monkey and the moppet.

After half an hour, I got up, changed a diaper and remembered I had one egg. Could it work? No, so out came the cookbooks for inspiration. And there it was "Enchiladas." The actual recipe was of no concern, I just needed direction. Could I make the leftover meatloaf work a third time? First try, I served the meatloaf with brown rice: monkey loved, moppet spat out, but ate the brown rice; second try, included it in a layered polenta lasagne with spiced-up store bought marinara: monkey picked out meatloaf, moppet picked out polenta.

My fridge offered the enchilada staples: corn tortillas, Casa Lidia’s Enchilada Sauce and shredded cheese. Add crumbled meatloaf, corn, and rice and we were in business. If you’ve never used corn tortillas and are interested in trying, wrap the necessary quantity (I’ve done up to 20) in slightly damp paper towels and nuke for 25-60 seconds for hot, steamy and pliable corn tortillas. Twenty minutes after assembling the enchiladas and popping them into the oven, we had dinner. For those keeping score: the monkey and the moppet ate the whole enchilada and a side of edamame.

Café Gratitude: Confessions of an Ingrate

Coming back from a long hot run in Marin today, Alex said that he wanted a salad. I thought hmmmm... well, I know that Café Gratitude is in San Rafael and I'm SURE they will have salads, so we went. One would hope (particularly after reading the website) that I would have left feeling enlightened and healthy and whole. This was not the case. Café Gratitude quite possibly brought out the worse in me--and I like to think of myself as someone who is not averse to deep thoughts or occasional self-reflection.

First, they have perhaps the most irritating names for everything on their menu. They all start with "I am..." and then end with adjectives like "rejuvenated" or "happy" or "sassy"-- I kid you not. And then when the waiter takes your order, he or she says "You are sassy and you are dazzling." Try being told you are dazzling after running 13 miles with a beet red face and dried salt all over you without laughing in the person's face.

Second, everyone is so damn happy I went immediately into catty/bitchy mode. This mood was further enhanced when the waitress came up to our table and started our exchange with "Can I ask you the question of the day?" I thought, "Trivia night seems a little out of place here, but I love questions" and said yes. "What are you grateful for?" she asked. I had to ask her to repeat it and the only thing I could think of (which was true!) was that I was grateful to not be running anymore. Her face fell. I had missed the cue to the performance--I hadn't given a "grateful" answer--I wasn't grateful for world peace or the harmony between children or the sunlight falling through the window. No, my legs hurt and I was really glad to be sitting down. (I suppose the Desired Café Gratitude answer would have been that I was grateful to be healthy enough to run on such a beautiful day-- which I AM, but when I'm very low on blood sugar, I'm far less likely to see the beauty in the world around me.)

After she left, Alex and I said we should have told her I was grateful I would be going home to barbecue dead animals and drink beer-- the antithesis of Café Gratitude.

Third, they provide each table with cards from their board game to read/discuss while the food is being prepared. The questions contained banal, trite questions like "When did you last feel a spiritual connection with nature?" or "What do you usually do when you are around people who are really angry and how could you respond with love to them?" These are approximations as I was so hungry I couldn't remember precisely, but the gist is the same. As a friend pointed out later, "You're not there for group-- you're trying to eat lunch!" However, I suppose they give you cards with such deep premises not to make you feel shallow and cliché (my first thought) but because the service is not quick. I do not understand this considering they're not cooking anything and any food prepared with the dryer would be done ahead of time. Even getting the half an avocado I ordered but the waitress forgot ("I AM missing my avocado") took much longer than I would have to split it and put the inside on a plate.

But here's the true confession: the food is really damn good. I had a "Caesar" salad that was outstanding. You could not mistake it for the original dish, but it was a very, very tasty salad. Brazil nuts were ground up and added to something else to make "Brazil Nut Parmesan" and the "live" croutons were delicious. They tasted nothing like real croutons (in the same way that tofu tastes nothing like ricotta cheese) but were quite pleasant on their own. I had a virgin cucumber margarita that was one of the most refreshing drinks I've had in a while. Lovely, lovely drink. Alex had a fruit salad with some coconut yogurt that was out of this world. We didn't want to admit that it was so yummy, but it WAS.

It was upsetting.

Would I recommend Café Gratitude? Since the main purpose of a restaurant is to serve good food, yes. I still think it's overpriced for some chopped up vegetables, but if it wasn't a weekly event, I could handle it. However, the ambience is not for everyone. If you have any kind of sarcastic, cynical or snide bent to your personality, I highly recommend that you go alone and tell no one of your transgressions. I know that if I returned there with any one of a number of close friends (especially my brother!) we would spend the whole meal giggling and making fun of the accoutrements of the restaurant and possibly the waitstaff as well. So much for a grateful perspective.