Archive for December, 2009

28
Dec

…a fool for a builder….

   Posted by: Ashley Moreno    in Chaos

As I type this, it is 20 degrees outside. Farenheit, for my readers across the pond. In Texas. And the wind chill is 11. I have friends and relatives in New England and the Great White North who think that sounds balmy right now, but I will happily remind them that not only will I be shelling out a couple grand to the propane company this winter, but come the long Texas summertime, I’ll be forkin’ over the $$$ to keep my house cool-ish (cool-esque?) when it’s 108 outside. Maybe “happily remind” was a poor word choice….

Anyway, it’s cold. And the one thing that makes winter weather salvageable is curling up on the couch in front of the fireplace. Only I don’t have a fireplace. Well, I do have a fireplace, but it doesn’t work.

See, the day my fireplace was installed, I mentioned that I didn’t feel a whole lotta heat being generated. The guy what did the installing said, “Oh, this unit’s more for yer atmosphere than fer actually heatin’ yer house.” Really? I paid you $1,800 to give my living rooom atmosphere? Because I distinctly remember looking the sales rep in the eye and forming the words “I want a fireplace that can heat my house if the heating goes out.”  Was I too vague about my sole criterion?

I should have had my builder tell the guy to rip it out and bring me a new one, and truth be told, the words “rip” and “new one” were definitely at the top of my mind, just not relating to the fireplace….

Okay, I have a great imagination. Barring the heater actually going out, I can still sit on my couch with a cup of tea in front of a fireplace and pretend it’s actually generating heat. And I did. For about 3 weeks, at which point we ran out of propane. 500-gallon propane tank, empty. The verynice propane guy actually came out to investigate (“We’ve never had anyone go through 500 gallons of propane in 3 weeks before. 500 gallons of propane should last more than 3 months.”) and discovered that our “atmosphere” sucked down propane like a frat boy at a keg party. I mean, like a frat boy sucks down beer, not propane. Anyway….

Truth be told, the fireplace is only one of many sob stories. There’s also the garage door opener that won’t close when the temperature dips below 40 degrees or when it’s too sunny. And the top-of-the-line 72-gallon air-jet bathtub that the electricians burned out when they accidentally hooked my house up to 220 instead of 110. And the pricey paint that promised to make my hardy-plank look like beautiful stained cedar, only The Hubby couldn’t convince the painters to follow the directions, despite the fact that he implored them in both fluent Spanish and English. And don’t forget the fact that the breaker to the master bedroom trips every time it thunders.

Face it, our builder dropped a few balls. Nice person—well intentioned, and I guess I have to admit that most of the important stuff turned out all right. But every time I break a nail prying open a knobless linen closet door, or I absent-mindedly flip on a switch that’s not hooked up to anything, I curse my builder beneath my breath.

Yes, our builder was a certifiable crazy-woman. I’m just glad The Hubby didn’t divorce her….

to be continued…. possibly….

Tags: , , , ,

23
Dec

Unrecipe for Kefta

   Posted by: Ashley Moreno    in Food

Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve just finished eating a week’s worth of Thanksgiving leftovers, coupled with the fact that we’re gearing up for Christmas dinner with it’s requisite ham and the cheesey goodness of broccoli-rice casserole, but my kids and I are finding that American fare is holding little appeal for us these days.

My kids are fairly adventurous eaters. Okay, so Ethan gags if he doesn’t like a certain texture, Ramie “just isn’t a bread person,” Mason’s diet consists of maily beige and white, and Riley goes vegetarian a couple of times a year. But I’ve introduced them to a wide variety of cuisines from all over the world with surprisingly favorable results.

Last week, as we were staring at a freezer bag filled with the last of the turkey chowder, Riley, Ethan, and I looked at eachother and, as if the thought emanated from the freezer along with the cold air and wafted into our ears and then our brains, we declared in unison, “Kefta!”

Kefta are mediterranean meatballs that can be found from Morocco to Persia (okay, not actually found, as in–oh, looky there! Kefta, right behind that rock! You know what I meant). And they happen to be one of our favorite meals.036 In fact, Ethan has declared on more than one occasion that kefta is definitely his favorite meal, most recently about 2 hours ago, as we were scarfing down on a delicious lunch of kefta, couscous, flatbread, and tabouleh.

 

I always believed my version was Moroccan–I gleaned the basics from an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, which was perfect for me because there was no technical “recipe”: he basically just narrated as the cameraguy filmed an old man in Marakesh making it.  Then I met a young man from Morocco at the Moroccan pavillion at EPCOT and talk quickly turned to–you guessed it—kefta. He chided me for not using egg in my recipe. “The old Moroccan guy on tv didn’t use egg,” I told him. He shook his head at me. “You must use egg. After you let the meat sit, before you roll it, then you mix it in.” So I do…sometimes.  Truth is, I’m not crazy about the feeling of raw dead cow between my fingers—it’s a necessary evil if I want kefta—and then to add raw egg on top of it, GACK! 

Last year I met another Moroccan chef who told me that if I put mint in my kefta, then it’s not Moroccan–it’s Persian. Hold the phone—the old guy on tv used mint. The Moroccan guy at EPCOT was cool with the mint. I like mint—dare I say, I LOVE mint. So I’m not sure how authentic my recipe is, but it works for us.

So here, for your culinary delight, is my UNrecipe for kefta.  Consider it my Christmas gift to you!

KEFTA

2 lbs. ground meat—beef, lamb, or some combination of the two (I use beef. Riley once raised a lamb for an ag project. In case you’re not familiar with Ag projects, they culminate at auction, or ‘market.’ When the nursery rhyme says, “This little piggy went to market,” I don’t think she went shopping for a new pair of shoes. Riley knew from the outset that “auction” meant “pass the mint jelly,” and she insisted that she was totally okay with that…until the word “SOLD!” exited the auctioneer’s lips, at which point she commenced with the wailing. She wailed for weeks. And to this day, when we go eat mediterranean food she makes me verify with the server that there is no lamb in whatever she orders).

Oh—don’t use pork. Just don’t. I mean, it’s your kitchen and all, but if you use pork you are definitely not making Kefta. And if you DO ignore my imploration and use pork anyway, don’t invite your Moroccan (or Persian) friends to come sample the Kefta you just made (which is not really Kefta). Seriously, it would be a really, really bad idea.

Okay….meat. Check. Next:

Herbs: 1 bunch parsley, 2 bunches cilantro, 2 of the small herb clamshells of fresh mint. Chop them all up finely. If you use the food processor, you can just add the seasonings in as well.

Seasonings: garlic, cumin, coriander, paprika, cayenne pepper. That question that’s on your mind right now—the answer is, “Heck, I dunno. How much do you want to use?” I go really light on the cayenne, because E & Ra can’t handle too much spice.

Oh–salt. Don’t forget salt. Use your best judgement.

Mix it all together with the meat. Refrigerate for about an hour, a couple of hours if you have time. At this point, you have to decide whether you’re going to go with my buddy from EPCOT, or with the old guy on Anthony Bourdain. Today, I didn’t do the egg. It worked out fine. Maybe if you’re using really lean meat, you should listen to my Disney buddy and go for the egg.

SAUCE: 

2 large cans crushed tomatoes

garlic powder

coriander

cumin

salt

paprika (I like a lot. I’m not sure why, it just seems right)

cinnamon (just a sprinkle. Maybe….1/8 tsp?)

Mix sauce ingredients in a big cookpot on the stove and heat. Oh–I forgot, this is a really big batch, so you might need to divide the sauce between 1 pots, & put half the meatballs in each. Or you can just stack them. Either way.

Make meatballs, add to the pot, and simmer covered. I dunno…30ish minutes? 45? You’re probably a better judge of that than I am—I have no concept of time.

If you were a real Moroccan making these in Morocco, you’d use a Tagine, which is a conical clay thing that kind of steams stuff. I don’t have one. I really want one. If you ever happen to be in Morocco and you’re trying to decide what to bring me as a souvenir, there’s an idea for you. Just give me a heads up so I can have all the ingredients on hand when you bring it by, so I can whip up a fresh batch to thank you. ;-)

Serve with couscous. I don’t have a teriffic couscous recipe. I make the kind that comes in the box. I don’t love it. I love real couscous, the kind with raisins and some savory sweet spice that I as yet have been unable to identify. If you have a stellar couscous recipe and feel like sharing, I would totally love that.

Oh–and flatbread. You have to have flatbread to sop up all the glorious sauce. Toufan makes a decent flatbread that you can probably find near the pitabread in your store. Technically, it is pita—not the dried out “pocket bread” pita that you stuff with tuna and sprouts. If your grocery store doesn’t carry it, find a Greek restaurant (or mediterranean if you’re so lucky as to have one nearby) and ask them if they’ll sell you a couple of packages. My local Greek restaurant sells them to me for about $4 a package.

Merry Christmas! Enjoy your Kefta!

Tags: , , , , , ,

21
Dec

Bah, Monday….

   Posted by: Ashley Moreno    in Uncategorized

 

I don’t do Mondays.

Being a stay-at-home mom, Monday holds no special meaning for me. It differs little from its other weekly compatriots.

I know it holds some significance to a lot of other people. For many, it’s the day they go back to work or school. For most stay at home moms, the kids are out of the house, and life takes a daily break from insanity. Not so for us homeschooling moms. And the fact that I also have 2 in school means I still have to wake up early and make the 45 minute round trip drive to drop them off before coming home and starting school & housework with the older two.

No, I choose not to celebrate Monday. In fact, I choose not to even recognize it. I realize millions of people around the world do recognize Monday, as evidenced by countless calendars and tv guides. And you’re free to recognize it and celebrate it as you see fit–as long as your recognizing and celebrating doesn’t infringe on my right to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Please don’t wish me a Happy Monday. Don’t post Mondayisms on your Facebook status. And those song references–Manic Monday; Monday, Monday; Come Monday—do you have any idea how offensive it is for someone who doesn’t practice Monday to listen to your Monday songs?

Local Restaurants advertising “Monday specials?” Extremely offensive. Oh, I have no problem enjoying the specials, I just don’t want to have to acknowledge Monday to do it.

So what if the celebration of Monday dates back centuries–who cares? Besides, did you know the origins of the names of all the days of the week–including Monday—come from the planets and some Norse gods? Yep, they have pagan roots. Bet that puts a damper on things.

I don’t care that Monday will come whether I celebrate it or not, and that you simjply wish to express your hopes that the day be a pleasant one for me. In fact, I propose we rename the whole thing “First Weekday,” or maybe “Weekday One.” Then those of us who don’t embrace all the day stands for won’t feel left out of your little Monday club.

Tomorrow, I’m drafting a letter to the ACLU, asking them to consider lobbying to remove the word “Monday” from the English vernacular. I figure they’ll be all over it….

Happy Monday, Happy Chanuka, and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Blog Widget by LinkWithin