Kitchen Creations

Franken-sweats

Learning to sew is something I never anticipated in my life. Work left very little room for creative pursuits and for the many years I did work outside of the home, I was a type A workaholic.

Since the birth of my son, I’ve felt my brain deteriorating–literally melting within my skull. Something about those many months of vomiting and not being able to take the prenatal vitamins…basically, he ate my brain.

I’ve decided now that he is two, it’s time for me to reopen some synapse pathways. This blog is one way I’m doing that, cooking odd desserts another, exercising twice a week and taking vitamins–because, why not?– and finally, for two months now I’ve been  trying to learn to sew.

I say “trying to learn to sew” because my attempts have been both hilarious and cringe inducing.

Today’s blog will introduce you to my latest victim:  Franken-sweats.

These sweats were actually intended for my brother in law as a Christmas gift, but after two full months of planning and working on them in my “free” time, I’ve conceded defeat. They are done, but absolutely cannot be given as a gift. Instead, my husband has graciously accepted them into his pajama drawer.

What went wrong?  EVERYTHING.

One important issue that I learned about thanks to these sweats is thread. All thread is NOT created equal. That thread I bought at the charity shop for 50 pence?  There is a reason it was 50 pence. That thread I bought at an alleyway sidewalk vendor for 79 pence?  There is a reason it was 79 pence. That one glorious thread that I bought online for $2.99 in the US and had my husband pick up from a friend while he was on a business trip?  Worth it’s weight in gold!!!

There are several different thread spools in these sweatpants. In fact, there are four. Two are glorious and two made me tear at my hair and bemoan the fates for allowing me to cheap out not once, but twice. Lesson learned.

Another lesson learned? Measure twice, cut once. This is a valuable lesson and I wish I would absorb it for once…and I thought I did…apparently I need to measure thrice.

The last lesson, and valuable above all the rest, is how to thread a bobbin. How many hours have I spent attempting this feat?  You don’t need to know. Suffice to say, I’m still working on it. Subject closed.

Wait, did I say that was the last lesson?  I was clearly confused. The most valuable lesson came a week after completion of Franken-sweats. I needed some pants and grabbed them from hubby’s dresser. What a shock!  These are literally the most comfortable sweats I’ve ever worn!  Sure, the tie is on the hip and one le is two inches shorter than the other, still so comfy!  Much like my cooking, while my sewing projects may be ugly, using superior ingredients (in this case materials) leads to a cozy final product.

I plan to share more of my sewing tragedies and hopefully one day triumphs as this blog continues. What do you think of Sewing Sunday?  That can be a thing, right?  Keep me honest people, keep me honest.

Enjoy these glamorous shots of Franken-sweats in action.

Franken-sweats Franken-sweats Franken-sweats

Standard
Kitchen Creations

Hidden Banana

image

Well, I’ve neglected this blog for much too long. Now that Drake is sleeping slightly (emphasis on slightly) longer, it’s time to get writing. I’ve decided no topic is too small or too big to disqualify and as such, my next post will be about Hidden Bananas.

What are hidden bananas? Well, it’s Drake’s new name for a dessert I created this week. Like so many people, I have a solid sweet tooth, and also a solid guilt complex. Now that I have a child, it’s just not practical for me to be eating so much sugar, because then he wants it. Also, as a woman who lives with endometriosis and fibromyalgia, my addiction to baked goods often leads to painful cramping and inflammation. Add in the milk allergy that I ignore and hello headaches. How to get around this?

Hidden bananas was the answer this week.

Hidden bananas was an exploration in tapioca or sago as some call it. As a child, I only knew tapioca as that gross pudding my mom was always eating when we had chocolate or vanilla. I still don’t like traditional tapioca pudding…

After exploring the internet, I saw a common theme in asian cooking, using coconut milk as a base instead of cow’s milk. Score! We always have that in the house.

I soaked my small beads of tapioca for one hour, as the internet wisdom waffled between 15 minutes and overnight. After that, I rinsed them, drained, and added them to a pot of coconut milk and water that was brought to a swift boil. The internet was vague on this too. Most recipes called for 30 minutes on the stove. Mine was ready within 10 minutes. Just keep a close eye on it to make sure and keep stirring!! I checked by pulling up a spoonful and making sure the white center was gone.

In that coconut milk mix I added some muscavado sugar (dark brown sugar for us yanks), some of my homemade vanilla, and a pinch of salt.

After the tapioca looked cooked, I removed it from the stove and put it into an 8×8 pan to set up. Two hours later I tried it and it was…BLAND. Blech! No desire to put those fish eggs in my mouth.

What’s a girl to do? Big pot of bland tapioca, sweet tooth, kitchen full of options? Only one thing came to mind–CHOCOLATE 😀

So, I spooned out a serving, stirred in some Dutch processed cocoa powder and a dollop of runny honey. At this point I could have stopped, but I needed to make this a bit more toothsome to satisfy my craving. Hello banana.

This recipe actually ends up looking a bit nasty. Brownish muck with fish eggs and lumps of white goo. Drake took one look and told me he wanted a spoonful with the “hidden banana”. We’ve made it a game. He hunts out the banana slice he wants and that’s the spoonful he gets. In between, I shovel spoonfuls indiscriminately into my mouth. This stuff is ugly but it is delicious!

Next time I will add a bit of honey to the coconut milk instead of the muscavado sugar, which did nothing for me, and maybe add the cocoa powder at that stage too. We’ll see. For now I’m enjoying personalizing each portion.

For those of you adventurous types who would like to give this a try, here is a recipe to start with:

Hidden Bananas

1 cup small tapioca pearls (sago)
1 can full fat coconut milk
2 cans water ( I used coconut milk can)
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 cup honey or more to taste

Extra honey
Cocoa powder
Bananas

Soak tapioca pearls in 3 cups water for 1 hour. Rinse thoroughly and drain.

Whisk together coconut milk, water, vanilla, salt, and honey in a heavy bottomed pot over medium to medium high heat (depending on your stove/cooker). Add tapioca pearls and stir to combine.

Bring tapioca mixture to a rolling boil, whisking throughout. It’s ok to walk away for 30 seconds, but don’t push it, this is particularly important once the ingredients are boiling.

Once tapioca pearls are see-through and the white center is pretty much gone, remove from heat and pour the mixture into a heat proof dish. Allow to cool. I recommend storing this in the fridge as the flavor and texture are better the next day after chilling.

To serve, mix in cocoa powder, honey, and banana to taste. I use about 1/2 -1 tsp cocoa powder and 1 -2 tsp honey along with 1 banana for a 1 cup portion of tapioca mix. I’m not a calorie counter. If you are more of a small portion person, you will want to account for that in your mix ins.

I hope you enjoy this tasty vegetarian (not vegan) treat! Feel free to leave me suggestions for how you choose to revise this recipe as I’m always looking for variations on treats.

Standard
Parenting

A Female Conundrum…

Tonight something innocent happened and my own reaction is troubling.

When going down for a nap, Drake reached up and tugged on the hair in my armpit. He thought this was funny. I was appalled. It’s not a forest in there, really just a bit of fuzz from my last shave last week. The question is, why was I appalled? Also, why does it matter to me how much hair is under my arm?

Hair is natural. It grows where it will and has distinct biological uses. If I recall correctly from my school days, hair under the arms is intended to trap pheromones and increase the odds of attracting a mate. So, technically a bit of fuzz should increase attractiveness, albeit on a subconscious and purely physical level.

Despite knowing this and usually having zero issues with my sometimes lazy shaving habits (and having lived very close to Berkeley), I was still embarrassed. So, what’s that say about me? Apparently I’ve bought into the stereotypes about gender and attraction from mainstream media. The idea that women should be hairless dolls is one I’ve always found offensive, but apparently I did buy into it on some level… Ugh.

In the long run is this really a big deal? No, it isn’t. However, it is a reality check. I don’t want to raise my baby boy with an unrealistic view of women. That needs to start with me.

So, next time he grabs under my arm and encounters a bit of fuzz or even a forest, I think I will try to giggle along with him. To heck with you unrealistic ideals. I’m a woman and I have to keep my razor away from the tub so my kid doesn’t cut himself in the bath. Shaving daily just isn’t an option. I’m going to keep rocking that fuzz and sending all those pheromones in the hubby’s direction. So suck it.

Standard
Parenting

It’s gotta be the hormones…

Today I had an epiphany that I wanted to share. Those of you who spent the early months of Drake’s life with me will doubtless not be surprised by this blog at all…the rest of you? We’ll see.

Children are a-holes. They really are. First they are little eggs that grow and expand and develop…and during that development what do they do? They eat their mothers. Seriously. We don’t take prenatal vitamins for the baby. We take them to replenish what the baby takes! That bad memory you may have after your baby is born, what do you think caused it? The parasite you birthed. All that vomiting, constipation, heartburn, acne… the list goes on. All gifts from your dear sweet baby.

Then the baby is born and what do you know? Love at first sight–for the parent. Hormones that work to control you to keep that little baby safe. Thank goodness for those hormones!!! If not for them things would definitely not go well.

I was thinking today about all the teenagers I knew who said they wanted a baby so that someone would love them unconditionally. Well you know what? That’s not a baby, that’s a dog. Babies love conditionally. They want food, clean diapers, snuggles, to bite your nipple and scratch inside your nose, pinch you, and head butt you…if you choose not to give those things, I guarantee you won’t like the response. Screams, tears, epic fits! And this from a teeny tiny baby. In our case, I think the love was one-sided for at least 6 months. Then occasionally I would get a smile–and suddenly those hormones would kick in and woohoo!!! I could totally do this all day. Thank goodness for those hormones…

Now, after one year of screaming, pinching, biting, kicking, sleepless nights, and bloody noses, the payoff is finally coming. Hugs and kisses have arrived! And what do they do? Honestly, they make up for all the headaches, vomiting, constipation, acne, stitches, etc… How on earth can hugs accomplish all that?

It’s gotta be the hormones…

So, if you want unconditional love, get a dog. If you want months of abuse and agony, interspersed with moments of pure joy and followed by a lifetime of worry, go with a baby.

No regrets here. It’s gotta be the hormones…

Baby and Puppy

Standard
Travel Adventures

New year, new country, new breakfast

Our 2014 started on a wet and windy day in Greenwich, London. After more than an hour debating on the merits of heading out in the rain, and after realizing the cafe we were intending to find was closed, our better sense won out and I decided to cook rather than face the wet and wind.

So did I prepare eggs and toast or pancakes or cereal?  Heck no!  This is a new year and a new country. I used the last of the brown bread to make toast and slapped a can of beans in tomato sauce in a pot. I also got out some jam and butter…my tomato allergy is not something I mess around with 😉

As I placed the plates of beans and toast in front of Raymond and Drake, their reactions were very different. Raymond approached with caution and slowly warmed up to his breakfast. Drake dived in head first and continued to feast for about a half hour. That kid loves beans on toast!

So here we are, new year, new country, new breakfast. Life is good.

 

Standard