I’ve gotten through three days with minimal martyrdom but I think I need to come clean today. Cooking was not something that ever attracted me much though I do really like to eat. My mom fed me well as a kid. In college and young adulthood I survived on beer and bar food and then I had these three children. It turns out you need to feed them daily. Who knew.
My husband works longer and later days than I do so passing the cooking buck to him wasn’t too likely. I’m not independently wealthy so a personal chef was off the table as well. The feeding of my family fell to me and it has been one of my more stressful rides. My husband is allergic (severely) to all fish, seafood, and tree nuts. My oldest son will eat most anything but after a semester abroad in Japan he prefers fish and Japanese style cooking. My daughter mostly likes meat and chicken. She’ll eat a few vegetable but it’s not really her thing. My little one (a boy who is taller than I am) is mostly a vegetarian. He will periodically eat a little bit of chicken but never any red meat and not much fish. If you go back and read this paragraph, I believe you will understand my stress. When my oldest rallied his siblings for a chicken strike that’s really when I just gave up and started ordering in.
Did I mention that I got a master’s and doctoral degree, a life coaching certificate, and started my own business since getting pregnant with my first? Are you feeling sorry for me yet? If so, please private message me for my address so that you can send me dinners. Between the food preferences and the lack of time it is really hard for me to motivate to cook. How sad is it that after I had a minor surgery a few years ago my girlfriends brought me dinners for two weeks and I was deliriously happy?
Anyway, 2015 and this project seemed like a good time to stop feeling sorry for myself and to start finding some joy and fun for dinner. So tonight when my husband said he wasn’t hungry and my daughter met her friends for dinner, my boys and I had toast, canned soup, and frozen dinners. No stress, a little more sodium than we might need but still we ate at home and had some fun in doing so.
The martyr mama is moving forward!
They say that the way you conduct your life on the first day of the year is reflective of the rest of your year. The reason for eating hoppin’ John, or lentils and collards, or whatever your tradition, is to make food that looks like money. If that’s so, then I want my year to look like today. Continue reading
I knew that there would be a day when I was ashamed to share my dinner. I just didn’t think it would come soon.
It started with such great intentions. Last night when I couldn’t sleep I made a potato soup.
It has been years since I have made one of my famous potato soups. My husband has been managing his Type 2 diabetes without medication. I havr been supporting him by making low-carb foods.
But in recent months he has been eating crap no matter how hard I try to keep him healthy food. So I said “screw it” and made a family favorite.
But, I didn’t have all my normal ingredients so I made a polish sausage version. In my head it is wonderful. In the pot it was…uninspired. It wasn’t bad, just not nurturing or fun.
The idea of having it for dinner after having a small bowl for lunch was unbearably depressing. And… (drumroll please) the guys wanted nachos, had the ingredients and they were willing to cook.
So I had delicious nachos with meat, a salsa with corn, black beans, peppers and onions.
Then, just to be sure that we all were on our way towards cardiac arrest, my husband made Thai crispy beef. According to him, the stuff is given away in Thai bars just to keep you drinking beer.
It is a challenge to get through a plate of Thai crispy beef. You are a total chicken if you stop before you get through your whole plate.
It is made with white pepper so the heat sneaks up behind you and haunts you. I had to drink three beers to keep my head from going up in flames.
So, of course I have spent the last hour praying to the Great Porcelain Goddess. Thai crispy beef us as awful coming up as going down.
Why did I think that I should join in the culinary adventures of my guys. My son once asked “exactly how poisonous is it” after he found out that I had sprayed the cookies in the trash with kitchen cleaner. What made me think that anything good could come from eating like one of the guys?
I don’t even know what to call this. And I blame it on my husband. This is what happens when you don’t plan dinners. In my defense, I have a lot of people to feed. My portions are also huge, because everyone in my family eats a shit ton of food daily and I am no exception. I’m sure when I’m done breastfeeding, the hunger will subside. But once again, I found myself too hungry to care about taking a nice picture. I don’t really eat in the dark, and that’s not blood on my table. I just don’t care. I had just finished a run and we were smelling this stuff in the slow cooker all day and I wanted to eat it. Now.
Anyway, it’s Carolina style pulled pork (that’s vinegar, salt and pepper) because it’s the best and I always can use me some North Carolina, then slow cooker ribs with a bunch of spices and other things I threw in (tasted amazing), then the other two things are bread from the commissary and some frozen broccoli I lazy-steamed and put some butter and sea salt on. The bread was okay. Sunday I will go to the farmers market and get some real vegetables. I also had a glass of coke because for some reason I felt like it would make me less thirsty than water.
This is the kind of food I make when I just don’t care and everyone is begging me for food all day and I want leftovers. I also had to wait in line for 20 minutes to buy this bread so I feel like I should get credit for that, too.