Pumpkin Pie Pancakes

What better way to start off Halloween (or any fall morning for that matter) than with pumpkin pie pancakes? Happy Halloween Everyone!



Pumpkin Pie Pancakes

1 1/2 cups flour3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp ground clove
pinch of salt
2 eggs
1/4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
8 oz pumpkin (about 1/2 of a can)
1 2/3 cups milk
4 TBS melted butter
zest of an orange (optional)
butter for griddle/pan


-heat griddle or pan over medium heat
-sift first 8 ingredients into a large bowl and mix remaining ingredients into a second bowl
-stir the liquid ingredients into the dry ones, being careful not to overmix
-coat pan with a bit of butter (if it spatters then the pan is ready)
-put your batter on and flip once little bubbles begin to appear, cook another 2 minutes once flipped

It Happens To The Best Of Us

Today was one of those days that sailed along perfectly, only to create the perfect storm at dinner time. I managed to feel uber productive this morning- getting myself up and ready for the day before anyone else, having our rum raisin oatmeal mess completely cleaned before leaving the house, picking up a few glamorous necessities from Target (toothpaste and toilet paper). It's amazing how accomplishing the most mundane to-do list can manage to make you feel like a rockstar once you have children. We even made it to the library puppet show with plenty of time to spare. Much to my delight Isabella was not the oldest child there; There were several other young homeschoolers looking equally out of place at the preschool story time, which made for nice community, at least for Isabella (apparently I am the sole homeschooler without any overt religious affiliation). After checking out our collective weight in hardbacks and CD's, we headed over to Barns & Nobles purchase a few new books as well. The greatest accomplishment of all however, was managing to carry on after realizing that, when my husband collapsed the stroller last, he popped a lever out of joint managing to render it useless to anyone unable to pop it back in place, IE, me, which meant the entire morning was an exercise in manual dexterity- choosing to either hold Samuel or chase him, hold Josephine's hand, hold books, schlep reusable bags, and the overloaded abyss that is my purse. But we did it- I'm awesome.

The girls had a quick lesson before heading to neighbors house to play as Samuel simultaneously went down for a nap (when does that ever happen?), which left me time to work on my menus and go over a new lesson plan, while actually, get this, sitting down! That hour and a half of excessive self indulgence however came back to bite me squarely in the behind. Slowing down and enjoying the quiet left me more sleepy than refreshed, and when it came time to start dinner I wanted none of it. So while Wes merrily whistled away in the shower and proceeded with his grooming routine, with it's requisite mushroom cloud of hairspray, I grudgingly labored making a dinner. I peeled back the thick white paper cradling my cutlets to reveal that the butcher had indeed butchered my chicken- the pieces were way to fat and were sliced, not properly pounded. So they took longer, cooked unevenly, and left my pan smoking. While on the last cutlet, with smoke starting to billow, Samuel wailing at my feet, Isabella clamouring at the piano, and Josephine doing I don't know what (which is is never a good thing) I snapped like an asparagus stalk. I opened the kitchen door and heaved my pan into the air, frisbee style, proving that chickens can, if fact, fly. The butter spattered and popped into the air until until the pan spiraled to the ground with a slight clang into the grass (ok, weeds). After the airborne incident, my husband rode in on his noble steed, lance drawn, and removed the children form the palace in order for me to sauce dinner in silence, which I did, with help from a new saute pan. I plated every ones dinner, including Samuel's (which I still puree), but before retrieving everyone form the front yard honestly contemplated sitting at the table alone and eating in solitude. Somehow, and I'm not sure exactly how, everything turned out tasty, and we all turned out full, despite the missing cutlet.



Chicken with Prosciutto and Mushrooms in a Red Wine Cream Sauce
4 (or 3) chicken cutlets
about 3/4 cup of flour
scant tsp of salt
a few grinds of pepper
2 TBS olive oil
1 TBS butter
1/2 lb cremini mushrooms, sliced
4 slices prosciutto, roughly chopped
1 cup red wine
1/3 cup cream

-mix together the flour, salt, and pepper on a large plate and coat the cutlets in the mixture
-heat the oil and butter over medium high heat and place cutlets in pan, cooking about 4 per side (if your pan won't fit them all, simply work in batches, covering any cooked chicken with foil to keep warm)
-Once cooked place on a plate, tent with foil, and set aside
-Add the mushrooms and prosciutto to the pan and cook until browned, about 3 minutes (add a drizzle of oil to the pan if too dry)
-Pour in the wine, scraping up all of the yummy bits of flavor from the bottom of the pan, and cook for a couple of minutes until slightly thickened
-remove the pan from the heat, pour in the cream and serve over the chicken

Cooking Buff

This evening after bathtime, we decided to whip up a batch of sugar cookies (I know, somehow that order should have been reversed). So excited was Josephine, she decided to not be bothered with clothing and instead got right down to business, like the little cooking buff that she is (that fact that she is, well, buff, is entirely coincidental). The irony is that we had opted to leave the cookies bare as well, with just a sanding of sugar on top, in order to save the elaborate decoration and fancy recipe for Halloween. These are super easy and simple, and most of all lots of fun for the little ones.


Cookies in the Buff

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
pinch of salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 stick of butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

-combine the flour, salt, and baking powder in a medium bowl
-cream the butter and sugar over medium high heat until combined
-add the egg and vanilla and continue to beat until fluffy and creamy, about 3 minutes
-reduce speed to low and add the flour mixture and beat until just combined
-divide the dough into two and wrap each separately in plastic wrap, using the wrap to form the dough into rounded disks (the dough is really sticky)
-pop in the fridge for an hour
-preheat oven to 350
-take out one at a time and roll out onto a very well floured work space (flour your rolling pin as well), continuing to sprinkle flour if the dough sticks (it shouldn't be, but if it is really unmanageable put back in the fridge for another 15 minutes or so)
-cut out with favorite cookie cutters, top with sprinkles or sugar if you like, and bake on an ungreased cookie sheet for 10 to 11 minutes
-allow to cool slightly before removing to wire racks or your dessert plate

Pie Deconstructed

Still on the subject of yesterday's "pie-rade", it occurred to me that shaming someone (especially a novice) into making a pie from scratch could have disastrous consequences. What if my blog readers, in a moment of rallied determination, all set to their kitchens making pie crusts only to have them crack or brake or otherwise disappoint and it lead to a disgruntled nationwide pastry revolt? Delusions of grandeur notwithstanding, it's important to at least offer a back up tip should things head south in the kitchen.

Should you find yourself cursing your rolling pin due to menacing tears, misshapen circles, or otherwise unsightly and unforeseen occurrences, do not despair! Granted, if your aim was to impress company, go ahead and despair a little, as this will not look as pretty as a proper pie, but you can still save the day and take all of the credit for being clever and resourceful (and that's even a girl scout patch, right?). So even if your desire and diligence leaves you with a deformed dessert shell, go ahead and bake the sucker. Instead of serving slices of pie, you can serve little cups of "fruit crumble", or you could go to plan B and instead of baking a pie crust you could re-roll and cut out round circles, sand with sugar, and bake those like you would sugar cookies and serve with coffee or ice cream. I promise, there is always some good that will come of mixing flour, butter, and sugar, even if it's just good practice. Should you ever have a similar dessert disaster involving cake, please read all about Mistake Cake.

The Pie's The Limit

There is something universally appealing about pie; the smell of spices and sweet fruit bubbling in the oven, the initial crackle of crust leaving traces of flakes on the plate leading to a soft gooey and syrupy center which can only best be described as a symphony in the mouth. If you are anything like I am, this oftentimes also includes the sensation of taste buds searing when you just can't seem to hold out for that 30 minute minimum 'cool time'. The season is upon us to dutifully dig up the usual suspects in the holiday dessert department- apple pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, etc, which only brings me to the question, don't people ever get tired of eating this $#!% ? Now granted, if your family's custom includes baking one of the afore mentioned pies lovingly by hand to a grandmother's traditional recipe, well, I applaud you, loudly. But most folks will be faking it this fall, committing high treason among the foodie set, by purchasing store bought or frozen pies. Fall's greatest forgery. This act of culinary counterfeit is an unforgivable offence (at least in my presence), which should be punishable by a swift and immediate removal from the kitchen. No matter what Rachael Ray or Generic Mom Magazine X tells you, dumping canned pumpkin pie filling into store bought refrigerated pie dough is not cooking, and no, you are not fooling anyone. If you take the time to look at the typical mile long ingredient list on these products you should somewhere in there see "fortified nastiness" clearly printed.

Making pies from scratch is an art, but fortunately one that can be easily mastered (with a couple of practice rounds if necessary), you just have to want to do it (and if you don't please just let someone who does take over in the kitchen). And while you are at it, things up a bit and throw some nontraditional ingredients in there! I made this cranberry apple pie for Thanksgiving last year (one of many), and it was the hands down favorite. In an attempt to broaden my own personal pastry prospects, today I branched out from my perfect pie crust recipe (the very first recipe ever featured in this blog) and practiced an entirely new technique featured in a fellow foodie blog I have tapped into recently, Chez Pim. Creating a pie crust with nothing more than flour, salted butter, and water, the dough was a dream to work with, as promised, and incredibly sturdy, which made the lattice crust an absolute breeze. This particular dough, though seemingly intimidating to blend together, would be the ideal dough for a beginning baker, as it does not break apart easily and won't be quickly toughened by re-rolling. Even if your first attempt is a misshapen disaster, I promise your children wont care and will still beg to lick the plate (and most likely your husband will do the same). Once you get the hang of homemade dough, you can get as sweet, as savory, or as crazy as you want- the pie's the limit!


Cranberry Apple Pie

pie crust no.1 or pie crust no. 2 (do not defile this recipe with a store bought crust)

12 oz cranberries (3 1/2 cups)
2 golden delicious apples, peeled, cored, and coarsly chopped
1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
1 1/2 TBS quick cooking tapioca (this acts as a thickener- if you do not have any you could sub flour)
fine zest of 1 lemon with a splash of the juice
1/4 tsp ground cloves

1 egg beaten with 1 TBS water for egg wash
coarse turbinado sugar for sanding (optional)

-mix all of the filling ingredients together in a large bowl
-roll the bottom crust out into an approximate 12 inch circle and line the pie plate leaving a slight overhang
-dump the filling in
-roll the next dough ball into an approximate 11 inch circle and place on top (you can get fancy with a lattice crust if feel up to it, weaving cut strips of dough, or simply cut some slats in the top dough once placed so the pie can vent while cooking)
-to help seal the edges dab with a little bit of water, crimp closed, and brush the top with the egg wash
-bake at 425 for 20 minutes, then reduce to 375 and bake for another 30 to 40 minutes until desired shade of brown and bubbly is reached
-allow to cool completely (if you can)

Always A Bride, Never A Bridesmaid

Saturday evening, after attending our third set of nuptials in six days for my sister's brother's wedding (I'll get there), I felt a bit deflated. This could easily be attributed to that fact that my husband's libations caught up to him, requiring that we leave the bride and groom's beautiful bash before even having the opportunity to congratulate them (and keeping me off of the dance floor- a transgression of infinite proportions), but, shockingly, that wasn't it. It occurred to me that though I was twice a bride by the reaching the age of 20, I have never actually been a part of someone else's wedding. You see my older sister, 7 years my senior, is only half mine. She shares in an entirely different family with 2 more sisters and a brother (the groom) with whom she has spent the majority of her life (and are of no relation to me). Then I have my two little sisters, also halfies (of no relation to her), still in grade school, and involved in so many activities it would be difficult to have regular contact even if they didn't live several towns away. Some families are blended, mine is frappéd. I have always joked that I was my father's oldest, my mother's youngest, in the middle of everyone, and for all practical purposes raised as an only child. Yes, we are all close, but, there just always seems to be someone closer. This of course is unfortunate on a multitude of levels, because I (and I feel I am speaking with good authority here) would make the best maid of honor, ever. Planning parties is just what I do. A fanatical organizer, shopper, and amateur therapist, I am perfect for the job. I wonder if I will ever have that honor.

click here for a video of us at wedding no. II

While we are on the subject, and while I feel I have gained a temporary expertise on wedding vows (3 in a week MUST be some kind of record), I must say that I was a conflicted witness. Listening to the standard marital pledge while not under the influence of enthusiastic adoration makes you pause... On one hand, watching another amorous couple so full of love and promise is inspiring, but a very real part of me feels like chasing the bride down the aisle and hitting her over the head with her bouquet (I promise not to actually do this at your wedding, so please do not blacklist me). Are you crazy? Do you know what you are about to do? Entering into a contract releasable only by death without even having your lawyer present.... it just doesn't seem like good business sense. Friends and family say it will be "hard" which, to a besotted young couple holds only the vaguest of meaning- like when the doctor tells you to expect "mild discomfort". But then I remember to be happy, because for some inexplicable internal reason, it is a joyous and beautiful thing. You married women will laugh, and hopefully any unmarried ones will appreciate the heads up. I remember my older sister telling me when I got engaged (for the second time, I suppose it had taken her that long to figure this out), that whether it was 5 days, 5 months, or 5 years, you WILL wake up one morning, look over and say, "What in the #3$!& did I do". And she was right, damn it. No matter how perfect of a couple you are, it will happen. But then we just redefine perfect, and go on.

Carton of Color

Always on the look out for a new way to reduce, reuse, and recycle, and a new way to engage my girls in something creative, I had the "aha moment" of refashioning trash bound egg cartons into pint sized painting pallets. Just cut the carton in half to make it easier for little hands to hold and fill with various colors of finger paint. I love purchasing big reams of paper (so many possibilities!) and, if you are fortunate enough to blessed with an IKEA near by, you can find these in the children's section for a mere 3 dollars and change. Cut as much or as little as you see fit, and then tack up large 'canvases' along the fence while the weather is still nice, or bring the creativity indoors by taping up sections in a hallway with old an old sheet acting as a drop cloth to keep messes to a minimum. Arm them with a paintbrush and see what works of art your mini Matisses can come up with (you need some new art work to line the walls anyway)!


Try making a frittata to help use up all of those eggs!

Gone Baby Gone

Coming home from a destination you are not crazy about is still a bummer, because well, short of camping out at Motel 6, it is hard to beat daily housekeeping. Plus I had mounting anxiety as to what exactly I would be coming home to- my mother who had never watched my children for more than 2 hours was at the helm here, and I know what her house looks like, where there are NO children present. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found once walking in the door. Piles of toys, cloths, books, and DVDs (ah!), precariously strewn about, dishes haphazardly stacked in the kitchen, and children still awake at 11PM watching a movie in their bed (double AH!). Perhaps I did not make a convincing enough attempt to internalize my panic attack, because to top it off, my own daughters were actually upset to see us returning, and were clinging to Mumsie desperate for her to stay. So, I guess children really do prefer to eat junk and watch TV until their eyes bug out, and not have to tidy their rooms... who'd of thought? But far worse than any of those things however, was the announcement that came next."Mommy guess what guess what? My TOOTH is loose!". Muuwahuuuh? "What? No WAY!?" I timidly exclaim trying to feign my enthusiasm. After double and triple checking trying to disprove her theory that yes indeed she was getting older, I had to face the truth. My baby isn't a baby anymore. My eyes gave her a glow of pride, but privately, a little piece of my heart broke. There is something so ultimate about this milestone, and I feel the pull into uncharted territory. I will be concerning myself with braces and training bras before I know it. There is a sure possibility that I am over reacting and that these things are still worries away, but what is the hallmark phrase of parenthood- it all goes so fast.

Here is an incredibly simple (and fast) chili recipe that sustained us for the two days it took us to put the house back together!

Turkey Poblano Chili

2 lbs ground turkey thighs (thighs are full of flavor and are far less expensive, but certainly feel free to sub in breast meat or ground chicken)
2 TBS olive oil
3 poblano peppers, seeded and diced
1 large onion, diced
4 large cloves garlic, minced
4 TBS chili powder
2 cans kidney and or pinto beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
salt and pepper to taste

-heat the oil in a large pot over medium high and cook the peppers and onion for several minutes until soft
-add the turkey and brown, breaking up any large pieces, about 7 or 8 minutes
-add the garlic, chili powder, and a few sprinkles of salt and pepper and cook for 1 minute
-add the remaining ingredients
-bring to a simmer, reduce heat to medium low, and cook until thickened, about 10 minutes

top with some sour cream or plain yogurt and dig in!

Viva Las Vegas

Last week was as chaotic as ever, with a catering job (more on that later in the week), a naptime fiasco (ditto), and well, just regular life moving at the speed of light. I was able to leave all of this behind however, as my husband and I flew off of the tarmac at 7:05 AM Saturday morning, on our first plane ride together (ever). We were heading out for our much anticipated first trip together (ever), to aptly named Sin City, which would mark my first experience in the gambling capital of the world (ever). The catalyst for our departure from home and hearth was none other than fellow MasterChef contestant Dave Miller, who was to be taking the plunge into matrimony on 10.10.10 (which incidentally turned out to be the most popular wedding date on record in Vegas, ever).

The Vegas Experience

Our trip got off to a bumpy beginning, as I am terrified to fly, and was therefore bearing down on my husbands arm like a woman in labor for nearly 2 hours, while simultaneously clutching an air sickness bag. The cab ride to our hotel driven by a man clearly living with an undiagnosed case of emphysema was not much better. Upon arriving at The Aria, one of the newest hotels on the strip, Wes and I were working just to take it all in. It was like being in a shopping mall on steroids, only dark, and smoky. The cheap smell of vanilla deodorizer that is used to help mask cigarette smell, was doing a moderate job at best, and without any influx of fresh air, the atmosphere was stifling. Walking the casino floor I quickly realized that movie Vegas is a far cry from the real thing.... There were no Clooney'esque' men in suites and ties, and no glamorous women in evening dresses (though to be fair, it was only 8 in the morning). But there seemed to be no concept of time at all- the scenery never changed no matter the time, and without any natural light you'd never even know what time it was. The card dealers looked dour and devoid of any personality, and rows upon rows of overweight tourists in fanny packs (yes, apparently they do still exist) stared expressionless at computer games and themed slot machines. Everything was SO high tech and digital, even the traditional card tables had mini computer screens. Feeling like total squares, we headed up to unpack, and it was about this time that I felt perhaps the best way for us to rekindle our marital flame would be to get separate rooms. Tired, cranky, and feeling completely out of place, I was just ready for some peace and quiet. Fortunately we found the pool, which proved to be a lush oasis in an entire city suffering from attention deficit disorder, and spent our time there accordingly. We did hop around to the various casinos and hotels, only to find more of the same, with very little to distinguish one from another. Walking the strip in the evening we encountered men (and woman) handing out prostitute's pictures on baseball sized cards, most of which end up discarded, leaving the streets literally littered with porn. Combined with the lewd images flashing from screens in every direction, I do not see how anyone under 18 is even allowed into the city limits. The next worst encounter for me was the mass of sightseers sipping from giant plastic Eiffel tower souvenir cups, while though admittedly tame, were anything but picturesque (or good for the environment). The whole image was reminiscent of Pinocchio's Pleasure Island, except no one turned into donkeys (that I saw).



Granted, there are many aspects of Las Vegas that I was not able to view, like the famed shows, shopping, and spas, but the trip budget simply did not allow for any of that (I have never in my life seen a basic one hour massage cost $180). And gone are the days or 99cent steak and lobster dinners. The food was either hit or miss, and while the most expensive places did deliver, many of the more reasonably priced items made promises visually that were not kept once on the pallet. Most dishes were expertly styled and made to look appealing, while leaving you broke and unsatisfied, just like the strip itself. My favorite moderately priced local happened to be at our hotel - a Julian Serrano tapas restaurant, where we had the tenderest stuffed peppers and dates imaginable. I will get off of my soapbox long enough to admit that, all critical comments aside, we had a fun time. There was indeed great beauty to be found at the Bellagio fountains, where we watched a wonderful public water display set to Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman singing Time To Say Goodbye, and in the outside scenery of the Venetian (where we had our amazingly talented MasterChef castmate take photos of us- to be posted soon). We saw a movie, which for us is a treasured rarity, and did break down and attempt one slot machine each. Besides, the point wasn't for us to have our dream vacation, we were there for a dear friend's wedding.


The Big Day

The afternoon of the wedding we grossly miscalculating the the distance between out hotel and theirs, which left Wes and I sprinting through Cesar's Palace, like a scene from the Graduate, frantically searching for the right location. We finally found it and were literally one step ahead of the wedding party walking down the aisle... nothing like being fashionably late. The garden ceremony was charming and personal, as only a wedding involving Dave Miller could have been; complete with the score form Pink Panther (to walk down the aisle) and the music of Micheal Jackson (to exit), with a dove release and tuxedo T-shirts in between. After the collective "mazel tov!", we all headed to dinner at Micheal Mina's Nobhill restaurant in MGM Grand, where the new Mr. & Mrs. Miller spared no expense in wining and dining their guests. In what was truly the most pleasurable portion of our trip, we feasted on fondue, charcuterie platters, a delicious cider vinegar salad with pumpkin seed brittle, apples, and blue cheese, grilled shortribs with spectacularly flavored grits and truffled mac and cheese, chicken tetrazzini, and a flaky halibut with a ratatioulle saute. Yes, everyone, received a plate of all of these things. And during our multiple courses the drinks flowed so smoothly that I completely lost count of my cable car martini consumption. The seamless service was so spot on that new drinks seemed to instantly appear like magic in my left hand as I set an empty glass down with my right. Did I mention dessert? Maple creme brulee and mini roasted banana ice cream sundaes, oh yes, and wedding cake. I literally gained two pounds that night- I checked. I gained even more in appreciation for the Millers, and all of the wonderful, intelligent, and fun people we were able to make acquaintance with. We now have a place to stay in Sonoma wine country, a swinging spot in London, and many more mates to look up if ever we are in Boston. The entire cost of our trip was worth that single night (shame on all of you MasterChef folks who didn't come out!).

So can I ever see myself in Vegas again? Most likely not, though I am glad to have seen what all the fuss is about. I just think Monte Carlo would be more my speed. ;)

*There will be many more photos from this event in the coming week and I will let you know once they are up on the FB page, you can also view an additional video on my new YouTube page :)