Jack and Henry's Redeeming Qualities

I spend a lot of time ragging on my kids on this blog, when in fact they are pretty good eaters. As Krusty the Clown once said, "I kid because I love." Why, just last night Jack volunteered to try a little broiled cod after he saw Henry's friend eat some. "Not bad," he said just before frantically reaching for the milk to wash it down. "I was tricking you," he explained. But at least he ate it! And I didn't even have to ask!

And last week at the grocery store he asked me to buy some kumquats. Now, when I was a little girl, my gourmet fancy-pants uncle gave me a taste of candied kumquats. Which, to his horror, I spit right back into the jar. So I didn't have high expectations for these regular, unsweetened ones. The label on the package instructed us to squish the little beggars between our fingers to get the juices going and make the flesh nice and pulpy. On the count of three, we both took a bite. "One...two...three...HOLYMOTHEROFGODTHESESTILLTASTEAWFUL!!!" Into the trash they all went.

Another thing my kids eat that other kids don't is seaweed. They love the dried seaweed (nori) used to make sushi. And they especially love the Korean kind because it's roasted and salted and it tastes great. The whole family can't get enough of it. But the kids at Henry's school were giving him the business because they thought he was weird for eating seaweed. I asked him to ask his buddies if they liked yogurt, chewing gum, and salad dressing. After the big setup, he was to tell them that all of these things contain...seaweed! Ha! Eat that, nay-saying gradeschoolers!

So, yeah, I complain a lot even though I have much to be thankful for. But let's face it, would anybody be interested in reading about how every single thing I cooked was a smash hit? Nah, disagreement creates drama, which is interesting.

"Mom, I HATE This April Fool's Joke."

I can't believe this.

This April Fool's Day, I thought I'd surprise the kids by serving cupcakes for supper! Ha ha, they're really meatloaf cakes with mashed potato frosting! Big laughs. Well...not really.

Henry thought they were a riot, and gamely posed for his picture before wolfing his "cupcake" down.

Oh, Mother, you're a real card!

Jack, on the other hand, was not amused. He thought he was going to get actual cupcakes and that, coupled with his newfound aversion to mashed potatoes, put the nail in the coffin of this joke.

Mom! I thought you meant real cupcakes!

Incidentally, cupcake-sized meatloaf cooks a lot faster than one huge meatloaf and automatically creates individual portions, so I'll probably use this method of cooking it in the future. The instructions called for foil muffin cups, but I didn't have any so I just baked the meatloaves in the muffin pan and placed them into paper muffin cups after they were cooked. These splayed out and didn't really sell the gag. Plus, cleanup was a real drag.

Jack's Wild Imagination

Last Sunday, Mike's Irish mom prepared a corned beef dinner for everyone. Much to everyone's surprise, Jack was woofing it down like there was no tomorrow! So, since tonight was Leftover Night, I figured that Corned Beef Part Deux would be nuthin' but net. But once again, I learned that I should never assume...

Jack: What's for dinner?

Me: Dad, Henry, and I are having mac and cheese, which you didn't like. But you get to have the corned beef!

Jack: I don't like corned beef.

Me: What are you talking about? On Sunday you were woofing it down like there's no tomorrow.

Jack: My imagination told me to like it. But I punched my imagination and now it went away and now I don't like it.

Me: You control your imagination. Why don't you imagine that you like corned beef?

Jack: No.

Unfortunately for him, my imagination told me to serve him the corned beef anyway. He managed to eat it all, with the help of the King's Condiment, ketchup.

iCarly provides inspiration for tonight's mega-hit dinner

My son Henry likes to watch iCarly on occasion, and I have to admit I like it too. One of the characters invented Spaghetti Tacos, which Henry thought would make a great dinner for the Foley family. My first thought was to enclose the spaghetti in a tortilla and wrap it up like a burrito. But I quickly realized that it was hard taco shell or nothing at all, since both boys have told me in the past that they hate flour tortillas.

So we had Spaghetti Tacos, with veggie sticks on the side to give the meal at least a slight nutritional value. As you can see from the pictures, it was thumbs up all the way!



Spaghetti. Tacos. So. Good!



Don't bother me, can't you see I'm eating?


I'm not going to provide a recipe for this post. If you can't put two and two together on this one, I really can't help you!

Ham Chokettes, or "Favorite Food + Favorite Food ≠ New Favorite Food"

When I was a kid, one of my favorite meals was Chicken Croquettes. My mom used to cook them in a deep-fryer that had belonged to her father, and they were little slices of heaven. Of course, in these modern, fat-free times I hesitate to deep fry anything. Yet somehow, I can get behind "shallow frying" things in a pan that has about a 1/4" of oil in it. Basically it's the same thing, but it takes a little longer because the morsels aren't being cooked on all sides at once as they do when they're suspended in oil. Hey, I sleep at night.

After Christmas we had an abundance of leftover mashed potatoes and ham. (Note to self: From now on always buy spiral-sliced ham.) So I thought that since the kids both like mashed potatoes and I could kind of sell the ham to Henry (Jack loves ham, so no problem there), what could possibly go wrong with combining the two into croquettes?

Plenty.

"Mooooommm, what is this?"

"Mom, what kind of meat is this?"

"I don't like these!"

Of course, Mike and I both chowed down like there's no tomorrow. They came out just fine, but the boys' underdeveloped palates couldn't make the intellectual leap into novel flavor combinations. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Ham Croquettes

2 c. leftover mashed potatoes

1 c. diced ham

1 egg

1/2 c. leftover gravy (optional)

Salt and pepper to taste

1 more egg*, beaten

1 c. breadcrumbs

Oil for cooking

Combine the first five ingredients until well blended. Form mixture into smallish patties. Dip each patty in the beaten egg, then in the breadcrumbs to coat, putting them on a plate as you go. Refrigerate the patties for at least an hour. Do not omit this step! If you do, the patties will fall apart in the hot oil, guaranteed. Been there, done that.

In a deep skillet, heat 1/4" oil until just about smoking. Cook the patties a couple at a time, turning once when they have browned. Drain on paper towels and serve with whatever sauce will keep your little rug rats happy.

* Don't you hate it when a recipe calls for a certain measure of stuff, then halfway through the recipe you find that you were supposed to have used only some of it in an earlier part of the recipe, saving the rest for a later step? Me too! That's why I've put eggs on the list twice. You're welcome!

What They Don't Know Won't Hurt 'Em

Henry's on this "I'm not hungry" kick when I ask him what he wants for breakfast, to which I always reply, "You have to eat breakfast, that's what gives you energy for all the stuff you're going to do today," blah blah blah, static static static. Anyway, sometimes I can get him to drink a fruit smoothie at these times, which satisfies my desire for him to have something nutritious to start the day.

So the other morning, I blended some frozen raspberries, frozen peaches, strawberry yogurt, and some water to thin it out. After it was done I had a taste. Swa...swa...SWEET! I couldn't serve him that in good conscience. How could I bring this beverage back from the brink of disaster? Easy...silken tofu.

This bland food is much softer than regular tofu. It's great for sauces, dips, and spreads because it takes on the flavors of whatever it's combined with. So, I figured, why not smoothies? As it turned out, it worked perfectly. Not only did it cut the sweetness of the smoothie, it was virtually undetectable and added protein. Both Henry and Jack guzzled it down. Score one for mom!

Fruit Smoothies with Silken Tofu

1/2 c. frozen raspberries

1/2 c. frozen peaches (about 5 slices)

1/2 c. strawberry yogurt

1/2 c. water

6 oz. silken tofu

Blend. Serve. Give yourself a high five.

An Aptly Named Dish

We hosted Christmas dinner over at my house this year so now we have lots and lots of leftovers! Let me say for the record that this was the first time I've ever bought a spiral-sliced ham, and it was AWESOME! Serving it was as easy as falling off a log, and I've been throwing ham into just about everything we've eaten since. But Mike grows weary of the ham, so tonight I decided to use some of the leftover turkey in a dish I like to euphemistically call "Stuff on a Shingle."

Now, I know what you're thinking: "That's not what it's called!" Well, before you tweet about what a know-nothing idiot I am, remember that I'm selling this stuff to a four-year-old and a seven-year-old. What you call it is your own business. I call it Stuff on a Shingle.

It's your basic recipe: white sauce, turkey, some frozen peas, a little salt and pepper and that's it. I purposely made it bland. I had made a loaf of whole wheat bread in the bread machine earlier today, so I toasted up some slices and poured that lovely concoction on top. Brilliant! Add a salad and you have a meal...

...that nobody liked. Jack actually stabbed himself when his fork skidded off the hard crust of the toast!

Come on, it's not like it was battery acid or anything. Take a look:

Mmmm, I've never seen anything so tasty looking!

Another triumph!

I'm having it on a baked potato tomorrow for dinner while the kids eat hamburgers.

Stuff on a Shingle

2 T butter

3 T flour

2 c. milk

Salt and Pepper

2 c. chopped meat (turkey, ham, beef, pork, etc.)

1 c. frozen peas

In a saucepan, melt the butter. Add the flour and mix it in until it forms a roux, a sort of paste. Cook this for about a minute, then add the milk a little at a time, whisking after each addition to avoid lumps. After all the milk has been added, continue cooking and stirring until the sauce thickens. Season with salt and pepper, then add the meat and peas. As the peas thaw the temperature of the sauce will reduce so that you don't burn the roof of your mouth with your first bite.

Serve on toast or a baked potato. Bask in the praise of another magnificent meal.