Family Dinner...

"make dinner not war" sticker courtesy of the fantastic Jenny... and you could win one too...

We've had some pretty stellar family dinners of late...but they had nothing to do with the actual meals we've made.

Actually, they were in spite of the food, which has been pretty routine and uninventive... Let's just say our current repertoire is heavy in such mundane standbys as spaghetti and meatballs and "taco night" (and not "chic tacos", but the old school ones-- a little meat, a little cheese, a little lettuce, a crispy corn shell. The tacos of our youth. I'm not proud, but it is what it is.)

So the meals not so great, but the meal-time, pretty darn good.

We made a decision early on that we wanted to eat dinner as a family at the table at least five nights a week. It wasn't an easy decision to make or more accurately, it wasn't an easy decision to stick too; it was actually pretty easy to proclaim... See sticking to it means that sometimes we eat at 5:30, because the girls are going nuts with hunger, and if there isn't food on the table at exactly that moment (which we've affectionately dubbed "the witching hour") then surely all hell will break loose. Sticking to it also means that up until recently, (if I'm being perfectly honest here) meals are often...well, a total nightmare. Eating with small kids is hard, and messy, and hard.

Did I mention it was hard?

But, as with a staggeringly large number of kid-related experiences, one day you wake up, and well, it's not so hard anymore. All the gnashing and agonizing pays off, and it's suddenly how you thought it would be when you made that original (smug) proclamation.

And that's pretty much where we are when it comes to meal-time these days. On a typical night (and yes, there are still some exceptions when dinner is all world war II -esque) we wait for everyone to sit down at the table before anyone takes a bite (which is especially hard for Millie, but she still pulls it off sweet girl) and then we start off each meal with a little ritual -- a blessing, the clinking of glasses and a hearty "bon appetite." Everyone eats quietly for a few minutes (ok a few seconds) and then we go around and each say what was best about our day. I know, I know, it sounds a little Normal Rockwell, but it's happening. I promise.

Sure there's still chaos -- taco meat on the floor (the shop vac makes an appearance after every. single. meal.), someone screaming, someone getting up from the table repeatedly for more milk, a bathroom trip, an impromptu dance...It is not perfect, but it's good. In fact, so good, that with each passing meal I can see ever more clear glimpses of what dinner might look like in say five years.

And that I'm really excited about.

Cooking for One...

I'm lucky to be able to work out of my house a couple of days a week.

And while it's nice to not have to make the commute into the office, to be able to work in my yoga pants and to occasionally walk or ride my bike to get Audrey from school, the best part of this set-up is, by far, lunch.

I love knowing that exactly two days a week, I get to cook whatever. I. want. I get to create a little meal that is 100% completely and wholly for me. On those two days, I don't have to worry that Bryan doesn't like olives or blue cheese or tuna or that the girlies don't like, well...where do I start with what they don't like. There are no other palettes to consider, no other diners to cajole or convince into eating.

It's bliss.

Even during my most persistent cooking funks, these little meals feel inspired. I throw things in with abandon and take ample risks, as I figure if the dish is a flop, I'm the only one who will know (+ if all else fails I can eat a carton of Greek yogurt and some fruit...)

My go-to solo-meal of late is either a simple pasta with whatever is in the fridge or pantry (and usually involving some olives or few capers, just because I can) or an omelet with lots of feta and sauteed veggies. I've eaten some variation of this for the past month, and it shows no sign of waning.

So I'd love to hear, how does this work in your house? Do you ever cook for just yourself? What do you make?

It All Comes Back to Cobbler

I had intended to write an altogether different post today...one that lamented my absence from the kitchen and featured lovely photos of all the restaurant food we've eaten in the past few weeks. Yep, I was all set to write a post telling you that I was feeling about cooking pretty much how Millie looks in that photo above...blah. Oh and I was going to tell you that when we aren't eating in restaurants, we're just noshing on lots of cheese plates.

I was pretty much going to write that.

But then, lo, a holiday weekend rolled around, and, well... I cooked. I cooked a lot. Yes, hot dogs were one of the things I cooked, and clearly that doesn't count as cooking, but I also made a fantastic corn, jalapeno, feta salad and a yummy tomato, cucumber salad, and a nice pasta dish, and a really stellar (if I do say so myself) peach, raspberry cobbler. So alas, there will be no restaurant photos today.

At some point this weekend, I also realized that I stopped cooking right at my 100th post on this blog... Strange, no? And in looking back over the archives during a mild bout of insomnia, I also discovered that almost exactly one year to the day, I was making, wait for it, peach cobbler.

Hmm...

Really I have nothing to conclude from all of this, except to say, we're cooking again, which is good. Oh and I would highly recommend this cobbler.

Peach Raspberry Cobbler -- Adapted from the Joy of Cooking


Filling

• 7 -9 medium peaches
• 2 cups of raspberries
• 1/4 cup of sugar

Topping

• 1 cup all-purpose four
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon vanilla
• 4 tablespoons butter softened
• 1/3 cup of sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1/4 cup buttermilk
  

Cut peaches into even slices and cover the bottom of an oval baking dish evenly. Top with the raspberries and evenly sprinkle fruit with the 1/4 cup of sugar. Set aside.

Wisk together thoroughly the flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.

In a separate bowl, beat the butter, vanilla and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg and then add half the dry ingredients and beat on low until just incorporated.

Beat in the buttermilk and then add the remaining dry ingredients until the batter is just smooth.

Spoon the batter evenly over the fruit mixture and cook for about 35 minutes on 350. Let cool for at least 15 minutes before serving.