Mac n Cheese

I don't know what it was about yesterday that made me feel so tired... it might have been the bleak weather, or the lack of quality sleep due to Quinn's midnight infiltration of our bed, but I felt as if I never fully woke up. Since it was Tom's night off, we attempted family dinner again. The highlight of dinner, for me, was the macaroni and cheese. I know that I had a recipe a long time ago, but at this point, I just wing it. It goes a little like this:

Melt 3 or 4 T of butter in a double boiler. I nestle a stainless bowl inside a saucepan filled with a few inches of very hot, but not quite boiling, water. Gradually whisk in an equal amount of flour. Whisk constantly for a few minutes until the flour is fully incorporated and loses its "raw" taste. Begin adding milk in small increments allowing each addition to thicken prior to adding more. I probably used about 3 cups of 2% milk. When the sauce is of a consistency that you enjoy (err on the side of too thin rather than too thick since things will change when you add the cheese) add grated cheese (maybe ~3 cups) and stir to a smooth consistency. Last night I used baby Swiss, aged gouda and some sharp cheddar - this is a bit of an exercise in cleaning out the cheese drawer for me. Season to taste with salt and pepper. I also like to add some smoked paprika for an added flavor dimension as well as for color. Combine cheese sauce with al dente pasta (last night I used whole wheat spirals) and place in a lightly buttered baking dish. Top with dried bread crumbs and bake at 375 for about 20 minutes. Yum - the perfect antidote to a rainy Monday.

Squeezing Lemons

As I was making a ceasar salad last night, rolling the uncut lemon on the counter, I considered how I came to know this technique for getting the most juice with the least effort - I was taught this by my mother. She has always been a wonderful cook/baker and I have some very nice memories of meals she prepared for my brother & me over the years. Her herring salad, pink from beets, is outstanding, as is her Waldorf salad. My brother always requested (and received) her Black Forest Cherry Cake, liberally doused with Kirschwasser, for his birthday. She swore the trick to lightness in baking was to only stir in one direction when beating batter or whipping cream. By hand, of course. This method would encourage air to come in and never leave. I was never able to master that second adage - I couldn't be that consistent, but I never fail to consider it when I have whisk in hand. Just like I always think of my friend Len Holl, a chef I worked with a lifetime ago, when I handle a knife. I know that any skills I may have in the kitchen have been honed by my 25+ years working in restaurants with fantastic chefs, but I also must credit my mother with teaching me some of what she knows about food and cooking. What have you learned from your mother?

Sunday Supper

It has been a lovely day despite the wind and cool temperature. I didn't get out of bed until 9 a.m. and that was after some high quality cuddling and book reading (Finding Nemo) with Quinn. And Griffin, too, but don't tell anyone. I read the entire newspaper, enjoyed a grapefruit (it has been a great year for grapefruit, don't you think?), had some coffee and a piece of crumb cake from Able Bakers and then had a friend join us for brunch. The day was both languid and full, and I managed to go to the gym, get Quinn set with cleats for soccer ("How many more sleeps until I play soccer?") and then prepare a lovely family dinner.

Potentially lovely dinner, that is. Children really aren't necessarily the best dining companions, at least not when they outnumber you. It can be completely draining to justify your food to 3 prepubescent boy critics. Liam usually is the most compliant in food things, but he excused himself to use the bathroom and was gone for a long time. Like half-a glass-of-wine long. And we use big glasses. When I went to retrieve him, I found him on the floor; he had fallen asleep. Griffin was adamant that he didn't like potatoes and we played hardball with him - he wasn't leaving the table until he had eaten that teaspoon of potatoes he had been served. He and Tom are still at the table. Quinn, actually, was okay. He ate the potatoes and even fell for my oldest trick, the old, "No, you can't have those potatoes. You're not old enough." He asked for 3 servings.

So many imagined joys of parenting just haven't developed into reality. I always pictured baking cookies with my children. Music would be playing and we'd be having a great time using cookie cutters and McCormick's food coloring to make icing in a rainbow of shades. Reality: not fun. It is a stressful mess with flour and sugar everywhere. I'm just not good at letting go and I always say that my children make a much better impression outdoors. Speaking of outdoors...I thought that sleigh riding with the boys would be great, laughter bouncing from blindingly white snow to blazing blue sky. Ah. You know what? It isn't. They get cold and tired and in need of bathrooms before they've even worn a path down the hill. And my final example is Sunday dinner. It's such a nice idea - a pleasant interlude, as a family, before we start another hectic week. Unfortunately, it doesn't work out that way too often. Cloth napkins and dimmed lighting can only go so far. Creating a relaxing, comfortable ambiance for dinner with 3 children at the table is more of a challenge than I ever imagined. Thank God for wine.

Brunch!

When is comes to hosting brunch, Eggs Benedict is my go to dish. We were expecting a friend for brunch this morning, and I felt like making something a bit lighter and "springier" than my standard brunch specialty. Lying in bed this morning, I considered the contents of my fridge and was inspired by the salad greens, asparagus, roasted red pepper and avocado available, and decided to make a brunch salad. I had a pound of Falvo's thick-cut bacon on hand and I got that going under the broiler along with a bunch of asparagus that I had drizzled with olive oil, sea salt and cracked pepper. While the bacon and asparagus broiled, I tossed my mixed baby greens with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and threw in some herbs de Provence, sea salt and pepper. After the broiling was done, I shifted my attention to poaching the eggs and toasting some sourdough bread. I arranged the greens, chunks of avocado, crumbled bacon, and grilled asparagus on individual plates and then finished the salads with a couple of poached eggs and grated parmesan. I must say, it was delicious! Maybe the olive oil and bacon were no "lighter" than butter and ham, but I certainly felt as if it were a more virtuous brunch entree. And my theory that everything tastes better with an egg on top has been affirmed. What is your favorite brunch item?

On Being the Madonna of Librarians

Last week I went to a Librarians' Conference at Union College. As you're picturing this event in your mind's eye, please don't make the same mistake I did - it wasn't actually on the beautiful Union campus, but was instead in a former Sheraton Hotel beyond Union's ivy walls. Ok, I'm not really certain that the walls are ivy-covered but, who's story is this? Needless to say, I was borderline late as I drove around the perimeter of Union, with its ivy- covered walls, looking for the College Hall Building.

The conference was cool. No, really. I learned some new tricks and I always enjoy seeing librarians from other districts and talking about the challenges we all face in a profession that always seems to be marginalized by administrators, fellow faculty members and parents. As always, Polly Farrington's class provided me with the most applicable lessons - she is a rockstar. As am I, apparently. You see, a number of years ago at this same event, a colleague told me that she never knew what to expect when she saw me because my appearance changes constantly. I do like to play around with "my "look," I guess. Just trying to stay relevant. Anyway, she continued by saying "Silvia, you're the Madonna of librarians." Seriously - this is in my top 5 of best compliments ever received! Right up there with "you don't look like a librarian" and the time when I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and crossing Lark Street, and received a wolf-whistle from a passing car of college boys.

This is the Madonna she was talking about, right? If she really meant the Virgin Mother, please ignore everything I said. Other than the fact that Polly Farrington is a rock star and Union College may be surrounded by ivy-covered walls.

Smells Like (pre-)Teen Spirit

I have an acute sense of smell. Not hyper-sensitive-like-a-pregnant-woman, but still, my nose sometimes gives me more information than I would like. When I walked into my house on Monday, I detected a new aroma; a manly smell, if you will. Since Griffin was the first person I encountered, my investigation began with him. I asked him if he knew what that smell was - had there perhaps been an unfamiliar man in the house? He feigned ignorance (really well, too). I persisted - did he smell anything different? After a few more questions, he rather sheepishly offered an explanation...it was his deodorant. Apparently, his class has been meeting with the school nurse and getting "the talk." He was now the proud owner of a trial sized stick of Old Spice. He explained that he had gotten a little sweaty on the bus on the way home, so he had used his new deodorant to freshen up. How cute is that??

In the last few weeks, I have been struck by how quickly my boys are growing up. It is such a damn cliche, but it does seem like yesterday that they were babies and now 2 of the 3 are stepping away from childhood in giant leaps.

I'm afraid this topic will be a refrain for the next few years. How do you deal with your babies growing up?

The Kids are All Right

So, I’m reading a really good book – The Kids Are All Right. It is a memoir co-written by 4 siblings and relates their experiences after the death of their father in a car accident, followed by the death of their mother from an absolutely merciless battle with cancer. The story is set in Westchester County primarily during the 1980’s. The “chapters” are told in alternating voice and it is so interesting to read the individual perspectives on commonly shared experiences. The book is really hard to put down and will appeal, I think, to teens and adults alike. One of the authors, Liz Welch is scheduled to read on Thursday, April 1st at the Book House in Stuyvesant Plaza. I’ll be in NYC that evening and unfortunately won’t be able to attend. If any of you go, please post back here with a comment.

I know that this book is going to make me cry.