Next food network star? Not!

I found myself in the strange situation of wishing I had a camera crew in my kitchen. Strange, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I hate to be photographed let alone on video. However, I have found myself thinking that this blog is lacking in entries-for one, and photographic enhancements-for another missing element.

My sister writes a food blog and posts pictures of her culinary creations along with recipes, etc, but in my house with three hungry kids plus a hungry husband food doesn't really ever get the chance to plate itself and pose prettily for it's close-up before being ravenously consumed. I am attempting to rectify that by snapping a quick pic when I can, but let's face it. My hands are usually otherwise occupied in the kitchen.

One of the questions I get asked most often is "how do you cook with kids?". And this led me to my wish for a camera crew this evening. On the menu this evening was panfried Panko breaded shrimp with sweet and sour sauce and sushi rice. So rice is no big deal, put it in a pot and forget about it. The sauce involved some chopping and sauteing. Gabriella hung around a little during prep, mostly to snag chunks of the pineapple I was chopping. The same goes for Sierra.

But once I got the shrimp cleaned and started setting up the breading station, the hoards descended (by hoards I mean all three kids) and I caught myself thinking "I wish someone here to film this". At ages seven, five, and three my kids know how to set up a little assembly line for the breading and frying of fish and meats. No nonsense, they get right down to business. One would take a handful of cleaned shrimp from the bowl on the table and toss it in the flour to coat, then drop the freshly floured shrimp into the eggwash. Eggwash was manned by my three year old, Sierra , so she needed a little help making sure the shrimp was well covered in egg wash and ready for the panko. Into the panko went the shrimp and kid number three would toss them in the bread crumbs to cover and then drop them one by one into the hot pan on the stove.

Now, let me make the point again that my kids are three, five, and seven years old. It was messy (I laughed at myself for washing the floor earlier in the day). They are young, but they know their way around a kitchen without any hesitation. We had a blast and I caught myself thinking that a video blog would probably be the only way to share how easy and how much fun it is to cook with your kids.

Best Ever Chocolate Hazelnut Cookies

sift together:

1c. ww flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 cup cocoa

cream together:

1/2 cup butter

1/4 cup hazelnut butter

1 1/2 cups brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla

Stir in:

1/4 cup unsweetened yogourt

beat in:

1 egg

preheat oven to 350 degrees and prepare baking sheet. beat wet ingredients until light and fluffy, this will require some effort as the hazelnut butter will not want to dissolve smoothly. stir in dry ingredients. (duh)

drop batter from teaspoon about 2 inches apart onto baking sheets. bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, eh voila!

these cookies have a soft brownie like consistency, if you prefer a crispier cookie you might try replacing the baking powder with baking soda and reducing the brown sugar by half, replacing it with white. all measurements are merely suggestions-anyone who knows me is aware that i never measure anything precisely. And of course, in any recipe that i possibly can i will replace things like white flour and sour cream with "healthier" alternatives, again merely suggestions though try it, you'll probably like it.

This post is not so much a confession as a vignette, a visual memory from my cross country trek. As my family has grown, my world has shrunk. My daily adventures are generally confined within a five mile radius from my house as public transit is hardly an ideal method of travel, and when you add three kids to the mix everything becomes more complicated. So when the wanderlust kicks in, as it often does at this time of year, I resort to musings on past adventures...

I left Winnipeg very early in the morning, not even bothering with breakfast. I remember being fascinated by the prairies. The endless succession of fields planted with all manner of grains, the brilliant yellow of the canola, the huge expanse of blue sky. However fascinating the scenery was however, hunger eventually kicked in and I began to look for breakfast.

Eventually, I came upon an appropriately marked highway exit and left the number one in search of breakfast. I drove, and drove, and drove until I began to wonder if I had misread the sign. Should I turn back? But then I noticed in the distance the shapes of buildings so I continued on my course.

I felt like I had travelled back in time about 150 years as I drove down the main (and seemingly only) street in this prairie town. The buildings were brilliantly painted and many sported false fronts, just like you see in old westerns, giving them the illusion of being a story or so taller than they actually were. There were no big box stores, no familiar chain restaurants. The only place to eat in the town was a truck stop style diner-so there I went.

The design of the diner, or perhaps lack thereof, was to resemble your grandmother's kitchen. With the addition of a few or six tables all mismatched-mine was a metal framed number with cracked green formica top, with wood panelling on the walls, paint-by-numbers artwork, and perhaps the most fascinating fixture-the lady behind the counter.

There she stood, in all her glory, chatting up a couple local farmers and the greyhound bus driver wearing a low cut black lace top, tight skirt and four inch heels. Her hair was a brassy bleached blonde, teased and hairsprayed at least four inches above the top of her head. Her makeup was heavily applied perhaps in a vain attempt to conceal her age, which must have been close to fifty.

I remember having a moment of concern about the proximity of that much hairspray so close to the heat of the grill as she flipped the pancakes for my breakfast. It was pretty much standard truck stop fare, pancakes and thick black coffee resembling battery acid. I don't remember if she called me "doll" as she poured my coffee or winked as she served me my pancakes, but it certainly would have fit in well with the character she was portraying.

Lately I find myself wondering if I went back to that nameless little town in the prairies would she still be there? Teettering a little unsteadily now on those stilettos, the brassy blonde now faded more to grey. Or would she have switched to sensible shoes? Would her wardrobe be changed to suit her surroundings? Relaxed fit pants and brightly coloured polyester tops, hair cut short and allowed to fade. Makeup and flirtatious attitude toned down to grandmotherly kindness?

I'm not sure I want to know. Perhaps that's my confession for this entry.

On Comfort Foods

As the days grow shorter and the nights take on that indefinable chill of fall, I find myself thinking more and more of those good old (and generally less healthy) meals that people define as comfort foods. Now, before I go further, I want to state that I never intended an article about food to be my first blog post. This is not a food blog per se, and I also realize that this so far may not seem like much of a confession-but bear with me. Here comes the first confession.

When I informed my son this morning that I was out of oatmeal so there was no porridge for breakfast, he literally burst into tears. I felt like the worst mother in the world. What self respecting mother runs out of oatmeal a mere two days before the first of October? For there is certainly nothing more comforting on a chill autumn morning than a piping hot bowl of oatmeal with crunchy crystals of melting brown sugar and cold milk. This was the inspiration for my post this evening. Oatmeal. And the subsequent crushing disappointment when none is available.

Over the past few weeks I have noticed an unconscious transition from the lighter dishes of summer to the richer flavours of fall. The terms braise, roast, and stew have taken precedence over steam and grill. This weekend we broke our long boycott of bacon to make a gnocci carbonara, and last night I made a full on dinner of pork chops and applesauce with mashed potatoes-these are not dishes I would ever make in the summer, it just wouldn't do! I find myself dreaming of roasted squash and root vegetables, coming up with new ideas for seasonings and sauces as well as digging up the old standbys such as a braised italian sausage dish that is a family favorite of ours as well as a fond memory from my childhood. We make it with low fat turkey sausage now and I have updated the seasonings and, perhaps most importantly added beer to the recipe, but it remains pretty true to the dish I grew up with.

And, of course, every now and again you must have the sort of lunch that I ate today-confession number two-a couple of handfuls of cheetos and a chocolate bar. This comfort food combination most likely dates back to my high school days where pocket money was short but bagged lunches were "uncool." So we'd scrape together what pennies we had to buy ourselves a peer approved lunchtime snack. The only thing missing from my meal today was a nice, cold can of coca cola-I just can't stand the syrupy sweetness anymore. Sometimes it sucks growing up.

Confession number three-I have been having difficulty coming up with a suitable conclusion to this post. It almost begs for a recipe for a sumptuous fall feast, but I don't "do" recipes. I don't follow directions, don't make entries in a kitchen journal, don't measure. So a recipe is out of the question. So what I have decided is to ask all of you, out there in the blogosphere, if you feel so inclined-what is your favorite fall comfort food? Post a comment, recipe, or description of a fond autumn food memory. And yes, immediately upon dropping my son at school today I went to the store and bought some oatmeal for his porridge!