Back to school

So's not to leave out the toddler, we made a name tag. It made her happy.



Homeschooling S.



A gets settled in 3rd grade.



K makes his kindergarten debut.


My two middle boys at the elementary school.


Can you feel fall in the air? Yeah, me neither. We went swimming after school today. It's too early for all this back to school stuff!

Hughes

John Hughes died today, and I have been married for 16 years.

This calls for a story. It's a long one.

In August 1989 I was a cranky 15-year-old riding in the backseat of a very large blue Dodge van all the way across the country, and then all the way north, almost as far as you can go, plugged into a Walkman all the while. Dragged away, crying, pouting, and finally sulking, away from my friends and the school choir and drama programs and the voice lessons I had planned, away from radio stations and concerts that were oh-so-important, away from the long-haired boy I was sure would eventually come around and fall in love with me. Goodbye to the top-floor bedroom where I watched golden leaves float in dense showers to the ground and listened to the summer rains of western Pennsylvania beating the roof of the screened porch, to the squirrels in the backyard, to the giant hemlock tree shading the front porch, to the everywhere-lush green of the east. No more taking the trolley downtown to hang out by the Three Rivers Fountain and go to Eide's for records. No more covert operations to the Galleria to spy on the gorgeous senior boy who worked in the shoe store (different from the long-haired boy; I still had a wide range of interests). No more basement sleepovers to escape the oppressive, wet heat in the upstairs part of the house.

Oh yes, I was a delightful teenager, and I didn't dwell at all on what I was losing.

We arrived in Fairbanks, a family of eight, bedraggled and tired after some 3000 miles on the road. We passed the marquis of what would become my high school, and I could not figure out what the heck a malamute was supposed to be. The graphical representation was not all that good, as I remember. (It's a sled dog. You really can't blame me for not knowing. None of the popular Disney dogsled movies had happened yet.) I noticed that the auditorium was called Hering, and the pool was called Hamme. Great, a whole school of salted, preserved meats.

Skipping forward several days, I started my sophomore year of high school. Thankfully, I had made friends at church and my dear, wonderful Kelly - the girl who could sing AND play basketball AND was destined for the student body presidency - was showing me around. Before too long I found a crowd where I was comfortable. I settled into Concert Choir and met the drama teacher.

Then Seminary started. What we did, although I'm sure it wasn't the most righteous or diligent thing to do, was to sit on the floor in the hallway of the stake center and wait for the last minute to pass before going into our classes. All the better to people-watch. And I liked what I saw. The boy who caught my eye had pegged pants, argyle socks, a denim jacket, Converse All-Stars, and suspenders hanging loose from his waist. No visible hair, and a bandanna tied tight around a perfectly round head. My first thought, of course, was that I had found a Mormon skinhead in Alaska. I knew we had to meet. I asked Kelly who he was.

"Oh, that's Glenn," she said. "He looks like a rebel, but he's really all into scriptures and stuff." Apparently he had been the champion in the Seminary scripture chase the previous spring. He was a senior. Oh, the appeal of a senior boy to a sophomore girl! And everybody, it seemed, knew him and loved him.

The deal was sealed. I was on the hunt. I also heard he had an out of state girlfriend, but this didn't worry me.

Within a couple of weeks I learned through covert means that he was up for Homecoming King at his high school. Certainly not my high school. The two are mortal enemies. Then I learned he had won. All the stoners and nerds and punks and losers banded together and voted a punk rock kid homecoming king. Do you see the John Hughes element yet?

Naturally, everyone I had befriended wanted to get to that homecoming dance and see the spectacle. Everyone wondered how the crown would fit on top of his hair. Oh yeah, his hair. About 8 inches tall spiky crazy hair, sometimes straight up in the air, sometimes arranged in the messy nest of Robert Smith, sometimes sprayed into a peacock-tail fan. This was no skinhead. That was also ok with me.

Students from my school were not allowed at dances at his school, and vice versa. There had been horrible fights. We heard there might be a guest list, but it didn't pan out. So there was one thing left to do.

I dressed in one of my mom's old formals from the 60s. It was bright, near-neon paisley flannel with a black velvet bodice and covered buttons down the front. I put on my red lipstick, which my mother hated and greeted with "Here come Ana's lips!" I got in my friend Chris's tiny car and we went over to the dance. A girl named Cat let us in the back door.

Glenn wore Royal Stewart tartan pants covered in multitudes of zippers, and a white t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and something written on it in black marker, I can't remember what. I did what any postmodern girl would do, of course: marched right up to the punk rock homecoming king and said, "I saw you at Seminary."

He had seen me, too, and didn't seem unhappy to see me again. We slow-danced to a Pink Floyd song. Looking back, for many years I thought it was "Wish You Were Here," but now I think it may have been "Blue Skies." When it was time to go home, I left with my friends.

The following Monday I wrote my phone number in the margins of my Seminary manual in my red "LDS SCRIPTURE MARKING PENCIL" and ripped it out. I gave it to Glenn on the steps of the stake center as the sun was rising. He called me that night and told me the detailed history of Bauhaus, Love and Rockets, Tones on Tail, and Peter Murphy. I started sitting in his car before Seminary, listening to music, instead of in the hallway. We kissed for the first time about a month later under a streetlamp in the falling snow, the cloudy sky glowing pink, reflecting the lights of the town.

After a breakup, a mission, and a lot of letters and phone calls, we got married on August 6, 1993 in the Salt Lake Temple.

It's too bad John Hughes never made a movie of us; it would have rocked. But 16 years of marriage (adorned with 15 years of higher education between the two of us, and four beautiful children) trumps any show I've ever seen. Even Pretty in Pink.

No-bake cheesecake

You have to love food with a rhyming name. This recipe was inspired by an old favorite from Red Butte Cafe in Salt Lake City - formerly one of my favorite places, although it's been less wonderful the last couple of times I've been there.

Anyway, I made this up on Sunday for dessert when it was still way too hot to bake. It has cooled down this week, thank goodness, but I still think I might make this (or some variant on it) again soon. It is very, very intense and chocolaty. The kind of thing that makes some people say, "That's too rich," and makes me say, "Seconds, please."

Aztec No-bake Cheesecake

1 package cinnamon graham crackers, crushed fine
3 tbsp. butter, melted

1 8-oz. package reduced-fat cream cheese
1 6-oz container smooth yogurt - vanilla, orange or lemon flavor
1/2 c. cocoa powder
1/2 c. white sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 12-oz. package dark chocolate chips
1 12-oz. can evaporated milk
1 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tiny pinch hot chili powder or cayenne pepper, or to taste

Extra ground cinnamon to garnish (sprinkle)

In a 9-inch pie pan, mix cracker crumbs and butter with a fork. Press to form crust. Refrigerate.

Using an electric mixer, beat together cream cheese and yogurt until well blended. Incorporate other ingredients on slow speed. Pour into crust. Refrigerate.

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine chocolate and evaporated milk. Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly, until smooth. Remove from heat. Add butter, vanilla and chili or cayenne and stir them in. This is a hot fudge sauce, by the way. Pour about 2/3 of it over the pie. Save the rest for your next ice cream sundae.

Sprinkle cinnamon very lightly on top of the pie. Refrigerate at LEAST two hours. Overnight is better, if you can wait that long.

So I am now thinking I could double the yogurt and cream cheese, eliminate the fudge layer, and make a perfectly respectable lemon no-bake cheesecake to serve with strawberries (which are almost done for the summer - I stopped by my strawberry stand today and they say they are going to close August 13. Sad!)

Honestly, I was surprised to see how well it set up. Way too easy.

Lightening up

Just some stuff I'm liking lately, with links to make it more fun for you.

- Lapis jersey knit skirt, convertible to strapless dress, cute with a t-shirt underneath. Not in stock on this wholesale website, which is mysteriously full of Fall 2007 clothing. Found at Marshall's in dark brown for $10. This would be so easy to make, and I might try. I wore it today with a lavender tiny-paisley-print, ruffled-front blouse to church, then with a t-shirt underneath the tube dress incarnation to a picnic.

- Navy blue nail polish on short nails. Yeah, it's pretty much the only hot new trend I can afford. So I tried it. I like it.

- Roasted beets. Yum. Except I just do mine with olive oil, salt and pepper. Put them in a salad with some goat cheese and yellow tomatoes and raspberry vinaigrette.

- Toy clearance at Target! Time to start Christmas shopping! And I already went, so you are all free to go get whatever is left.

- Green zebra-striped tomatoes from my garden.

- New vacuum cleaner. Can I get a woot? Anything would have been an improvement over my 8-year-old el cheapo model, but I have to say this one is just awesome. Hat tip to Consumer Reports for the recommendation (I finally bought my own subscription) and thanks to awesome mother-in-law who footed the bill for the new vac. We actually bought it at Costco. Sigh of love for Costco.

- Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I am so late to this party. We are almost through with Season Two on DVD. No spoilers, please. I am loving it.

- Segue right into my cousin Valerie and her hubs James debating Very Important Topics (like Buffy, Harry Potter, and So You Think You Can Dance) on American Nobody. I have still never met James, which is a shame. Because he has a cool new job working for one of my favorite shows and it would be better to brag about that if I knew him really well.

- My Teva Mush flip-flops. It's getting so I don't want to wear anything else. I love not working this summer!

Happy day

July 25, 2009
Fresno California Temple

Mommycita

That's what my kids call me, even Z, and the Spanish speakers in the waiting room at the dentist's office think it's pretty funny. I do, too.

Our India

It's been a while since I posted an Indian recipe, but it's something I come back to quite frequently, as I did tonight. Here's what I love about Indian food:

• Complex spices and flavors ... and lots of onion
  
• Fresh and inexpensive ingredients, especially if you make it vegetarian, which I usually do
• Contrasts - mild rice, spicy curry, cool raita

The thing I do not so much love about Indian food is what it takes to make it - long lists of ingredients, mostly spices, and many steps to layer all the flavors together just right.

However, today I took it easy somewhat. I put together the dal early in the afternoon, just heating it and adding the final seasoning mix right before dinner. The veggie curry with a pre-blended biryani spice mix was an easy one that I made up out of my head (so ok, it is probably inauthentic). We had plain white rice from the rice cooker. So I got brave and tried making naan for the first time. Here's how it all went.

First I made the dal, called this in my "A Little Taste of India" recipe book:

Parippu (a red lentil dal)
(edited with my substitutions and notes)

1 c. red lentils (masoor dal)
1 shallot, diced [recipe called for onion here but I was out of onions at this stage ... had to run out later in the afternoon and grab some]
1 large, ripe tomato, peeled and diced
1 c. coconut milk (save the rest from your can)
[recipe calls for two green chilies, chopped; I omitted them in hopes of winning over my children]
1/4 tsp. ground turmeric
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
2 c. water

1 tbsp. olive oil [recipe calls for 2 tbsp. oil]
1/2 tsp. mustard seeds [recipe calls for black mustard seeds but I only had yellow so I used them]
1 tsp. ground cumin [recipe calls for whole cumin seeds, which are not in my pantry]
1 onion, halved and then sliced lengthwise
10 curry leaves [I omitted; if you think I am going on a search for curry leaves in a small town in central California with four kids in tow you are crazier than I am]

Combine all items in first group of ingredients in a medium-sized, heavy bottomed saucepan and stir. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer. Cook about 25 minutes or until lentils are cooked to a soft mush. They will lose their shape. If needed, you may add another 1/2 c. of water.

You may remove from heat and hold at this point until just before serving.

Before serving, place lentils on low heat. Place oil in skillet or small saucepan over medium heat and heat until it sizzles when a few drops of water are added. Add mustard seeds [and cumin seeds if you have whole ones] and cover until seeds pop. You might want to shake the pan as if you were making popcorn on the stove, to avoid the seeds burning. Add onion, curry leaves if you have them, and cumin if you are using ground cumin at this point. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until onions are well caramelized (golden brown). Add entire mixture, scraping out pan, to simmering lentils. Season with salt to taste and cook 5 more minutes.

---
After you set your lentils aside in the early afternoon, start the ...

Naan
[adapted for electric mixer by me]

4 c. all-purpose flour plus up to 1 c. more for adjusting dough
1 1/4 c. milk
2 tsp. dry yeast
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 egg, beaten
2 tbsp. oil or ghee
3/4 c. plain yogurt (Mountain High full-fat plain is my favorite for pretty much everything)

Put the flour in your mixer bowl.

In a medium-sized, microwave-safe liquid measure, warm milk on high heat 1 minute. It should feel tepid, not hot, to the touch. Stir in a teaspoon of extra flour and your yeast. Set aside to grow. Wait a few minutes. If it smells yeasty you're in good shape.

In a small bowl, mix the egg, oil, and yogurt. Pour it into the flour along with the milk. Mix with dough hook on low until incorporated. Add more flour as needed until dough is sticky but mostly leaves sides of bowl. Knead using dough hook 5 minutes on medium speed. Remove hook. Cover with a wet tea towel or with plastic wrap coated in cooking spray. Allow to rise until double in size.

**Note that this rise will take longer than most bread recipes - maybe 3 hours or so! I think it is because of the active cultures in the yogurt competing with the yeast.

When ready to bake (start about an hour before dinner), heat oven to 400 degrees F. Place a 9x13" pan half full of water on the lower shelf of your oven. Place a stoneware baking sheet, or two if you can fit them, on the top shelf to heat before you place dough on it. A metal cookie sheet would work also if you don't have stoneware, but I used stoneware to try to mimic the effect of the tandoor (clay oven) where naan is authentically baked. If you use metal you will certainly want to oil the sheet. For the seasoned stoneware it was not necessary.

Punch or stir down dough. Remove from bowl and cut into 10 pieces of approximately equal size. Shape two at a time into flat circles, then pull one side to make a teardrop shape. I used my hands, but when I do it again I think I may use a rolling pin to make them thinner and more even.

Place two pieces at a time onto your heated baking sheet. Bake 7 minutes on one side, then turn them over on the baking sheet and bake them for 5 minutes on the other. Repeat shaping and baking for all 10 pieces. As you remove each batch of two from the oven, place them on a plate and cover with a cloth (I used two towels to hold in heat) to keep them warm and soft.

My book says they won't cook properly if you try to use the bottom rack of your oven. I decided not to test that.

---

While you are baking naan you can put these two recipes together:

Carrot and anise raita

3/4 c. plain yogurt
1 small carrot, grated
1/2 tsp. anise seeds, crushed in your hand

Stir together and refrigerate to allow flavors to combine.

Vegetable biryani
(I am just calling this "biryani" because that's the name of the spice blend I used, pictured below. The biryani recipe in my Indian cookbook is for lamb and involves sealing a pot with dough and all kinds of stuff. It looks amazing, and I am probably never going to cook it.)



1 onion, diced
1 tsp. oil or ghee
1 tbsp. biryani masala spice mix (see photo above)
1 can diced tomatoes
1 head cauliflower, diced
2 potatoes, peeled and diced
1 package fresh spinach, rough-chopped
Leftover coconut milk from previous recipe (about 1/3 cup)

Saute onion in oil or ghee until translucent. Add spice mix and stir until fragrant. Add tomatoes, cauliflower and potatoes. Cook until everything is tender. Add spinach and coconut milk and simmer until spinach is softened. Season with salt to taste. Fish out any large chunks from the spice mix you can find before you serve it.

Go and read

Rarely Home Mom's campfire story. Not to be missed.

Hats

Just a little photo story.

Pina colada froyo

It's getting to the point where my blogging is so predictable (when I get around to it) that I should just write in code. So here you go.

Summertime. Creamy frozen treats.

Pina Colada Frozen Yogurt

1 can crushed pineapple with juice

1 can coconut cream (not coconut milk)

3/4 c. sugar

1 c. full-fat plain yogurt

Blend it all in your blender. Then process it in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer directions. Mellow in the freezer before serving.

Tropical bliss, and no dairy except yogurt in it, so my lactose-intolerant husband should be able to eat it without undesirable aftereffects, and I will not end up snarfing it all myself. Let's see if this works. Dr. G. has a lot of willpower, unfortunately for me.

Never say never

My S basically flunked the second half of 4th grade. He just refused to do the work, and the teacher's approach seemed to be to let him choose what to do and experience the consequences. I don't totally disagree with that, but getting Fs didn't seem to wake him up, even though we had consequences at home too.

In thinking about it I came to the realization that the change was more in expectations than in S. He just was not getting the guidance and attention that he did when he did better in school - he excelled academically through all the lower grades in spite of his ADHD-related behavior issues. Obviously in 4th grade you do not get as much hand holding and the class size is much bigger. And I started to feel like he was just not ready for that transition. He has an August birthday and as early as kindergarten I had concerns about his readiness, but I hesitated to make him wait, because he is so big for his age.

I was leaning toward having him repeat 4th grade. Well, Dr. G. was very much against that and ultimately I think he is right - the stigma is just too great at this age. Plus, S does know the 4th grade material; he just refused to do the work to show it. So repeating would just make him bored and embarrassed and not do much good.

At the same time I really did not believe he was ready for 5th grade in the public schools. I mean, that is almost middle school! He does not have the skills to meet those expectations!

So there was one alternative ... something I never thought I could do ... We are going to homeschool S this year. I can hardly believe I have decided this but with much prayer I know it is the right thing to do.

The great thing is, in California, there are charter schools that give you funding and guidance and help you a lot. So we just scheduled our intake interview for a school in the Modesto area. I think this will be a great way to help him get up to speed before middle school. We are on our way!

Three books, mixed thanks

So, I will thank my dear, brilliant friend Miriam for recommending that I read Neil Gaiman. Dr. G,. on the other hand, is probably not so happy about it. I have read three freaky, amazing novels in the last couple of weeks and done little to no housework. Each book has a premise so imaginative and writing so engaging and witty that it's kinda tough to break away ... well, yeah, you know me and my character flaw related to a good book. Visiting teachers, social workers, and anybody else reading this blog, I may need a week or so before you try coming over here. (Just kidding, my visiting teachers already know how I really live, and social workers are not coming here anymore because our kids are finally and officially adopted!)

One. Anansi Brothers. Two half-mortal sons of the trickster-spider god and how they mess things up and fix them again, along with significant ideas about good and evil, myth and magic, and so on, in a story that moves at romp speed with sympathy and humor and fright woven in its ... web, yeah, I couldn't resist.

Two. Good Omens, or the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. What happens at Armageddon if the Son of Satan gets misplaced in a hospital switcheroo, because nobody in Heaven or Hell really knows what they're doing. Funny and philosophical.

Three. Coraline. Read in an hour or so this afternoon. So deeply frightening, I need to get out in the sunshine. And I really do not trust that well, and when you read about it you will know what I mean. SHUDDER.

Have fun!

After tomorrow

After tomorrow, this can never happen to me again.

Social workers and attorneys and judges will be officially out of my family's life. Unless I get crazy someday and foster kids again.

But I will never say goodbye again to the kids I have, not that way.

Happy tears ... I sort of can't believe what I have been through the last two and a half years. That was one long, painful labor.

We'll be in court at 9:30.

Daughter book

It seems like I've been posting a lot about my ubiquitous and dynamic little daughter lately. Two year olds are always entertaining, aren't they? I've also been reading a book that seemed to make me watch her with even more than the usual wonder.

"The Hummingbird's Daughter" by Luis Alberto Urrea is dense with faith, magic, tradition and color. (I sound like a back-of-the jacket reviewer ... but I really liked this book.) The book is an historical novel about Teresa or Teresita, the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy rancher, the author's great-aunt and a powerful curandera who was seen as a saint by the people and a dangerous revolutionary by the government. The setting was really transporting for me, the characters were just about universally lovable, and the perspective of the protagonist on the supernatural was really enlightening. Not to mention the gorgeous Spanish-flavored writing, something I always enjoy (witness my affection for Isabel Allende).

Don't mistake me; the text is earthy, violent, sometimes disturbing. It might not be the best book for your Relief Society book club if your fellow readers there are very sensitive. But if they can take it, there is a lot of spiritual material to discuss. I have latched onto one little idea from Huila, Teresita's mentor: praying only for others, not for yourself. I'm trying it out. Amazing how much my prayers had turned to wish lists, and amazing how different I feel turning my heart to others instead.

And if you get discouraged while reading the book, hang on. The ending will knock your socks off. It's totally triumphant. That's all I'll say!

Verbal abuse

When the elders came by earlier this morning they really were looking for their lost cell phone. Silly me, I thought they were after a repeat of the verbal abuse they experienced from my two-year-old when they dropped by last night (right at bedtime, not my favorite moment for visitors, so I don't feel all that bad about this). I wrote down a few choice morsels:

• "Scawedy-cats!" (Over and over) (She had heard her brothers get in a fight over this one and knew it was an insult)
• "I'm gonna gi'you a whuppin'!" (confession: we taught her this one so she could say it to Dr. G's dad when he came for commencement last month. Now we reap the whirlwind.)
• "Shut up!" (She has been watching a lot of "Annie" lately and is quite impressed with Miss Hannigan, whom she calls "Annie's bad teacher")
• "Do you have undopants, or pull-ups?"

Poor missionaries. Or, as Z calls them, "sissonawies."

In truth, she has a massive crush on them. A few weeks ago in sacrament meeting she was begging me to let her "touch sissonawies." Then she was yelling at them across the chapel overflow (where we sit to minimize disruptions): "Poopooheads!"

Watch out, boys. That's all I can say.

Solidarity

I started plucking my eyebrows when I was 13, at my mom's suggestion. Not a lot of plucking, just excising some strays here and there. I was duly cautioned against overdoing it. My mom is a lady of refined practicality, and I do appreciate that.

I was 18 before someone told me, though, that maybe I ought to pluck strays growing in between my eyebrows. You know, in the unibrow space. Honestly, I never noticed they were there. Maybe because I'm naturally somewhat of a low-maintenance girl, or maybe because I never wore my glasses while completing my personal toilette. Who was that someone? Auntie Chris. When was it? Just before I headed home from BYU at Christmastime to see the boy who is now Dr. G for the first time in two and a half years. He had been on a mission in Korea. I already knew I wanted to marry him. So thanks to Auntie Chris for not letting me make that crucial first impression with unibrow.

A short time ago (although it seems ever more distant) I had a job whose requirements included being prepared to go on television to speak for the university on any given day with little to no advance notice. So I started getting my hair done by real professionals (as opposed to dye by the local drugstore and cuts by Great Clips) as well as -- rrrrip! -- my eyebrows. I sort of enjoyed the quiet aesthetician's room at the local posh-ish salon. (You only get so posh in my town ... the ritziest place still charged only $25-30 for a cut last time I went there.) The price for an eyebrow wax and cleanup was not unreasonable for a professional working woman, only $15. To me, it seemed worth it because after 20 years or so, I had come to hate plucking.

Then Z came on the scene. My little Portuguese-Chicana princess! Not so much at first, but within a couple of months her Frida came shining through. I know exactly where it came from. I saw her birthfather in court when he was there last year trying to say that now that he was out of prison he could take care of her (the judge wasn't sympathetic). His black brows would put Harry Monster to shame.

So she was less than a year old - she was born in November and I think it was the following July - when people started asking me when I was going to get her eyebrows done.

No kidding!

She was a BABY!

And I said so. And I still say so. And last August when I gave notice at my job, I also quit plucking. Me and Z have some eye.brows. Si se puede, princess.

Resemblance

We had a wonderful weekend. My parents came from Salt Lake and two wonderful ladies came from North Carolina to see my amazing second son be baptized.



We have met birthmom T and sister S before, but in an abbreviated way (at placement on June 1, 2001) and in a hurried way (when she visited Utah in October 2004 and we made a quick trip there to see her). This time we had almost four days to be together - really together, because she stayed with us in our tiny house - and get to know each other. And we love each other more than ever. We are alike in so many ways and most of all we see more and more similarities between A and his birthfamily. It is fun. It's not always easy, especially when it comes time to say goodbye. But it is so good for all of us. T remains sure of her adoption decision.We love getting to know her.

A couple of people - friends who, like us, are involved with the foster care system - have asked us if it feels safe to us. Absolutely it does. But I don't know if I'd choose to have the birthparents of any of my other kids stay with us. I wish they were as wonderful and stable and trustworthy and loving as T, so I could. Complicated life, darn it.

Deal

I know you have been just waiting for the right time to listen to my latest favorite singer. Here's your chance. It's a screaming deal! 

You can thank me later. I know you are going to be busy listening to it over and over so you can learn all the words and we can sing along nice and loud next time we are in a car together. I totally understand.

Enjoy ...

I got a date

Actually, two.

June 22 we will go into the county Human Services office to sign papers.

July 1 we will be in court finalizing two adoptions.

And sometime in July (as yet unscheduled, pending information from the grandmas about when they can make it) we will have a temple sealing and a really darn big party!

YAY!

Chicken tamale pie

I had planned chicken enchiladas for dinner last night, but my tortillas got eaten by the resident troop of howler monkeys, I mean kids. Next best thing? Masa, baby. Polenta, grits, mush, whatever you want to call it. Talk about comfort food, and I have plenty in the good ol' food storage. 

I love the traditional tamale pie with ground beef and green olives, so I tweaked the idea a little to use what I had around. Some good olives would still be a great addition, though.

This is really easy because of the canned sauce. If you have your own recipe for a good tomatillo/green chile sauce, use that by all means. That's not how my life goes right now, but if you're making some call me and I will come and tell you if I like it. Nice of me, isn't it?

Chicken Tamale Pie

3 c. yellow corn meal

6 c. water

1 1/2 tsp. salt

1 large onion, 1/4" dice

Nonstick cooking spray

1 1/2 - 2 c. cooked chicken, chopped up (I used a mixture of light and dark grilled chicken meat, and I think the smokiness from the grill added a lot)

2 10-oz cans green chile enchilada sauce

1 medium sweet bell pepper, 1/4" dice (I used orange but I think any color would be fine)

ground black pepper to taste

8 oz. monterey jack cheese, shredded

In a large saucepan, whisk together cornmeal, water and salt until no lumps are left. Bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring frequently, until thick and soft (no crunchy granules of corn left) with all water absorbed. Set aside.

In a large skillet, saute onion in cooking spray until clear. Add chicken and 1 can of the enchilada sauce and heat through. Add bell pepper and stir. Season with pepper to taste.

In a large baking pan (think a big, deep lasagna pan)  spread half the cooked cornmeal mixture. Spread chicken filling over it. Spoon remaining cornmeal mixture on top. Pour remaining can of sauce over all and top with shredded cheese.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Makes 12-14 servings - plenty for leftovers. All my kids but Sam ate and enjoyed it.

It will not serve up in nice squares like this photo when you first make it. Plan to scoop it out with a nice, big spoon. Those pleasing lasagna-like squares come the next day, when you get to eat it for lunch, like I am now.