Some Days Are Like This: Against the Perfect Dinner

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by Lisa

Not everything around here is always good manners, family dinners, cooked-from-scratch and served with calm fortitude and candlelight.  Those things are the standard (ok, not the candles), and I try, and we succeed more often that not. But over here, we aim here for small improvements, not perfection.   But some nights, kids are squirmy. Other nights, parents or kids are tired.  We all have bad days when making dinner conversation sends us over the edge.  Still other nights, we’ve had one too many activities, or stayed at the park too late, or misjudged the time, or someone has had a melt down. And on those nights, well, we are still what we eat. Or more accurately:  what we eat  comes from who we’ve been in the last hour. This is true for kids and true for the person making the dinner. At least in our house.

Case in point:  Last week, Kory was away on a rare business trip, we got home late after running errands, I had nothing prepped, we had run out of produce, and I had nothing quick to cook.  I didn’t want to make an effort: in prepping, in serving, in eating, in cleaning it all up. You know the feeling.  I did have a small amount of leftover pesto, some leftover macaroni and cheese and apples.  So that’s what we ate: reheated pastas. Apple slices. I might have thrown in a few carrot sticks.   Finn thought eating apples for dinner was just great. They both will eat pasta in any form.  It certainly wasn’t a good dinner, and I thought it was kind of terrible, but I just chalked up to Judith Viorst, and told myself that some days are like this. It’s the nature of kids, mothers, fathers–all family work.

Okra. A Reminder.

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This is not really a post about okra (though I do have a simple recipe below) but a reminder that when kids are involved in your meals, they should be involved in your meal planning. My husband and I know this, of course, and we do involve them to a certain extent — we ask whether they want pasta or rice; we let them vote on cooked spinach vs spinach salad; we bring them to the farmer’s market and let them pick things out. But lately we don’t often go to the grocery store with them, and that was site of this weekend’s revelation.

Tony and Ben had snuck out secretly to get a Christmas tree while Eli and I were at a birthday party. Decorating a Christmas tree requires eggnog, of course, so the guys headed off to our local market, which you enter through the produce section. Ben spotted the okra and remembered he loves it. Years ago, a friend made an Indian-spiced fried okra dish that he devoured, and Ben still talks about it (I remember it simply as the first time I enjoyed okra). But okra doesn’t show up in our CSA box and I don’t seek it out at the farmer’s market. Frankly, I don’t love it, but that shouldn’t be the most important factor now that the kids are getting older, and especially not if we want them to try new things. Plus, it is incredibly easy to cook.

Tony gets the credit for this simple recipe, which was delicious and different and everybody enjoyed (except Eli, to whom I suggested he could learn to like it). It inspired an entire Indian feast, with a simple curry of potatoes and tofu, papadum, and lime-mango chutney. More than that, it inspired us all to think we might possibly be taking the first small steps away from the kids narrow food choices of the last couple years.

Simple Fried Okra
Wash and trim the okra, then slice it into 1/2″ rounds. Fry it in a bit of olive oil until it has started to brown and crisp around the edges, about 6-10 minutes. Sprinkle with a mixture of ground cumin, coriander, turmeric and a bit of salt.

image credit

Swedish Meatloaf

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by Lisa

I blame this dinner, in no particular order on:  Catholic School; the American Girl Doll, Kirsten; St. Lucia; Ikea; the inventor of the “half birthday.”

Yesterday was St. Lucia Day, a fact my daughter knows about from I-don’t-know-how. It’s the only Saint’s day really celebrated in Sweden, and it’s celebrated with flair, with St. Lucia buns (don’ t go there, my husband has already made those jokes), and wreaths of lighted candles on young girls’ heads, and processions of girls dressed in white.  Yesterday was also my daughter’s official half-birthday. And her one and most beloved AG doll is Kirsten, from Sweden. And both my kids love Ikea’s Swedish meatballs. So there was really no debate about what I had to cook for dinner. (Due to a soccer tournament we got out of making the buns.)

So, I pulled out the recipe from Kirsten’s cookbook, and in the 45 minutes between the end of the school day and carpool for gymnastics and soccer, I tried to pull it together.  Surprisingly, I didn’t quite manage. The mixture came together quickly, but it was a little soft (not quite enough meat. I think), and I didn’t have time to fix it or to shape the meat balls. The solution? I dumped it all in a loaf  pan and stuck it in my convection oven at 350 degrees for 1 1/4 hours (it shuts off automatically), left the house, and came home to Swedish meatloaf.  It was actually good. It did actually taste like Swedish meatballs–mild and tender.

The downside: very few drippings for the gravy, so I had to improvise by adding chicken broth. The result was more than passable. The meatloaf was a big hit with the kids. The improvised gravy was big hit, the rye crackers with ligonberry jam was a big hit.  I will leave you with a satisfied doll, who has brought hours of enjoyment to our girl, and now a new dish to our whole family.

The recipe follows, adapted from Kirsten’s cookbook. though you may need to improvise as well.

Swedish Meatballs

  • 2 slices white bread
  • 1/2 cup heavy cram
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • small onion
  • 1 T butter
  • 1 lb ground beef
  • 1/2 lb ground pork
  • 1 egg
  • 1 tsp salt
  • dash nutmeg, cardamom, white pepper
  • 2 T oil
  • 1 T flour
  • 1 cup cold water or broth
  1. Cut bread into small cubes and soak in mixture of milk and cream.
  2. Dice onion and sautee in 1 T butter until clear and tender. Let cool.
  3. In a large bowl, mix meats together.
  4. Add bread mixture, egg, salt, spices, and onions and mix well.
  5. Shape mixture into small balls.
  6. Fry meatballs in 2T oil until brown on all sides. Remove using a slotted spoon and set aside.
  7. Turn down heat and whisk flour into pan drippings.
  8. Add water or broth and stir until gravy is thick.
  9. Return meatballs to gravy and simmer on low heat for 30 minutes, or until meatballs are cooked through.

Coconut Kale, Simplified

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by Caroline

As I’ve probably mentioned before, my mom is an excellent clipping service, regularly sending me articles and recipes from the New York Times. Sometimes she makes the recipes first herself but more often, since she is cooking for two and I am cooking for four, she sends it to me to test and see if it’s worth her effort. Usually my sister is included in the recipe exchange, too, which was particularly helpful recently, when Mom found the recipe for grilled coconut kale, and Libby made it, but suggested stir frying might be just as good, and easier. I’m here to report it is.

Now kale is something that, like many greens, cycles in and out of favor with my kids. Right now, Ben likes it best raw in salad and Eli won’t touch it. But this, like Lisa’s recent braised celery, was a modified success, and I’m encouraged to keep it in the repertoire. You might find that even kids who insist they don’t like kale like it this way, tender and sweet with coconut milk. And come summer, maybe I’ll even grill it; but this time of year, I’ll stay out of the rain and make it on the stove top.

I’ll link to the original recipe, but I’m also typing it in as I did it, cut down to a more family-sized amount (1 bunch of kale rather than 3).

1 bunch kale

1 13.5-ounce can coconut milk

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne

1/2 teaspoon mild paprika

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice.

1. Wash the kale thoroughly and cut out the stalks. Cut the wide leaves into strips the width of the small leaves.

2. In a large pot set over a low flame, heat the coconut milk until it is thoroughly mixed and just lukewarm. Transfer to a large, nonreactive bowl and add the remaining ingredients. Stir in the kale, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.

3. Remove the kale from the refrigerator and stir to make sure the leaves are well covered in marinade. Toss in a saute pan and cook over high heat for 2-3 minutes, then cover and lower the heat. Cook until tender, another 6-10 minutes. Serve immediately.

Adapted from Vij’s Restaurant, Vancouver, British Columbia.

Braised Celery with Olives

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By Lisa

This is one of those things that I never thought I would make–how many of you cook celery regularly (as a base of soups or sauces doesn’ t count)? I don’t. Or didn’t.   But then I saw this on tv at just the right moment, and I’ve made it twice in 2 weeks. A more simple, economical, versatile dish is hard to find. A more comforting cold weather dish is hard to find. It pairs beautifully with braised meat; it’s delicious over penne.  My eight year old loved it. My six year old was luke warm, but not totally opposed. I told him he had to learn to like it. We’ll see how that goes.

The dish basically involves slow cooking celery with a lot of onions, garlic, and olives in a very simple tomato paste sauce. The celery, as my daughter remarks, transforms into something tender-crisp, and golden.  If you don’t have olives–as I didn’t the last time–leave them out. If you like anchovies (we do) toss a few in with the onions. You can’t really mess this up.

Braised Celery with (or without Olives)

(very slightly adapted from Lidia Bastianich)

  • olive oil
  • 1-2 onions (more is better), halved, then sliced (not too thin)
  • 1 bunch celery, chopped into 1-2 inch slices, including leaves
  • 2-3 cloves garlic, crushed
  • 1-2 anchovies (optional)
  • cured black olives (you can get away w/o these, but it’s better with them)
  • 1/2 can tomato paste
  • 2 cups hot water
  1. Sautee onion and garlic in about 1/4 cup olive oil until they begin to soften
  2. Add celery (and anchovy if using) and sautee until it begins to soften and turn golden brown.
  3. Dissolve tomato paste in hot water, and add to the pan along with the olives.
  4. Simmer over low heat until celery is tender but not too soft–about 30 minutes.
  5. Serve warm, as a side, or over pasta with cheese.

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