This Isn't Chick Food

The girl to boy ratio at my house has me outnumbered 5 to 1 and consists of three young men, one husband and BozDog. Chick food doesn't really fly around here and frankly, I'm fine with that. I prefer steak and potatoes over lettuce and carrot sticks and I think turkey bacon is an abomination. I mean, why would you want to ruin an incredibly perfect food by trying to make it out of poultry. Not that I don't like turkey and whatnot because I do, but I just think it has it's place, like on a nice toasted double-decker club sandwich. With bacon. And don't get me started on tofu. Ewww. (Sorry Candy.)

There is nothing that makes me happier than knowing I've made a meal that everybody loved eating. I know this to be especially true when I go to make breakfast in the morning and find the leftovers from the night before gone. Vanished. Like whoever was stalking the refrigerator late at night couldn't get enough of whatever I served at dinner so they went back for more. When no one was looking.

The other night I made my version of a quick Chicken Fried Steak with Parmesan Baked Smashed Potatoes. I know, that's a mouthful but trust me, we enjoyed every bite. I whipped those steak and potatoes out in no time and then threatened the boys with their lives if they didn't leave the left-overs for breakfast. Okay, maybe not, but they do think I'm pretty awesome for making steak and eggs the next morning.

Quick Chicken Fried Steak
6 Cube Steaks
Flour (A cup or so)
1 Tsp Salt
1 Tsp Paprika
1 Tsp Pepper
Canola Oil

(This is so easy because there is no egg and milk wash.) Pour some flour into a pie plate, enough to dredge all of the steaks in. Add the salt, pepper, paprika, OR you can use seasoned salt instead of the other seasonings. Mix it all up. Salt and pepper both sides of the cube steak and place in the flour mixture(really press the flour mixture onto the cube steak. You want it well coated). Set aside on a separate plate. Do this for each steak.

In a frying pan, add enough Canola oil to cover the bottom and turn to medium-high heat. You want the oil to be hot enough so that when you set the steak in there it really starts to sizzle. (At this point, put a little more flour on the steak, because if you're going to make gravy the more flour mixture the better. Trust me.)

Cook the steak for about 3 minutes (the bottom should be really golden and crispy) and then turn, frying for another 3 minutes. Don't crowd the steaks. Cook 3 or 4 at a time and when those are done cook the remaining. It should look like this.



Place them on a paper towel to absorb any of the excess oil. Serve these right on top of the Parmesan Baked Smashed Potatoes with a little gravy. (Gravy? Just add a little chicken stock to the drippings along with some of the left over flour and stir, stir, stir until it thickens.)


Parmesan Baked Smashed Potatoes
10 medium red or yukon gold potatoes
Olive Oil
Parmesan Cheese
Salt & Pepper

Scrub potatoes and place them in a large pot covered with water. Bring to a boil and cook until fork tender and drain. Place the potatoes on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or aluminum foil and with a potato masher lightly smash the potatoes skin and all. Give a really good drizzle of olive oil all over the potatoes and sprinkle with salt, pepper and lots of Parmesan. Bake at 425° for 12-15 minutes until they are nice and golden brown.

So, I Have A Question For You

Okay, I'm admittedly not a fan of CBS news and because I don't watch it, I cannot give an informed opinion about their news corespondent Lara Logan. Mainly because I haven't actually viewed any of her on air reporting and have only read snippets of her commentary, of which I mostly disagree with. However, I do admire her tenacity for reporting on the front lines and I think this lady's got some serious guts to do what she does.

I was dismayed to read that while Lara was reporting last Friday from Tahrir Square in Cairo she became separated from her crew in the crush of a mob and was brutally attacked, beaten and sexually assaulted by a group of men. I can't imagine anything more terrifying than that and the pain and agony she's suffering must be immensely horrible.

So imagine how appalled I was to read this and this. The first is an article about a fellow at NYU who feels we 'have to find the humor in the small things' because he disagrees with her politics or reporting. Before today, I knew as much about Nir Rosen as I do about making a nuclear bomb, which is nothing. So, I did some reading on him. I found that while his merits and published works may be impressive, his blatant piss-on-her comments aren't. What NYU should do is immediately condemn his ignorantly pig-headed comments, revoke his fellowship and then his wife Tiffany should drop-kick his arse into tomorrow.

The latter is a post written by Debbie Schlussel who is a political commentator, columnist, attorney, radio talk show host, blah...blah...blah. Let me say that while she may be Conservative she DOES NOT represent all Conservatives with her holier-than-thou spewage in this post. Especially me. In fact, her 'she deserved what she got' attitude makes me so mad I could spit. It's the complete and utter lack of empathy that has me baffled and whether you agree or not with someones politics, beliefs and views I can't believe people are so callous that they revel in satisfaction when such heinous crimes are committed against a fellow human being.

What is wrong with people?

Unfreakingbelievable.

Like Grandma Used To Make

While the rest of the blog world is eulogizing about the big 'V' day I have decided that I'm not dedicating this post to people treating the one they love to extra special stuff like fancy-schmancy dinners out, candy packaged in big red hearts, the token bouquet of roses and $7 cards waxing philosophical. I guess it's mainly because I'm not all about commercializing love, nor am I a fan of red roses. Those are for funerals. Besides, everyone knows love is about the small things like making sure the toilet paper hangs the right way, the seat is put down, the laundry is a co-ed sport and the girl gets the television remote every-now-and-then.

As passionate as I am about my dear husband I don't need the holiday police telling me when to celebrate my undying love for him. Because I am an awesome wife and prove daily just how much love I hold in my heart for him, I'm going to dedicate today's post to another passion of mine. Cooking.

I love, love, love to cook. Unfortunately, 2010 was a rather sucktackular year in my state of happiness and it took a toll on my creative ability in the kitchen. However, you will be glad to know that when 2011 rolled around I put the previous year behind me, made a vow to focus on the two passions I have (cooking and photography) and I haven't looked back. New Year's Day started out by making homemade tortillas, which then became chicken enchiladas smothered in green chile sauce and I've been cooking like crazy ever since(and running on the eliptical like a mad woman).

Yesterday I spent a great deal of time in the kitchen making Hungarian goulash, the way I'm sure my great grandma would've made. As I was cooking, I imagined that she chopped and browned the onions with the chunks of beef and used a heavy hand with the paprika like I did. As the goulash simmered for several hours, her house probably smelled as aromatic as mine. And, as I dropped the dumplings in the pot, I'm sure I waited in anticipation for them to rise to top just like grandma used to. I like to believe that grandma cooked with as much passion as I do and I think she'd be proud of me. I'm sure she would take my face in her hands and plant multiple kisses on my cheek. Just like she used to do.


Hungarian Goulash
2-3 lbs. beef chuck (cut into 1" cubes)
1 large yellow onion, chopped
1-1/2 tsp. salt
3 Tbsp olive oil
3 Tbsp good paprika (I actually use about 4 Tbsp. The more the better.)
3 Bay leaves
Water

In a large bowl, mix together beef and salt. In a large pot, sautee' the onion in olive oil until onions are soft and nicely browned, about 5 minutes. Add beef and cook until browned. Stir in paprika and 1 cup water. Add bay leaves, bring to a boil, cover and simmer for 2-3 hrs until the meat is very tender. Add 2-3 cups of water, enough to cover the meat. Cover and continue simmering while you prepare the dumplings.

Dumplings
In a bowl, add two eggs, 3/4 c flour and 1/2 tsp salt. Mix until combined and let sit for 1/2 hour. Drop by teaspoon fulls into beef mixture. When the dumplings rise to the top, cover and simmer for 5 minutes, until the dumplings are cooked through.

I cooked some red potatoes, smashed them up with a little butter and served the goulash over that. You can also serve atop egg noodles. Serves 6-8.

Jó étvágyat!

The Hiatus

I've been on a blog hiatus for some time and instead of boring you with the details of the whys and whatnots let me simply say it's been a season. I can't tell you how glad I was to see 2010 take a hike and 2011 come rolling in. I mean how awesome in itself is a year where you have 1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11, 11/11/11 and the fact that I have a child who celebrated his coming of age on one of those days and got his driving permit. So far, he has only accused me once of yelling at him while he was driving, which was most likely right after he took a corner going at least 80mph and I might have yelled, "use the freaking brake!". It was in the moment.

I don't make new year's resolutions because the likelihood of me sticking to them is in the 0% range. However, this year, I didn't make a resolution per se, but I did decide that since I'm heading into my 40th year of being I am going to make the most of it. There are certain things I love doing and am passionate about and I decided that I was going to figure out a way to pursue those things because technically, I'm probably half-way through my life and should be doing what I love. No, I'm not quitting my day job, I'm just going to spend the hours after that working a little harder at realizing some dreams. I'm not inclined at this point to share specifically what I'm pursuing, mainly because if I fall flat on my arse I'd rather not have an audience.

As I mentioned, it's the big 4-0 this year and I can't tell you how excited I am for it. I know, you're head just jerked and you probably threw out a 'whizzah-wha?' but seriously, the 30's were a decade of character building and I have enough character. For my 40th, my most awesome folks wanted me to accompany them on a European trip and then it kind of morphed into a girls trip for me and my mom and a fried of mine. I thought about Hungary because it's the 'homeland' but spring can be rather iffy weather-wise, so I looked at Spain and the south of France, Italy or maybe Greece. It was decided that Greece was the destination of choice until I looked at the airfare. Now I don't know how this whole pricing thing works but it's not just fuel for the automobiles that is affected. The cost of flights is ridiculous and if it's because of fuel then I say drill, baby drill and fuel our own planes. Sheesh.

After spending much time on the internet playing the Travelocity game, I decided that maybe a girls trip to New York City would be a better (read: cheaper) choice. I've watched Man vs. Food and I'm all for hitting up every single one of those delis in Brooklyn, the falafel places in Hell's Kitchen, Ellis Island, a Broadway play, Yankee Stadium, Times Square, Central Park and the FoxNews studios. Yes, I do plan to eat and photograph my way through New York if that's where I end up going and rest assured, I'll be packing my running shoes because from what I've seen it's gonna be a whole lotta good that I'll need to work off.

A Mom and Daughter Reconciled

May 2010

To be honest, I don't really remember exactly when and how we started communicating again, I just know it had been several months. It was a text here and an email there that said something to the effect of, 'Hey, just checking in and I love you.' Sometimes a few words are all it takes to start melting hearts that have hardened and put walls up for emotional protection. And then my phone rang and I saw my daughter's name pop onto the screen for the first time in months. And my heart nearly stopped.

My family and a few friends had gathered at my favorite Mexican restaurant to celebrate my birthday when she called. We chatted and laughed and then she asked to talk to everyone else. My husband, her step-dad got on the phone and the first words out of his mouth were, 'I love you Kenz.' And that was how we started over. It wasn't any one big moment or event, but several small steps where we just caught up with each other on the phone, chatting about life and the mistakes we'd both made, forgiveness, her future and how she wanted to come back home after graduation. And, it wasn't without a few bumps in the road, but it always came back to the fact that we knew no matter what we loved each other.

I attended my daughter's graduation in June and it was the first time in seven months I'd seen her. The moment the ceremony was done it was all I could do to keep from knocking down the people in front of me who were moving so slowly out of the stadium so I could get to my daughter. I can't really describe the feeling of when she saw me, yelled, 'Mom!' and ran up to give me the biggest hug ever because there just aren't words for it. It was totally awesome and lets just say a picture is worth a thousand words.



There were some very dark moments in the months my daughter was gone and I have no doubt that those who were prayer warriors (and there were many) for me and Kenzi in that time helped to speed up the reconciliation process. I'm not sure I can express the magnitude of my gratefulness for those who were willing to listen to my rants, and frustrations and probably some good old fashioned pity party whining. It was through those very awesome friends that I saw the slivers of light that pierced the very dark moments.

My daughter is now living back in Bend, attending church, working and in the Criminal Justice program at our local community college, with the intention of going to the Police Academy. I don't think a day goes by that we don't chat on the phone (several times) or see each other. I am proud of the young woman she has become and every day I thank God for her, the challenges we faced that brought us closer together and the light that pierced the dark.

The Trail of Reconciliation

**This is Part One of Three about reconciling with my teenage daughter. To see Part 2, please continue reading.**

November 2009
There was a light covering of snow on the ground as I made my way along the river trail. Two weeks had passed since I'd been there and I noticed that a lot had changed in that short amount of time.

I dressed for the elements, knowing that a storm had blown through the day before and unsure of how much snow I'd be traversing. Luckily there wasn't much snow, but what there was had already been trampled by enough hikers to make the trail somewhat slippery.

I'd forgotten that as treacherous as each uphill is in the snow, it's the downhill that I had to worry about. I began to question why I picked the hilliest part of the trail to hike and not just because of the conditions, but because I'd been sick for well over a week and my lungs were making sure I remembered that.

The last time I hiked the trail there were still some remnants of falls colors, with what leaves remained were clinging to their branches as if unwilling to succumb to their fate of spending winter on the cold hard ground. The squirrels were chattering and scurrying about and the birds were extremely vocal, especially when Boz encroached in their space.

Today, the woods were still except the lone crow who was flushed out of his hiding space and made no secret of his irritation with the rogue Boz-dog on the trail. The squirrels and birds were eerily silent and nowhere to be seen. The trees were completely bare and not a single leaf was spared, with the last ones to fall being scattered along the trail. I came upon a fallen aspen tree that a few weeks ago had been the picture of vibrancy with all of it's leaves in full fall color. Now, the leaves were gone and it was left laying on the ground, never to produce leaves again.

As I walked the trail and took in all the change that happens from spring, to summer, to fall and finally winter, I realized that my life in the past week resembled the trail that was preparing for winter.

You see, it wasn't being sick that took the life out of me and brought on the season of winter, it was watching my daughter walk out the door without looking back. It was seeing her dark brown eyes turn nearly black as she spit out the words, 'you need me...' as she packed up her belongings. She said those words more than once and in several different ways in the time it took her to pack her worldly possessions. You. Need. Me.

There was a moment where it hit me , and I don't know who she was trying to convince. I'm not sure if she was saying that over and over to convince herself that yes, she was needed, or trying to convince me that letting her go was going to be the biggest mistake of my life. All I know is that two people were feeling dead inside as she walked past me and uttered, 'whatever,' as she walked out the door.

I have refused to cry or feel anything but anger and indifference. I don't want to talk about what led up to my daughter leaving her home or why she screamed she hated me. I don't want to let go of the anger because I know when I do that the hurt will come and it is going to be worse than anything I've ever felt. And, I know that once the tears start they won't stop.

For now, the trail understands my pain. It is colorless, cold, empty of life and waiting. Waiting for the next season to bring hope of new life.

*****************************************************************************
Part 2

December 2009
For over five weeks I had avoided going into her room but I knew sooner or later I was going to have to face the daunting task of packing up the things she left behind.

I looked around the room and took in the few items left hanging in the closet, mainly the old clothes she didn't wear anymore. The desk held a few nick knacks, school supplies and stuffed animals. The walls had been left mostly bare except for the remnants of her high school volleyball days and a random tack here and there.

I climbed up on the bunk bed and began taking down the volleyball shirts one-by-one. Player number on the front, name across the back.

To continue reading Part Two, please visit my good friend Kathy Richards over at her blog. These posts are entries in Bridget Chumbley's Reconciliation blog carnival.

A Tale of Hope: The Butterfly Circus

This past Sunday our church showed a short film titled, "The Butterfly Circus". It takes place during the depression and is about a renowned circus showman who travels across the American countryside bringing hope and happiness to those who are in desperate need of it. One of the characters, Will, is played by Nick Vujicic. If you have never heard of or seen Nick speak in person then you should go to his website, Life Without Limbs, find out if he is speaking near you and go.

A few years ago our community experienced Nick and his incredible enthusiasm for life and the huge love he has for others. He traveled throughout our local schools sharing his life story with our kids and then graciously spoke at our church. On September 25th he will be back in Bend for the I Heart Central Oregon campaign event. This time, his story will spread even farther and wider than it did a few years ago and if there is a community that could use the message of hope he brings, ours is it. (If you have not clicked on his website yet and are still wondering what the big deal with Nick is then I highly suggest you open a new tab on your internet and go there now.)

I want to share The Butterfly Circus with you and I hope you will take 20 minutes out of your hectic schedule to watch it. It's a not-so-gentle reminder that what may seem hopeless to us, isn't to the One we serve.



This is part of Bridget Chumbley's One Word At A Time Blog Carnival on Hope. Please head on over to Bridget's blog to check out what other's are sharing on hope.