Progress in the Kitchen
The nights that Ali doesn’t make it home for dinner are a mixed blessing because:
1. I feel sorry for him…10 hours at work is long enough but having to entertain people at dinner too? Talk about torture.
2. I feel sorry for myself… I have to single-handedly entertain Maya for at least 4.5 hours.
3. I feel happy…I don’t have to cook!
Yesterday was one of those days when Ali said he “might” not be eating dinner at home. After wondering why my husband of nearly 10 years still doesn’t know how much uncertainty throws me into a tailspin, I went ahead and made dinner anyway, figuring that we’d eat it eventually.
I’ve been in an Indian food sort of mood lately. But since my mother lives at least 1 hour away and there are no decent Indian restaurants near us, I’ve had to take matters into my own hands. Thus that is why I decided to cook up a cauliflower I randomly picked up from Trader Joe’s a few days ago – Indian style.
If someone told me a year ago that I would not only purchase a whole cauliflower, but would cook it too, I would have laughed. But there I was yesterday, yielding a knife and disassembling the cauliflower like a pro. (Note that I measure my progress by how much I cut myself while chopping and I am pleased to say that there were zero kitchen accidents yesterday! No kitchen accidents makes me a pro. Of course.)
Indian-Style Cauliflower
1 cauliflower, cut into bite-sized pieces
1/2 onion, chopped
1/4 cup water
2 teaspoons of olive oil
1 teaspoon of panch phoron (I’m no expert but if you don’t have this you can use 1/2 teaspoon each of cumin and mustard seeds and this will still turn out great.)
1 teaspoons of turmeric
1 teaspoon of garam masala
2 tablespoons cilantro
Heat the oil in a nonstick pan, add the spices and mix well. Once the mustard seeds start sizzling add the onion and lower the heat to medium. Stir until the onion is soft. Add the cauliflower and stir until everything is covered with the spices. Pour 1/4 of water into the pan, cover, and let the cauliflower steam for 8-10 minutes. Sprinkle with garam masala and cilantro and serve.
I served this over a quinoa-peas combination instead of rice (which would be just as good). Cook 1 cup of quinoa according to the directions (it cooks like rice). While the quinoa is simmering add 1/2 teaspoon of turmeric and 1/2 cup of frozen peas.
After two nights off Ali will be gracing us with his presence tonight. That means that I only need to entertain Maya for 3 hours instead of 4.5, and since I’ve already cooked tonight’s dinner I have 1.5 hours of free time on my hands. Talk about winning the jackpot!
If you aren’t tired of my sarcasm yet, check out my guest post at The Process of Healing.
Kicking Myself
As suggested by my mother, I’m currently on an egg-free diet to see if it helps my numerous stomach problems. Not having scrambled eggs as my go-to meal means that I am usually:
a. Irritated that I need to put so much more thought into my meals.
b. Hungry because I don’t have time to put more thought into my meals.
Today I decided that to avoid my stomach eating itself I really needed to plan lunch in advance. So I turned to my freezer and broiled a piece Trader Joe’s turbot, which, incidentally, is quite tasty! After I finished patting myself on the back for coming up with a decent lunch, I multi-tasked and checked emails as I ate.
After I sorted through various spam, including an urgent note from a man in Africa who wants to send me $3 million and a tempting offer of Xanax at wholesale prices, I clicked on an email from my mom entitled “A fishy story…IF ‘ U’ eat fish – Please watch this.”
I eat fish, so as instructed, I watched the above video. And then I stopped eating lunch. And then I kicked myself for not knowing what country my turbot was from. And then I kicked myself for being so naive to think that 99% of fish came from either the Pacific or the Atlantic Ocean. And then I kicked myself again for having Maya because she is the reason I can’t eat anything anymore, and why I’m on an egg-free diet, and why I am eating more fish than I’d like. Luckily for Maya she was at school because who knows what or who I would have kicked next.
While it seemed more than likely my lunch wasn’t farmed in a sewer, I decided not to take any chances. I threw it out. 30 minutes later I was hungry and irritated and back to square one.
Check this video out and let me know what you think!
A Short-Order Cook
I woke up this morning with a splitting headache and a dirty house. Talk about a lethal combination. And although I knew Mrs. Maria would be by to restore order to the disaster area called our condo, I couldn’t stop myself from muttering things like, “I live with slobs,” and “If I drop dead today, these two pack rats will never make it to Tuesday.”
Maya made her way into the kitchen in the middle of one rather unfavorable comment and requested pancakes for breakfast. I closed my eyes, counted to ten and said:
“Sorry Maya, no time for pancakes this morning.”
“How about waffles instead?”
“No time for those either. You can have Cheerios, Puffins, or oatmeal.”
“I’m tired of eating cereal or oatmeal every day.”
“Well that’s too bad. This isn’t a restaurant and I’m not a short-order cook.”
“What’s a short-order cook Mama?”
“Nevermind.”
“So can I have pancakes?”
I thought I was going to lose my mind but there was no time for that because as I threw a box of Cheerios in her direction she’d already moved on to a discussion about lunch. She is her father’s child after all.
“What did you pack in my lunchbox?”
“Chicken nuggets, Pirate’s Booty, apples, and carrots.”
“I don’t like carrots.”
“Well if you want to eat fun things like Pirate’s Booty you have to eat your fruits and vegetables first.”
“But I don’t like them.”
“I don’t like a lot of things but I still have to do them. And so do you. I mean it Maya.”
“We’ll see.”
We’ll see? We’ll see? Since when does a 5-year-old say “we’ll see?” My blood pressure shot through the roof. I recall very little of my forthcoming tirade except that it included a lecture about starving children who would love to have her carrots (yes I really did say that) and how I was no longer going to cater to her numerous likes and dislikes (I was totally bluffing and we both knew it).
By the time I dropped her to school I felt a bit bad for losing my temper. I read her two books, promised her a trip to the library after school, and even debated taking her out for ice cream after dinner. After all, smart ass or not, who can resist a cute kid yelling goodbye and, “Love you lots Mama!”
Not even me.
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 
