A Resolution Kept - for now...

Operation: Spice Up Dinner has officially commenced. Today I went through Giada's Kitchen by Giada De Laurentiis and In Great Taste by Evelyn H. Lauder and bookmarked four dinners for the week.

Menu: 1/31 - 2/6

Sunday: Tilapia with Parsley Sauce

Monday: Whole Wheat Linguine with Ricotta, Lemon, and French Beans

Tuesday: Chicken with Balsamic Barbecue Sauce

Wednesday: Orzo-stuffed Bell Peppers

Tonight, I made Tilapia with Parsley Sauce from In Great Taste. The recipe called for Halibut, but apparently Shop Rite didn't get the memo, so I had to make do with Tilapia. The recipe also makes 6 servings, and since Kurt is at work again tonight, I had to cut the recipe down by 1/6. Not the easiest fraction - especially when you're trying to reduce 1/4 tablespoons by 1/6 - but I did it.

The recipe was very simple, as was the dish itself. The Tilapia, after being sauteed for 5 minutes in a pan, is topped with a sauce of lemon, parsley, garlic, oregano, salt, oil, and water. The result was citrusy, refreshing. I served it (to myself) with sauteed spring vegetables. A very simple dinner, but something a little different than my usual. A good start, I think. I do think I'm well on my way to becoming a top-notch chef!

Time to Spice Things Up!

I have no less than 10 cookbooks in my kitchen. The authors range from Rachel Ray to Martha Stewart to Giada De Laurentiis. They cover various themes: Italian, Health, Weight Loss, Quick Meals. They line the counter in color-coordinated fashion, looking beautiful, adding color to my kitchen. Unfortunately, that's all they do. I used to love to cook. I loved discovering new recipes, tasting my creations throughout the process. Over the past two years, however, time has become a valuable asset. I have exactly three hours from the time I get home from work until I go to bed. I have a lot to do in those three hours: eat dinner, iron clothes for the next day, relax. Somewhere along the way, cooking dinner was pushed to the back burner. Sadly, cooking has become a nuisance, a time-wasting process where time is worth everything. I am sad to say that my once great love-affair with food, has become boring and mundane. I am in a cooking rut. Nowadays, when I cook at all, it's the same few recipes, if one can even call them that. Boiled rice and sauteed vegetables, pasta with sauce from a jar (it literally pains me to use that stuff). Where is the risotto I learned through trial and error, the ceviche I was so proud to make, the succulent steaks with butter and herbs?

I've had a wake up call. It's time to spice up my relationship with food, literally. Julie and Julia has become one of my favorite movies. But it's not because of the witty dialogue or my slight obsession with all things European, or even the fact that I want to be Julia Child. It's the food that had me at hello. After watching the movie for about the fifth time, I decided that it's time to get cooking again. I used to love food. I know that love is still there, going strong. The fire just needs a little stoking. And today, while cooking my sad, single serving of rice and veggies and staring at the rainbow of barely used cookbooks, I decided to put them to use. Each week, starting this Monday, I will make four different dinners from those cookbooks. Each Sunday, I will sit down and plan out the week, choosing four recipes to make, and will shop for the necessary ingredients. I chose four instead of seven since I work at a restaurant on Saturday nights and always eat dinner there, and usually eat out once or twice a week with Kurt or friends. If I want this plan to stick, it needs to be realistic from the start. So, I'm sending my new resolution out into the cosmic void, so that I may held accountable. Whoever is out there, reading this, assuming you care enough about my exploits to keeping tuning in, I will keep you updated on my progress. I have no goal other than to learn more recipes, better my cooking, and rediscover my long lost love - food. Who knows, some of you might even benefit from this.

The Giving Tree

My favorite children's book of all time is The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. It's one of the most beautiful stories I have ever read. That includes any adult book. The words and the concept are so simple and because of that, so meaningful. I still remember it being read to us in elementary school by the librarian. I loved the easy rhymes and the beautiful, touching story. I always thought it was so sad that this tree would give up everything it had just to make the boy happy because it loved him so much. And that the boy didn't even seem to realize how much the tree was giving up for him. You learn something about that when you fall in love, but I think it's something you can only really, truly understand when you have children. That willingness to give up everything just to make the person you love happy.

Well, we had a giving tree of our own this Christmas. I wrote about it previously; how we cut it down ourselves and how pretty it was. I didn't realize it was a giver too. Sure, it gave us that warm, fuzzy, glowy feeling you always get at Christmas, but this tree gave more than that. It gave pine needles. Thousands upon thousands of pine needles. I've really never seen anything like it in my life. We took our tree down on Tuesday night. I got a head start while Kurt was at work and began to take off the ornaments, garland, and lights. Every time I took an ornament off, the hook would completely wipe clean the branch on which it had hung. Each time, I'd hear a tinkling as all of the needles on that branch fell to the floor. Choosing to ignore this, I kept on, until the tree was bare. When I finished, about half of the needles from the tree were on the floor. When Kurt came home, we took the tree out to the curb and surveyed the damage: a green carpet lay on the floor. Please take note that we have hardwood floors. The carpet was pine needles. And not soft at all I might add. I started sweeping, making a HUGE pile of needles. I've had real trees before. I've seen what happens when the die. This was not normal. This was out of hand. They were everywhere, in the bookcases, in between floorboards, in the radiator, on the windowsill, in the hallway, on the sofa. I'm sure future tenants will be finding pine needles from this tree in years to come. Here are some photos so you can picture the madness that was Tuesday night. The photos really don't do it justice. But there it is, our very own giving tree, giving us a reminder that trees don't belong inside, no matter how much we wish they did. Well tree, I'm still getting a real one next year. So there.