::: turkey carcass soup :::

Hop on over to Time to Cook and dig that turkey carcass out of the fridge. Didn't make a turkey this year? Go borrow a carcass from the neighbors. It's worth it for a batch of Turkey Carcass Soup. I've got a pot simmering on the stove as I type.

Mastering the Art of Midnight Cooking

It was a long day of soccer practice, piano lessons, cleaning to prepare for the upcoming graduation party of Houdin, and, as if we weren't busy enough, a service planning meeting at church. Sometime during the day, I decided that it would all end with loveliness, so on the way to our meeting, I implored of my husband to not begin any lengthy discussions, to not bring up new topics, to cut to the chase, and I would do the same. I didn't want to sound short or bossy, but I knew I had to tell the other meeting attendees up front that we really needed to leave by 8:30. And I was pretty serious about it. I'm afraid I may have pushed the meeting on a bit--so I guess I was bossy in spite of my best mediocre attempts not to be.

And when we finished our meeting at 8:26, I think I actually hooted with glee.

My husband and I were going to go home, rush our two eldest and our young friend Lemony into the car (the two younglings were at a friend's house for the night), stop long enough to transfer Monet from another soccer parent's minivan to ours, and head north to the Medium Sized City for a 9:55 p.m. showing of Julie and Julia. My dear husband, who had awoken at 5:30 a.m. and would have to be to work at 7:00 a.m. the following morning, was completely game. We even scraped up enough money in this economically depressed month to pay for all of our tickets, the elder children chipping in all that they had. And when we got there? It was bargain Tuesday. $4.25 for tickets. Bonus!

No popcorn. No milk duds. Straight to the theater we strode, because I knew that, waiting at home for us, was a fresh batch of pesto and some crusty bread.

Bad idea.

See, the film was just packed full, as might be expected, of incredibly mouthwatering foods. They walked by amazing foods. They talked about amazing foods. They ate amazing foods. And we, hungry and amazed, watched helplessly, drooling, oohing and ahhing. Loudly. We were, by some miracle (maybe that it was the 9:55 p.m. showing) the only people in the theater, giving us the freedom to laugh loudly, discuss the food, and make slyly disparaging comments about the film's antagonists.

Meryl Streep was, as you've heard, amazingly incredible. Stanley Tucci was adorable. My only regret was that I had not been Julie Powell, had not stood in a moment of quiet desperation and committed an act of psychotic cooking bloggery. I could have done it (as everyone says). It could have been me. And, just like Powell's character in the film, I would have loved Julia, and I would have believed that Julia loved me, in spite of any evidence to the contrary.

I had decided that the day would end in loveliness, and I got my way. Julie and Julia was delightful, even with its flaws (my middle child got half-way through the film before he realized that the parallel stories were taking place during different decades..and he's a pretty bright kid). I found myself with the perfect opportunity to practice my very limited, very sad excuse for French. I nudged my daughter in the row ahead of me when Julie visited Julia's Cambridge, Massachusetts kitchen at the Smithsonian, because I, too, had been there just a short month and a half before. And after the film was over, as we were driving the long trip back home to my Little Village just after midnight, I was taking a mental inventory of what ingredients were scattered around my kitchen at home. My hope was to crack open my thrifted copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and duplicate, albeit more successfully, the poached egg scene in the film. I'd never poached an egg. I've never liked eggs.

Alas, it was not to be. My copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking is Volume 2, which doesn't contain the egg-poaching pages.

But my eyes landed on a recipe that featured eggplant, and, as luck would have it, I'd just plucked a few nice eggplants from my garden and a few more from the farmer's market just that morning, so I gathered all of the ingredients (can you believe I actually had scallions in my kitchen? I rarely have scallions in my kitchen! But there they were, as was everything else, and so, at 1:00 a.m., my husband, kids and Lemony were eating pesto and peeling eggplant as I made the sauce and chopped the tomatoes.

This dish is supposed to be eaten cold, but I just couldn't wait. I'd already lost my husband, who had finally staggered off to bed, and Monet, who couldn't stay up any longer due to an impending early-morning soccer practice (they're doing two-a-days this week), so as soon as I folded the tomato/basil/garlic sauce into the simmered/sauteed eggplant, I was ready to eat. Houdin heaped it onto a piece of crusty bread, but I just scooped it into a dish and grabbed a fork. Delicious.

A small dish was set aside and refrigerated so that I can see what it's "supposed" to taste like once it's chilled.

With just a few short hours left of this morning before I have to rise and begin another day, I'm heading to bed, garlic on my breath, dreaming of my next meal.

::: a garden post :::

I posted a little bit about my garden happenings at my food blog, Time to Cook. Go take a gander.

I'll skip F for now. G is for...

...grape juice! Bo and I just canned 12 quarts of grape juice concentrate from two bushels of Concord grapes we picked yesterday. You can read more about it here.

A New Look for Time to Cook

My cooking blog, Time to Cook, has a bit of a facelift. Head on over and see how you like it!

Pizza Party!

I hurried home from church yesterday to begin making pizza dough. It was important to start early, because I needed to make enough dough to feed nineteen children and seven adults, and prepare enough toppings for them to each make their own custom pizzas.

Last night was our homeschool group's family fellowship night. Once a year, during January, we skip the monthly meeting and meet in small groups in homes. This year, our family hosted and I took Bo's suggestion of preparing all of the ingredients and crusts and letting people create their own culinary masterpieces.

Guests arrived just as I was finishing the top crust on the Spinach and Onion Deep Dish Pizza Pie. I'd purchased a bunch of pizza screens in both 7" personal and 14" sizes. We have two ovens, so we fired them both up and got to work. I showed the kids how to stretch the dough and put it on the screen, then they took their turns heaping their pizzas with toppings while one of the dads treated us to a few selections on the piano. Very, very nice! It was really a fun time. My favorite pizza was the white pizza with feta cheese, spinach, fresh garlic, parmesan and olive oil. Delicious! I had enough sauce and dough balls left over to freeze and the ladies helped me clean up.

I'd love to do it again. Pizza party, anyone?

::: today at "time to cook" :::

Today at Time to Cook, an essay on awaiting the first snow and a recipe for Simple Hot Cocoa and Homemade Whipped Cream. Drag out the sleds and the hot chocolate mugs and pop on over!

Card catalog generator, with hat tip to Hind's Feet.

At Time to Cook

Over at my other blog, Time to Cook, we're focusing on pizza. Have some tips to share? Come on over!

Time to Cook: Introducing a New Blog!

I should take showers more often.

After a day of feeling pretty yucky and under-the-weather, I took a shower so that I could head out to the grocery store looking more like a human being than a monstah. While showering, I got an idea for a new blog.

Time to Cook.

Basically, it's about the basics. It's about slowing down and making meals from scratch, from good, basic ingredients.

It's about taking time to cook.

I'd love to see you there!

Time to Cook!