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Why I Cook

I cook because I can take something yucky: And make something yummy:  This banana bread/muffin recipe comes from my battered (literally) copy of Joy of Cooking (I think there’s a whole sociological treatise to be written on what sorts of women were Fannie Farmer cooks, or Julia acolytes, or Joy gals. Not sure what it would all mean, but I’m sure it would mean something). My mom gave me this paperback edition decades …

Dinner Is Served

Me: Carrots or peas with your chicken? Caleb: Nuthin Me (summoning the patience of Job): Right. But carrots or peas? Caleb: Okay. Peas. FIVE PEAS. Cold ones. And I’m doing what Nancy said to do and holding my nose when I eat them. In fact he ate SIX peas and stopped holding his nose when I pointed out that frozen peas have no flavor. I consider this a major victory.

Seriously, He Banned Bake Sales. No, Really, He Did.

The other day on the playground, a mommy friend said, “did you hear? Bloomberg banned bake sales in the schools.”  I thought she was kidding–we’d beeen the PTA Co-Presidents last year, and bake sales had been an ongoing aggravation: when to schedule them, how to staff them, how to scan every donation for potentially lethal ingredients (nuts! sesame seeds! wheat!), how to make sure that all the kids got a …

Kitchen Ninja

It arrived in the mail in a surprise attack…like, well, like a ninja might make. It was my first-ever blog-related freebie: a product that someone wants me to write about. And so I shall, keeping in mind, of course, the Bloggers With Integrity pledge that I signed (because Mom-101 said we should). First I should mention that Husband thinks it’s marvelous that people are sending me products and he’s wondering …

Earth’s Best Lunch

Remember these biscuits? Chances are that if you’ve ever had children, you’ve had these teething biscuits in your cupboard–and your coat pocket, your satchel, your purse, your car. I swear for months after Liam and Caleb each stopped teething, I would find half-gnawed biscuits in the most bizarre places (way under the couch, buried in the closet, deep in an unused backpack), which says as much about my housekeeping skills …