New Years What?

Ahh, New Years Eve. A night of parties, indulgent foods and imbibing alcoholic beverages. Well, it used to be. Actually, when we were young, it meant staying up late with Grandma, eating popcorn and cocktail wieners, and waiting for the Ball to Drop. Tonight it is no different than any other Friday night this winter; enjoying a quiet house while Jack sleeps and Tom heads off to work for the night. None of this staying-up-til-midnight business or drinking till the room spins. And that's perfectly fine with me.

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I made THE best Chicken Soup this afternoon. I had a small amount of chicken drippings saved after our last roast. I added it to some of my favorite Chicken base with carrots, celery, onions, pepper and a bay leaf. I got a crazy idea to throw in some dumplings. A quick Internet search gave me a simple recipe:

1/2c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1.5 tsp butter
1/4c. milk

Mix dry ingredients, cut in butter, mix in milk, drop into simmering soup and cover for 15 minutes. Do not stir or lift lid till time is up!

Oh My GOD were they good! And easy! Perfect for a frigid Minnesota Friday afternoon.

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The Bread Wars continue here at the Hedin Household. I attempted an Amish White Bread recipe from my favorite site. It had over 2,000 five star reviews. How could I go wrong? Well, I went wrong. I don't think I was supposed to use the mixer to knead it after the first rise. Anyways, the flavor was there, but the rise and texture were not. Of course, Tom then had to immediately bake his own bread, just to prove that he is better at it than I. HA! His loaves fell in the oven and he blamed running children for the failure. And then he tried again today with a similar, heavy and wet result. But it still tasted pretty good fresh out of the oven, slathered with butter, and eaten with my fantastic soup.

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What about fudge? My first crack at fudge from scratch was a dismal failure. I was frustrated. After my bread fiascoes (and really, baking bread has been around since the dawn of civilization, why can't I figure it out?) I was determined to get something right in the kitchen this week. But not just anything, I wanted to get an old recipe right. I've been reading a vintage cookbook. 500 RECIPES BY REQUEST From Mother Anderson's Famous Dutch Kitchens, 1948. It is packed full of old-school food and cooking methods. Russian Meat Salad? Brown Brittle Pie? Creamed Ham in a Snappy Cheese Ring? I love it.

What interested me most was the scribbled recipe for fudge inside. Someone wrote that. Who was she? Did she prepare it for her family on Christmas? Was she cooking in a house with red gingham curtains and a steel kitchen table? Where is she now? The cookbook shows wear and tear and stains from food-covered fingers turning the pages; I know she referenced it often. I decided to try her recipe.

I should tell you that I don't have a candy thermometer. I did a little research after my last batch of fudged up fudge and learned that you do not stir or touch it until it cools significantly (to 110 degrees). I figured that I had a decent idea of what 110 felt like. So I waited, and then started stirring like a madwomen. I stirred, and stirred, and stirred. Eventually it started to thicken up. I spooned it into a dish and let it rest. It turned into fudge! I actually worked! But it is a little grainy. I'll have to work on that. Thank you, unknown housewife of the past, for inspiring me to try again.

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Now back to this New Years business. It's time for resolutions, right? I'm sure that as I sit here typing, thousands of other bloggers are writing something similiar. It's a new year, a clean slate, a fresh start. Leave behind your negative thoughts and energy, your doubts, anxieties, blah blah blah. But I liked 2010. It was a good year. My dreams pretty much came true; married Mr. Wonderful, moved to the country, bought a charming little house, and began my life as a stay at home mom. I couldn't have asked for more. So what will 2011 bring for us? Who knows, but here are some things I'm thinking about tonight: I can't wait to grow vegetables and work on the yard. I want to take Jack swimming at the lake. I want to make Jack a sibling. I want to keep eating healthier and cooking from scratch. I want to sew more and start an Etsy shop. I want to keep my husband nice and happy *wink wink*.

And right now, I want to go to bed.

Happy New Year!

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I'm so cool...

I woke up this morning before the boys and decided to clean up while I had some peace and quiet. I ran my bathwater and grabbed some products I got for Christmas; Burt's Bees body wash, lotion and a small tube of facial product. I was sans glasses and *thought* I knew what I had grabbed.



I splish and splash a round a little bit and grab the facial cleanser. I had used it for the first time yesterday and really liked it. It was the Soap Bark cleanser and had a creamy texture that left my skin gleaming and moisturized. I open the tube, apply in a circular motion (because that's how they do it on infomercials) and rinse. Within moments I realize that something is different. Not just different, but terribly, terribly wrong. I felt like I had plunged my face into a bowl of ice water. Or like I was riding a snowmobile in ten degree weather without a helmet. Or hanging my head out of the car window during a blizzard. And I smelled mint. What the heck did I just put on my face?! I attempted to open my eyes to read the tube, only to shut them immediately as the vapors coming off my skin seemed to burn the delicate membranes of my eyeballs. I reach for a bar of soap and try to wash off. I wash and rinse twice more and try to open my eyes again. My face is still experiencing a cool burn.

Oh boy. The tube said Peppermint Foot Lotion. No wonder my face felt like it had been pelting with a million crushed mint tic-tacs.

So yeah. Here is sit hours later, STILL feeling the effects of my morning mix-up.

Note to readers: Do Not Try This At Home!

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more on my mind

My morning started like this: grab coffee filter, add grounds and water, shut lid.... and realize that my Bunn had been unplugged since yesterday because I intended to clean it. And didn't. Whoops! It's only a 15 minute wait, but when I want a cup of hot coffee, I want a cup of hot coffee NOW, damnit!

I've had a bad head cold for weeks; I suspect a sinus infection. Most days my face hurts and teeth ache. The neti-pot has been my best friend and I love flushing out the disgusting gunk that is filling my sinus cavities. I suppose I'll have to break down soon and go get antibiotics. But first, I'm going to try some apple cider vinegar. Can't hurt, right? And plenty of people swear that it fixes just about everything.

Jack has been talking up a storm and I'm just starting to understand him. He has taken to yelling (and I mean yelling) MOM whenever he wants me. His pal Wilton is hanging out with us all week, and Jack is like a little parrot. Whatever 4 yr old Wilton does, Jack will do. Or attempt to do.

So I'm getting used to being a stay at home mom. It's weird; I have nothing major to worry about and no excuses for a dirty house or piles of laundry. Lacking any income sometimes sends me into a fit of panic, but it is always replaced quickly with a sense of calm. We have our house and cars completely paid for, no credit card debt and no pressing needs. We have probably hundreds of pounds of spaghetti, dried beans, rice, flour, sugar, and dried veggies stored away
(thanks to a slightly crazy husband who thinks that we have still not seen the worst of the recession) so we would not starve if there ever was a time when food became scarce. I can 'make-do' with less and I have discovered endless creativity when working in the kitchen or even on the house.

My thirst for a social life (and the cocktails that go with it) has diminished. I doubt I could have kept up that weekend warrior schedule much longer, at least without my Check Liver light coming on or adding facial wrinkles prematurely (it's called Beauty Sleep for a reason). I still have friends that are going strong; busy weeks and jam-packed, late-night weekends and I wonder how they do it. Do I ever miss the freedom of life before baby? Sure do; when I need a nap, a steamy hot bath, or just want to wander through Target unencumbered. But I wouldn't change it for the world. I'll get nap, bath and shopping time again. You know, in like twenty years. *smirk*

Working on the house has kind of slowed down. We have the basic necessities taken care of; roof, heat, hot water, laundry, bath tub.... things like closets and a shower and new kitchen floor will come along eventually, but what's the rush? hehehe We're functional. All that those other things are in the 'luxury' category. I should mention that our bedroom has no outlets, and the ceiling light fixture just went out. Who needs electricity or lights in there, anyways? The laptop has battery power!

We still need to plan a little honeymoon. I'm craving a 'getaway'. Tom wants to go dog-sledding. I wonder if dog-sledding means hanging out in a cozy cabin drinking wine, watching the fire, and sitting in the hot tub? I wouldn't mind a walk in the winter woods or full moon adventure. Or heck, even dog-sledding, AS LONG AS it is immediately followed by relaxing somewhere warm and comfortable (with wine, fire, and bubble bath).

Over and out Internets!

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Holiday Wrap-Up

Well, I've survived the 2010 Holiday Season.

We were on a three day Christmas Party Bender; I knew it would be rough. Jack and I have been battling the crud, his sleep schedule was shot to Hell and Tom had to work both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. But we made it through with lots of smiles and amazingly little to no crying. Well, I take that back. Jack was fine, but I got a little misty eyed a few times as I remembered Christmas' Past.

Now that I've got a kid of my own, I'm much more aware of traditions and all the little things we take for granted around this time of year. Christmas doesn't just happen; it takes hard work from Moms and Dads and Grandmas and Grandpas and Aunts and Uncles and Cousins and Friends... you get the idea.

We all play a part in making Christmas Magic. It is a yearly loaf of Mom's banana bread, or my Dad threatening to wreck Christmas (all in jest, I assure you!) or the cheesy Christmas socks we are guaranteed to get every year. It's the Yule Log and It's a Wonderful Life and Nat'l Lampoons Christmas Vacation. It's the wonderment of a sparkling lights on a Christmas tree. It's the husband who cannot keep his gift a secret till Christmas (ahem, TOM) and the Auntie who stands in line at 4am to get just the right toy for Captain Jack. It's the excitement of opening mail the entire month and getting cards from people you may not see often, but remember fondly this time of year. It's the relatives who have been spoiling us since we were born, and now spoil our kids. It's the load after load of food and decorations and gifts that arrive on Christmas Day where ever the party happens to be. It's the little boy who is so exhausted, but will not sleep because he doesn't want to miss anything.

I was talking to my mom after the last party and I explained how the night seemed to fly by and take forever at the same time; because I spent the the whole night keeping Jack's fingers out of trouble (note to anyone reading: do not put the ice and booze table at toddler height). I said 'I feel kind of bad; I didn't really get to talk to anyone!!' She reminded me that 'Christmas isn't for you anymore - it's for Jack'. *sigh* Yep, she's right.

(Jack was obsessed with eating ice the entire time)

So anywhoo... 363 days till next Christmas!

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Kitchen FAIL #2: Bread

Tom is obsessed with making bread. He has tried it several times over the last couple weeks and dozens of times over the last couple years. I don't think he follows any recipe; he just wings it. Some turn out good, some turn out not so good.

I decided that I can make bread better than he can. Afterall, I am a woman and thus able to follow directions, unlike my male counterpart. I set out on my mission this evening.

I found a recipe from a Fanny Farmer cookbook posted online. It was old, tested, tried and true. How could I screw it up? It was supposed to be a soft white bread, for hamburger or subway sandwich buns. The yeast proofing goes well. I had to google 'how to scald milk'. And here all this time I assumed it meant burning the milk. Nope! I am ready to put my ingredients together in Tom's beloved Kitchenaid mixer ( I say beloved because, well, he loves that thing). The dough hook is pretty nifty. I add 5 cups of flour (the recipe called for 'about' 6) and I can hear that the mixer is not liking the stress of this dough. It's awfully dry. I remove the bowl, add water, and decide to knead it myself (since the mixer was giving off that burnt out motor smell). When I felt that I had kneaded long enough, I set it in a warm oven to rise, and hit the internet.

I read this passage from King Arther Flour and was renewed with a sense of creativity. I can make bread! Yes, yes, I can!

Yeast Bread Primer
Making a loaf of bread, turning a sticky, lumpy mess into a loaf of real bread, feels different from buying a loaf that someone else or some mystery machine has made. If you haven’t made bread yet, we won’t tell you what that feeling is, or try to describe it.

When you are holding a slice of warm bread in your hand, one that you made yourself, you’ll know that feeling, plus, from that slice of bread, you will get more energy than you can from any other kind of food. It can help you lose weight. It can be packed with things that are good for you, and things that are not so good when you’re in the mood for a break.

Like your fingerprints, the bread you bake will be completely your own. It will reflect your personality and no one else’s because of the infinite number of variables you affect, either consciously or unconsciously, as you bake. Whether your hand is light or generous when measuring and adding ingredients, the length of time you spend kneading, the aromas in your kitchen, its temperature and the rate the air flows through it, the color and shape of your bread pans, the size and age of your oven, even the mood you’re in at the time you bake (whatever it is, making a loaf of bread will probably improve it!), all these and more imprint your bread so that it can be no one’s but yours.

Baking with yeast lets the artist in you come out. It’s somewhere between making mud pies and sculpting, the earthy mixed with the sublime. Your first loaf may not be beautiful, but baking can succeed on more than one level. Even if it doesn’t look pretty, its smell and taste alone are enough to transport you.

I also read more about kneading, and I realized I was no where near done. I grabbed the dough again and got busy. Several minutes and sore arms later, I was muttering 'god damned bread, who needs to make it anyways? that's what the grocery store is for'. So much for that beautifully written and inspiring garbage from the flour people, huh?

I let the dough rise, and I'm wondering if it will even work. It does! An hour later I punch it down and attempt to shape it into Subway-esque logs. It doesn't work very well. So then I try to do hamburger buns. Nope, dough doesn't want to sit that way either. Lastly, I roll a huge chunk into an oblong shape and stick it in a bread pan dusted with cornmeal.

(ugly buns, before cooking)

I just took them all out of the oven. My loaves and buns are UGLY, but they have a nice golden top and smell great. I ate one (dripping with butter) and it tastes pretty good. Not too heavy, but not as light as Subway, that's for sure. And they have a hard crust. Huh.

So my lesson for this evening is this: Leave the breadmaking to Tom.

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Kitchen FAIL #1: Fudge

I consider myself a decent cook. Or at least I used to. After the last few days of debacles... I'm doubting my kitchen prowess.

I tried to make fudge the other night. Not the cheating, shortcut, marshmallow cream fudge, but the REAL fudge made from five simple ingredients; sugar, cocoa, milk, butter, vanilla extract. I don't own a candy thermometer or double boiler and heck, I'm not even sure what a non-reactive pan is. But I had a meat thermometer and plenty of advice from the internets. I could do it, right?

WRONG! I stirred and stirred and stirred my chocolaty sauce and had a glass of ice water nearby to do the 'soft ball test'. After several drops I finally had what I thought was the correct consistency when the syrup hit the water. The meat thermometer read the correct temp. At least I hoped so. I removed the pan from the heat and vigorously stirred, waiting for the mixture to lose it's gloss (as the instructions said it would). It never happened. My arm got tired from all that damn stirring. I *thought* that it may have lost a little of it's shine and poured it into the prepped pan, placed it on the counter, and waited for it to 'set up'.

I waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually I decided to put it in the fridge, thinking that maybe it would firm up enough there to cut into pieces. Nope. And it's GRAINY too! More like a frosting. So there sits a pan in the fridge, with fingerfulls missing, since that's how I'm eating it. One finger scoop at a time.

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Adventures in Old Home Ownership, part 2

We started tearing apart the bathroom just before Thanksgiving. The walls surrounding the tub were ripped out, leaving us a fine view of the backside of plaster walls. Lathe with plaster oozing through, dirt, dust, rustic 2 x 4's (not the kind you see at Menards) and surprise, an old chimney were hiding back there! The chimney runs all they way to the roof, where it was capped off and roofed over many moons ago. There was a definite 'earthy' smell coming from the space; afterall... it hadn't seen daylight in probably 75 years.

The thought of sitting in a tub and staring at all that during bathtime grossed me out, so we stapled a heavy duty plastic from the tub up to about six feet. I knew that replacement walls wouldn't be up for a couple weeks, and that was OK. Our house is a Work In Progress, right?

Well, a few days later I was up late and making delicious Christmas treats. Tom was working 2nd shift and I was going to wait up for him. Jack had been asleep for hours and the house was quiet, not even a radio or TV chattering in the background.

I heard some rustling in the bathroom. The back of my brain recognized this as the plastic stapled to the walls; sometimes it makes noise when the furnace is running and hot air is hitting it. And then the front of my brain says 'wait, the furnace isn't on'. I open the door, flip on the light... AND THERE IS A BAT ON THE WALL!!!

I don't know what I was expecting to find, but it certainly wasn't THAT! My heart starting beating crazy fast and I shut the door. I grabbed a towel and stuffed it under the door. And then I called Tom. 'Tom there is a BAT in the BATHROOM and you need to come home now!!!' Of course, I knew he wouldn't be able to come home, but the plea seemed appropriate for my level of panic. After Tom was done laughing at my hysteria, we hung up, and I sat in the kitchen, hanging out with my new bat friend in the next room.

Two more hours pass. I did not gain the courage to open that bathroom door again. Instead I run to the other open spots in the walls (our bedroom) and make sure they are secured with plastic, tape, staples, whatever! If Mr. Bat is crawling up and down inside the walls - I want him to STAY there. He is not welcome anywhere I can see him! Tom gets home and checks out the bathroom. Our little bat friend had left. Left the house? I don't know, but he left the bathroom.

We slept with a flashlight that night, and you better believe that EVERY noise warranted a 'what was that' accompanied by a beam of light in the general direction from which it came. We never saw him that night, or in the week or so since then.

So is he still hanging around somewhere? Or did he leave? Is he trapped in some wall cavity and rotting away? Or getting fat off spiders and having babies in the comfortable, hidden corners of this house?

Who knows. I guess time will tell!

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