good things to put in plain oatmeal

Thinking of this post, I put together this list:

traditional
chopped nuts (pecans, walnuts, almonds, etc.)
dried fruits (golden or regular raisins, cranberries, mango, pineapple, etc.)
chopped/mashed fresh fruits (bananas, apples, etc.)
brown sugar
honey
cinnamon
ground ginger
ground cloves
(fresh) ground nutmeg
splash of milk
splash of cream
sprinkle of salt
small knob of butter
vanilla

less traditional
pumpkin puree
grated carrots
applesauce
cranberry sauce/relish
diced crystallized ginger/"ginger chips"
fresh ginger
nut butters (peanut, almond, sunflower seed)
fruit preserves
jam
fruit/vegetable butters (apple, pear, pumpkin)
ground flax
ground cardamom
almond extract
nutella
miniature chocolate chips
agave nectar
real maple syrup (Grade A, Grade B)
molasses
shredded unsweetened coconut/shredded sweetened coconut, shredded toasted coconut
cottage cheese
leftover cooked grains (brown rice, quinoa, wheatberries, etc.)
sprinkle of granola
citrus zest (orange, lemon)
cooked fruits (sauteed apples, pears, bananas etc.)

Again, obviously not an exhaustive list.

I eat the organic version of these Bob's Red Mill oats for breakfast almost every day. Are you an oatmeal eater? If so, what do you put on your oatmeal? If not, what do you eat for breakfast?

general housewifery is participating in National Blog Post Month (NaBloPoMo).

cheddar-chive scones

cheddar chive scones, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

I rarely ever make scones, because I don't keep cream on hand, but after brunching at S's a weekend or two ago (see cinnamon rolls), and eating a version of these, which are a version of Ina Garten's cheddar-dill scones, I decided they were worth a special trip to the grocery store. The recipe is in Ina Garten's (first, I believe) book, The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. I halved the recipe and copied S, swapping out the dill for fresh chives. These were incredibly cheesy and chive-y.

cheddar-chive scones

2 cups ap flour, plus more for rolling
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, diced
2 large eggs, beaten
1/2 cup cold heavy cream
4.5 ounces (yellow) extra sharp cheddar cheese, small-diced
1/2 cup minced chives (I trimmed with scissors)
1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon milk, for egg wash

Preheat oven to 400.

Whisk together flour, baking powder and salt. Add the diced butter to the flour mixture and using two knives, a pastry blender or your fingers, cut the butter into the flour until the butter is in pea-sized pieces. Those pieces are the key to perfect scone texture. Lightly beat the eggs into the heavy cream and add to the flour/butter mixture. Combine with a few quick strokes. Add the diced cheddar and minced chives, then stir until mostly incorporated. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead briefly and lightly, until the chives and cheese are thoroughly incorporated. Roll out to a 3/4-inch thickness. Cut the dough into eight equal portions, then roll each into a small ball. Place scones on a baking sheet lined with parchment or silicone. Flatten each lightly with the palm of your hand, then brush with the egg wash. Bake for 20-25 minutes until light brown and crusty on the outside.

Yields 8 fantastic scones.

chocolate chip cookies

five cookies, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

Here's a shot of the chocolate chip cookies I made for work tomorrow (I am in a training session and thought they would be a nice treat). I should, but I don't, have a special chocolate chip recipe that I use all the time. Instead, I use whatever one is on hand at the time--one pulled from a cookbook, a blog or the back of a bag of chocolate chips. I do follow a few rules though, regardless of the recipe:

1. Always use good chocolate.
2. Never bake chocolate chip cookies in an oven hotter than 350.
3. Room temperature butter, no exceptions.
4. Salted butter and/or extra salt in the recipe.
5. Beat the butter and sugar senseless--that's the true meaning of "creaming" them.
6. Always consider doubling the vanilla.

These cookies (made from the JOC recipe, if you're curious, with the above modifications) came out with crisp exteriors and chewy exteriors. If I drank much milk, I'd be tempted to break out a glass.

peach cobbler promises

peach cobbler, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

I wanted to make cobbler mostly because the peaches at the supermarket were huge, smelled strongly of peachiness, and were under a dollar a pound. I checked out a number of cobbler and crisp recipes, but found most of the proportions were not quite what I was looking for (too much sugar, not enough sugar, sweet crusts). In the end I used the simple JOC method (i.e. prepare fruit filling of your choice, top with biscuit dough of your choice, brush with butter, sprinkle with sugar, bake). The most arduous part of this process is blanching and peeling the peaches. My mother said she would have left the skin on, and I'm inclined to believe that doing so wouldn't be a bad idea.

simple peach cobbler

6 large peaches (about 3lbs)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
3-4 tablespoons flour (or cornstarch)
1 3/4 cups ap flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons dried buttermilk
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup cold water
butter for the pan and topping
sugar for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 425.

Boil plenty of water in a saucepan large enough to accommodate fat summer peaches. In the meantime, wash the peaches and prepare an ice water bath large enough to accommodate them. When the water is boiling, drop the peaches in for 30 to 45 seconds, and remove to ice water. Remove after 30 seconds to a minute. Peel by hand or using a paring knife.

Pit each peach and cut into several wedges. Place wedged peaches in a large bowl and toss with granulated sugar, brown sugar and flour or cornstarch. Set aside.

Sift together flour, baking powder, salt and powdered buttermilk. Cut the unsalted butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs. Pour in cold water and stir the mixture gently until combined. Add more water if necessary, but dough should be sticky and dense.

Butter a large casserole, eight small ramekins, or some combination of the above (I used a small casserole dish and four small ramekins). Spoon the peach mixture into each. Top with loosely formed balls of the dough. Brush or spoon butter all over the top, and sprinkle with sugar. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the filling is bubbly.

Serve with excellent vanilla ice cream.

Yields 8-10 generous servings.

peach cobbler teaser

peach cobbler teaser, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

Here's a quick peek at the cobbler filling. The parents, NH and I each had a mini-cobbler for dessert tonight, topped with a healthy scoop of Ben & Jerry's Fair Trade Vanilla. The crust (not pictured) was a buttermilk biscuit dough, basted with butter and sprinkled with my new best friend, you guessed it, vanilla sugar. Recipe was made up as I went along and will be featured, with more pictures, tomorrow.

paula dean's cinnamon buns

frosted, originally uploaded by doesinheadlights.

Every time I make these, I am slightly ashamed to admit I used Paula Dean's recipe, but, despite the time it takes to make these deliciously gooey buns (about three hours from bowl to plate), they're the best homemade cinnamon rolls I have ever made. I've made them five times in the last year, including this batch for one of my best girlfriend's recent brunch.

Here is the recipe, although I make a few alterations. Cut the butter for the filling by at least two tablespoons, or the rolls will fall apart. Add a little cinnamon to the filling for more cinnamony goodness, even more if your cinnamon is old. I make the filling with homemade vanilla sugar, but that's just extra credit.

blais bliss

Whatever my opinion on reality television in general, Top Chef definitely ranks amongst my top three current television shows, and in fact beats out all other food related shows, including Alton Brown's Good Eats, if only because Good Eats is only a half hour long and Alton Brown keeps selling out to the Food Network and accepting gigs on other, fairly stupid shows. Anyway, I digress.

My dad shares my love for Top Chef and brings to the table a certain amount of common sense and foresight, and so decided to make a reservation at Richard Blais'--one of the, err, "Cheftestants" that made it to the season finale this season--Buckhead restaurant home as part of our July 4th celebrations. We weren't particularly sure what to expect; a late-evening telephone to the restaurant to check on the dress code introduced to us "Ted" (must have been a pseudonym) who informed my stepmother that ladies should come to the resto "sexy casual".

In reality, home is located in an old house, and has all sorts of fun charms, including real silver flatware left over from the previous occupant (another restaurant), enormous wine glasses and portholes into the kitchen (ask for table thirty for a great view). Sexy casual is an excellent way to describe the dress code and style, and even the menu, which features all kinds of twists on overwhelmingly delicious southern basics.

This post isn't really about the dreamy meal though, it's about the dreamy experience with chef Richard Blais, who took several minutes out of his busy evening of chef-ing it up at the kitchen of home to make the meal incredibly special for me. We checked that he was cooking when we arrived. That shocked me, as in true jaded New Yorker fashion I imagined that celebrity (or even semi-celebrity) chefs didn't cook in their restaurant kitchens all that often, and especially not on holidays. As we were left to our table (yes, the aforementioned table thirty), I witnessed Richard pow-wowing with some staff and perhaps due to my awkward and embarrassing reaction, he came over to greet my party and was as friendly as could be. He chatted with us and wished us a wonderful meal and we sat down and had one.

At the end of the meal when Richard was doing the rounds and the waitress came by to ask us if we needed anything else (we were bordering on stuffed over the cornbread cake with coffee ice cream, blueberries and caramel-butter sauce, not to mention the Coke float with vanilla-cardamom ice cream), I asked her if Richard would sign a copy of the menu for me. We were working on the check when Richard stopped by and asked us how our meal was and so on, not carrying my signed menu. I figured no one had told him or he had forgotten and since he was working I wasn't going to pressure him, but then, before ducking his faux-hawked head back into the kitchen, he asked if we'd like to see the kitchen. I stammered out a "yes, please" and he told us that our waitress would bring us in when we were done settling up and she did. She also brought me the day's menu which he'd drawn all over, and scribbled with birthday messages and other sweetnesses (my birthday is in forty-five days). Fans of the show will understand when I say that Richard showed us his nitrogen tanks and circulators, he introduced his protein chef and showed us where he approved the night's dishes. At the very end of the evening he shook my hand again and said he hoped to cook for me again.

I was too nervous to ask all sorts of intelligent questions and so on, but what really impressed me was his graciousness as a chef. I am guessing his run on Top Chef (a very successful run at that) has popularized the already nifty home, and I am sure he was busy enough without bringing a troop of six diners into his kitchen. Instead of shunning his guests, he was a charmer and a true host. He made me feel absolutely special and he guaranteed that I would travel to home again on a future trip to Atlanta. His faux-hawk may not be bobbing behind the portholes as he chugs water and furrows his brows, but his excellent, sometimes hilarious, food will be on the table, and that in itself is well worth the trip.

i wish i had a fridge muffins

I made these muffins because I just purchased some of those nifty nut and party cups to use as muffin tin liners, a la Chockylit of the apparently defunct Cupcake Bakeshop and because the refrigerator-less state of my otherwise lovely office means that I can't carry the sort of snacks and foods to work that I would bring normally. I wanted something whole grain and savory, and these hit the spot. I put in just a smidge of regular old ap flour to prevent the muffins from being totally dense, and used plain old grocery store sharp cheddar cheese. I don't need to tell you that an artisanal cheddar would elevate them, or that many other hard cheeses (pecorino perhaps, or manchego) would be great too. Dried herbs or some pepper would be a welcome addition. I used skim milk because it's what I keep on hand-I'm sure whole would be great. If you plan to consume these right away, try half a stick (1/4 cup) of melted butter in place of the vegetable oil (using oil generally helps keep muffins moister longer). I plan to take these as a snack for work, but consider them as an excellent bread to serve with breakfast or dinner.

i wish i had a fridge muffins

1-3/4 cups whole wheat flour
3/4 cup ap flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (grated) sharp cheddar
1 egg
1 1/4 cups skim milk
1/4 cup canola oil

Preheat the oven to 350. Line a twelve cup muffin tin with paper liners (or, nut and party cups). Whisk flours, baking powder, sugar and salt and a medium-sized bowl. Add grated cheese and mix until the pieces of cheese are mostly separated (this prevents huge clumps of cheese from forming in the muffins). In a smaller bowl (I did this in my four cup measuring cup), beat the milk, oil and egg until thoroughly combined. Pour this mixture into the dry ingredients and mix together, using as few strokes as possible, until all the dry ingredients are moistened. Divide the batter among the cups (they will be pretty full). Bake for about fifteen minutes or until an inserted toothpick emerges cleanly. Cool in the pan for three minutes and then on a rack before storing.

Yields twelve muffins.

the pancake affair

This weekend was Mother's Day. Finals separated me and my mother on actual Mother's Day and so I promised her an extra special, rescheduled day. Presents, flowers, homemade chocolate chip cookies (she insists that the varieties of cookies that I make are delicious-but wholly unnecessary), breakfast, the SATC movie, church and more were included in the equation. I really hope I don't have to spend Mother's Day away from my mother again in the future, but I do think Sunday was an adequate makeup.

My mother loves blueberries and she also loves a delicious pancake breakfast so I resolved to prepare blueberry vanilla pancakes for the special day. Working off of a simple JOC classic, and swiping a tip from a former pastry chef friend (thanks D, the clarified butter was an excellent suggestion), I prepped the dry and wet ingredients the night before with the hopes of whipping up a timely and perfect meal. For the woman who had sometimes made me breakfasts and other times dinged me in the forehead for my idiotic actions, I would become the perfect pancake making domestic goddess.

Not so. I don't know what it was. I've made pancakes many times. Fantastic pancakes. These however, I could not unstick. My mother mocked me from the living room while she munched on a pre-breakfast cookie appetizer. I turned off the eggs so they wouldn't be overdone by the time I managed to flip a single pancake. Sweat-and many of you know I simply don't sweat much, naturally-began to develop on my brow. "Do you want some help," she asked from the living room couch, where she practiced a lesson she would teach in a few short hours to a group of four preteens at her church. I refused her assistance and went on scraping my pancake-like messes off the bottom of the pan. Where were my pancake flipping chops?

After a few screwy cakes I submitted and let my mom watch. "You're being impatient," she told me, "you need to make sure they're actually brown before you flip them." Right In the moment I thought she was being impossibly annoying. I wasn't being impatient, I merely wanted the pancakes to be perfect. Then I realized those were exactly the same thing. I chilled out a bit and drank a big glass of water while I waited for the next few to brown. My mom applauded flips as though I'd performed the kind you do with your body. In the end we sat down to some yummy breakfast and delicious chatter.

The incident reminded me of something I read in a Nigella book very recently. In it, she points out that cooking has become a race from A to B to Plate, without a rest for enjoying the feel of flour in your fingertips or the ever-headier scent of basil as it's torn. It's not that I imagine I will suddenly stop doing last minute, super rushed, must be perfect cooking sometimes. I only hope that some of those times my mother, or NH, or somebody else who I love and who loves me will stop me, tell me I am being impatient, and ding me in the forehead for burning my hand with the pan.

moving sucks out your soul

My absence here in the last fifteen days might suggest that I have decided to quit being housewifely. Not so. Over the first two weeks of summer I have done more baking, cleaning, cooking, and the like than I have in the last several months. The trouble is, I was also finishing up final exams and papers while moving home. My dorm was (and will be in the floor) a fourth floor walk up and I cannot seem to live without my muffin tins, stationary, or a few dozen hundred books, so I had a lot of stuff to move, and oops, now I am making excuses, which seems like poor etiquette. I am starting a new job on Tuesday, but one of my goals for the summer is to keep up with the blog pretty much daily, especially as there is nothing I love to do more when I have the full home kitchen at my disposal than make cookies.

In penance, I offer up the recipe for incredibly chocolate-y cookies that I made three weeks ago. These are so rich and chewy that I think they're the perfect thing for when brownie batter cravings. I kept aside 5-6 for NH and put the rest out on the dining room table for my sorority sisters, and they were gone very quickly. They're a simple variation of a peanut butter and chocolate confection I saw on Baking Bites, but since NH doesn't like peanut butter at all I do not bake with it much. You can check out the original recipe here.

Oh, I picked up Martha Stewart's relatively recent Cookies at Costco today. I am going to make the chocolate pistachio biscotti after I post this.

toasted almond chocolate chunk ridiculously chocolate-y cookies

1/2-1 cup whole almonds
2 cups ap flour
2/3 cup good cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2/3 cup light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
12 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate chunks

Preheat oven to 350.

Chop almonds coarsely (you can buy them pre-chopped but I can't account for the quality of chopped nuts and they're more expensive anyhow). Toast the nuts in a dry pan over medium-low heat for a few minutes, until they smell delicious. Keep turning them and make sure they don't burn. Set aside to cool.

In a medium bowl, mix up flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt. In a large bowl, cream butter and sugars until nice and fluffy. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. Add the flour mixture slowly. Fold in chocolate chunks and cooled, toasted almond. Drop nicely rounded tablespoons of dough on a lined cookie sheet, allowing plenty of room for spread. Bake cookies for about ten minutes, or until they appear relatively set. Watch carefully, it can be hard to see if chocolate burns. The cookies will need some time to cook before they can be removed from the sheet.

Yields about forty cookies.

good things to put in scrambled eggs

ricotta
shredded fontina
shredded mozz
shredded cheddar
shredded manchego
goat cheese

chives
scallions

diced roasted tomatoes
diced sauteed peppers
black beans

fresh ground black pepper

Obviously not an exhaustive list.

perfect (ridiculously simple) tomatoes for salad

I don't like the texture of raw tomatoes in my salad, and having purchased some gorgeous spinach yesterday as well as some lovely, ripe organic roma tomatoes, I decided some roasting was in order this morning. These take three hours to roast but only about six minutes to prepare, and are more flavorful and exciting than regular tomatoes. Roasted tomatoes are excellent on pizza (a nice contrast with the relatively mild, less sweet sauce) or chopped up and tossed into pasta with olive oil, garlic, and spinach. The roasting time can be adjusted to suit your preferences; 1 1/2 to 2 hours will yield juicier, but still heavenly, tomatoes that will play nicely with pasta or on bruschetta. Make as many tomatoes as you need or desire, but keep in mind that you'll end up with a lot less than you started with. Many people dress these up with garlic, herbs and the like, but in my opinion the plain kind are the most versatile.

Incidentally, since the flavors are concentrated here this is an excellent use for tomatoes that are watery or less flavorful than you'd like.

perfect tomatoes

8-12 roma tomatoes
2-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
fresh ground black pepper

Preheat to 275. Line a roasting dish with aluminum foil (easy cleanup; not necessary). Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil into pan and use the back of a spoon, or a basting brush, to spread evenly. Wash tomatoes. Split each in half lengthwise, and using a paring or other small knife, cut around the stem. Using a small spoon, scoop out the tomato innards and discard. Place tomatoes, cut side up, in roasting dish. Drizzle with olive oil to your preferences, about 1-3 tablespoons. Sprinkle tomatoes with sea salt, again to your preferences, and a little bit of fresh ground black pepper. Put tomatoes into oven and leave them alone for 1 1/2-3 hours. Tomatoes are ready when your house smells amazing and/or they look about as dry as appeals to you.

Yields X fantastic tomatoes.

i swear i'm still alive: weekend preview

Just as soon as I pass my last midterm (the cruel person who decided one class needed two midterms in one semester is beyond me and deserves none of this weekend's bounty), I have a long list of treats I plan to prepare. I even missed Top Chef last night.

Today will finally be the day of the meyer lemons.

Saturday will feature sugar cookies and peanut butter cookies, whipped up for an event I'm holding.

Sunday, chocolate croissant bread pudding, from a Gale Gand recipe, for the brunch being hosted at my house.

Monday will be the day of the pear crisp, as I imagine some of you poll takers expected I was lying about actually making it.

Get excited.

i wasn't even wearing a mickey mouse tee shirt

Have you ever had Bahama Breeze? Although I'm the last person to endorse what NH and I refer to as "family neighborhood chain" type places (Florida is known for it's glut of these, I'm pretty sure), I've been to Bahama Breeze a few times and they have some very tasty dishes if that casual, lots of crazy drinks, "island-influenced" feel suits your mood. This past Tuesday, jonesing for mojitos, coconut shrimp and indoor palm trees, my family headed to an Orlando Bahama Breeze for a dinnertime feast.

The meal was lovely. Not something I'd lovingly recount here (I'll spare you all loving recounts of all but homemade meals), but tasty, speedily prepared and unhurried. Unfortunately, while my four dining companions received exceptional and polite service, the waitress would have ruined my meal were it not for my family's fantastic sense of humor and willingness to coax away any of my impatience or annoyance.

It began with the drinks. Everyone, minus me, had drinks from the bar by the time we sat (there was a bit of a wait) down at the table, and so the waitress asked in a sugary sweet soprano whether she could get me anything to drink. The request in itself was innocuous, it's just too bad she felt the need to call me "sweetheart" and use that singsong voice. After I requested a glass of water and she wandered off my family and I immediately exchanged glances because we knew what we were in for: the waitress must have thought I was thirteen.

Her patronizing/coddling behavior continued throughout the meal. The highlight was, of course, when she felt the need to duck under the hanging light to get close to me and ask me what I'd like to have for dinner (she made no such contortions for the other guests at the table). She called me by a term of endearment at every turn, from "sweetie" to "honey" to "darling". Her voice adopted a special quality whenever it was my turn to order something. When I turned down a refill of water, she showed up with one anyway (I guess I didn't know what I wanted). Her behavior was exactly the sort of pandering to small children you might expect from someone hoping to earn a large tip from the children's parents, with the exception that her mistake in judgment meant that she was far more insulting than endearing.

Now, I recognize that I have a very young face, and that my outfit (a pair of straight skinny jeans, a flowing cotton tank top with a small floral print, and a navy blue fine gauge cotton sweater with a hood) did little to age me. I am no stranger to these mistakes; on Thursday afternoon at the airport a Continental employee asked my age (the first number is a 2) and then replied, "oh, well if you're under fourteen you need to check in as a minor traveling alone". I'm pretty used to it and try and accept it as a blessing (I doubt I'll complain if I'm carded at thirty). Still, I did everything I could short of directly informing the waitress of my age, to signal that her behavior was neither appropriate nor necessary. I spoke clearly, asked and thanked her politely for every service, and participated in lively but respectable (well, depending upon your definition of "respectable") conversation with my fellow diners. So why didn't she get a clue?

My feeling is that if someone is old enough to not order from the children's menu (not a crayon in sight at our table for five), then they should receive the same treatment as everyone else at the table, unless it's their birthday or some other such occasion. No one should be made to feel singled out or mocked when dining publicly, since meals out are an indulgence and should be a pleasure. That waitress diminished rather than elevated our experience, making me glad I was not at a restaurant at home, where I would be likely to see her again.

What are some negative restaurant experiences you've had? Would you have done something differently to remedy this situation?

not housewife on the road in the air

I'm heading to Florida. Just for a few days, and oddly enough, largely due to my desire to see Horton Hears a Who with the people who introduced me to the delightful Seuss story.

As often happens, I am heading to warmer weather just as it turns here in New York, as in, I went for a Starbucks run this morning (I try to brew my own most days but I had a serious bout of insomnia last night that meant there was no way that I would be up to greet the Time Warner Cable guy between 10 and 2 without an americano) with no jacket or coat. I didn't wear a coat because I was too zombie-like to think of it, but I didn't need one anyway. I ordered my americano iced to celebrate. Maybe by Easter we can call Winter officially over.

Oh, and Time Warner Cable sucks. I probably didn't need to say that. There are plenty of Consumerist posts on the topic. Or maybe you have Time Warner Cable yourself and have experienced the special joy of dealing with their service team.

Despite all appearances this is not a random catch-all post; rather, I wanted to talk about children. Why? Largely because I am going to Disney World, and despite planning to spend only an hour or two in the theme parks, I anticipate seeing a lot of children. Also, when I return to campus, I anticipate seeing a lot of children because plenty of Manhattan parents treat this campus like a very large playground, despite the fact that the actual students pay a whole lot of money to play here. Now, since I'm not a parent I'm positive plenty of people will snicker and say "just you wait, when you have a kid you will understand that these are not the failings of poor breeding, but unfortunate side effects of having children". Maybe, but I think most of these things could be handled if people stopped coddling small children and their parents in public. Without further blathering, the top three reasons I no longer find children in public adorable:

Parents who do not pay attention to their kids, then blame other people. I live in Manhattan. It's a big, dangerous city with cars, subways and tons of people. I'm pretty sure those baby leashes (which I abhor, not the point) were invented for New York City. At least once a week, some three-year-old stumbles into my legs, jumps in front of me, or otherwise puts his/herself in risk of being injured by me. I was a small child (I'm a small adult too), and I know how terribly annoying it is to have big people run into you all the time, and hit you with their shopping bags. I keep my eyes out for delicate little hands and feet. Still, I regularly receive annoyed looks and comments from parents whose free-roaming children I have accidently bumped. Guess what? I cannot help it if your son saw something shiny on the sidewalk and ran toward me without looking. He's a child, he doesn't know better, but you should have been holding his hand rather than whining about something with your girlfriend. While I understand that you cannot keep your eye on the kiddo for every second or every day, not blaming strangers for your kid's erratic behavior is the minimum required by politeness. It would be exceptional to apologize for the child inhibiting someone else's journey (very annoying when I'm late for class), but I'll settle for not being called "thoughtless", "careless", "heartless" or any other "less" (except maybe "childless") just for walking normally down a busy city street.

Parents who do nothing about interruptive fits. People love to complain about this one so I will keep it short, but it bears mentioning all the same. Kids cry. Adults cry too (some even more than kids). If your kid is crying/screaming/tantrum-ing somewhere where other people are having something you could call an "experience" (shopping experience, movie watching experience, fine dining experience), be kind and bring the kid outside. Yes, we all feel really bad for you because you need to put down your fork and step outside with the six-year-old who just discovered a terror of marinara sauce. All the same, parents lose my sympathy the minute they allow fits to carry on when they are ruining movies or dinners for other people. You chose to bear children.

Parents who are seeming unaware of the effects of sugar on children. There is a reason sugar high is such a common term: too much sugar makes normally reasonable people bonkers. Theme parks are notorious sugar centers, with cotton candy, ice cream, popsicles and cookies available at every turn. Every kid deserves treats and all kinds of fun, but loading your kid up on sugar without controlling for the effects is really not acceptable. This is probably more important if the non-parent will be spending time in close quarters with the sugar high child (at a gathering for instance). It is completely uncool to feed your kid chocolate, lollipops, soda or even large bowls of pasta and then unleash them on an unsuspecting victim friend or relative. Figure out how sensitive your kid is to sugar and determine at what point it is no longer really fair to leave your kid to the supervision of others. I imagine some nannies/babysitters/day care workers and owners feel strongly about this as well.

I'll be blogging all week: rolls, cookies, massages and something about fruit. Oh, and if you haven't yet don't forget to vote in the poll, especially if you live near me, because there is a strong chance I will foist the results off on you to avoid eating them myself share the bounty of my baking chops with you.

poll: you tell me what to do, and i'll do it

Then, I'll post about it.

Please take a second to select an option, or even better, to suggest a recipe or even a concept (who doesn't love a challenge?) in the comments. I'll be on spring break (although I'll still post) next week so I won't bake whatever you guys pick until the week of the 24th.

shame and groceries

Apparently, many people are really, really opinionated about groceries. Over at Serious Eats there's a great discussion going on about those items we buy that we're not exactly thrilled to show off. Instant mashed potatoes (seemingly used, ubiquitously, in alternative applications like sourdough starters and potato bread) are proving popular, among luncheon meats and that stuff in the blue box Kraft insists on calling macaroni and cheese.

Part of me wants to laugh (who cares what you buy if it makes you happy) and part of me knows that deep down, I am a food snob too. I can't help it, my mother raised me that way, and stressed what I call "real food" over most processed conveniences. I was still a little kid when I began to eschew such American family favorites as that curiously sawdust-like cheese product in a green cylinder Kraft insists on calling parmesan cheese (ahem, real Parmesan must be shredded or grated or crumbled or shaved, at the table please). I glance over my purchases in the grocery store and even sometimes feel they portray a certain image, and feel satisfied that if I am what I eat (or at least what I buy at the market) then I have at least small cause for satisfaction. I cook, prepare or bake things that many people buy (bread, cookies, cake, soup, macaroni and cheese, salad). I try to buy organic dairy and produce. I like my chocolate dark, my coffee black and Lipton tea sort of terrifies me (NH keeps asking me if it's "brown" tea) , though I'll have it at Waffle House with my Cheese 'n' Eggs and Cinnamon Toast.

Still, I think it's a little silly to fret over conveniences that make our lives work out a little easier. My mom cooked plenty while I was growing up, but we also did plenty of nights of making our own toppings for a frozen pizza (I did this with NH this weekend, as we are both fiends for caramelized onions on our pizza), and I know she always had a box of instant mashed potatoes on hand, along with all kinds of stuff that a working mother needs: garlic powder (gasp!), taco seasoning (boo!), string cheese (agh!) and frozen stuff for snacks, like toaster strudel (no!). She emphasized health but it's not like she had time to be a gourmet chef three times a day, and you know what, I turned out fine. She taught me about eating good things, eating (not too many) bad things, and leaving time in your day for fun.

I once debated whether those Polly-o string cheeses that used to come with "pizza sauce" for dipping were an actual food with my friend's boyfriend. She and I, both very interested in healthful eating and checking out New York restaurants and cooking things like tofu or spinach, had loved the things as children. He mocked us endlessly for them. In the end he was probably right, presented with one of those things (or the pizza Lunchables I once embraced) today I probably wouldn't give them a nibble. In the end, that's not the point. How you eat and what you eat really is a personal decision, and no one should feel embarrassed to like string cheese, frozen burritos, or chicken nuggets.

I've caught people tossing discriminating glances toward shopping carts laden with soda, stacked with chips, or featuring a case of Easy Mac (I think I lived on that freshman year, sigh). This sort of behavior is really childish. It's impossible to know why someone else eats or buys what they do, and since it hardly affects anyone but the person doing the shopping and their immediate family, I'd like to advocate for keeping our eyes on our own carts. Even more so, it'd be nice to see people stop judging themselves for the products they love or use as timesavers. No grown man should feel he needs to engage in furtive Nesquick purchasing.

What are your favorite grocery conveniences?