Mary Ann Is Still Hot.

If I had known this back when I might have made more potato salad instead of buying it from the deli.

Thanks Lorenzo for the link!

This is a special post for RJ since he's been discovering the joy of cooking and the agony of smart asses.

And a special thank you to Di from The Blue Ridge Gal for her template feedback. Thanks Di!

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The Pup-family Christmas Prep

. . . love Maegan

We are the Ugly Betty's of prep.

How was your Christmas?

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Big-ass Ham - the day after

This is all that's left of it. Way less than I figured since it was the LARGEST big-ass ham I've seen in a while. It was a ham from the little piggy we bought from Pup's pig-raising cousin. Darn good pig!

It was my first ham if you can believe. But I patted it with brown sugar and mustard and poured 7-up over it's scored skin and damn! It cooked up good.
Five of us this year. Lots of Pup's ginormous family were over at one of his sister's houses. I just wanted to be with my kids this year. The enormity of that family is something I'm working on getting used to. I still am having nightmares about Thanksgiving. You know I'm joking.
Here is my yearly attempt at making the bunny cake. I cannot, for the life of me, get that gaddamn boiled frosting to work like my Swedish momma and great-momma could. What part of the baking-genie am I missing? I asked Pup to decorate. He fussed, but liked it when he was done. Ha!

It's okay. We just scraped the frosting off the pan and goobed it on top of our cake. Numm!

Then we hunkered down on the sectional. Boys napping, two of the girls working off hangovers (young uns!), dog outside whining because his Bella was in the house and he wasn't, and me trying to resist the candy on the coffee table while watching a bit of golf.

Awesome day. What did ya 'all do?

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Oh Wait! Let me look for that.

It's time to cook a big-ass ham for many of us.

I'm not a huge fan of big-ass ham, but this morning I am digging through all the recipes I've gathered during my 21 years on this earth (ha!!).

I'm not a great cook, but I have been a lover of cooking since I was about 12 I think. I'd sit in my kitchen with my momma, going through her recipe box, and copying down some that appealed to me.

If I remember right, the ones I got from that time were mostly pie, fudge, cookie-type stuff.

Then I started jotting down other recipes from her files. Sadly, I never learned how to make her kick-ass roasts. Just can't duplicate that incredible taste. It's a momma-memory now.

I got my own recipe box (still have it) and started gathering my own recipes. When I was in my 20s and dating my wasband I really developed a love for recipes. Had to cook my way into his heart don't you know. Luckily for me the man would eat ANYTHING and enjoy it.

We had kids and I was a stay at home momma for a few years. Very budget-challenged years. I got incredibly good at dollar-stretching and the recipes grew and grew. Lots of hot dishes (shout out to Minnesota - hell ya!) and meatloaf stuff. Gathered tons of recipes from my momma again.

Had gardens with tomatoes, zucchini, broccoli, beets, green beans, winter squash, carrots, peas. Tons of other crap I can't remember.

Lots of canning. Jeez I used to kinda love canning. My girls will tell you different. That I was a crabby beast during canning days (late nights getting the stuff put up - tomatoes wait for no man or martha).

I sure did enjoy how the finished product looked. All those gorgeous jars full of colorful nummy stuff.

Going through the recipes is memory-loaded. So many of these were written from my momma's own hand and many are ones I dragged out again and again when the girls were babies.


So on Sunday I will bake my big-ass ham, roast my new potatoes, and make a bunny cake with marshmallow frosting. And I'll think about my momma.

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Cooking with Style

Since I'm whole-hog into my wrecking ball I have been cooking. I've pulled out all my 3-ring notebooks that are stuffed with recipes. I've been going through all of them and editing. Have you ever pulled out some horrible recipe and thought to yourself, "WTF"? Why on earth would I ever want to make raisin custard pie? Shudder!

Pupcake is not an adventurous eater. In fact he eats like a 12 year old. A 12 year old that was never ever made to eat his vegetables. He's number seven out of eight kids and I think by that time his momma wasn't paying attention anymore. I'm guessing Pup's older sisters took care of him and probably let him have anything he wanted to just shut him up. I'm guessing here. ;)

So, to cook new recipes for this guy is challenging. It has frustrated me up to this point, but I finally figured out I've been going about it all wrong. He eats three things - that's just the facts. I don't eat maybe three things. So I've been just cooking. He will like or he won't. Tonight he ate something rather robustly that I feared he wouldn't touch. Score!

I love love love cooking.

Today I made a crustless and sugar free pumpkin pie. Light and fluffy.

Then I made a burger/sausage/rotel/cream cheese panfry to serve on buns. Nummy . . .

Yesterday I made quiche. Tomorrow deviled eggs, zuke appys, and a baked brie. I'll be drinking white wine and watching Gone with the Wind.

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The Day After

Christmas was lovely. I cooked (despite my lack of domestic skills of late), Pupcake fetched Momma Betty, the kidlets came, and we had the best time drinking wine, playing Super Mario Bros (sooooo much fun even if I SUCK!), listening to The Beatles (thanks Pupcake! The best present ever!), and watching movies all cozied up in our afghans and snuggies.

So, while attempting to make whipped cauliflower for us girly-types I had difficulties with my Cuisinart. No matter what I did it wouldn't whip my vegies into a frenzy. Couldn't get it to turn on! Am I losing my touch? ;)

So I moved the glop into a mixing bowl and whipped with beaters (this all sounds provocative - it wasn't) showering me and Momma Betty with a rain of cauliflower. Momma B was ducking at one point! That cruciferiously-stubborn mess never did whip into the lovely and light side dish I had imagined in my Martha Stewart-place. Not even close. Not even a block away. Not even with binoculars. Aaah, the joy of cooking. I'll stick to the other joy-of thank you, thank you very much.

So, I sit here in my office, listening to George snore away in his chair and Pupcake working away at his dual-monitor while I count my blessing and ignore the rest.

Merry Christmas everyone. Now it's on to the new year!

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Oh Dear and Oh Oh

Pup and I remodeled our house a bit about a year ago, the kitchen being the biggest thing we tackled. It's quite lovely, but I must admit to not entirely loving the appliances we picked out.

We went with a company called LG. They look spiff, but I truly wanted a Sub-Zero fridge and a Wolf range. I don't have a Sub-Zero or Wolf budget so we bought the LGs. Piles I must say.

So, last night I'm making dinner and decide that I will use (for the first time) my broiler for the chicken breasts. I turn it on and put them in and before you can say "what's that smell"? flames are shooting out of the oven door.

Pup wants to grab the pan, run to the back door, and throw the mess out of the door. I'm wailing and throwing my hands akimbo saying, "no no no"! All I can imagine is hearing the dreaded, "oh oh" as Pup goes reeling through the dining room.

He looks at me and says, "Honey, we have a serious fucking problem here!" Even in his alarm, my Pup is calm and sensible.

After the crisis had been dealt with we were rolling on the floor with laughter repeating his sentence over and over. "Honey, we have a serious fucking problem here!" This will forever be our code for laughing until tears squirt out of our eyes.

End note of story - we ate the chicken breasts, but I admit to feeding much of mine to George.

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