Biscuits and Donuts

My middle name is "Marie." My parents chose this name not because it is the most popular middle name in the world but after my great-grandma Marie. She is not my biological great-grandma—my grandpa was only three when his mother died from consumption (seriously, I'm not just saying that because it is an old-timey disease) and he married Marie shortly after. My dad has countless stories about this crazy Danish lady.

My dad is the second oldest of four boys. First there is Steve, then my dad, Roger, then Chris, and finally Clint. Yes, Marie was from Denmark and had a substantial accent but could speak English well enough. Even still, she never pronounced my father's name correctly, and referred to him only as "Rotney." My dad recalls birthdays and Christmas when Grandma Marie would send the boys a check as a gift. Four separate checks for $2.00: one for Steve, one for Chris, one for Clint, and one for Rotney.

One of my favorite stories was the time when my Dad was about 13 and Grandma was visiting from Wisconsin. "Rotney! Rotney! Come help your Grandma! Rotney!" she yelled with urgency from down the hall.

"What, Grandma?" Dad said as he rounded the corner into the room she was staying in. There she was, in all her octogenarian glory, naked as the day she was born.

"Ahhh, Grandma!" he yelled as he shielded his eyes.

"Get me my robe, Rotney." He did has he was told, but I don't think he has ever recovered from the visual.

Despite the fact that every time she saw my Dad she would tell him, "Rotney, you too fat!!" she was famous for her donuts and she happily made them for the boys during her visits. Of course she made the dough from scratch, fried them to perfection and doused them in sugar. Growing up, my dad made us a bastardized version of these donuts and instead of making his own dough he used Pillsbury Grands biscuits with the center punched out of them (still fried to perfection). I admit that there have been times when I've created a dinner menu based on these biscuits, not just because I want to eat them with dinner, but also because I want to make donuts out of the leftovers.

So, in the spirit of fall, I recently cooked a big pot of beef stew in the crock pot and at the suggestion of my mother made these biscuits. They were amazingly delicious and unbelievably easy to make. So easy in fact, that it seems I don't need to buy the ready-made kind anymore.

Of course, the downside of this realization is that now there are no longer any leftovers for donuts. So, I am not cutting Grands Biscuits off the shopping list for good. But maybe in the spirit of my great-grandma, who I never had the pleasure of meeting, I can try to make donuts from scratch as well.

The last time that my dad spoke to her on the phone as they were hanging up he said, "Jeg elsker dem, Grandma" which is "I love you" in Danish.

And her response, "Jeg elsker dem, Roger." She passed a away a few days later.

My Dad loved to tell stories about her. She seemed like a pretty neat lady and I am proud to share her name. I hope that maybe someday I can be a grandma like her...well, maybe without the flashing my grandkids part.

(Update: Apparently I had some of my facts wrong. My Dad has set me straight. Read on.)

Heather,
Thanks for the sweet story about my Grandma Marie. It brings back many memories.

The story is actually a bit more comical that you suggested. You are correct that she always called me Rotney (Which is Rodney with her extremely heavy Danish accent), however, every $2.00 check that she sent me for Christmas was made out to Robert Andersen.

It never bothered me that she called me Rotney and sent checks to Robert. As a matter of fact it provoked many laughs for my entire family. I was thrilled by the realization that the only time she ever called me Roger, was the last time she talked to any of us before she died. I wonder if she was just messing with me before that last call.

Chris and Clint (Clint particularly) still call me Rotney.

Rotney

Way Enough.

A few weeks ago I took a sweep rowing class. It was something that I always wanted to try it but never did, probably out of fear that I would fail. But then six months ago I pushed a nine pound kid out of me, unmedicated, and I unleashed some confidence that had been hiding in me for most of my life, so I signed up.

I started with 6 sessions in the novice class and recently graduated to the intermediate level despite the fact that I often feel like I have no business being in a boat on the water. I already have enough trouble keeping my lefts and rights straight and now "port" and "starboard" have been thrown into the mix. There is a term in rowing called "catching a crab" (tee-hee, I said crab). It is not nearly as gross as it sounds but about as embarrassing when you are the newbie on the intermediate team. It basically means you get out of sync with the other rowers in the boat and get your oar stuck in a way that, in the worse case scenario, can throw you out of the boat. Although I have yet to be launched out of the boat into the scummy water that is Lake Merritt, I did catch two crabs today. It was not easy for my stroke or my pride to recover.

But, I'm not giving up yet. So far it is an excellent workout and I love the idea of being on a team. And on Saturdays after practice, the team goes out to breakfast. In fact, the coach of the novice class said during practice one day that the great thing about being a rower is that you can eat whatever you want. This pleases me.

Life List of Food

While I was pregnant with Charlie, I was inspired by Maggie Mason and her Mighty Life List to write a little life list of my own. Number one on my list? Become a mom. BAM, done! (Yes, I realize this is cheating.) My current list only has 11 items on it. Ok, 12 now as I just added "Put more things on your life list." Some of these things include: getting published somewhere, taking a voice lesson again, singing in a choir, making a blanket out of Charlie's pajamas as well as various trips around the globe.

So, today, I decided I should make a life list that I want to eat.

1. Try foie gras

I know, I know. The poor defenseless geese and I am horrible person for even being interested in such a thing. But when Grant came home to tell me about how AMAZING it was at his lunch at Bouchon in Yountville, CA, I decided that I get to try it too. I should also point out that after lunch he had a one hour deep tissue massage at a fancy-pants spa in Napa. This was on the same day that I had whatever leftovers I could find in our fridge and then after that took our baby to Costco to by diapers. So, it was almost the same. Except it wasn't. Open wide goosey-goosey.

2. Try chicken-fried steak and biscuits

There is something so American about this, in a sad, salty, over-sized, monochromatic kind of way. But come on! It's deep-fried steak!

I don't know, apparently I have a death wish.

3. Make Thanksgiving dinner

Those who know me well know that I make my pumpkin pies from scratch. Like, from a an actual pumpkin and no can opener. (I also make my crust from scratch using an awesome recipe that I link to here.) Sure, it is a bit more time-consuming but the difference in taste makes it all worth it. But, I have never hosted Thanksgiving, or cooked a turkey on my own for that matter. It is incredibly intimidating but I feel it must me done even though I wouldn't be surprised if the meal ended much like that scene in "A Christmas Story." Fa-rah-rah-rah-rah, rah-rah, rah-rah...

In theory, I will add to this list and revisit each one as I complete it. But honestly, I have a 6 month old baby who is about 4 seconds away from crawling so let's be real people!

Post Baby Body

Roughly once a month I go on a diet/cleanse of sorts. Basically, for one week I commit myself to eating healthy and by this I mean, high protein, lots of veggies, low carb and no sweets. I eat three decent meals a day and a snack between each meal. This coupled with the fact that I try to exercise at least four times a week, it works and I have lost the baby weight easily. The thing is, when I was pregnant, I gained a lot of weight. Now, I had a big boy. But you can't blame nearly 50 pounds of weight gain on a 9 pound 3 ounce baby. What you can blame it on are the cookies, ice cream, endless bags of salty snacks and the gallons of milk I could consume in a single sitting. I was nervous as I neared the end of my pregnancy that 1. I would break the scale and 2. The weight would never come off.

As a stay at home mom now, I decided very soon after he was born that I would not let the aforementioned "number 2" happen. I had no excuse to not get up off my ass and do something physical during the day. Even if it just meant a walk around the block with my baby in tow. Admittedly, I do have my days where I just can't seem to peel my eyes away from bad daytime TV while my son sleeps, especially if there is a Real Housewives of New Jersey Marathon on or something. (I loves me some Manzos.) But seriously, I didn't let it number 2 happen.

There are parts of my body that are not the same as they used to be and quite frankly did not change for the better. For example, my muscle tone is basically non existent these days and my tummy has been replaced with a bowl of gelatin that is covered in fading stretchmarks. However, there are parts of my body that, dare I say it, I might even like better post pregnancy. For one, I weigh less today than I did before I got pregnant and this pleases me. And it seems the unbelievable widening of my stomach, ass and thighs may have actually put some things back in a better place than they were in before. I actually have some curves now. This makes me and the jeans I wear very happy as well.

In the past, my attempts to diet always failed because I liked food too much. Food makes me genuinely happy and not in a "food is not love" kind of way, okay? But, food excites me and I want to try it all. And sometimes that means things that are unhealthy. But I don't want to worry about eating that kind of stuff sometimes, because I truly believe in the very clique phrase, "everything in moderation." In fact, I think stressing yourself out about what you eat is likely more detrimental to your health than just eating a freaking piece of flourless chocolate cake or fried chicken once and a while.

But, I am getting older and things are quite bouncing back like they used to. Things are starting to "go out" on me, for example my back, my knees, my brain. And because I am aware of this, I exercise regularly and roughly once monthly, I diet/exercise/detox/get-really-sick-of-salad to stay on track and stay happy. Call it what you will, it works for me. I feel good about myself and I can eat the things I want once in a while without feeling guilty. Most importantly, when I do it this way, I am way less likely to cheat because I can do anything for 6 days. Right?

Well, accept this last go around but come on now, look at these things!



Trader Joe's is the devil. One giant, delicious devil.

More Rice

Like most babies, I'm sure my first words were simple ones. "Mama" and "Dada," probably. Well, those and for some reason, "Motorcycle," pronounced "Mo-cycle." My parents said it just came out of me one day for no reason at all. These single words were quickly replaced with two word phrases which brings me to the story my Dad could tell over and over again. (And he does.) When I was a baby, my favorite food was rice. My parents would give me a little pile on the tray of my high chair and like a ravenous animal, I would attack the pile as though I hadn't eaten in weeks. Due to my lack of fine motor skills and poor hand/eye coordination, most of the rice ended up on the floor, in my lap, in my hair and in my eyes. My parents remember laughing hysterically as I would slam my flat palm, speckled with rice kernels, against my mouth in the hopes that a few would make it onto my tongue. And, as soon as I would look down at my empty tray I would look up at my parents and say, "More rice!" And if more rice was not in front of me the moment I demanded it I would ask for it again, louder and with more conviction.

"Moooorrre riiiiice!"

"MOOOOOORRRRRE RIIIIIIIICE!!!!!!!!"

So, I few days ago, we gave Charlie his first sampling of solid food. And naturally, we chose rice. Brown rice cereal to be exact.

He was a bit hesitant at first.



Then he decided he wanted to hold the spoon. Shortly after this, he proceeded to gag himself with it.



All in all, I think he enjoyed himself.



That's my boy.

S is for Squash

It goes without saying that your life changes drastically when you become a homeowner. In one sense, it is exciting to walk around your new home, touching your walls, banisters, fixtures and baseboards all the while thinking to yourself, "Damn, I own this!" But then, your baseboards fall off or the banister starts coming loose, AGAIN. The toilets keep clogging and the lights won't stop flickering and once again, you think to yourself, "DAMN! I own this!" And then you jokingly say to your husband, "Can't we just call our landlord to come fix this?" Ha ha NOPE.

And then you start to cry.

It is crazy and super scary to think about barely having enough money to take care of all the basic stuff, not to mention any emergencies that should come up. But somehow, you figure it out and make it work. You just have to cut some corners and get creative. This came into play last month when I had three close friends with birthdays in July.

It all started with a garden my mom planted in her backyard. She planted the garden with the intention of it being hers and Charlie's garden. Which makes perfect sense that she did it now. I mean, he is unable to sit upright unassisted but you should see that boy wield a trowel. AMAZING! So, in Gammy's and Charlie's garden, she planted summer squash. With the proper conditions, squash plants can grow like weeds. If you don't pick them fast enough, pretty soon you will be left with giant, dinosaur squash that will leave much to be desired in the area of flavor. This was exactly what happened over a weekend my parents were out of town: they returned home to gigantic gourds taking over the yard.



I asked my mom if she was planning on using any of the squash for anything and she said I was welcome to them. I took one and figured since it was in the same family, yellow squash would have the same effect on bread that zucchini does. And the squash was surely big enough for three loaves of bread—one for each of my friends.

The recipe is one that my family has been using for years. Growing up, my mom watched a show called "People Are Talking." On one episode, they featured a recipe for "A to Z Bread." In essence, it is a basic bread recipe to which you can add an "A to Z" ingredient of your choosing. And for each letter of the alphabet, there is a suggested ingredient. It's the only recipe my family ever used for banana, pumpkin or zucchini bread. (I don't remember what the suggestion for "X" was and quite frankly, I would like to keep it that way.) The recipe still folds along the original creases my mom made in it. Today, those folds are barely hanging on by what's left of the remaining fibers of paper. Oil stains and dried bits of bread batter cover the page. It's gross, but one of my favorite things at my parents' house.

A to Z Bread

3 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
3 tsp cinnamon (The recipe says it is optional but in my opinion, absolutely not. Love the stuff. I'd take a bath in it if I could.)
½ tsp baking powder
3 eggs
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups sugar
2 cups A to Z
3 tsp vanilla

Sift the dry ingredients together and set aside. In a separate bowl add sugar, eggs and oil and cream together well. Add "A to Z" ingredient of your choice and vanilla to sugar mixture and mix. Add the dry ingredients slowly until everything is incorporated.

Grease and flour two loaf pans and pour half of the batter into each pan. Bake the bread at 325 degrees for one hour.

I promise you it will be worth it, and your whole house will smell like my childhood.

Shameless Plug!!!

My dear friends, Melia and Darren enjoy so many of my favorite things. To name a few, they appreciate pop culture trends of the 90's, participate fully in costume and theme parties but most importantly, they eat, they drink and they are about to be married. And they have decided to celebrate that by writing about it here:

http://www.eatdrinkandbemarried.com/

Take a peek when you get a chance.