pb and what?

by aliceknisleymatthias

I was never a fan of the pb & j sandwich when I was a kid. Cloyingly sweet jelly, with peanut butter, was not a combination of flavors I enjoyed. Even more unappealing, was the appearance that the 1970s popular brand of white bread took on, as it became soggy and purple-stained, after it sat all morning, in the lunch box, of the girl who sat across from me at the lunch table.

 

I came across a sandwich in The New York Times. It mentioned what seems like an unlikely partner for peanut butter — pickles. My guys and I experiment with food combinations. Like my most recent recipe published in the December, 2012 issue of Highlights for Children.

 

The idea of tackling a peanut butter/pickle sandwich though, was met with resistance and funny faces. Peanut butter and pickles in a SANDWICH?!

Off to the store we went. We had the peanut butter. But, what kind of pickle? We decided to try Dill pickles, and bread and butter pickles, to see the difference in taste with peanut butter. The store is carrying a new brand of organic peanut butter these days. We hit upon the idea to have a blindfolded taste test for pickles and peanut butter. And we were going to invest in some good bread.

No white bread, in plastic wrap with polka dots, like the pb & j I can still see across the elementary school lunch table. A firm, white bread from the bakery section.

The result? My guys liked the new peanut butter better. Dill pickles won out over the bread and butter version because of their pucker. Now, it was time to assemble these unlikely ingredients.

Tasting the peanut butter & pickle sandwich was the deal breaker. They were willing to sample peanut butters and pickle varieties. Not together in one crazy sandwich! They cleared out of the kitchen before the lid came off  the jar of peanut butter.

It was just me and the pb & p. The nutty flavor of the peanut butter mixed with the briny juices from the pickle. An unfamiliar mix of the creamy, nutty texture of the peanut butter and the crunch from the pickle. Two common ingredients, but one taste, that was completely not relatable to anything I’ve ever tasted.

 

 A shopkeeper, in New York’s Greenwich Village, made his first pb & pickle sandwich when a mother-to-be walked in and requested it. He figured it was his job to make the customer happy. It is still on his menu today as “The Pregnant Lady.”

And isn’t it my job, as mom, to be the first to taste something that “looks weird” for my children? I don’t know if there will be a second pb & p in our kitchen.

movie and a meal

by aliceknisleymatthias

“Mmm. What is this?” It always makes me laugh to hear this question when my boys try something new. Movie night at our home sometimes includes a theme to tie in with dinner. We have tried meals that have become family favorites like “Over the Hedge Casserole,” “Wall-E Pizza,” and “My Guys’ Grilled Ratatouille.”

Inspired by Monica Bhide’s piece in Parents Magazine, http://www.parents.com/recipes/familyrecipes/snacks/kids-book-recipes/ dinner and a movie has made for some fun nights. She did theme meals with her boys, using their books for inspiration. For a meal with “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs” Bhide created a scene with little broccoli trees and puffy clouds of mashed potatoes. And, of course, meatballs raining down.

A movie and dish that became fast favorites for us are “Ratatouille” and our recipe for “My Guys’ Grilled Ratatouille.” My feeling is that anything that tastes good- tastes even better grilled. Grilling the vegetables in the ratatouille gives a smokiness to the dish.

My guys are not fans of eggplant. (OK, neither am I. Unless, it is the breaded eggplant my friend’s Italian father makes, that we enjoy in batches, with red wine.) So, we omit the ingredient in our version. Everyone agrees the addition of the grilled pepper in the tomato sauce makes it better. It brings out the flavor of the fresh thyme as the tomato sauce simmers.

We serve the grilled ratatouille with a few spoonfuls of roasted tomato and red pepper sauce.  When it comes to adding grated cheese — to anything– my boys go for broke. They always want a good shower of grated cheese. It seems like one of the rules of childhood says there is no such thing as “too much cheese.” Maybe you never outgrow that philosophy. These days, we are enjoying a grated cheese that combines Asiago and Pecorino. We discovered it this summer, when we were stocking up on ingredients for grilled pizza, at Trader Joe’s. 

In “Ratatouille,”Remy, the little rodent with culinary skills, pulls out the recipe card for the dish in the title. The big moment has arrived to impress the sullen restaurant critic. (Insert French accent here.) “Are you sure you want to serve this to a restaurant critic? Peasant food?” a character asks. He prepares the ratatouille and lovingly tucks it into its dish with a blanket of parchment paper.

A reminder that sometimes, when you want to hit one out of the park, less is more.

My Guys’ Grilled Ratatouille

2 gloves garlic, peeled

5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1  24 oz. can crushed tomatoes

6 sprigs thyme

salt and paper to taste

4 small green zucchini

4 small yellow squash

2 red peppers

any combination of herbs and grated cheese for garnish 

parchment paper

-Toss squash and pepper with 3 tbsp olive oil, salt, and pepper

-Grill vegetables on the grill.

-Place garlic and remaining olive oil in saucepan and start to warm through. when the scent of garlic is noticed after about 60 seconds, add crushed tomatoes and simmer with thyme about five minutes.

-Peel the skins from the red peppers when cool enough to handle and add to tomatoes. Place in blender and blend until smooth.

-Using a baking dish (oval or a 9×12 dish) turned upside down, trace the outline of the bottom of dish and cut out.

-Smooth tomato sauce in bottom of dish until coated. Save the rest for serving. Slicing the yellow and green squash, begin to layer in dish. You should have about three layers of vegetables when finished.

-Season with salt to taste and add some more thyme from remaining thyme sprigs.

-Lay parchment paper on top of the vegetables and smooth.

-When ready to serve, warm in a 250 degree oven for about 7-10 minutes.

We like our ratatouille over a bed of Israeli cous cous simmered in chicken stock.

giving thanks

by aliceknisleymatthias

The house had the aroma of Thanksgiving. Turkey stock, with parsley and peppercorns, and onions and garlic. Gravy bubbled in a saucepan. I cooked twenty turkey cutlets, insted of a whole bird, with shallots and two big bags of baby carrots with butter, thyme, and honey. I cut loaves of bread into cubes and toasted them. They absorbed the stock to make a moist stuffing with fresh sage and rosemary. 

I cooked as my guys came in and out of the kitchen. “What smells so good?” They lifted lids and asked, “Is this the gravy?” They wanted to sample the stuffing before dinner. “Yum, that’s good,” said my older boy. I stepped over the dog as I moved from counter to stove.  I can’t prove it, but someone swiped a dinner roll. Soon, it was time to get dressed for dinner. That means crisp, collared shirts, with buttons, for my boys. Hair combed–ready for a holiday dinner.

I filled a large aluminum roasting pan with the turkey, stuffing and carrots. Capturing the steam, and covering it with tin foil, I secured the foil around the edges. The pan got wrapped in a beach towel, to help retain heat, for the ride in the car. It fit perfectly in a cardboard box I got from the market. (Tip: The man at the market told me the boxes bananas are delivered in make the best boxes for carrying items.) I tucked in a jar of gravy. We loaded up the car and headed off to our dinner at the grandparents’ house.

As we drove, the car began to fill with the scent of a Thanksgiving meal. The same scent that filled the house as I cooked and they nibbled.

We headed to a beach community here on Staten Island devastated by Hurricane Sandy. We pulled up behind about half a dozen cars idling in front of a long, tented table set up in the street. Neighborhood residents were accepting hot meals. Cars were arriving and people pulled similar trays of food from the trunks. There were rows of trays stacked on flickering burners and volunteers used serving spoons to make plates of covered dishes. People walked away with several foil covered pie tins of warm food, to have a holiday meal, with their families.  

We unloaded our box from the back of the car. “Happy Thanksgiving,” said the woman behind the table. “Happy Thanksgiving,” I answered. Everyone was smiling, and chatting, as they peeled back foil and filled requests for a meal. Turkey, string beans, stuffing, carrots, sweet potato pies, mashed potatoes. By the time we got back in the car, to head to our dinner, the line of cars had grown even longer behind us, stretching several blocks long. As we drove away my older son said, “They are going to love your stuffing.”

stormy weather

by aliceknisleymatthias

Sandy beaches. Family vacations and walks on the boardwalk with dripping ice cream cones on a sizzling, summer afternoon. Now, the words “Sandy” and “beaches” appear in headlines telling the  story of the storm that blasted up the East Coast destroying the shoreline, ripping apart seaside boardwalks, and swallowing entire neighborhoods in its path.

We were off from school for a week with no power. We passed the time with countless rounds of Monopoly and ate our meals by the fireplace, wrapped in blankets.

And when life gives you a refrigerator that has been off for 48 hours? Clear it out and make risotto. We also ate grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and they did make us feel a little better in a dark house where all the furniture was cold.

Relief workers are trying to provide help to people who are overwhelmed with the task of emptying their homes of waterlogged couches and soggy mattresses. In an effort to give these homeowners a break from their weary clean-up efforts, what is the most basic offering, but a warm meal?

A week later, our lights came back on, the doorbell rang, (as is always the result of a power surge and drives the dog mad), and the television was blaring once again. The house became warm and we were relieved not to have to brace ourselves for icy, cold sheets that night. My children, who first thought losing power was a “cool adventure,” began to realize what life is like needing to put your coat on when you get out of bed in the morning. No lights to read comic books.

This Thanksgiving, we will talk, as we always do, about how lucky we are. We will talk about how there are other people who are not so fortunate and what we can do to help others. This Thursday though, my children have a vivid experience in mind of what it is like to be in a chilly house. Some people are still struggling to get heat and electricity. My children will also know the feeling of gathering around a table and sharing a meal with the people in your life.

Having dinner with your family is what makes a house a home. Even when your brother is kicking you under the table. Even when the dog is chewing on something he probably shouldn’t have. Even when the forgotten pot on the stove starts to burn. And there goes the smoke alarm.

how does your kitchen grow?

by aliceknisleymatthias

“Oh please. You’ll be in the fast food drive-through before you know it!” That’s what I heard from another parent when I pulled a whole wheat pita, with melted Monterey Jack cheese, from my brown paper bag and handed it to my son when he was a toddler. This parent knew she was talking to the woman who recycles the scallions she buys at the farmers’ market, and grows them as plants, in an effort to share with her children the connection with our garden and the dinner table.   

Why are parents willing to give up so fast when it comes to food choices for children? My guys are now ten and six years old and have never had fast food or soda. Yes, we have a schedule of activities, but with a little extra effort, I can make a thermos of homemade carrot soup and wraps, with their favorite chive mayonnaise, if we have to eat on-the-run.

I got into a conversation with one of the chattier teenage checkout clerks at our local market the other day about how my boys get eggs from our friends’ chickens. I was telling him how I make homemade soups, fruit roll-ups, and we use herbs from our herb garden for meals to help my children make healthy food choices. His response? “I wish my mother did that for me when I was a kid. She let me eat all the junk I could get my hands on. I was over two hundred pounds by the time I was a freshman in high school,” said the now svelte young man. From his young mouth to my organic mother’s ears.