Master Griller

Without fail, Tyler always wants to help (I use the world 'help' loosely) when it's a Carmine's night. Whether it's with me doing the cooking or Aaron with the chopping, he takes it very seriously.  It didn't take long, however, until helping wasn't enough.  Driven by the insatiable need for power, that all four-year-olds have, he wanted control of the kitchen.  He wanted to be Head Chef Walker.  Well, this town might be big enough for both of us, but my kitchen was not.  Something had to be done.  

I gave him domain over the kitchen table.  With a big bowl, mini wire whisk, cutting board, plastic knife, and scraps of leftover ingredients, he was set.  Now we were both happy.

The happiness was short lived.  You know how you never realize there's an "off" smell in the house until you've left, breathed actual fresh air for a few hours, and then come back home?  Well, that's what happened the day after I implemented my chef solution.  

At first, it was just a faint weird smell, where you can't really decide if it's remanence of yesterdays cooking or maybe the house just needs to be aired out.  By day two it's no longer a faint weird smell, it's growing into something ugly.  The problem is finding the cause.  You start walking from room to room like a blood hound, sniffing the air.  No luck.  The smell is in every room.  You can't ignore it and hope it will go away, and swearing about it doesn't help, so you spray every oder neutralizer you have and hope for the best. Seems to work for the people in the commercials, right?

Day three.  Did someone die in this house?  I did a quick headcount - Aaron's at work and all three kids were accounted for.  You'd think with something this potent you'd be able to walk right to it, but it had permeated the air and was not going away.  I laid down the law - no friends or electronics until we found the source of the smell.  It worked.  About five minutes later I hear arguing and Tyler crying, "Nooo!  That's my Carmine's dinner!"

Chef Walker had apparently been saving his bowl of cut up onions and garlic, aka: his Carmine's dinner, in the back of a cupboard.  He's lucky he's so cute.  

Although...I should probably point out that some people believe cutting an onion in half and leaving it out during the flu season will prevent anyone from getting sick, not to mention that garlic wards off vampires. Who knows, maybe Tyler saved us from a flu infected vampire that could have wiped out our entire family.  

While Tyler had been preparing his vampire flu remedy, I was preparing our Sunday night Carmine's dinner.  I decided to do a little grilling.  

Carmines: Porterhouse Steak with Peppers and Onions (pg 179)

While Aaron was really excited about this one, I was a little nervous.  I have never grilled steaks before. Not because I haven't wanted to, more because Aaron loves it and when he's happy, I'm happy.  Or something like that.  Regardless, steak is tricky for me because I don't like a lot of pink in the middle, and there seems to be a fine line between not a lot of pink and dry and chewy.  But this book has not let me down yet, and I figured tonight would be no exception. 

To start, I browned the garlic and caramelized the bell peppers and onions.  I love bell peppers and could stop cooking at this point and be perfectly happy.  The rest of the family - not so much.  Pity. 

Next I start to prepare the meat.  I've never bought steaks before.  It's either ground beef for taco's or a chuck roast for the crockpot.  After what must have seemed like a ridiculous amount of time bent over looking at different steaks, an employee came over and asked if he could help me.  

I said, "Yes, please.  I'm trying to find a 36 to 38 ounce porterhouse steak, with the bone still in it because I need to use the bone as part of the presentation when serving it.  I know porterhouse has something to do with a fillet and sirloin steak, because it says to cut those into slices, but I don't see any bones with the fillet or the sirloin."  

To his credit, at least he didn't laugh at me as he took the pre-packaged fillet steak out of one hand and the pre-packaged sirloin steak from the other hand and put them back in the case.  He then gave me a quick lesson on what a porterhouse steak was and how to pick one out.  Who knew the porterhouse steak WAS the fillet and sirloin steaks combined?  This steak business is very tricky.

It was time to start grilling.  I had my doubts on how how the meat would actually taste because the seasoning was so simple.  

True to form, the book guided me step by step on how to grill the meat perfectly.  I love that.  I had no idea, when grilling steaks, you should only flip them once and when you take them off the grill you should let the meat rest before serving.  

The down side to grilling in the winter is it's dark by 6:00 PM.  No worries, the phone has a flashlight function. And yes, I'm wearing rubber gloves in the video.  I can't help it, touching raw meat weirds me out. Besides, if I stopped wearing them, what would my friends mock me about?  Don't answer that.

I usually post a picture of it all put together, with a my little chalk board showing the name of the dish, but the children (I'm totally including Aaron in this instance) were way too hungry to wait for me to do all that.

Suffice it to say, they were not disappointed.  The onions and bell peppers were amazing and the steak was unbelievably flavorful.  Why do I doubt you, Carmine's??? 

When I asked each one what they thought of the meal, they all agreed...best steak ever!

Ooh, So Close.

This is why I should just stick with pancakes on non-Carmine nights.

I will not bore you with the details of why a twenty minute errand ended up taking two hours.  Frankly, I blame the stores advertising big clearance sales on their windows, it's impossible to fight that kind of temptation.  Needless to say, I wasn't going to get home in time to put the frozen lasagna in the oven for dinner, hence my phone call to Noah:

Me:  Noah, I need you to start dinner for me. Will you please pull the frozen lasagna out of the freezer and just follow the directions on the box?

Noah:  Wait.  What?  You want me to fix dinner?  I'm not sure I can do this.  I've never made a lasagna before, mom.  I don't think I'm ready for this.

Me:  You're not making it, you're just cooking it.  There's a big difference.  It's easy, I promise.  Just pull the box out, find the directions, and follow them.  Seriously, there's like three directions total.  Can you do that for me as soon as we hang up?

Noah:  (takes a deep breath)  Ok.  (another deep breath)  I can do this.  But, mom?

Me:  Yes...

Noah:  I'll need you to talk to Reagan and tell her she needs to stay out of the kitchen.  I have to concentrate on cooking and I can't have her bothering me.

Me: (slight eye roll) Noah - this should take you about 30 seconds.  You're going to be ok.  Just hurry and get it going and I'll see you soon.

As he's hanging up, I hear him yell, "Reagan!  I have very impor--." I'm not sure what he yelled after that, all that mattered was the lasagna was going to be done on time.  Success!

About 30 minutes later I walked inside to the smell of lasagna.  As I went into the kitchen, I was walking over to Noah to tell him good job, when I noticed something on the counter.  It took me a minute to realize it was the aluminum lid that comes on top of the lasagna.

Me:  Noah, awesome job on getting the lasagna in the oven.  

Noah:  Thanks!  Did I do it right?

Me:  Yep, you only forgot to put the lid on the top.  No biggie.

Noah: What are you talking about?

Me: (pointing to the lid on the counter)  That.

Noah:  (looking confused)  Yeah, I wasn't sure what they wanted me to do with that.  It just said to take the lid off and bend it in a tent shape.  I figured it was something for little kids to play with, like a tunnel for cars or something.

Me: (pause) Um... (paused again) Sure - we'll go with that.  Great job, babe.


If McDonald's can give a toy with their happy meals, why can't frozen lasagna come with a tunnel for toy cars?  Makes sense to me.

Snowzilla or the Apocalypse...depends on who you ask

One of the most entertaining parts of living in Virginia (which I absolutely love), is watching Virginians react to snowstorms.  As soon as the first snowflakes start sticking to the ground, all common sense fly's out the window.

First off - without fail - grocery stores everywhere will run out of bread, milk, and bottled water.  Without fail.  If it's going to snow, there will be a run on grocery stores.

And while it might have been a two-lane road yesterday, once it’s covered in snow, it’s fair game.  Feel free to drive wherever you want.  And if you want to make a U-turn, no need to wait for an intersection - just go over the median.  Median?  What median?  I didn’t see a median.  

There's also a very strange, I mean perfectly normal, correlation between snowstorms, driving, and hazard lights.  The only time I've ever driven with my hazards on was in a funeral procession.  Last winter, when I saw cars in front of me with their hazards on, I respectfully pulled over to let the funeral procession pass.  Only, there was no funeral.  Just people driving with their hazards on because it was snowing.  Apparently, when snowing, you should drive with your hazards on so people can see you.  Maybe if it was a really thick fog, I'd be on board.  But snowing?  "I was driving and hit a car because the falling snow had camouflaged it perfectly."  Said no one, ever.

So you can imagine what it was like as Snowzilla was getting closer.  People weren’t preparing for a snowstorm, they were preparing for the apocalypse.  There was no telling who would make it out alive and who was going to starve to death, in the 24-48 hours it would take the plows to clear the main roads after the storm.  Panic was in full force.  Stores were running out of everything in record time.  

Check out lines went all the way to the back of the store.  Milk and bread, forget about it.  That was gone before you even got in your car.  By the time you get there, half the produce section is gone.  A friend foolishly thought she could just grab a couple of potatoes.  This was no drill, my friend, this was Snowzilla.  

Now I don't have a cow to get my own milk, or the ability to make bread, because yeast hates me and refuses to cooperate.  Nor do I have a garden to grow my own produce.  But I'm not worried, because I watched The Martian.  Thanks to Mark Watney, Space Pirate, I know what needs to be done to grow potatoes.

You know how the saying goes - when life gives you poop, make potatoes.  Or something like that.  

In the end, Snowzilla came and we all survived.  A friend of mine measured 27" in her backyard.  That's pretty legit for 24 hours.  The fact that they canceled school for seven days, was maddening.  Don’t they know the buses could just drive with their hazards on and they’d be fine?

Regardless – when snowed in, what better way to spend your time than cooking Carmine’s.  Because Grandma was visiting, I wanted to make something she'd enjoy.  She loves shrimp and I love saying parmigiana, so what's more perfect than Shrimp Parmigiana?

Shrimp Parmigiana (page 162) 

When I went to the store to buy some fresh shrimp, the guy behind the seafood counter had me follow him over to the freezer section.  He grabs a bag of frozen shrimp,  hands it to me and says, “We take these bags out in the morning, thaw the shrimp, and then put them on ice behind the glass counter.  If you want, you can buy this bag, put the shrimp in room temperature water for 20 minutes, and thaw them yourself.  Otherwise, I can charge you more for thawing them for you, this morning.”

Frozen bag of shrimp it is. 

While the shrimp was thawing in water, we made the breadcrumb (pg 283).  Who knew it was so easy to make your own??  Since I forgot to take bread out of the bag the day before (shocking, I know),  I threw them in the toaster and that worked just fine.   

My breadcrumbs are on the left and a store brand on the right.  I'm not sure if they should have been finer, like the store ones, but that was the best I could do with my blender.  I guess, for the sake of future breadcrumbs, I have no choice but to go buy a food processor.  A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...for the sake of future bread crumbs.  For now, mine tasted way better, so that's what counts.

Once the shrimp was thawed and breadcrumbs made...this was the fastest and easiest recipe.  It took me about five minutes to have everything else ready: cheese sliced and grated, eggs whisked, flour and breadcrumbs on different plates and oil heating up in the pan.

        

I don't even like shrimp, but when I flipped those suckers over and saw that golden crust...I didn't care what it was, anything that looks that good needs to be eaten.  I'm going to learn to love shrimp if it kills me.

When they were all fried up, I topped them with two different cheeses and threw them under the broiler until the cheese was all melted and bubbling in parts.

**The recipe says "four 1/8-inch-thick slices fresh mozzarella," and the instructions say to cut those slices in half and top each shrimp with a slice.  However, the recipe calls for 16 large shrimp.  I'm not sure if it was supposed to say eight slices of mozzarella or to cut the four slices into fourths instead of half.  I went with eight slices so there would be lots of cheese covering the shrimp.  Either way, shrimp smothered in cheese is freaking awesome.  

Once the shrimp was done, I grabbed a plate and dished some up for my mother-in-law, Cynthia.  She loved them!  As for me...this recipe is going at the top of my list for whenever I have to take an appetizer somewhere.  They were amazing right out of the pan and still just as good when they were cold.  

At this point in my post, I usually go over the family reviews.  However, I cannot confirm or deny if in my excitement I shared the rest with my friends, leaving none for my family.  All I will say is that one minute I had a full plate of Shrimp Parmigiana and the next minute it was gone.   

My only saving grace was the fact that I made another Carmine's meal for dinner (which I will post next).  So with full bellies and a promise of another round of Shrimp Parmigiana, everyone was happy.  Whew!

Carmine's: Penne Alla Vodka

To not make the same mistake as last week, I decided to pick the next recipe ahead of time.  It had been a very long day and I wanted one that would be my reward for surviving the week without killing anyone.  It's the little things that count.

My day started when my alarm clock didn't go off.  And by "alarm clock" I mean my 4-year-old, Tyler, who has never slept past 6:30.  Have you ever had that moment when you wake up and you think to yourself, "I feel so rested.  Why do I feel so rested?  I never feel--OH CRAP!"  And then you realize it's because the alarm didn't go off.  That was me and now I had less than an hour to get the kids to school, and me to an appointment, on time.

Some parents, when referring to their children, will compare them to a pack of wild animals.  When I'm on a time crunch, my kids are more like sloths with mono.  Why walk up the stairs when you can sit down and go up them backwards?  Why get dressed quickly when you can do it using one arm while pretending the other one is broken?   Why go right now and tell mom you can't find your shoes when you can wait until it's time to walk out the door?   These are the moments I remind myself in just 4,956 days the last one will leave for college.  I can do anything for 4,956 days, right?

Somehow, we managed to pull it off.  We were going to be on time.  That is...until we walked outside.

Really?  REALLY??  I don't have time to change a flat tire!  After yelling a few choice words (In my head, I can't have Tyler cussing at preschool) I remembered Aaron was out of town and I could just take his car.  I could deal with the flat tire later, kids had school, and I had a doctors appointment in 20 minutes.


No woman enjoys her annual visit to her OB/GYN.  Even the ones who have crushes on their doctors (oh, they're out there) have a hard time enjoying any moment that involves the words "stirrups" or "scoot forward a little," regardless of how cute the doctor is.  Then you get to pretend like it's perfectly normal to chat about your plans for the afternoon or what the weather has been like, while a man you see once a year tells you to raise your arm above your head while he checks for lumps.  Not awkward in the least.

At the end of the appointment he tells me, that at my age, I need to start having mammograms.  He also said I was in luck.  There was a cancelation, and if I could wait 15 minutes, they'd be able to see me next door.  Just great.  Woke up late, flat tire, yearly exam, told I was old, two more flat tires - excuse me - a mammogram, and it's not even 11:00 am.  At this point, all I need is a colonoscopy.

By the end of the day I just wanted to sit down, open my cookbook, and find something that would make this miserable morning a thing of the past.  It's as if Carmine's had read my mind, page 118, Penne Alla Vodka.  It's also been known as Penne Alla Russia.  I think we should call it, Penne Alla Forget About It.  Whenever we have a bad day we want to forget about...page 118, my friends, page 118.


Carmines: Penne Alla Vodka 

First step was to make the marinara sauce.  I've never made a marinara sauce from scratch before, and was genuinely surprised with how easy it was.  Who knew such simple, basic ingredients, was all it took to create something so delicious and versatile in so many recipes.

Once the marinara sauce (pg. 288) was started, I was able to turn my attention back to the vodka sauce.

I have all of my ingredients chopped, sliced, poured, and measured.  I was feeling pretty good about this one.  The recipe says to cook the onions until they begin to soften.  No problem.  Then add the garlic and cook until the onions are golden brown - but to not let the garlic brown.  A little advice...the time from not browned garlic, to burned garlic is surprisingly fast.  Dump it out, wash the pan, cut more onions, chop more garlic, and with lesson learned, we try again.  Much better.

I then add the fresh herbs.  I must say, it's only been twice now that I've used fresh herbs instead of the dried ones in the cupboard, and I love it.  I love the smells, I love the taste, I love how it makes me feel like a super cool mom who cooks with real herbs, and I love the colors it adds.

In addition to the fresh herbs, this particular recipe says to add 1/4 to 1/2 a teaspoon of red pepper flakes.  In the directions, it says to add to taste, which one can correctly assume means somewhere between 1/4 - 1/2 a teaspoon, because that's what's indicated on the list of ingredients.  Not to over use the word love...but I love how even though it says "to taste," it still gave parameters for people like me.  Otherwise, I would have maybe added two little, tiny flakes and Aaron would have added a tablespoon or two.  So far, I'm a big fan of the authors of this cookbook.

Now that this onion, garlic, herb and red pepper mixture is done...it's time to add the vodka and light this baby up!  When I was able to talk with Chef Ford and ask him questions, he actually showed me how they light this recipe on fire.  He added the vodka, dipped the pan slightly into the fire, and whoosh, the pan had flames coming out of it.  That was some mad kitchen skills.  When you start lighting dishes on fire - you're legit.  It looked so easy, I was pretty excited to look all legit with my own mad kitchen skills.  Oh, Brenda.  Will you ever learn?

Here's a twenty second video you can watch, with the assumption, that I too can effortlessly light things on fire with my mad kitchen skills:

Or you can watch the longer, un-edited version, if you want to see the difference between mad kitchen skills and getting mad in the kitchen skills:

Either way - I set food on fire.  On purpose.  That's pretty legit.  I'm thinking my children should start calling me Faux Chef Walker.  Just a thought.  On a side note - thank you, Susan, for filming the awesomeness of the moment and for keeping Aaron out of the kitchen while said awesomeness was taking place.  Aaron, small contained fires, and fire extinguishers are not a good combo.  Another story for another day.

Back to the recipe.  Flames have died out, marinara sauce added and simmered, heavy cream slowly stirred in and brought to a boil.  The recipe says to start the noodles at this point in the process.  Because I didn't read through all of the directions before hand, I had started and finished cooking the noodles well before now.  I'm not sure if after the sauce boils for three minutes, rests off the heat until the noodles are done, and then brought back up to a boil would make a big difference.  I'm not sure if the sauce would have been thicker or if it would be the exact same otherwise.  

Because I already had the noodles cooked, my sauce never cooled down.  After it boiled for three minutes I instantly added the grated cheese, and stirred it for about a minute before dishing it up.  I will definitely, hands down, be making this meal again.  The next time, I will be sure to follow the directions and see if it makes a difference.  I'll let you know.  

This vodka sauce has the most rich and creamy taste, yet it didn't feel heavy.  And the heat from the red pepper flakes made this the best sauce I have ever had.  I was hesitant about adding them because I'm not a big fan of red pepper, but I have to admit, the sauce wouldn't have been as good without it. 

    

Family (and friends) Reviews:

Aaron:  Loved it.  Would have been perfect with more heat, but that's just me, because I like to heat things up...if you know what I mean.  (as he repeatedly moved his eye brows up and down)

Yes, Aaron, we all know what you mean.
                   
Brenda:  Favorite sauce ever.  I'm actually irritated I promised my boss some, because now I won't have leftovers for tomorrow.
                                                       
Noah (future Chopped judge):  I really liked it.  I thought the heat was an excellent choice with the richness of the sauce.  It was a bold move.  Presentation could have been better.

Reagan:  I didn't like the sauce, but I like the grated cheese on my noodles.
(Reagan never eats anything on her noodles, except cheese)

Tyler:  Can I have some cake now?

Susan:  I liked it a lot.  It's probably the best sauce I've ever had.

Seth:  I agree.  One of the best sauces I've ever had.


As I was tucking the kids into bed later that night, they asked me if we could all take turns picking which Carmine's recipe I would make next.  All thoughts of sleep were forgotten the second the word "yes" left my mouth.   A few minutes later I watched as they were flipping through my book, huddled at the kitchen table.

Carmine's: Chicken Contadina

I should probably tell you a little more about my cooking...abilities.  Nothing will ruin a dish I'm trying to cook faster, than if the authors assumes I know what they're talking about.  I recognize this isn't a problem for most people.  Ok, very few people.  Fine, just me.  I'm probably the only person that will stare at instructions that say "add salt and pepper" and actually hesitate because I'm not sure how much to add.  I like salty food, so when you tell me to add salt, momma doesn't mess around.  In reality, they probably meant a pinch of salt would suffice.  If that's the case, be exact, say "add a pinch of salt."  That's why I bought a measuring set that's specific for a smidgen, pinch, and dash amounts.  Don't get me wrong - I'm not like this with anything else in life.  That would be exhausting. I'm only this way with cooking, because when I'm left to my own assumptions or creative thinking, it never bodes well.  

Let me put it this way - if a recipe calls for, lets say, paprika, and you don't have paprika, don't assume that just because something looks like paprika and has the same consistency as paprika that it will work.  Because I can tell you right now, cheyenne pepper IS NOT a good substitute for paprika. Also, if you're making fancy rolls and the recipe calls for malted milk and you don't have malted milk, go to the store and buy some.  Don't try and be creative and mix up some baby formula as a substitute.  It won't work.  Also, when part of the directions in a recipe seem a little...different...pause what you're doing and ask a friend.  Because if you think the new Sticky Chicken recipe you found is letting you pick your own special ingredient...you would be wrong.  If you want to read that conversation, click here.

The last thing I should tell you is my promise to Chef Ford (Carmine's Executive Chef).  Before cooking my first meal, Jill, who is one of the women I met when I got the book, asked me if I would like to meet Chef Ford and ask him for any advice. Um, YES, that would be awesome!  She was amazing in working it out so I could do just that.  Even more amazing is that Chef Ford agreed to it!  The biggest piece of advice he gave me -- which I promised I would follow -- was no shortcuts.  None of this minced garlic in a bottle, or ground ginger in a jar, no dried herbs and no pre-made beef or chicken stock.  I think I've minced fresh garlic, maybe twice in my life.  I'm not 100% sure what fresh ginger looks like.  And the closest I've come to making stock from scratch is pouring the carton of chicken stock in a pot and adding a bullion cube to it.  Regardless, a promise is a promise.  So bring on the garlic bulbs and the ginger whatevers - it's Carmine's night at the Walkers. 

Tonights dinner:   CHICKEN CONTADINA  (pg 218)

I couldn't decide what to make to start out this cooking adventure.  It wouldn't be so hard if all the pictures didn't make me instantly hungry.  Honestly, I could practically hear them calling out, "pick me! pick me! Don't I look amazingly delicious?"  So, I went old school - I closed the book and what ever page I opened it to, that's the one I'd start with.  The other pictures would have to wait their turn. Of course, I opened it to a recipe that didn't have a picture.  It's ok, I don't NEED a picture.

Sure, I'll have to google the title so I have an idea of what I'm making, because I have no clue what "Contadina" means.  Maybe it's better this way.  Now, even if it looks awful, I can tell me family that's what it's supposed to look like.  Worse comes to worst, I'll tell the kids Contadina is Italian for "looks terrible, tastes great."  Done and done.

I start to read through the ingredients to see what I need to get and right off the bat I'm stuck.  The first ingredient is "One 3-pound chicken, cut into 12 pieces."  What??  What does that even mean?  Do I buy a baked rotisserie chicken from the deli and then cut it into 12 equal pieces?  I can't imagine that's right...dividing it like I would a pan of brownies, and then cutting through all the bones?  I decided to call my friend, Talai, and ask her.  She had no idea, but agreed that dicing up a rotisserie chicken doesn't sound right.  After a little research I was able to find out that you use an uncooked 3-pound chicken, cut out the breasts, thighs, wings and legs.  Then you cut the thighs in half and the breasts into thirds.  You now have a 3-pound chicken cut into 12 pieces.  Voilà!
On a side note...since the book didn't specify that I had to be the one to remove the pieces from the body of the chicken, I felt like I was still being true to my promise to Chef Ford by going to the meat department and buying a family pack of chicken with the skin and bones still attached.

Once I got home from getting all the ingredients, I laid them out, washed my hands and grabbed my box of rubber gloves.

CONFESSION: I can't stand the feel of slimy, cold, raw meat. It grosses me out - hence my box of rubber gloves.
                           I know, it's pathetic.  I'm hoping by putting this in a smaller font it will be less pathetic.  No?  I tried.
                                
I cut the chicken up into 12 pieces. Do you love how I so casually talked about me cutting up the chicken as if it didn't make involuntarily gag every time the bone would crack underneath the pressure of the knife. So gross.

I added the fresh herbs and lemon juice and... Oh, crap.  It's supposed to refrigerate for 24 hours.
Son of a #&$*@!!!!

Lesson #1 - It might be helpful, whenever possible, to read through a new recipe a few days before you plan on cooking it.

Twenty-four hours-ish later...

Gloves back on, ready to start cooking!  I don't know if it's the excitement that a long overdue home cooked meal is taking place, or the aroma of fresh herbs combined with the marinated meat in the oven, but something has put everyone in a fantastic mood.

Aaron asked if he could help chop the bell peppers, Noah and Reagan weren't fighting or arguing and Tyler was playing with his toys as happy as could be.  It was AWESOME!!!  Even if it only lasted a few minutes, I would take it.  Everyone in the house was happy.

As I followed the different steps, I loved watching as everything was coming together.  I've never cooked anything in a pan on the stove top, and then transferred it straight to the oven to bake, and then continued to repeat that process throughout a recipe.  It was crazy!  When I put the pan, with the sizzling sausage and popping oil into our gas oven, I wasn't entirely sure the whole thing wouldn't catch on fire (hence the fire extinguisher in the background).  I get that it's a basic concept, but it was fascinating to me to watch the oil in the pan change from a light yellow to a dark brown by the time I was done cooking the sausage in the oven.  And it's only going to get better as I take the meat out and add the marinated chicken into this sausage-flavored oil.

I've only ever used oil to crisp something up or cook one thing all the way through - I've never used it to carry one flavor to another and another and ultimately pull the main components of the meal together in one dish.  Hands down this is already going to be the most flavorful dinner I will have ever made.

The sausage is cooked and set aside and the chicken is browning, I figured it was a good time to check on Aaron's progress.  Not only had he finished cutting up the peppers, he had moved on to the parsley...and he had found himself a little Sous Chef.

The boys clearly have the chopping under control, so I turn my attention back to the chicken that now has the most beautiful, deep golden brown I think I have ever seen on 12 pieces of chicken. 

When the chicken was done, I took it out of the pan and let it sit next to the sausage.  

At this point I put the sliced potatoes (thank you, Aaron) on a baking sheet and into the oven. The goal is to flip them half way through the cooking time so that the slices become nice and crispy.  You should know I have never been able to accomplish this complicated, delicate process of creating perfectly crispy potato slices!  They either have burned parts or they're soft and bendy.  No one wants a soft, bendy potato slice.  I feel the pressure as I'm facing my food nemesis once again.  

There's no time for me to worry about potatoes.  I've got vegetables needing my attention.  Once the oil is reheated, I added the onions and peppers, stirred, added the garlic, increased the heat, stirred some more, reduced the heat, and simmered.  At the very end, I added the fresh basil and parsley.  

Now for the moment of truth.  I grab a large bowl, slowly mixing everything together and then "artfully" arranging the food on a serving platter.  No, the potatoes were not crispy.  They stuck to the pan, regardless of me spraying it before hand (and the ones that didn't stick were still soft).  It eludes me.  I will have crispy potato slices if it's the last thing I do.

With the serving platter ready and the family miraculously sitting at the table, patiently waiting, I shove everything on the counters to the side so I can take a picture of my Carmine's dinner....Chicken Contadina.

Reviews: Aaron:  "Loved it. My favorite part was the chicken. The flavor was awesome." 

                    Me:   "Chicken absolutely amazing. Incredible flavor and very juicy.  Sausage was

                               surprisingly good (not a big sausage fan in general). The peppers and onions 

                               could not have been more perfect."

                Noah:    (He's obsessed with cooking shows)  "The sweetness and the tang of the pepper

                              really went well with the sausage I ate, which was spicy, so it really goes well 

                              on the plate.  The chicken (takes a huge bite of chicken) really good."

             Reagan:    "I loved the chicken! The drumsticks are my favorite. The sausage was good,

                              but could have been warmer."

               Tyler:     "I liked it. Today at school I wanted to play with the truck and..."

           

Before the kids entered the kitchen, I told them the story of Artie and the importance of being a family.  I told them that when they hear me say, "it's a Carmine's night," I want them to know exactly what that means.  It's a night where bad feelings, short tempers, disappointments, anger with one another, etc, etc, is to be checked at the door.  While we're sitting at the table, it's a safe place for everyone.  It's a time where we can talk about our favorite memories, trips we want to take, and goals we want to accomplish.  It's a time where there is unconditional love no matter what happened a week ago, the day before, or an hour earlier.  Nothing is so bad that we can't sit together and let it go for a moment.  Sometimes a moment is all we need to remember how much we matter to each other and how nothing is too big or too heavy to bare when your family is standing with you. 

Tonight, for the first time in a very long time, that's exactly what we had.  My children were laughing as Aaron and I told them stories from when they were really little,  Noah quickly joined in the story telling as he described to Reagan what it was like the first time he got to see her and how she was "the prettiest baby" he had ever seen.  Reagan's smile could not have been bigger.  After Noah finished his memory of Reagan, she started telling us about the "coolest fort ever made" that Noah had built for her and all the games they played in it.  Noah and Reagan laughed as they talked about that day and began making plans for a new fort.  Tyler is telling Aaron for the six time about his day at school and how the fire alarm went off.  I sat back in my chair and just soaked up my family.  

I like to think that for the briefest of moments, my dad and Artie were watching the evening unfold and my dad put his hand on Artie's shoulder and said, "Good job, Artie."  And Artie just smiled.  

Welcome to the Family, Artie

The whole way home I couldn't stop thinking about that juiced up, layered grilled cheese.  There was a much fancier name for it in the book, but I don't remember what it was, and I didn't have time to google what the words meant.  So in the meantime, I was sticking with grilled cheese su steroids.

I finally had a cookbook that left my mouth watering.  I figured I should read the beginning of the book, so I could get a little history on this restaurant called Carmine's.  I grabbed a drink, closed my bedroom door, climbed up on my bed, and opened the book to the first page.

Fifteen pages.  That's all it took.  In just 15 pages everything had changed.  I was no longer thinking about the food.  Sandwich? What sandwich?   I laid my head back, held the book up to my chest, and closed my eyes.  I pictured my family through Artie Cutler's eyes.  Cooking the recipes in this book was no longer just about having a great meal for dinner, it was about inviting Artie and his vision into my home.

This little adventure of mine had taken on a whole new meaning.  I grabbed my laptop and sent the following letter to the women I had met just hours before:

Kelly and Jill -

I just finished reading the introduction in the cookbook and I wanted to tell you how these 15 pages are probably the most important 15 pages I have read in a very long time.

I've toyed with the idea of cooking every recipe in a cookbook for awhile now.  I've actually bought a couple of different books and looked through them, but none of them seemed right.  I know it might sound a little cheesy - but none of them got me excited about the journey of cooking every recipe - regardless of the simplicity or complexity of what it would entail.  Until now.  Until I read the history of Carmine's.  I was fascinated as I read about how the Italian immigrants started a new life here and how they made big family meals that were delicious, creative, and yet simple in using basic ingredients they had on hand.  When they ran out of some ingredients, they found other ways to make a meal the family could look forward to.  It's easy to picture the children running around with their cousins and friends as the smells of a home cooked meal filled the air around them and then everyone coming in, to sit together as a family, and eat.  This was a time they could let the cares of the world fall away while they passed the food around.  As stories were told and laughter filled the air, the burdens of the day drifted away.

As I pictured this, I realized this is what I had been looking for.  This is what is missing in my home.  More often than not, meals are thrown together quickly in order to eat as fast as possible and get out the door.  Conversation during dinner time?  Forget about it.  No one has time for that anymore - there are emails to be checked, texts to return, social media to check up on.  Dinner is now a time where adults and children alike can sit with a fork in one hand and their phone in the other.  The idea that a good home cooked meal can bring a family closer together has long been forgotten.  But Artie Cutler didn't forget.  He saw the importance of people coming together over good food and a sense of belonging.  His vision recognized the need people have to take a moment away from the chaos the world throws at them.  A need to return to a time when life's problems could be solved over hot pasta and family love.

I want this for my family.  I want this for my three children.  Too often I'm throwing together "breakfast" for dinner because I have nothing planned or ran out of time.  Nothing says, "I love you. How was school?" like a fresh bowl of cereal or leftover pancakes.  Don't get me wrong - I'm sure those days will still happen, but I have fallen in love with the idea of bringing Artie's vision into my own home.  I want my children to look forward to dinner time.  To know this is a time they can let go of the stress of school, bullies, tough classes, and teenage drama. They can take a break from their day to day worries and know dinner time is for them to enjoy a home cooked meal they'll actually LOVE to eat and sit with family that loves and supports them.  I love the idea of my teenage son asking me if a bunch of his friends can stay for dinner and knowing I can grab my book and make an amazing meal that will do more than just feed five teenagers - it will make a memory as they sit around the table and laugh about their day and make plans for their futures.

I had no idea Artie's story would ring so true to me, but it did.  I can only hope I make him proud.  I imagine my dad tracking him down in heaven and asking why he couldn't have published this book 20 years ago when they were both alive so I could make him "stuffed pork fillet with broccoli rabe fontina and pine nuts with creamy polenta."

I'm going to NY this weekend with a friend of mine to have a girls weekend away.  I'm going to go and find the bench that Alice purchased on Broadway and 90th and take a picture of me in "Artie's first office" as I start this journey.  And when I finish, I'm going back to that bench and I'm going to tell Artie all about my experience and how through every recipe I made, my family grew that much stronger.

Thank you again for giving a girl a book that started her adventure.

Love,

Brenda Walker

So there you have it.  My plan is to cook a different recipe, every Sunday, until I've cooked my way through the book.

Here goes nothing...

Important Life Skills to Conquer the World

The morning starts off like any other morning.  First things first: getting the kids off to school.  It sounds so simple. With well over 100 days of school behind us, you'd think we would be a well oiled machine by now. Not so much.

While some enjoy a smooth, trouble-free morning of kids getting ready, no yelling or fighting and big hugs and kisses as they leave their love-filled home to conquer the world, we use these mornings as opportunities for the kids to practice important life skills.

Life skills my children like to practice:

1 - The art of splitting hairs: "I didn't hear you tell me to get dressed! That's not fair!  You said I should get ready for school, you never said I had to go get dressed!"

2 - The ability to look shocked and offended at any given moment:   "What??  I just brushed my teeth yesterday!  Why do I have to brush them again?  I don't have bad breath!  Why would you say something so mean to me?"

3 - Above all, taking no responsibility whatsoever.  You can always find someone else to blame: "I didn't know the project was due today!  The teacher said we'd take a look at SOME of the projects today.  It's not my fault she called my name.  It's because she hates me!  You have to help me finish the project tonight or she's marking it as late.  What do you mean you won't help me?  If you don't help me finish it, then it's not my fault it's late."

Most mornings end the same way: with me yelling at the kids just to get them moving.  Nothing else works.  Asking calmly just brings out their desire to audition for the national debate team.  By the time I have us all running to the bus stop, their morning has been filled with yelling, fighting, whining, privileges taken away, crying, and more yelling.  As I watch them leave for school, a pit has formed in my stomach as I think of how my kids left home feeling unsettled, angry, and sad, instead of happy and loved.  Off the kids go to conquer the world??  With mornings like this, they'll most likely be conquered by it.

This was heavy on my mind as I drove into DC for my friend's morning show.  As I walked in, I could smell something delicious, and the rough morning was momentarily forgotten as I tried to figure out what it was.  Apparently, Carmine's was catering The Tommy Show's live broadcast.

I had never heard of Carmine's before, and while it smelled amazing, I wasn't sold on Italian food so early in the morning.  As I was checking it out, I saw their cookbook set up at the end of the table.  I love cookbooks.  It doesn't matter that I'm a complete mess in the kitchen, I love the idea of cooking something awesome.  The sad truth is, whenever I tell the family I'm trying a new recipe for dinner, the kids don't waste time throwing out where they want to go eat when we deem the meal inedible. It's true.  Me cooking, is like the train wreck you can't not watch.

As I flipped through the cookbook and looked at the different pictures.  I couldn't help but think how cool it would be to cook every recipe in this book.  Then, reality took over and reminded me I was more of a pancakes-for-dinner type of girl than actually taking the time to cook a real meal.  I couldn't argue with that and as I was starting to close the book, a picture caught my eye and I stopped.

Whoa!  Hello, my cheesy, carb-loaded friend.  How have I lived so long without you?  My mouth began to water as my eyes took in the bread, cut into thin (but not too thin) square pieces where you can see the buttery sauce that has baked into the pores, leaving the bread toasted to a golden perfection, and the cheese...beautifully sliced mozzarella layered between each toasted piece of bread, melted just enough so it would be soft and stretch out between each bite, leaving bits of the rich mozzarella dangling, tempting you to come back for another before the fork has left your mouth.  And did I mention the perfect pairing of basil and capers?  YES, capers.  Giving this masterpiece just the right amount of salty tartness to go with the richness of the dish.  It was like a grilled cheese sandwich on steroids.  Maybe I had been too hasty in putting this book down.  Maybe reality should mind its own business.  I began to look a little closer at each picture, and the recipes within the book.

This was it.  This was a book I wanted to cook every recipe it had.

I asked the woman at the table, Kelly, if I could buy the cookbook.  She paused and then said, "I didn't bring any to sell.  But you can have it after the show, if you don't mind waiting."  Carmine's was getting better and better by the minute!  Afterwards, Kelly introduced me to Jill, and as we were talking I told them how all too often my cooking in a kitchen is like watching a bull in a china shop - it's not pretty, but it would be fun to write about.  They laughed, clearly thinking I was kidding.  They said they'd like to read about the recipes I cooked.  I got their cards, grabbed my new cookbook, hugged my friends (I love you Tommy, Kelly and Jen) who did an amazing job, as always, and headed home.