Green Tomat-OH! Muffins

Tomato, toe-mah-toe, muffin, muff-ah-toe.

Fall is rearing it’s beautiful orange head around these parts which means two things: It’s time to light my FAVORITE apple scented candles and I regularly attempt to warm the house up, on frosty mornings, by making fresh bakery. And ooooooh those frosty mornings have arrived.

Last evening, upon hearing warnings of hard frost, the kids and I ventured out into our tomato garden to pluck every last piece of fruit that summer had forgotten. All told, we have about 30 lbs of beautiful green tomatoes just waiting to fulfill their little destinies. (Note: Over attachment issues recognized.)

Bound and determined to use these buggers, I got busy researching recipes to put the fruit to good use.

For today, I settled on muffins. Tonight for dinner, I am going to serve sauteed green tomatoes and onions alongside a slow cooker breakfast casserole that is currently cooking itself.

Back to the muffins…

I made two batches. And thank goodness I did. The first batch was made sans baking soda and anyone who knows a good muffin, knows you need baking soda. They smelled good, but nothing quite like the second batch.

I used chopped green tomatoes & dried cranberries in one batch, pureed green tomatoes in the other. I loved them both. The larger chunks of tomatoes threw off my munchkin taste tester, so we went ahead and called them Dr. Seuss muffins.

She ate three.

The flavor is reminiscent of a spice cake, with a slight sweet, slight bitter finish. They are wonderful alongside coffee.

I am anxious to try this recipe in mini loaves.

Then it’s time to whip up some green tomato pickles and fried green tomatoes. Food tastes better when it’s grown with love. And when you know it’s fulfulling it’s little food destiny.

You will need:

3 Cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 Cup white sugar
1 Cup brown sugar
1 Tablespoon cinnamon
2 Eggs
1/2 Cup vegetable oil
1/2 Cup applesauce
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
2 Cups chopped, or pureed, green tomatoes
Dried cranberries, optional but highly recommend!
Raw sugar, for dusting on top before baking

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Place muffin cups into muffin pans.

Chop or puree your green tomatoes. If you are pureeing them, be sure to drain the excess liquid through a strainer.

Mix your dry ingredients in a bowl and whisk well to combine. Mix the wet ingredients in another bowl and then slowly add to dry mixture. Use a hand mixer, on low, until the batter comes together. The batter is very thick. Add the cranberries and stir well.

Scoop batter into muffin tins, filling each 2/3 the way full. Sprinkle with raw sugar.

Place in your preheated oven and bake for 20-22 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out of the center of a muffin clean.

Remove from muffin pans and allow to cool completely on cooling racks.

YUM.

Tomato, toe-mah-toe, I could eat these ah-lot-oh!

No Comment Post by Katy

What to say…What not to say…

I have struggled with writing this post for months. It’s been something I continually come back to, time and time again, to add to, revise or ponder.

The most difficult thing, after a death or other traumatic event, is knowing what to say to those who were immediately affected.

Now, having been on both sides of the coin, I have a stronger opinion on things.

This post is not intended to offend. It’s to serve as a reference to anyone, including as a reminder to myself, as to what paths are best to follow when someone you love is hurting.

Unrelated: Every time my Dad would drive by a cemetery, he would say “Boy, people sure are just DYING to get in that place!” and then laugh. So now I laugh too and say the same thing. Because even though I am sad, dying is a part of life. And life is better with a sense of humor.

What to do:

Show up. If you feel that you should be with someone, go to them. Even if just for a hug. Even if they tell you they are all right. GO. Attend services. I can still recall all of the familiar faces who were there for my family during our time of suffering. I can also tell you who was not there. Never, in my entire life, have I understood the importance of “Visit the sick, mourn the dead.” Oddly enough, it was my own Dad who continually told me those words.

Don’t ask, Do. Don’t ask me what I need, tell me what you are going to do. Instead of “Can I bring you dinner?” say “I am going to bring food to the house at 5 pm for your family. I will leave it on your doorstep hot and ready to eat.”

Communicate. The less people the family has to re-tell the story to, the better. Share the facts. Please.

Reach out. I became obsessed with reading cards, emails, texts, Facebook posts and online condolences after losing my dad. As with spoken words, it was incredibly comforting to see your loved one be embraced by an entire community. Even the notes from people I’ve never met, but wanted to reach out, made a tremendous impact. If you feel compelled to say something, SAY SOMETHING.

What to say:

“I am so sorry.” There are no better words. Oddly enough, when someone expresses their condolences and shows emotion, it eases the pain of loss. It shows how loved those who are lost were…Are. Some of my most comforting moments were holding my friends and family as they sobbed at my dad’s wake. They apologized for their lack of control and I assured them that as much as I hated it, I loved it. My time to cry was later.

“You were a good daughter.” (Wife, husband, son, friend, mom, dad.) A friend of mine lost her dad just one day before I lost mine. She shared these words with me, that someone had said to her, and they immediately set my mind at ease. They are a beautiful reminder that we do the best we can do.

“I will never forget when…” Share memories. I still love hearing people talk about my Dad. Whether it’s a quick story and exchange of a hug, or a kind email on Wednesday afternoon, it’s always nice to know that people don’t forget.

You can, I repeat, YOU CAN say things like “I about died!” Or the words death, dying, kill, etc. in my presence. While you’re sensitive to this as a taboo type subject, it’s now my reality so no offense taken. Weeks after burying my dad, we went to a local watering hole with some friends to celebrate SuperHub’s birthday. A friend of mine ordered Dead Guy Ale. The waiter walked up to the table and said “Who ordered the Dead Guy?” You could have heard a pin drop for about 10 seconds. Then I said “Now THAT’S funny!” and we all laughed to tears.

What not to say:

Nothing. Please, say something. Or just grab my hand and squeeze it. I will know.

“You are doing remarkably well.” Would you rather I crumble into a little pile of people, sobbing hysterically on the floor? Because I can do that at any moment. Just say the word.

RIP – I hate this acronym. The intentions are good, but it belongs on a Halloween decoration, not an expression of condolences.

“The worst is yet to come.” Everyone has their own path in the grief process and lives experiences differently.

Through our own painful realities, we learn how beautiful life really is. And to appreciate drinks named Dead Guy Ale. Life is too short not to raise a glass, cheers and know the right thing to say. Or just shut up and drink.

8 Comments Post by Katy

World’s Finest Brownies

Every year, my kids sell World’s Finest Chocolate to raise money for their school. We love our school. And we love chocolate. These two things pair well together in this instance.

Earlier this year, I heard a rumor about the caramel filled candy bars being used in brownies. IN BROWNIES. So it should not surprise you in the slightest that as soon as we tore open our chocolate cases, I snagged three caramel bars and sprinted to the kitchen. Or the bathroom and locked the door for a quiet snack, but I digress.

Note to You: I have had some ridiculously amazing brownies in my life. All of which, have been made by other people. This pan of ooey gooey caramely goodness is a strong contender for the best pan of cellulite-inducing calories ever. Forever and ever, amen.

You will need:

2 Brownie mixes (oil, eggs and water as directed on package)
3 World’s Finest Chocolate caramel filled candy bars (or Caramello chocolate bars)
1 Cup Self Restraint – My local grocer was all out so when I accidentally fell face first in the pan, I had to eat my way out. This ingredient is optional.

Mix one brownie mix, as directed on package, and pour into a well greased 9 x 13 pan. Break the caramel candy bar into pieces and strategically place on top of the brownie batter. Mix another entire brownie mix, as directed on the package. Gently pour the second batter batch over the first. Spread to cover chocolate pieces and pop into a 350 degree oven for 40-45 minutes. Cool completely before slicing. This is nearly impossible.

The thing about these itty bits of goodness, is that all guilt is erased by the fact that you’re doing a good deed by supporting your local schools. You’re doing something GOOD for others by making these brownies. And eating them.

10 Comments Post by Katy

More Confessions of an Imperfect Woman

Sometimes, when I get out of the shower, and there are only kid towels around, I have to use a horse or dog hooded towel. So naturally, I put it on my head, pony up and trot around SuperHub while be brushes his teeth. And it’s awesome.

Unless you see a baby’s head crowning, DO NOT ASK A WOMAN WHEN SHE IS DUE. Seriously. Gas, or a batch of raw cookie dough, can give a woman a protruding tummy in no time at all. Bite your tongue.

You know you need to lay off the drive-thru beverages when your 3 year old pulls up to you in her tiny plastic car and orders “A Diet Dr. Pepper and three chocolate milks please!“

After giving birth, you may (or may not) freely discuss hemorrhoids while getting your hair cut. Loudly. And think nothing of it.

It took me seven tries to attempt to spell aforementioned hemorrhoids before spell check realized what I was trying to say.

Sometimes I leave the water running while I brush my teeth. And I feel like a rebel.

I can remember the exact order of contents in our medicine cabinet, but I will never figure out which light switch corresponds to which light in our house. It’s like a disco when I turn off lights to go to bed. On, off. On, off. On, off.

I let my 3rd child eat lunch food for breakfast. Because she is the 3rd child.

When my kids cry, because they accidentally bite their finger while eating, I can’t help but laugh. Then they cry harder.

Contrary to popular belief, one can have too much coffee.

People who post pictures of random strangers on social networking sites, then make fun of them, make me (very) angry. Doooood. That was my cousin. Play nice. Karma is a bitch.

When we host houseguests who wear glasses, I don’t stress (as much) about scrubbing the showers. Because you don’t wear your glasses in the shower and therefore won’t see the imperfections. Same theory goes for cleaning to the top of the fridge. Reserved for the occasions that tall people come over for a visit.

Fancy hand soap makes me feel less boring.

I blame the kids every time we lose the channel changer. Whether or not they were the last ones to use it. Because getting up off the couch to adjust the volume would be RIDICULOUS.

I sometimes oooh and ahhh at the cute little ground squirrels in our back yard with the kiddos. But the moment the same ground squirrel starts gnawing on my tomatoes, I fly out of my chair screaming “Get out of here you rascally little varmint!”

Previous confessions: Here, here, here and here.

7 Comments Post by Katy

Vacation Hangover

It was later that same day that I realized Sam, our three year old, had mastered her Aunt Edna impression.

4 Comments Post by Katy

American Vacation

I want nothing more than a Clark W. Griswold vacation. Minus Cousin Eddie, of course. So, we piled the kids in the family truckster and hit the road.

It was hot, humid, smelly and almost exactly what I had imagined. It was perfect. There I was, feeling all American. Proud that we were taking a nice family road trip. Exploring our culture with our kids.

As we crossed over a long, beautiful bridge spanning a wide river basin, a kiddo pondered aloud from the third row: “What if there was NO water on Earth?”

As I took a deep breath in preparation to discuss the importance of healthy eco systems, a three footer from the second row chimed in.

“Oh no! That would mean NO FISH STICKS!”

And so it was. There was no arguing with this statement.

Our trip continued on to Saint Louis, MO where we spent a better part of 14 minutes perusing the museum located directly below the Gateway Arch. The air was cool, the kids were behaving and our brains were (totally) fried from the road.

As we strolled around the decades, we came to the 1960′s and a full wall photo of Neil Armstrong’s moon walk. I gasped, finally knowledgeable(ish) about a display, I grabbed the kids and explained to them who it was.

Excitedly, Cooper (7 years old) cut me off mid-sentence and exclaimed, “OH YEAH! I know Neil Armstrong! He was on Dancing With the Stars!”

Defeated, I replied. “You’re right Buddy. Now let’s go get a hot dog.”

Just can’t fight that American pride.

4 Comments Post by Katy

We are (finally) home

We moved.

There is a long story about how we looked at this house a year ago, decided to build with my dad instead and then well…Life happens.

This house was still available in December, on a technicality,  so we scooped it up. It’s a beautifully built home that was in need of some major updating. It turns out, that was just the sort of distraction I needed this spring.

We are still in project mode, and will be for years, but feel like this is finally our home.

I love this house. I love it because it’s ours. It’s perfect for large family gatherings, hosting friends, creating laughter. We lucked out, once again, with amazing neighbors, beautiful views of sunsets and a place to put our feet up at the end of the day and feel proud of our hard work.

We are home.

Here are a few of my favorite things, that have helped pull our style into this traditional space. And, as you probably guessed, they are all Frugal Friendly. Just how I like it.

Top left: I am obsessed with jars. And so was my dad. The jar that adorns our fireplace mantle is an old pickle jar of my dad’s that I found in his garage. I filled it with pussy willows given to us as a housewarming gift by a neighbor. Not only did the pussy willow warm up our home, it served as my final color palette for every wall color on the main level. Cost: $0

Bottom Left: Kid art display boards. In my previous life, when I was a business owner, I made and sold these boards. They are routed, primed, panted and fitted with metal clasps to hold every precious piece of artwork tiny hands create. The bright colors add a splash of life to our back hallway and the art work makes everyone who passes by it smile. Thanks to 3M Command velcro wall hangers, there are no holes in our walls.  Cost: Materials (varies)  & 3M mounts ($5)

Middle: Quite possibly my favorite upgrade to our home, my kitchen light fixtures. I found these AH-MAZING reclaimed jar lights on etsy. Everything in Jann’s store, Lamp Goods,  is like eye candy. We have two of these same lights in our space, one over our kitchen table and one over the island. They are warm, unique and a conversation piece. We put them on dimmer switches to soften the light when needed. Add quality made goods with excellent customer service (I broke a jar!) and you have the perfect way to add fun to your home.

Right: Three things in this photo make me happy. First, the Sunshine Dairy jar from Sheboygan, Wisconsin circa 1948. It’s been in our family since and just looking at it makes me smile. Second, the aloe plant given to us by a good family friend. With a pool in our backyard, it’s essential to have aloe on hand to soothe sun kissed skin. Third, my green chair. Made by Mitchell Mayfield for Target.com, this super comfy chair makes an excellent desk chair. And extra dinner seat when dinner guests fill our table. Cost: The chair is on sale! Black, red and brown are available starting at $69.99 (regularly $139.99)

Moving is chaotic, emotional and totally insane. But in the end, it’s about organizing a space to create memories. It doesn’t take fancy furnishing to make a home, it takes a family.

6 Comments Post by Katy

Where I am…

There are five stages of grief.

To spare you the fancy terminology set forth by the explanation of the Kübler-Ross model, basically these stages of grief come in any order and can last a short time or a long time, and return at any given moment. They are like herpes, friends for life.

They read like Snow White’s dwarfy little friends on crack:

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

Since losing my Dad so suddenly, just over 7 months ago, I have experienced anger, depression and denial. And countless other stages that should be on the ballot next time the Stages of Grief are up for election.

Truth be told, the grief still hurts. Physically, mentally, emotionally. There isn’t an hour, of any day, that goes by that I am not somehow reminded of my Dad. He weighs heavy on my mind in every single thing I do. Sometimes it’s comforting, sometimes it sends me into an anxious tail spin of emotion that takes days to climb back out of.

I spend a lot of time, a lot, at his grave site. I have full conversations with him in my head. I hear his voice. I swear I see him driving red SUV’s at the same intersection early in the morning.

Full Disclosure: I’ve mentioned a time or two on here before that I seek professional counseling. In my very humble opinion, it’s imperative. I see a counselor and a psychiatrist. Yes, two. I’s is CRAZY. One gives me constant nuggets of wisdom that assist me in processing the foreign feelings ravaging my everyday existence. One gives me drugs and good conversation. It’s that simple.

Lexapro, or some other anti-anxiety/depression medication, should be added to our water supply. The world would be a better place.

No shit.

There is no shame in saying “I can’t do this alone.” Absolutely none. I have uttered those words more times than I can count. Each time, they have empowered me to accept help. That alone is what saved me. I was losing myself.

I knew I needed to be medicated when…

- I was screaming like a lunatic, while honking and waving my fist at a guy who opened up his driver’s side window and dropped a fast food bag, AND CUP, in the middle of a parking lot. Yes, my kids were in the car. Not my finest parenting moment, although my kids are the farthest things from Litter Bugs. Silver lining people!

- I sobbed through my entire shopping trip at the grocery store where I had coffee with my dad, every weekday morning, at 6 am. I hid in the frozen food aisle to gain my composure. That was a high point, let me tell you.

- I was (again) screaming like a lunatic at the car in front of me who CLEARLY thought that the STOP sign read “Sit for 2 minutes”. Didn’t he know that Dairy Queen closed in 4 minutes and mama needed a chocolate shake? DIDN’T HE?

- I was no longer sleeping. Or writing. Or eating. It’s been awkward for friends and acquaintances the past 7 months. “You look like you’ve lost weight, what are you doing?” And I honestly respond. “Depression looks good on me.” True story. And again, awkward. Especially when it’s in the grocery store and they then glance at my cart to see 4 bottles of coffee creamer, OJ, frozen waffles and string cheese. Staples when you’re depressed. Or in med school.

This post isn’t intended to be a pity party. I want nothing more than to be honest to my readers. Although it might seem the contrary,  I am stronger than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I might linger in between the sheets for longer than usual, or go off the map for a day, or ten, or submerge myself in some random task like de-wallpapering a bathroom.

But it’s how I am surviving. My family is my safe zone and they get me through. My close circle of friends keep me on my feet. The rest, if I am up for it that day, is icing on the cake.

Grief is part of the human experience. It shapes us, whether we like it or not, into the people we need to be. I choose to take it for what it is, a beautiful reminder of life’s small pleasures.

And every morning I read the plaque hanging in my kitchen that reads:

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.”

It’s so ridiculously true.

10 Comments Post by Katy

Spandex, Wax and Ham Sandwiches

I am not a fan of swimsuits. Yes, they are necessary. I mean, have you ever tried to swim in a t-shirt?

What women go through to wear bathing suits, with an eensy weensy bit of self confidence, is appalling. First of all, you have hair removal.

Shaving is fan-freaking-tastic. Until you get goosebumps immediately after stepping out of the shower or go near your bikini line. (Hello itchy red bumps.)

The alternative, waxing is completely archaic. Of course, it’s also the best option.

At the start of the summer, I put on my brave face, and my best tiny under britches, and headed to a local salon to try to get a control on “areas neglected” as we sped full force into lycra/spandex season.

The esthetician was super sweet and instantly put me at ease. Which was difficult considering she had me in positions my husband hasn’t seen me in for years.

Then she got to work. Hot wax, attaches to tiny hairs, in incredibly sensitive areas, then is further pressed on by cloth strips and RIPPED off.

RIPPED.

Holy Mary Mother of Pain.

There were not “Just two pulls!” There were more like sixteen. I am fairly certain I passed out on the 4th pull after sitting up and screaming a profanity.

The irony was, my legs were still hairy. You’re welcome for that nice visual.

No joke, I think they charged me double. For obvious reasons. I am a busy mom of three who has body parts that haven’t seen the light of day since last summer. Or ever.

I will tell you that with less to worry about in that arena, I enjoyed the first few weeks of summer poolside. My kiddos love the water and I came to the conclusion that sunning like a lizard, while keeping constant vigilance over the pool, is FAR better than folding laundry, cleaning the house or scrubbing toilets.

Plus, I had no bikini spiders to worry about.

Within a few weeks, I had the semblance of a tan. For some people, being a non-pasty white shade is normal in the summer. Not for me.

So, up goes my confidence in a swim suit. A smidgen. Because we ALL know that when you’re tan(ish) your cellulite is reabsorbed into your body and completely disappears until fall.

Fast forward to date night. I made SuperHub shop at stores I never get to enjoy with kids in tow. He was miserable as I decided to take a gander at the latest styles in ladies swimwear at TJMaxx. Thinking I would maybe jazz things up a bit from my normal black sheeth. I picked up a kicky red suit, with ruching in the mid drift.

Note to You (You being men): Ruching is a gathering of fabric that gives an illusion of thinner mid section, while comfortably allow a post baby tummy to be free.

SuperHub, who simply pulls on a pair of swimtrunks and jumps in a pool, doesn’t understand the complexity of a proper fitting swimsuit. Especially a bright red, one piece. He thinks I look pretty in a pillowcase. He doesn’t understand why women worry like we do.

SuperHub: “Red is nice. What’s the fabric in the middle?”

Me: “It’s called ruching. It’s essential for hiding things.”

SuperHub: “Hiding things? Like a ham sandwitch?”

He is a funny one.

So. I didn’t get the swim suit. Although the idea of having a space to store extra ham sandwiches was tempting, I decided that additional landscaping might be required to wear it with confidence for the remainder of the season.

And another wax isn’t happening.

Until next spring.

In the meantime, I think I will go make myself a ham sandwich.

12 Comments Post by Katy

Shrimp + Watermelon Salad

There are few things I love more than a cool, crispy, flavor-filled summer salad. Consumed in the warm sunshine, along side the aroma of sunscreen, freshly mowed lawns and served with an icy cold (adults only) beverage, summer salads are like eating happiness, one bite at a time.

Thankfully, one reader of mine thinks the same way. Kirsten is the mother of three (adorable) boys and knows how to mix up a mean bowl of summer love. I am forever grateful that she thought to pass this recipe along and look forward to rewarding her with a batch of cookies.

Or a margarita.

Or both.

Before you read the recipe ingredients, open your mind. OPEN YO’ MIND!

Like anything worth celebrating, it’s the finished product that is important, the way everything comes together in the end. Separately, each ingredient is good. Mixed together, just so, the ingredients become one giant party. In a bowl.

And who doesn’t love a good party? (In your mouth. HEY OH.)

Shrimp & Watermelon Salad

1 lb. Shrimp (Peeled, de-veined, cooked and cooled. I bought a bag of frozen cooked shrimp, defrosted and snipped off the tails)
4 Cups watermelon
1 Medium red onion
1/2 Cup Fresh cilantro
2 Jalapenos
2 Avocados
Juice of 2 limes
1 Tablespoon Honey
3 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon fresh cracked pepper

Chop and de-seed the jalapenos. Add to a large bowl. Do not touch your eyeball. Even after you’ve washed your hands. OUCH. Now, cut up the watermelon, onion, cilantro, and avocados and add to the bowl, stirring well to mix.  I used a melon baller and made my melon into little balls. It was fun and pretty, but chopping it, any style, would be great.

In separate bowl, whisk honey, lime juice, olive oil, salt and pepper.  Pour the dressing mixture over the chopped mixtures and toss gently.  Set aside for 10 minutes for flavors to meld.  Serve cold or at room temperature.

Note to You: I added the juice of an additional lime to keep the avocados green longer. If you only have one lime, that would do just fine. Also, I served it with sliced homemade bread. Instead of licking the empty bowl, I sopped up all the juices. Purrrr.

And the Survey says…

The kids wouldn’t touch it, but I was happy. MORE FOR ME.

SuperHub: “Oh wow! It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I don’t like meat and fruit mixed. It’s got a good flavor though.”

Me: Noshing noises, followed by a giddy, delighted moan as I head back for more. And then back for more.

My mom: “Very, very, very good.”

6 Comments Post by Katy