Holiday Honey-Pecan Dressing

Merriest Christmas to you all! In this season of hope and mercy, I pray that you find a slice of happiness wherever you may be.

Where I happen to be is in the midst of holiday parties, most of which require food preparation on my part. I have used these opportunities to embark on some new adventures with Elli. The latest adventure pointed our train toward a new destination: homemade salad dressing. This is one area of cooking I have no exposure to. I vowed not to let Elli suffer the same fate. So, we dove in. We were winging it, relying on instinct, faulty though it may be, and a recipe created by someone who (assumedly) knows what she's doing.

Honey-Pecan Dressing

1 1/2 tablespoons sugar 1/3 red onion 1/4 teaspoon dry mustard 1/4 cup honey 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar 1/2 cup vegetable oil 1/2 cup chopped pecans salt and pepper to taste

In blender or processor, pulse 2-3 times sugar, onion, mustard, honey, vinegar until blended. With the motor running, pour oil in slow, steady stream; process until smooth. Add in pecans until mixed together. Toss with greens. Salt and pepper to taste.

I'm not sure where I found this recipe. It has been in with my recipes on a handwritten 3x5 card for years, likely copied down from a coupon ad.

Our first step was to figure out what to do first. Reading closely, I found tThere were two things to chop: onions and pecans. But do I use the blender or the food processor? Can I do it all in one? I hate open-ended recipes. It's like a map giving suggestions rather than the true path.

"Here's what we'll do," I told Elli. "Processor for the pecans and onion and blender for everything together. Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. Her confidence spurred me on.

We started with the pecans, on the theory that pecans would absorb too much of the onion flavor. Elli handled the pecan transfer beautifully.

"Want to push the button?"

"No," she said, pulling away a little bit.

But she did want to listen to the motor. Pulse, pulse, pulse. Elli giggled and looked up at me with a bright smile. It was worth the mess that I knew was coming just to see that smile.

I poured the pecans into a measuring cup and set them aside. Onion time. Elli was one step ahead of me, trying to pull open the bag.

"Apple, Mommy," she said.

"Onion, Elli."

"Unin," she repeated. "Red!"

"That's right. They're called red onions."

"Yeah."

I looked at the recipe: 1/3 red onion. Hmmm. Is that 1/3 of a regular size onion, or did I forget to write down the word "cup" after 1/3?

"What do you think, Elli?"

"Yeah."

"My thoughts exactly. A third of an onion it is."

As I dropped the onion slices into the processor, I began to wonder if i was putting too much in. Of course, I couldn't really measure accurately with the tears pouring out of my eyes.

"Mommy? Wha doing, Mommy?"

"Crying my eyes out, sweetheart. No biggie."

"Biddie," she repeated.

With the onions ready, we moved on to mixing the ingredients in the blender, starting with the honey.

"Ber!" Elli said, pointed at the bear-shaped honey bottle.

"It's honey."

"Honey," she repeated.

"Honey in a bear. Will you help me pour it into this cup?"

Elli, much like the bears she admires, cannot see honey and not put her little paw in it. At least she put that paw in her mouth instead of her hair. Count your blessings.

Into the blender it all went, and into a giggling fit Elli went as the motor resonated through the kitchen.

Now, the recipe said "with the motor running," pour in the oil in a SLOW steady stream. With the motor running, slow stream that requires lid to be off. The only thing I could visualize was those gag scenes in movies where the blender spews all over the kitchen because of an ill-fitting or forgotten lid. I put my trust in the Unknown Recipe Writer Who Surely Knows What She Is Doing. Surely.

And surely it splattered all over the counter, and cabinet, and sink. I looked down at Elli. She licked the gob of dressing off the side of her mouth and tried to reach into the blender for more. I love Elli reason #456: Unphased by noisy, messy blenders.

I showed her my love by letter her have a real taste of what we just made. I gave her a little scrapper and access to the blender bottle. Here's how that went:

Things Elli Could Do:

Stuff pecans into food processor Help pour ingredients into blender Accurately judge the outcome of the dressing

Overall Honey Pecan Dressing:

Elli-friendly cooking: 4 Elli-friendly eating: 3 (she really can't eat that much of it) Simple: 4 Fast: 4 Frugal: 4

Question of the Week: What did you make for Christmas this year?

Saturday Morning Scrambled Eggs

"Let's raid the pantry, Elli!" The legs of her footed pajamas were a blur as she raced to the kitchen. I followed behind her, gathering my bedhead hair up in a ponytail. She threw open the pantry door and began to dig for ingredients as I retrieved the eggs, milk and cheese from the refrigerator. Elli laid out her selections on the floor for my inspection. "Well, Elli, let's go without the Crystal Light this time," I said. But I did take the can of mushrooms. Instead of putting the Crystal Light back in the pantry, however, Elli brought it up her steps with her to the counter. So be it. "First thing we do, Elli, is crack the eggs." "Cack eggs," she said. "Can you count them as I put them in the bowl?" Count she did, with a few prompts along the way. "Un, two, fee, fowr, fife, sicks, sefen, eight." She watched me as I beat the yolks up with some milk, and answered my question of what color the yolks were with her current standard answer, "Red." The standard answer used to be "bu" so whether that's progress I'll let you decide. By this point in our cooking adventures, all I have to do is show Elli a bag of shredded cheese and she knows exactly what to do with it. For those of you who have gone with us on adventures before, you may be surprised to learn that she did not try to eat any of the cheese this time. She must have been saving room for a mushroom. She plucked her choice from the open can, took three chews, then prompty took the crumpled mushroom from her mouth and handed it to me. "Doon ike it," she said. "You don't like it," I repeated. "Well, that's OK. You don't have to like them. But can you put the mushrooms in the eggs anyway?" "Time for the seasoning," I told her. "See the yellow bottle? Can you grab that?" "Yah-yo," she said, scanning the counter. She quickly found it, snatched it up and turned it upside down over the bowl. I had to say nothing. Again, my little fast learner knew exactly what to do. "Shake, shake," she said. And shake, shake she would continue to do had I not redirected her. Let's just say when we eat out, we have to move the salt and pepper shakers to another table. "That's good, Elli," I said. "That looks like the perfect amount. What do you think we do now?" "Do now," she repeated, her voice rising a little at the end, mimmicking my questioning tone. "We stir!" "Ter!" I handed her a spoon and off she went. I have heard before how rapidly kids advance in their skills, but seeing Elli stir round and round today really amazed me. This time last month her little hands would pull off the spoon after two rotations. Now she shows the moves of an expert...even in how she tries to scoop the cheese up with the spoon, egg batter dripping everywhere, and drop it on the counter. At this point I set her to what I call the administrative side of cooking: cleaning up, throwing things away, putting things back the fridge, etc. As my mom always used to tell me, doing dishes is part of cooking. Of course, now I understand her true motive to that imperative, but still, she makes a good point. Besides, Elli doesn't seem to mind that part.

While the eggs cooked, we made toast from 12-grain bread and spread on some homemade (although not by me) apple butter. Well, actually, I made toast and apple butter; she found herself sucked into an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I can't be mad at that. She is a kid, after all, and it was Saturday morning.

Cheers!

Things Elli could do:

• raid the pantry
• count the eggs as I cracked them in a bowl
• sprinkle in cheese, seasoning, mushrooms
• stir
• help clean up
• had she actually helped me do this part, place bread in toaster

Overall scrambled egg ratings

Elli-friendly cooking: 4 Elli-friendly eating: 5 Simiple: 5 Fast: 5 Frugal: 5

Question of the week:

What Saturday morning tradition do you have?

This Little Pig Cheeseburger Casserole

Looking through my go-to cookbook, Taste of Home 1999 Quick Cooking, I found a recipe for Cheeseburger Casserole. It called for a grand total of four ingredients. I was all over it like Elli on cheese.

Cheeseburger Casserole

2 pounds ground beef

1 can golden mushroom soup

1 can cheddar cheese soup

1 10 oz package of frozen crinkle-cut french fries

Brown meat in a skillet; drain off fat. Add soups and mix well. Grease 13x9 baking dish and spread mixture into pan. Top with french fries, spreading evening over top of mixture. Bake at 350 for 50-55 minutes or until fries are golden brown.

Not only did the limited ingredients and prep time appeal to me, but so did the fact it called for two pounds of meat. Normally, I might not have been so giddy at the prospect, but I had just been gifted a third of a pig--literally. It's one of many blessings of being a farmer's daughter. So, needless to say, I had some freezer overflow to contend with. I also have a frozen turkey, but that's a whole other blog post in the making.

Instead of ground beef, I used ground pork, cooking it up and letting it cool a little before bringing on the toddler.

Instead of pouring the soups into the skillet, I transferred the meat to the baking pan. Elli's first job was to pour the soups onto the meat.

The soups decided to be uncooperative in sliding out of the can. Elli had an interesting way of handling that situation.

That's her slamming the can into the meat as if the can were a cookie cutter. I think she thought that if....who am I kidding? I have no idea what she was thinking. Bottom line, it didn't do much to win her victory. Mommy retrieved the scrapper and on we went to mixing it all up.

Once the meat had a nice, glistening coat on it, I showed Elli how to gently pat the mixture into a more even level. Ladies and gentlemen, a toddler's definition of "gentle":

Can you even see the scrapper in her hand? Had I taken the picture two seconds later, the camera would have picked up the divets. And let it be known for the record that the scapper is actually black and blue (but not from the beating it took in this instance), and had it not been wildly waved about, it more than likley would have shown up clear on film.

After I did a bit of smoothing over, we started on the spreading of the fries. What happened? Why write it when I can show it:

Five minutes later, with the "inch fies" in place, she watched as I put the casserole in the oven. "Ahh done!" she said with triumph. All done indeed. The casserole was a big hit and very likely will find its way into the Family Recipe Box. Things Elli Could Do: pour (if you want to call it that) soup into pan mix meat and soup together pat (if you want to call it that) the mixture into an even level spread french fries on top of meat mixture

Overall Cheeseburger Casserole Ratings: Elli-friendly cooking: 5 Elli-friendly eating: 5 Simple: 5 Fast: 4 (long baking time) Frugal: 5 (especially if you have a third of a hog in your freezer)

Question of the Week: Anyone have a recipe calling for pork steak, pork sausage, pork chops, pork roast or ground pork?

"Watch Me" Tuna Cakes

Elli is nearly 2. A "big gewl," if you ask her. I like to encourage her sense of independence when and where it makes sense: taking off her own shirt and socks, or rubbing soap between her hands, or brushing her teeth (after Mommy has given them a good scrub).

She embraces these small steps toward being independent. Even with her breathing treatments, she sits solo in the chair and holds her mask up to her face for the entire 10- to 15-minute session.

I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised, then, by how much she was able to do alone the other night when we made tuna cakes. She really surprised me by how much she could handle.

Tuna Cakes

1 package stuffing mix 3/4 cup water 1/3 cup mayonnaise 2 cans tuns, drained and flaked 2 tablespoons sweet pickle relish 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese 1/2 cup shredded carrots

Mix all ingredients in a bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes. Heat large nonstick skillet sprayed with cooking spray on medium heat. Spoon 1/3 cupfuls of mixture at a time and shape into patties. Cook 3 minutes on each side or until golden brown.

I've mentioned previously the genius of Kraft Food and Family recipes for those of us with little time, patience or tolerance for recipes that venture beyond everyday easy. Their recipe for tuna cakes landed quickly into the Family Recipe Box. I've made the tuna cakes countless times since I first found it. This was the first time Elli helped me.

First step was to rip open the bag of stuffing and pour it into the mixing bowl. I tore, Elli poured. Not a single stuffing chunk ended up on the counter or floor...Elli's mouth is a different story.

That part didn't surprise me. It's a given when cooking with Elli.

What did surprise me was how precisely she poured the water into the bowl with the stuffing mix. I was a little worried about giving her the measuring cup, but she handled it with ease. The cup was not as heavy for her as I thought it would be.

"Excellent work, Elli!" I cheered. She clapped her hands. Next we put in the relish. I scooped a tablespoon of relish out of the jar and then set it on the counter. "Elli, can you pick up the spoon and pour the relish into the bowl?" "Re-ish," she said. "Relish. Green relish." "Geen rerish." She picked up the spoon and dumped the relish into the bowl. We repeated the process one more time then turned to the mayo. "Was dat?" she aksed, pointing at the mayo jar. "Mayo," I answered. "Mayo," she repeated, looking at the white product I was spooning into the measuring cup. "The mayo goes in the bowl just like that." The mayo plopped on top of the other ingredients. "And then we stir everything up." "Ster," Elli said. "Can you help me stir?" She tries so hard to keep up with me when I stir, but her hands come off the spoon after just a couple of rotations. At this point I brought out the food processor to shred some carrots. Elli loved this part. She put the carrots into the processor. When the carrots where in shreds, I removed the blade, placing it far out of her reach, and gave the processor bowl to Elli. "Can you pour the carrots into the bowl?" Silly question, Mommy. Most of the carrots fell out, but carrots being the watery veggie they are, many of them stuck to the sides of the processor bowl and I had to scrap it out. I tried to get Elli to help me in that process, but she had discovered the taste of carrot shreds. "I've lost you to the carrots, haven't I?" I asked her. "Mmmmm." No problem. I was able to reclaim her with one word: cheese. "Cheeeeese!" she said in gleeful impatience as I opened up the bag of shredded cheddar. Feeling confident based on her performance over the last several minutes, I decided to give her full authority over transferring the cheese from the bag to the bowl while I opened and drained the cans of tuna. For the most part, that plan worked. I did have to encourage her not to try to hide cheese in her hand because Mommy can find it. But, I had very little mess under her "steps" (step ladder) to clean up. A vast improvement from the Birthday Pizza adventure.

Hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving! Things Elli Could Do:

• Pour ingredients into bowl
• Drop carrots into food
• Eat shredded carrots
• Add cheese to bowl
• Help put bowl of mixture in refrigerator

Overall Tuna Cakes Ratings: Elli-friendly cooking: 4 Elli-friendly eating: 5 Simple: 5 Fast: 4 Frugal: 4

Question of the week: What skills has your child displayed that surprise you?

Hero Cake

A reader asked if I was going to do something special for Thanksgiving on the blog. Our family had plans to go out of town this year, meaning my cooking time would be minimal. So I had basically written off (pardon the expression) doing anything special for Thanksgiving. But then, the day before Thanksgiving, Elli and I met a man who changed my mind. We never learned his name, only that he was nearly 84 years old and he had to cut up is food into small pieces because one side of his jaw was badly damaged from the effects of an explosive he was unfortunate enough to be near during an invasion on Okinawa during World War II. "My whole body is beat up from the war," he told me. "But I'm doing OK." He wore a "World War II Veteran" cap proudly, decorated with various pins, including a Purple Heart and other insignia. "God bless you," I told him, though I'm pretty sure he didn’t hear me because he went on to tell me that he was missing the first 20 minutes of "Deal or No Deal." He reminded me of my late grandfather, who also served in the Pacific theater during World War II, and who also veered abruptly to mundane topics when he either couldn't hear or didn't want the spotlight to dwell on him. Or both. My heart went out to him, and, yes, I admit—shamelessly—my eyes welled up on the way home for him. I prayed that he had somewhere loving to go for Thanksgiving. I’m a sucker for veterans, especially those of World War II. They served without expecting anything in return. They sacrificed without complaint or thought toward reward. "Elli," I told her on the way home, "you can tell Daddy you met a real hero." Deep from my memories of high school history I remembered that during the Second World War, basics were rationed, forcing women to get clever on how to make their sugar, eggs, meat, etc., stretch. I decided to honor that generation by making one of their recipes. I found this one on the National World War II Museum website. War Cake ½ cup shortening (bacon grease can be substituted) 1 tsp cinnamon 1 tsp cloves 1 tsp ginger 1 cup chopped raisins 1/2 tsp salt (estimated because the original recipe does not list quantity) 1 cup sugar 1 cup water 2 cups flour ¼ teaspoon baking soda 2 teaspoon baking powder Boil sugar, shortening, raisins, salt, water and spices for three minutes. Remove from heat and let cool completely. Shift together flour, baking soda, baking powder. Add to shortening mixture; beat well. Pour into greased 9x5 loaf pan. Bake 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Let the record show I cringe at the thought of shortening, and the sight of bacon grease makes me gag (I'm a farm girl, remember; I've seen bacon grease used in ways.....ugh). But if Mr. Hero can sacrifice his jaw, I can sacrifice my personal preferences for one recipe. I bought the smallest can of Crisco I could find: 16 oz, a lifetime supply. The one thing I couldn’t find is ground cloves, probably because of all the pies being made this time of year. The World War II generation endured much heavier burdens. Elli and I forged ahead sans cloves. We started out by dumping the first eight or so ingredients into a pot sitting on the counter. Elli helped me measure and pour all things that would pour, like the spices. I don't recall ever smelling mace before. I think I would have remembered that smell. "Oh man," I said without thinking upon first sniff. Sure enough I heard a sweet little echo, "Oh man!" "That sure is strong," I said. "Hope it tastes better than it smells." "Yeah," she said. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to have Elli pour the water by herself. One massive puddle and soaked sock later, I decided to always lend her a hand. God love her, she tries so hard. Before long, the raisin mixture was ready for the stove, and it looked, well, weird. I was skeptical. "You think this is right?" I asked Elli. She looked in the pot but didn't respond. I consoled myself with the notion that she had no idea what I was saying. I put the pot on the stove to boil, and we worked on sifting the other dry ingredients into a bowl. We formed a little pond in the flour mixture in which to pour the cooled raisin mixture. Then it was beater time. Elli was mesmerized by the beaters. I must remember this tidbit for future reference. Maybe next time I'm having trouble keeping her hands away from the stereo I can just turn on the hand mixer and let her stare at it until she forgets what a stereo is. "Hey, it actually looks like batter!" I said with delight. "Want to help me pour it into the pan?" We scraped out what didn't pour out and--her favorite part--hit the scrapper on the side of the pan to knock off the remaining batter. "Excellent work, Elli! All right, into the oven it goes." "Ofen hot," she warned me. "Yes, it is hot. Thank you, sweetheart." We set the timer for 45 minutes and enjoyed the smell of cinnamon and spices wafting through the house. It was better than the Glad Plug-in version. The cake (which is really more like a bread) itself was a lot better than I was thinking it might be. Daddy and Elli both agreed. Not sure this will replace Grandma's Chocolate Cake in the Family Recipe Box. But I'm glad we made it. It provided me renewed incentive to be thankful for small blessings like real-deal cake, and it afforded me a great way to give Elli a literal taste of history. Things Elli Could Do: -pour pourable ingredients -stir ingredients -smell ingredients -sift dry ingredients -"oooh" at spinning beaters -help pour batter into pan -help clean up Overall Hero Cake Ratings: Elli-friendly cooking: 5 Elli-friendly eating: 3 (raisins aren't really her thing) Simple: 5 Fast: 4 Frugal: 5

Question of the week: Did you know that President Lincoln declared the last Thursday of November to be the official Thanksgiving holiday during the Civil War?

"Kicken" Chicken Pot Pie

They tell me that most toddlers become very particular about what they will eat. I'm still waiting for that day to come. Elli seems to have no reservations. Cooked spinach? You bet. Lima beans? Bring it on. It's a blessing and a curse. That statement may make parents of picky eaters reel, so before your eyes loop around in their sockets like hula hoops, allow me to explain with this story. I call it...

"Kicken" Chicken Pot Pie

1 can reduced-fat cream of chicken soup

1 package frozen mixed vegetables, thawed

1 cup cooked chicken or turkey (e.g., leftoever rotisserie chicken)

1 cup reduced-fat all-purpose baking mix

1 egg

1/2 cup milk

Stir soup, vegetables and chicken into 9 inch pie plate. In small mixing bowl, combine baking mix, egg and milk, forming a soft dough. Spoon over the chicken mixture. Bake uncovered at 400 degrees for 30 minutes or until topping is golden brown.

When I saw this Campbell's recipe, I immediately flagged it as a Family Recipe Box contender. As an added bonus, I saw freedom to bring Elli in because the recipe did not require a hot frying pan or sharp utensils.

Elli got right into it. She started with pouring the soup into the baking dish.

Or, I should say, trying to pour it. Creamed soups, even the watery reduced-fat ones, don't really release well on their own. I intervened with a scrapper, forcing the soup to plop little by little into the dish. I scrapped and Elli scooped it right up with her finger. (See where I'm going with this, Picky Eater Parents? Wait, it gets better.)

"No touch, Elli," I said. As if that ever stops her in her tracks.

I quickly turned her attention to the bag of vegetables, having her help me pour them into the dish. They rolled to every corner of the baking dish. Nice, colorful vegetables. Might as well have been a neon sign flashing "For Elli."

"Let's put in the chicken," I said, showing her the storage container full of chicken I had spent part of the Sunday afternoon stripping off the carcus. "Can you pick up the chicken and put it in the dish?"

Yes, she could, but... (watch video)

At this point, I honestly wondered if she would eat anything for supper. But a more immediate thing to focus on was the topping.

"OK, we take our cup and we measure out the baking mix, like this," I told her. "See that?"

She saw that, and tried to eat it.

I pushed her swipping finger away and continued, "Now it's time for the milk."

"Milk!" she said in her faux-desparate voice, you know, the one that lets me know that she can't possibly forge ahead without whatever it is she is asking for. She capped the performance with a dramatic reach toward the refrigerator wherein sat her Holy Grail sippy cup of milk.

"Yeah, I guess you would want milk after all that eating," I said. "Mommy will get it for you after we pour the milk in the bowl. Can you help me pour the milk?"

She helped me pour the measuring cup of milk, and then watched me as I cracked the egg into the bowl.

"Now we stir," I said. I did a couple of revolutions to show her how to stir and then asked her if she wanted to stir.

Oh, she did, and she also wanted to eat the batter, lifting the spoon to her mouth as if eating cereal.

I gently took over the stirring and told her to watch, which she did for about two seconds before grabbing - and trying to eat - the egg shell I had foolishly left within her grasping radius.

"Icky, Elli!" I said. That made her pause long enough for me to snatch the egg shell.

I stopped progress on the dish until I took inventory of everything around her that I thought she would want to try to eat and removed it. Apparently, I miscalculated....

I have no explanation. I birthed her; I did not wire her.

I swiftly spooned the batter onto the chicken mixture and put the dish in the oven. We then set about cleaning up. Elli expertly threw away the trash (except the egg shell, of course) we accumulated.

Half an hour later, the dish was done, looking quite similar to the cookbook picture, if I do say so myself.

And to the worries I had about her eating anything for supper? She had seconds. Blessing and a curse. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Things Elli Could Do: Pour vegetables into dish Identify vegetables in the dish (albeit right before they went into her mouth) Transfer chicken from container to dish Help stir ingredients Help pour and combine baking mix and milk Overall Kicken Chicken Pot Pie Ratings: Elli-friendly cooking: 5 Elli-friendly eating: if it's not obvious, you didn't read very closely Simple: 5 Fast: 4 (borderline long baking time, but not bad) Frugal: 5 (you could use canned chicken too)

Question of the Week: What has your child put in his/her mouth that made you sigh from exasperation?

Triple-the-Mess Chocolate Brownies

When Elli was about 16 months old, I had her help me make brownies for the first time. Actually, it was the first time I brought her into the kitchen to help me in general. At the time, I was just trying to find a way to entertain her that didn't involve noisy toys or her "babies" DVD (the name she gave her Praise Baby DVD). It's not that I mind the songs on the DVD; after all, it contains two Chris Tomlin songs, and we all know my position on Chris Tomlin's music (see Chris Tomale Pie recipe). But she needed a change, and so did I. It was love at first stir. Back then I had her sitting in her high chair next to the counter. Today, the high chair is in storage, and after many batches, Elli is quickly becoming a pro at making these brownies. The latest round was a bit more special. The brownies were to be part of a celebration at work, a "Sweet Victory Party" after the completion of a big initiative. Elli was ready to grab her apron and get going, despite her closing statement in the following video clip.

In Elli, "no" frequently means "yes."

And for the record, she did say "egg" upon my first prompt. You just have to listen very, very closely.

The brownies are from a mix by Ghirardelli, bought at, you guessed it, Costco - 6 batches for $9. We go through a lot because, as Elli so eloquently puts it, the brownies are "de-dis-is" (delicious). Plus they are super easy to make. Let's leave it at that selling point and not discuss what they may lack in nutrition.

The easiness of this mix lent itself very nicely to Elli catching on quickly, and today she can practically take the reins herself when it comes to prepping the batter.

She poured the mix into the bowl...

...with just a little molehill forming on the counter from the overflow. Easily retifiable with a quick sweep of the hand.

Mommy poured the oil and water in the measuring cup, and Elli helped me command the liquid into the mixing bowl. She's almost ready to let lose on the egg cracking, but for now, Mommy helps her until she can figure out the right intensity with which to hit the egg against the edge of the bowl. I was eight before my mom let me go solo on this. My friend Beth, however, says her three-year-old can crack an egg alone. I'm shooting for the three-year mark, though I harbor no illusions that it will be mess-free.

Life is messy; that's what makes it so interesting.

Mixing is also something in which she is still developing skills. For the most part she did well alone...

...and then she lost control of the spoon and the batter splatted the empty mix box and bottle of oil innocently standing by.

She held the can of canola oil spray with me and sprayed the pan. Then, we poured the batter into the greased pan together, and she listened intently as I explained"We pour it into the center of the pan so that the batter spreads out in all direction, just like that."

"ike dat," she said.

"Like that," I repeated. "See how it's going out to the edges? That's what we want it to do so that the batter is nice an even."

"Efin."

My mom explained it to me almost exactly the same way. Remembering how she used to talk me through what she did brought a smile to my face.

"What flavor are these brownies, Elli?" I asked. She looked at me without an answer, though I know she was probably thinking, "Apple." So, I told her, "Chocolate."

"Kock-lit."

As I prepped the oven - a task I keep Elli far away from - Elli suddenly became quiet. To you moms out there, you know exactly where this is going. For those of you who don't, allow me to illustrate:

Yeah. Wardrobe change to follow.

Off we went cleaning up the mess. Elli has long liked to help wipe up her area after eating. Why I have not yet thought of applying this concept to cooking is beyond me. Never too late!

Not that it saves me any elbow grease now, but it plants the seeds.

Forty-five minutes later, the brownies were done, and Daddy and Elli both were itching for a bite. Honestly, so was I.

Mmmm. Nothing better than warm brownies. I guess I'll just have to make another batch for the Sweet Victory Party. Sigh. The rigors I endure!

Things Elli Could Do:

• Pour mix in bowl
• Pour oil, water into bowl
• Help crack egg
• Help mix batter
• Help spray pan
• Help pour batter into bowl
• Help clean up the mess

Overall Triple Chocolate Brownie Ratings (5 being the best)

Elli-friendly cooking: 5

Elli-friendly eating: 5 (as if there were any doubt)

Simple: 5

Fast: 4 (prep time fast; bake time long)

Frugal: 4

Question of the Week:

What did your mom (or dad) teach you about cooking that you hope to pass on to your kids?

Slow Cooker Beef Stew

As Elli's diaper pail can attest, she adores fruit. Ah-dores fruit. We've had to try a little harder to get her to like vegatables, however.

Well, depending on the vegatable, I should say. She's all about the peas, corn, cooked spinach, lima beans (oh, you read that correctly), and apparently raw green pepper (see "Colors of the Mexican Chip Casserole"). Everything else must be slathered in something. Sometimes I can get her to eat broccoli and cauliflower with a small side of ranch, a.k.a. "dip."

So, when I came across a recipe for slow cooker beef stew that called for carrots, onion and potatoes, I thought maybe the dip concept would translate well and this would be a great way to get some veggies in her.

Slow Cooker Beef Stew

2 pounds cubed beef stew meat 1 cup chopped onion 1 tbsp minced garlic 1 12 oz jars beef gravy 1/3 cup Worcestershire sauce 1 lb small potatoes, cubed 1 1/2 cups baby carrots 2 cups frozen peas, thawed salt, pepper 2 tbsp oil

Season meat with salt and pepper to taste. Heat oil in skillet; brown meat; transfer to slow cooker. Stir remaining ingredients except peas into slow cooker. Cover; cook on high 4 1/2 hours or low for 9 hours. Add peas during last 10 minutes.

I found this recipe in a French's Classic Worcestershire Sauce ad in a coupon circular. I know that such recipes are nothing more than marketing gimmicks, but, seriously, some of the best recipes come from these gimmicks. The Family Recipe Box has a slew of them I've collected over the years. I was hoping to get the onion chopping over with before Elli noticed me cooking. No such luck. She came in a little more than halfway chattering about something, paused to investigate my activity, and then ran toward me. "Mommy, steps!" she insisted, and I paused in my chopping to go get the step ladder so she could help me. Though I was somewhat concerned, she did well with the onion. It was the potato I had to worry about. Raw potatoes, I learned, taste good to her. "Is that potato good, Elli?"

"Dood tayto," she replied.

Before she could grab any more of the freshly cubed potato, I diverted her attention, which meant I would have to reverse the recipe's instructions to put the meat in first then then everything else. I put her to work transferring the onions and potatoes to the cooker.

She didn't drop a single one on the floor. It probably helped that we have a cooker large enough to be craddle. It offers an abundant target for a toddler. God bless Kitchen Aid.

Then I opened up the bag of baby carrots.

"Carrots, Elli," I said, showing her the bag.

"Tearrots," she said, pointing at them with her chubby little finger. "What color?" "Red." "Orange." "O-inge." "You know what eats carrots? Bunnies." "Bunny!" I showed her how to grab them out of the bag and put them in the cooker.

The raw carrots got nowhere near her mouth. And the foreshadowing was not lost on me.

Next we poured in the worcestershire sauce and beef gravy (the fat-free variety, I might add). This was Elli's first experience with gravy. Judging from her reaction to the taste, it won't be her last.

Yes, that is her licking the gravy off the inside of the lid.

I guess I shouldn't have expected her not to try gravy. She did, after all, just eat raw potato. Gravy is the next logical step. Understandably she protested when I took the lid away, so I made it up to her by saying, "We need to season the meat. See, here's the salt." "Sawt," she said. "Salt. We need to sprinkle the salt on the meat. Can you help me do that?" Together, we sprinkled the (sea) salt onto the meat cubes, followed by the pepper.

"Very good, Elli. Now we brown the meat in the pan. And as that cooks, lets stir up all this stuff in the cooker."

"Terr!"

Some may wonder looking at this picture why I had not yet wiped the gravy off Elli's face. Believe me, I had considered it. But mother's instinct is rarely wrong. As I returned to the meat, Elli returned to the gravy: This is the point I encouraged her away from the cooker for a few minutes by asking her to please help me clean up. We wiped down the counter and she took the empty - and cleaned - gravy jars and lids to the trash. By the time she was done, so was the meat. I slid it into the cooker, stirred one last time, and showed Elli how to turn on the cooker. Ours is a programmable cooker, which means beeps and buttons, both of which attract Elli. I repeatedly had to pull her hands away from the buttons as we continued to clean up the counter. God bless Kitchen Aid.

After all this, did the beef stew trick work in getting Elli to eat her veggies? Had I remembered to put in the peas at the last-10-minute mark, I'm sure she would have eaten those. She did eat some potatoes, some onion and what I guessimate is the equivalent of half a carrot.

Baby steps.

Things Elli Could Do:

• Transfer chopped onion, potatoes from cutting board to cooker
• Pull carrots from bag and drop into cooker
• Help pour sauce, gravy into cooker
• Help rid the lid of surplus gravy
• Help season meat
• Help stir ingredients in cooker
• Take trash to trash can
• Help wipe down counter

Slow Cooker Beef Gravy Ratings (5 being the best) Elli-friendly cooking: 5 Elli-friendly eating: 3 (if only she liked veggies more) Simple: 5 Fast: 1 (a given for any recipe with "slow" in the name) Frugal: 5 (lots of hearty servings for the price)

Question of the Week: How do you like your veggies?

Banana Bread at Bedtime

It was bordering on Elli's bedtime, but I didn't care. A) I was tired of looking at the browning bananas. B) It was Friday night; she could stay up a little later. "Elli, let's make banana bread." "Banananah bed." Banana Bread 2/3 cup butter 1 1/2 cup sugar 1 2/3 cup flour 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 teaspoon baking soda 4 tablespoons milk 2 eggs 2 bananas, mashed 1/3 cup pecans, crushed (optional) Preheat oven 350 degrees. Mix all ingredients together in large bowl. Pour batter into greased loaf pan; bake 50-60 minutes, or until done. This recipe came from one of my mom's co-workers. It's one of those recipes that you never have to shift out of first; just my speed. And just the right choice when it's 30 minutes until bedtime and you still have to give your child her breathing treatments. Let me pause here and explain this piece of what makes Elli the glorious little Elli she is. A lung condition makes her airways very sensitive to the mildest of colds. Translation: at the first sign of running nose or cough, she goes on breathing treatments. For all parents out there, I probably don't need to point out that it is one nasty cold and flu season right now. For Elli, that means practically constant treatments. She doesn't mind them at all, so long as she has "Bubbles" (her nebulizer's mask shaped like a fish head) and DVD entertainment. Say what you will about kids watching TV, it works like a charm getting a toddler to sit still for 10 to 15 minutes. Lately she is hooked on her "etters" (letters) DVD. Coming full circle, I was pressed for time before Bubbles time. So, we set about preparing to make the "banananah" bread, getting out all the ingredients and measuring utensils. Then we turned to the banana mashing phase. "How many bananas, Elli?" "Sefen." "Two. Can you help me count to two?" We counted each banana as we put them into the stand mixer bowl, and she stood fascinated by the mixer paddle as it spun the bananas around into a mush. Next came the butter. I cut up the sticks into small chunks and showed Elli how to drop them in the bowl.

"OK, now the sugar," I said. "Soogur." "Sugar. Can you help me pour the sugar? We need to pour it into the bowl." I gently guided her hand onto the handle of the measuring cup and then helped her pour the sugar into the bowl. "Soogur!" she said with a smile. "Sugar," I confirmed. "Now it's time for the flour." Probably tripped up by the fact flour and sugar are the same color, Elli insisted that the flour was soogur. There was no convincing her otherwise. "Soogur, soogur," she said and put her finger into the bowl to gather some of the flour. "I'm not sure you're going to like that," I told her. I was wrong. The finger soon returned. I kept it from coming back by continuing to pour in the other ingredients, and then lowering the mixer into the bowl. The mixer paddle might as well have been a magic wand. Elli watched (at a safe distance) the paddle whirl around.

"Watch, Elli. Watch how it changes." The piles of ingredients slowly churned into a pleasant-smelling batter. "Mmm, smells good," I told Elli. "Good," Elli confirmed. The batter was mixed and it was time to pour, but a realized I had forgotten to set out a scrapper. Before I stepped over to the utensil drawer, I left Elli with the instructions to keep her fingers to herself. I don't know why I thought that would work.

"Now, Mommy is going to take this bowl and pour the batter into the pan." Elli reached her chubby little arms to help me pour out the batter, which she has down before, but not with the stainless steel bowl from the mixer. "Thank you, sweet girl," I told her. "Mommy will pour it. This bowl is heavy." "Bow Hefy," she said. "Right. Heavy. Watch Mommy pour." It was a lumpy batter, and I wondered if it was supposed to be that lumpy. I went with the self-comforting assumption that the lumps would bake out. Either way, Elli didn't seem to mind.

"Into the oven!" I announced when the batter had settled into the pan. As Elli snuck in more finger swipes off the mixer paddle, I put the bread in the oven. I was able to figuratively pry her away from the mixer by turning on the oven light for her to see the bread inside. What happened next, I captured in video:

Things Elli could do:

Count...bananas, scoops of sugar/flour, etc. Help dump ingredients into bowl Monitor bread baking through the oven window

Banana Bread Overall Ratings:

Elli-friendly cooking: 5 Elli-friendly eating: 5 Simple: 5 Fast: 4 (fast prep, long bake) Frugal: 5

Question of the Day: What would you allow your child to stay up late to do?

"Repurposed" Cheesy Bread

"Repurposing content" is a big buzz word at my work. Basically it just means that we take content from one area of the Web and use it in another area for a differnt purpose. This saves us from duplicating our efforts to create the same content for more than one use. My mom had a similar principal; it was called "use what you have." She used to "repurpose" leftover mashed potatoes into potato pancakes and a leftover roast chicken went into a boiling pot to make chicken noodle soup. The concept came in quite handy the other night when I was facing another weekday meal with little time to prepare it. Spaghetti and meatballs was on the Weekly Family Menu. With sauce from a jar and meatballs from the freezer, it is a simple, quick meal. The only thing was Elli was champing at the bit to help me "took." I've never seen my toddler try to grab a pot of boiling water and, honestly, it's something I never want to see. Some meals just don't lend themselves very easily to having Elli help me cook. So, I racked my brain for something she could help me with. I asked myself, "What would Mom do?" In my bread basket sat an abundance of leftoever, quickly-staling hot dog buns, a lingering reminder of the opportunity cost of being a loyal Costco shopper. "Ah hah!" I said. "Cheesy bread." Individual Cheesy Bread 5 hot dog buns, bottoms and tops split 1/4 cup butter, softened 1/2 cup shredded co-jack cheese Italian seasoning Spread butter on each half of the hot dog buns and arrange buns on a cookie sheet, buttered side up. Top buns with cheese and seasoning. Bake at 300 for 5-7 minutes or until cheese is melted and edges of bun are beginning to brown. As the pasta boiled and the sauce warmed, I helped Elli up onto her "steps" (step ladder reacing up to the counter) and brought out the bag of buns. "Bed!" she said with delight. She likes bread because she is the product of me. "Yes, bread," I said. "We're going to make some cheesy bread." I had Elli help me split the hot dog buns and arrange them on the cookie sheet. I suppose I should have been more specific with her about what we tear, how many times we tear and when we stop. She commandeered one of the buns and willfully ignored my pleas not to harm it. "Terr," she said as she tore the bun to small bits and dropped them on top of the other, neatly arranged buns. "Terr. Terr." Eventually I just surrendered and let her continue tearing the bun, and then shove the bits into her mouth like marshmallows in a solo game of Fuzzy Bunny. I used that distraction to my advantage, quickly spreading the butter on the surviving buns. Right about the time she consumed the last bite, I brought out the jar of seasoning. For some reason, I could not find my garlic powder, nor could I find my Italian seasoning. I improvised with a jar of dipping oil seasoning that somewhat resembled Italian seasoning blend. We held the jar together and shook to the rhythm of my, "Shake, shake, shake."

And of course, she wasn't about to miss out on the spreading of the cheese. No, never. That's her favorite thing to do ever, besides maybe eating bread.

And with that, in the oven went the buns. Just a few minutes later, supper was ready. The buns did turn a little more brown than I would like, so next time (and if I continue to shop at Costco, there will be a next time), I'll probably turn the oven down a bit. I will also note that Elli did help at other junctures during the cooking process. For instance, she helped me break the dry spaghetti noodles down.

I gave just a few noodles at a time and showed her how to break them. She also helped me with the meatballs by pressing the buttons on the microwave to warm them up and by throwing away the empty bag.

Thanks to Susan G. for letting me "repurpose" that idea of hers on how she lets her little ones help her in the kitchen. All said, it turned out to be a pretty good meal. Spaghetti is a staple meal at our house, and just maybe the Cheesy Bread will become a staple too. Things Elli Could Do

• split and arrange hot dog buns
• taste-test hot dog buns (had to make sure they were still fresh enough)
• sprinkle seasoning
• sprinkle cheese

Cheesy Bread Ratings (5 being the best) Elli-friendly cooking: 5 Elli-friendly eating: 5

Simple: 5

Fast: 5 Frugal: 5

Question of the week: What recipes do you use that call for repurposing food?

Colors of the Mexican Chip Casserole

I learned something about Elli this week: She loves green peppers, raw. Eats them like an apple. Where did this child come from? It took me 25 years to even try a green pepper.

Of course, I found this out by accident. It’s not like I handed her a green pepper and said, “Taste,” like I do with other, usually cooked, foods.

The green pepper was part of a new recipe we were trying out: Mexican Chip Casserole, found in my all-time favorite cookbook, Taste of Home’s 1999 Quick Cooking. The recipe is simple, easy, cheap…and loaded with opportunity to teach Elli.

Mexican Chip Casserole

1 lb ground beef or turkey
1 medium onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup, undiluted
1 can (11 oz) Mexicorn
1 can chopped green chilies (or, if you’re me, substitute 1/3 green pepper, chopped)
1 package (10 ½ oz) corn chips
1 can enchilada sauce
2 cups shredded Co-Jack cheese

In skillet, cook beef, onion and garlic until meat is browned and onion is tender; drain. Add soup, corn and chilies; mix well. In an ungreased shallow 3-qt. baking dish, layer meat mixture, corn chips and enchilada sauce; top with cheese. Bake uncovered at 350 degrees for 8-10 minutes or until heated through.

Reading through the recipe, I realized that not only would Elli be able to help with a number of steps – my primary criteria in choosing a recipe for her – but it also afforded me a way to work with her on colors. Green for the pepper, yellow for the corn, white for the onion, red for the enchilada sauce, and so forth.

Perhaps it was the color of the pepper that attracted her. Then again, I can’t really say for sure because she began trying to eat the pepper while it was still wrapped in the colored produce bag.

I set the pepper aside and focused her attention on the onion. This was the first time I chopped an onion with her in the room. Usually I do that before I even bring her in the room with me, out of fear of her being around a paring knife and uncertainty about how she would react to the pungency of the onion. Turns out, I had nothing to fear but fear itself.

She watched patiently as I cut the ends off the onion – the white onion, I pointed out.

"Rite," she said.

I then dropped chunks of the onion in the food processor and showed her how to press the button, which she probably would have liked better if pressing the button did not result in a loud whirling sound.

It was time to move on to the pepper.

“What color is the green pepper, Elli?”

She nodded and she said with confidence, “Red.”

“It’s green,” I said. “Green peppers are green.”

“Geen.”

I cut off a third of the pepper and began chopping. Elli, meanwhile, began chomping. She picked up the remaining pepper and bite into it, rotated, bite again, rotated, bite. Definitely worth a picture.

If she ever tells me she hates green pepper, I have the evidence otherwise.

Before I put my focus on browning the meat, onions and peppers, I gave Elli a job she excelled at. She was in charge of crushing some tortilla chips for the casserole topping. I set out the bag of chips and a container for her to crush the chips into. After I showed her a couple of times what she was tasked with, off she went.

Naturally, a couple of chips were sacrificed in the name of quality control, but that’s all a part of cooking.

When the meat mixture was done, I spread it into a baking dish. I would have asked Elli to identify the color of the corn had I remembered that I did indeed buy a can and that the can was still sitting in the pantry. Undoubtedly she would have told me the corn was red, which is actually partially true counting the red peppers in Mexicorn.

Instead, I had her sprinkle the yellow tortilla chips over the meat mixture.

“What color are the chips?”

“Red.”

“Yellow.”

“Yeah.”

Next we poured the enchilada sauce over the casserole.

“What color?”

“Red.”

“Very good.”

Finally, her all-time favorite ingredient, the cheese. I let her spread an abundance of cheese over top. Why not? After all, cheese is good, and gathering and spreading works on her hand-eye coordination. That’s justification, is it not?

The thing I liked most about this recipe is that I was able to fix on a weekday. It only takes 10 minutes max in the oven. Elli and I were able to rock this puppy in less than 30 minutes. Serve with some fruit, and dinner is done.

Nearly every recipe I try from the ToH Quick Cooking has ended up in the Family Recipe Box. This one, though, we’re on the fence about. Not that it was bad, but it was just missing something.

Maybe next time I’ll throw in some mexicorn.

Things Elli could do:
Help chop onion in food processor
Crush tortilla chips
Sprinkle tortilla chips
Help pour enchilada sauce
Sprinkle cheese


Mexican Chip Casserole Ratings

Elli-friendly cooking: 4
Elli-friendly eating: 4
Simple: 5
Fast: 5
Frugal: 5

Question of the week:
What foods do your kids like that surprises you most?

Inherited Scalloped Cabbage

Willkommen, Oktober!

This time of year is special to me for many reasons. I love fall. I love cozy clothes. And I love Oktoberfest. Daddy and I just returned from our first experience at Oktoberfest Zinzinnati, which is the largest party celebrating the coming of October outside of Munich. I’m still reeling from the sauerkraut balls and mettwurst!

What a perfect prompt to begin to teach Elli a little bit about her German heritage. It will be a while before I try fried pickles or schnitzel with her, so for now I set my sights on something much more approachable and much more dear to my heart.

Lehenbauer Scalloped Cabbage

½ head small or medium head cabbage
1 cup butter, divided
2 ½ cups cream or milk
Salt and pepper to taste
3 sleeves Ritz crackers, 2 finely crushed, 1 coarsely crushed
1 egg, beaten

In saucepan, melt ¼ cup butter. Add cabbage and cook until translucent. Grease casserole dish; pour in two sleeves finely crushed crackers, forming a crust along the bottom and sides of dish. Layer cabbage on top of crackers. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cut remaining butter into chunks and place chunks evenly over cabbage. Top with coarsely crushed crackers. Pour milk or cream evenly over casserole (will be soupy). Slowly pour egg evenly over the top layer of crackers. Bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes, or until all liquid is absorbed and crust is golden brown.

My grandmother used to make this dish, many times at my request. It is by far my favorite dish of hers. Actually, she once told me that her mother, my Great-Grandma Lehenbauer, used to make it. The recipe differs in many ways from a standard scalloped cabbage dish, for instance, a noticeable lack of cheese and twice as many crackers.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This recipe was a superb choice for cooking with Elli. She donned her apron, and I brought out a special apron.

“Elli, look at this,” I said. I showed her the house apron that my grandmother had made for herself, blue with pink and white flowers. Grandma had a few of these aprons, and just before she passed away, my aunt asked if I wanted to take them. At the time, I didn’t think I would want them. Now, I’m glad I chose otherwise.

“Fow-ders,” Elli said, pointing at the flowers.

“That’s right. Your Great-Grandma made this apron. Isn’t it pretty?”

“Pitty,” she confirmed.

I put it on, and we started to cook.

After I had cut the head of cabbage, she helped me peel the leaves apart and tear them into bite-size pieces. As the cabbage cooked, I had her go to work on the crackers. With the crackers still in the sealed sleeves, I showed her how to push down on the sleeves to grind the crackers into pieces.

“Crunch, crunch,” I told her as I pressed down.

She smiled and reached for the sleeve of crackers.

Anyone with a toddler will tell you that this is the perfect job for a nearly two-year-old.

Then I showed her how to pour the crackers into the greased dish and press the crackers down into a crust. The latter was probably not the best idea, as the cracker pieces stuck to Elli’s hands, much to her delight. A portion of the crushed crackers ended up on the floor as a result.

When the cabbage was done, I layered it on top and asked Elli to help me sprinkle on the salt and pepper. One trick I figured out to prevent Elli from pouring on the seasoning is to open the shakers only halfway.

Butter was Grandma’s favorite ingredient, I think. This recipe calls for a lot of it. I had Elli “help” me slice the butter into chunks.

She tried to pick up the butter and put on top of the cabbage, but she just couldn’t figure out how to grasp the butter. Mommy intervened.

She could, however, pour the last sleeve of crackers on top (and a little on the floor), then help pour on the milk and egg.

The milk was my change to the recipe, mainly because Grandma made her dish with fresh cream from the farm. She insisted it was the cream that made the dish. I have no doubt in that truth. I also have no doubt in the truth our family has issues with cholesterol.

I slipped the casserole in the oven and asked Elli if she wanted to sweep up the crackers. She always wants to sweep, even if there are no crackers on the floor.

I really should buy her a kid-sized broom set.

Before long the reminiscent smell of scalloped cabbage baking filled the kitchen. Ahh, the memories. I hope it’s a smell, and a story, that Elli will come to hold dear.

Things Elli Could Do:
Peel, tear cabbage
Crush and pour crackers
Sprinkle salt and pepper
Help slice butter


Lehenbauer Scalloped Cabbage Ratings
Elli-friendly cooking: 4
Elli-friendly eating: 4 (loved the soft texture)
Simple: 4
Fast: 3 (bake time alone is 45 minutes)
Frugal: 5

Question of the Week:
What is the significance behind one of your favorite family recipes?