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?