What's For Dinner? (Part Two)

"What's for dinner?"

Although I routinely admonish the kids for broaching the question (see What's For Dinner? Part One), it's one that must be answered every day.  And since our household isn't a democracy (more like a dictatorship, I guess), the answer is not Chick-Fil-A.

I can approach it a couple of ways.  One is by flipping through magazines or cookbooks, or turning to Channel 55 -- the beloved Food Network.  In that event, though, I'll end up at the grocery store, spending more than I should.

I could skip the reading and watching and just go straight to the store, but without a plan, I'll likely spend even more recklessly.  Witness exhibits A and B in my pantry:  a) pickled ginger and b) smoked clams.  Honest, they seemed like pantry essentials at the time.

Or, I could just clean out the fridge.

If so, I'll have to think beyond this past Sunday's chicken, because the kids turn up their pert little noses at leftovers.  What I need are some forgotten ingredients -- something that will spark a meal and reduce the chilled chaos in my fridge.

There's an embarrassing amount of stuff in there that I can't bear to toss, but today is Use It Or Lose It Day.  Besides, those ingredients are taking up valuable space I'll need for that post-Lenten wine.  (Twenty-five days to go!)

Inexplicably, I have two jars of hoisin sauce.  One I bought for moo shu pork a few months back, but the second?  Maybe it could be put to use as a glaze for grilled salmon.  I've got sour cream and grated horseradish.  Maybe a light sauce for affordable London Broil?  I've got several handfuls of baby spinach.  Maybe a pasta primaverde?  (I'll tell the kids the spinach is parsley, of course.  Everyone knows that spinach is "disgusting.")

On the bottom shelf, I've also got two different types of barbeque sauce, which, really, is far from excessive, considering I'm a North Carolinian from South Carolina (pork, not beef, thank you).  I've also got four types of hot sauce -- bizarre, considering that I don't have the palate or stomach for heat.

Outside, clouds are moving in and the temperature's dropping.  Soup it is.

I can alter my basic quick vegetable soup by adding a few of these overlooked ingredients.  Add some rolls, and we'll have a meal -- and a much cleaner fridge.  

Clean Out The Fridge Soup

Broth

2 cans (14 ounce) chicken broth

1 tablespoon hoisin sauce (or 1 teaspoon soy sauce)

1/2 teaspoon grated ginger (if you've got it)

1 teaspoon fresh lemon or lime juice

shake or two of hot sauce

One handful of uncooked, fine egg noodles (optional)

1-2 cups broccoli flowerettes, cut into small, bite-size pieces

1/2 cup sliced baby carrots

1-2 cups raw spinach, sliced into fine ribbons

One handful of mushrooms, sliced thinly (optional)

1/2 - 1 cup cooked chicken, cut into bite-size pieces

Combine and heat broth ingredients to boiling.  Reduce heat to medium high and stir in egg noodles, if using.  Cook five minutes.  Stir in broccoli and carrots.  Cook one more minute.  Stir in chicken, mushrooms and spinach and cook until heated through (about one more minute).  Vegetables should now be just barely cooked and still slightly crisp.  Adjust seasonings and serve immediately. 

Put The Lime In The Coconut

We're in a funk here at the Wiles house, but it doesn't take a medical degree -- or even WebMD -- to diagnose the problem.  We've got a wicked case of vacation hangover.

Any mom would recognize the symptoms.  After a carefree vacation, the doldrums set in.  People who should know better start saying silly things like, "I'm bored."  Sorted laundry clutters the floor, awaiting a spin with Cheer.  Emptied suitcases cluster at the top of the stairs, because no one has the energy (or motivation) to haul them to the attic.  Odds and ends are strewn across the kitchen counter -- baggage claim tags, receipts, amusement park maps.

Lionel, our indoor cat who was left to his own devices and evil plans while we were gone, is both unusually affectionate and frantically plotting an escape to the backyard.  Josie, our rescue dog, who spent the better part of the week at "puppy camp," is again somewhat unsure of us and mysteriously, is shunning her usual food.  It's pretty good stuff, too.   I can't imagine what they were feeding her at the kennel -- some type of Top Chef kibble, perhaps?

Just as we begin to get a grip on reality, other symptoms pop up.  I'd hoped to watch last week's missed episode of American Idol while the kids were at their dad's last night.  The Simpsons, The Office and Scrubs were all recorded in our absence, but American Idol (the much-anticipated "country" episode, no less!) was not.  True, it could have been an operator-error, but it smells suspiciously of operator's-son-error.  What?  You think I watch The Simpsons?  (I've got to admit, The Simpsons ride at Universal Studios was hysterically fun -- if you're a 46-year-old mom, that is, not a jaded 14-year-old son.)

The fridge is oddly understocked.  We've got milk, but no eggs, grapes, but no lettuce, hamburger buns, but no bread.  All three of us are within a few days of scurvy, and we're somehow managing to perpetuate the situation.  I served up the beloved "sausage pasta" (see February 23, "Comfort Food") as a remedy, but the broccoli dodged their forks.  The kids, I guess, are determined to have a spring break completely devoid of nutrition.

I'll try again tonight -- with my version of grilled chicken, but if that doesn't work, I have one surefire cure.  The school bus arrives tomorrow at 7:20 a.m., and I know two kids who won't miss it.  And they'll both be packing lunch bags with fresh fruit, peanut butter and whole wheat bread.

Chicken Banzai Marinade

1/2 cup soy sauce

1/2 cup pineapple juice

1/4 vegetable oil

juice of 1-2 limes

1 scallion, finely sliced

1 "knob" ginger, grated or finely minced

2 cloves garlic, minced (optional)

freshly ground pepper

Mix marinade ingredients and pour over cut-up chicken (I use all thighs, but even boneless, skinless breasts are good) in plastic zipper bag.  Allow to marinate at least one hour, then grill over indirect heat until done.  (Poke with a skewer.  When juices run mostly clear, chicken is done.)  Delicious served with grilled slices of pineapple, and garnished with pineapple bits and fresh scallions.

What A Trip

I'm beat.  The kids and I spent the past three days spiraling out of control, spinning upside down, whirling in circles, plunging perilously close to the ground, and on occasion, emerging drenched to the skin.

Yep.  We were at Universal Studios Orlando.

It was an absolute memory-maker of a trip, and we couldn't have been any luckier.  Due to the divinely inspired Express Passes, lines were reasonable, if not non-existent.  Service was unfailingly pleasant, and Mother Nature provided perfect weather.  The food was fine, the parks hygienically clean, and the rides both thrilling and accessible.

Blah, blah, blah.  Honestly, it was all good.  And that's pretty astounding when you consider that I was seeking to please a relatively cautious 12-year-old girl, an absolutely incautious 14-year-old boy, and well, me.

We were lucky enough to be vacationing with several other families -- all with similarly-aged kids.  Every one of us rode the scariest rides as many times as we could stomach.  Not surprisingly, 14-year-old stomachs differ from those of 46-year-olds.

Even my daughter, for whom a plane ride is sufficiently adrenaline-churning (the taxi ride from the airport nearly did it for me!) took on the tallest, twirliest, zippiest, ear-popping, stomach-dropping, and undoubtedly, brain-swelling, ride -- the Incredible Hulk.  She also got to celebrate her (early) birthday perched on the bar of the Hard Rock Cafe, where she and another friend were saluted.  Is it too much to hope it was the last bar she's invited to dance on?

Even though this wasn't an "educational" trip -- no statues, artwork, memorials or history lectures for the kids -- I did squeeze out one essential lesson on this trip.  No woman should ever shop for a bathing suit on her own.

Holy Margaritaville.  How else to explain some of the, ahem, "bathing suits," I saw down by the pool?

Friends don't let friends drive drunk.  Likewise, no woman would ever let another woman walk out of a dressing room -- much less onto a pool deck -- in some of the ill-fitting get-ups I saw.

A friend would say, "Let's see what else they have."  Or, "That one really doesn't work to your best advantage."  Or, "You know, I think that runs a bit small.  Let me see if they've got it in another size -- or three -- up." 

Actually, I'd like to reconsider.  A friend might not get the job done.  A better choice might be a daughter.  Mine would never mince words.

"How do I look in this?"  "Do you think this fits right?"  "Does this color look good on me?"

There'd be no hesitation from my soon-to-be 12-year-old.

All I can figure is that the barely bikini-clad ladies at the pool don't have daughters.  Plainly, "gross," "disgusting," and "are you serious?" are the kinds of forthright comments they'd never heard.  

Harsh? Sure.  But I'd far rather hear the soul-searing truth in a dressing room, than see it on the faces of hundreds of poolside strangers -- particularly on a deck laden with plenty of perfect bodies flaunting perfect suits.

I'm one of the lucky ones, though.  I do have a daughter to help me out -- and she loves to share her critiques of me as freely as she loves to shop.

Before heading to the mall, though, I've got a a little section around my midriff to address.  I see a lot of salads in my future, including this favorite green salad, with lots of green ingredients and lots of textures and bright flavors.

Green, Green Salad

Dressing

3-4 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

freshly ground pepper

Salad

1 Granny Smith apple, unpeeled, diced

1 rib celery, diced

1 scallion, sliced thin

1/4 cup green olives, sliced (no pimentos)

1 avocado, diced

2 stalks hearts of palm, sliced (optional)

1 bag of prewashed baby salad greens (butter and Bibb are good)

4 ounces good blue cheese, crumbled (optional)

Whisk together dressing ingredients.  Stir in apple, celery, scallion, olives and hearts of palm.  Gently fold in avocado (don't mash).  Spoon dressed ingredients over individual servings of salad greens.  Season with more salt and pepper, if needed, and serve immediately with crumbled blue cheese, if using.