It Comes Down To This: I "Grease The Track."

This morning, unbeknownst to them, Son and Darling Daughter each greeted me with the same question.  Nope.  Despite the freezing rain and snow of the day before, and their plainly-stated hopes of the night before, neither one asked, “Do we have school today?”

Each asked, “Can I have an Advil?”  To which I, taken aback, responded, “For what?”

OK, what I really wanted to ask was, "What the aitch?"  I mean, plenty of folks scrounge for pain relievers within seconds of prying open their dehydrated, bloodshot eyes, but my guys are 12 and 14.   They may have had a rough night, but it had to do with books, not booze.

I probably should've been scrounging for my parenting cap, because if I’d been thinking clearly, I’d have remembered:  Son’s braces had been tightened the day before, and DD's braces had been put on the day before.  Of course they were sore.  I had braces as an adult, and based on my two solid years of whining, you’d have thought I’d undergone that excruciating Chinese leg lengthening surgery (if you don’t know, you don’t want to), rather than the privilege of a simple tooth-alignment procedure.

Still, the kids’ question reminds me that my most common parenting task is simply “greasing the track.”

I don’t mean, necessarily, making their lives easier.  I mean, recognizing what’s going on in their lives and making it easier for them to make good decisions – putting out cut-up veggies for snacks to help them steer clear of sugary treats, keeping them “busy” at times they could be getting into trouble, eliminating distractions at homework time, and in this instance, providing satisfying, easy to chew, or rather, ingest, food.

Sure, I’d rather spend time imparting my considerable (OK, biased, and likely inaccurate) knowledge.  It'd be great to have more hands-on time, teaching the kids the things I’m good at -- stuff like cooking, holding a fork correctly, and, um, sending e-mails.  Occasionally, my choice would be to just flat-out do things for them.  (Really, I’m quite good at sending e-mails, and could even do it in their “voice.”  Here, watch: “Yo, sup?”)

This past weekend, for example, the kids’ dad got married.  And as much as I’d love to have horror stories to share, there was nothing catastrophic about it.  Nothing even slightly diabolically blogworthy.  (Disappointing, right?)

Still, weddings are a big deal.  Particularly when your parent is getting married.  So I knew, when the kids returned home, I’d need to grease the track – making a meal sure to please (Waffles of Insane Greatness, natch), helping them unpack, giving them an opportunity to decompress, making it easy to get back on the “school” track.

So where was I this morning? The kids’ teeth hurt.  DD’s upper and lower teeth don’t even meet.  And, given their tender teeth, everyone’s bound to be a wee bit cranky.

So where were the smoothies, the yogurt, the noodles, the soup?  Where were the easy-to-eat treats I could pack in their lunches?  Where were the treats?  The Jello?  The tapioca?  The 17¢ ramen noodles?

Twelve hours later, they’re in my fridge and pantry.  My parenting cap is firmly in place.  I’m back to greasing the track.  Starting with this easy-to-eat, but slightly sophisticated and flavorful version of chicken and rice.

Saffron Rice With Chicken

Serves four.

Generous pinch of red pepper flakes

1 garlic clove, peeled, impaled on a toothpick

½ teaspoon saffron threads, crumbled

2 teaspoons lemon juice

½ teaspoon kosher salt

1 ½ cups basmati rice

3 cups chicken broth

2 ½ cups leftover cooked chicken, cut in bite-size pieces

Combine all ingredients, except chicken, in large saucepan with lid.  Bring to a boil, stir once, put lid in place, and reduce heat to low.  Cook for 10 minutes.  Remove lid and drop chicken into saucepan.  (Don’t stir.)  Cook on low an additional three minutes.  Remove from heat and fluff with a fork.  Let rest 2-3 minutes, unlidded before serving, hot.

Good Ideas, Cold Reality and Ground Turkey.

One evening this week, Darling Daughter -- just to prove how "darling" she is -- came downstairs to have a "talk." I know it was a "talk," because she actually interrupted the Winter Olympics, which meant I had to miss the first part of Bode Miller's gold medal run in the super-combined.

But it was important: DD wanted to know whether I'd be willing to push her harder academically.

I know, right? She's not a bad student or even a struggling student. However, she has had the fortune/misfortune this year of learning what high school seniors go through, as they negotiate the college admissions maze. DD's also witnessed the extra effort her own 9th grade brother has had to make this year as he moved up to high school. Independently, she determined to develop better study habits, so she's been burning the midnight oil recently (OK, the 10 p.m. oil), to see whether she can bump up her grades a bit.

Still, I was surprised by her request. Push her harder? Really? Does she not realize what kind of achiever I am? Does she not have some inkling of the beast (which I've long restrained) she's asking to unharness?

"Um. OK. Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes. I really think you can help," she innocently responded.

And there it was. She opened the door, and I bolted in. "OK. Well good. Because I think you're entirely capable of A+s."

Um. Too much? Based on the searing glare I received in response, maybe so.

It's the difference, of course, between a good idea and a harsh reality.

Take "forgive and forget." Great idea. Love the principle . But the reality? Fuggetaboudit. Honestly, I'm a divorcée. I've got forgiveness down pat. But forget? Well, what in the world would I blog about?

Flossing twice a day is another brilliant idea, promoting good dental health and helping fend off all kinds of other nasty health issues, including heart attacks. So everyone should floss twice a day. Of course.  And I'm sure that those folks who work in a dental offices complete with dental hygienists who are willing to give their pearly whites a twice daily once over do exactly that.

Which is all to say that I like the idea of ground turkey. It's naturally lean, fairly affordable and high in protein.

The reality of ground turkey, though, is something altogether different.

Look, I adore roast turkey. That’s me, right there, elbowing my way to the front of the line Thanksgiving Day. And fried turkey? Bust out the peanut oil, because there is no bigger fan. I'm from the South, honey. We know a thing or two about deep frying. So you’d think ground turkey would be a quick fix for me when it's not Pilgrim Day, and I don't have access to a five-gallon vat of boiling oil.  And ground turkey would be a great idea, except that when ground, turkey lacks two things – taste and flavor. Actually, make that three things, because it’s not juicy, either.

Yesterday, however, Cougar Bait (I know, I know, he’s only 23 days younger than I am) told me he needed a meatball recipe. And that’s where ground turkey shines, because with a recipe like this, it's easy to build in the taste, flavor and juiciness.

Doesn't help a bit, of course, with DD's dilemma. But she did enjoy dinner that night. And I'm sure that, somewhere, there's a study proving that enjoying your meal adds three to five points to your report card grades.

Turkey Meatball and Gemelli with Lemon Parsley Cream Sauce
Serves four, generously.

Meatballs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 rib celery, chopped fine
½ cup finely chopped shallots
½ chopped parsley
zest of one lemon (optional)

20 ounces ground turkey
1/2 cup dried Italian bread crumbs
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon cayenne

16-oz box of gemelli

Sauce
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup chicken broth
two lemons, zested and juiced
1 cup (no kidding) chopped parsley
Lots of fresh ground pepper

Form meatballs. In a heavy skillet, saute celery and shallots in oil over medium heat until soft. Let cool to room temperature. In a large mixing bowl, combine cooled shallots and celery with remaining meatball ingredients, using hands to combine thoroughly. Preheat oven to 400. Form individual meatballs (about 1” – 1 ½” in diameter), placing on nonstick cookie sheet. (Will make nearly 4 dozen meatballs.) Bake 10 minutes, until cooked through. Set aside.

Cook gemelli in a large pot of boiling, well-salted water. When done, drain and return to pot. Stir in cream, broth, lemon zest and juice, and parsley. Heat through and stir in meatballs. (Not necessary to use all the meatballs here. They freeze beautifully.) Taste for seasoning. May need salt  Serve hot.

After 12 Months Of Feminine Wiles, Life Is Good.

When I woke up this morning, I knew exactly what this blog would be about. Today marks one year since I began writing Feminine Wiles.

I'd been waiting for this milestone. Waiting to reminisce. Waiting to explain why I began writing. Waiting to express my profound appreciation and gratitude to my friends - -including those I haven't yet met -- who read and comment on Feminine Wiles.

Well, you know what they say about "best laid plans."  That original blog idea was blown to bits.  Because at noon today, my 14-year-old son up and got into the drivers' seat of a total stranger's car and drove away.

OK.  "Total" may not be the fairest way to describe that "stranger," whose name was Caleb.  Caleb had been paid to come here. He's an instructor. But the fact remains that all I know about him is that he has an earring, there's a sign on the top of his car, and his first child (a son) is due next month.  (Crap.  His name was Caleb, right?  Is it possible I don't even have that part right? Who was in the car with my kid?)

And Son? Well, he's not exactly 14.  He's all-but-15. And What's-His-Name is teaching him to drive a car.

In less than 60 seconds, I watched Son drive away.  For the life of me, I can't figure out why What's-His-Name let him drive so quickly.  Does WHN not understand that Son does not know how to drive?   Shouldn't there be about a few minutes -- or a few weeks -- of instruction first? Maybe some time with a toy steering wheel?  Does WHN not realize that lurking in our neighborhood are massive, unyielding trees and careless, fleet-footed kids and sneaky, expensive-to-replace fire hydrants?

Blissfully unaware, they drive off.  Acutely aware, I come into the house. For me, the step is too big.  I want to cry. Instead, I cook.

In my very first Feminine Wiles post, titled, appropriately enough, "I Cook," I wrote:

I cook. When I'm happy, I cook. When I'm worried, I cook. When I'm celebrating, when I'm mourning, when I'm hurt, when I'm invigorated, I cook.

Exactly one year later, I'm happy, I'm worried, I'm celebrating, I'm mourning. 

I'm cooking.

Beef Short Ribs with Mustard are on the stove. Old-Fashioned Lemon Pound Cake is in the oven. And I'm about to pull out the peeler and get to work on Always Perfect Mashed Potatoes.

One year ago, I was in the midst of divorce.  I hardly knew which end was up.  I wrote that first Feminine Wiles one weekend when all the laundry was done, the groceries put away, the toilets scrubbed and the closets organized.  Yep.  Son and Darling Daughter were with their dad.

One year later, Son is driving, 12-year-old Darling Daughter is having giggle fits to the point of hiccups (seriously, will she never stop?), and Feminine Wiles is opening doors, windows, conversations and friendships I never could have imagined 12 months ago.

Life is good.  And so is this Lemon Pound Cake.

And the blog I originally intended for today?  Here's the bottom line:  Thanks.  I couldn't have gotten here without you.

Old-Fashioned Lemon Pound Cake

3 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, room temperature
3 cups sugar
zest from two large lemons
6 eggs, room temperature
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

juice of one lemon (reserve juice from second lemon, using as needed)
2 cups confectioners sugar

Preheat oven to 325. Grease and flour a 10 –inch bundt pan. Sift together flour, salt and baking soda. Set aside.

In mixer, cream butter and add sugar slowly, beating constantly to cream well. Blend in lemon zest, adding eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in sour cream. Add flour mixture, 1/2 cup at a time, beating well and constantly. Stir in vanilla and turn batter into pan, rapping the pan sharply on the counter once or twice to release air bubbles.

Bake about 1 1/2 hours or until cake tests done. Place on a rack to cool for about 5 minutes. Loosen cake around edge of pan as needed and turn onto rack to cool completely.

Make glaze, stirring lemon juice and confectioners sugar together, and then, drizzling over top of cake. Serve as is, or with whipped cream and raspberries.