An Ode To Cream Cheese.

Do you know how many calories are in an 8-ounce brick of cream cheese?  I do.

Dammit.

The fact of the matter is that, I can, without any provocation, consume all eight ounces.  And then some.  I love cream cheese.  I could pen an ode to cream cheese.  I kneel at the very altar of cream cheese.  On its own.  Mashed with chopped olives.  Sweetened for cheesecake.  (For the very Best Cheesecake Recipe ever, click here.)

When we were kids, and we were very good (i.e., “silent”), and Daddy was feeling very generous (i.e., “distracted”), we got to sit down (i.e., “sneak in”) as he watched ABC’s Wild World of Sports (from one of the four – count ‘em, four -- channels we received Chez Fountain 1975), and indulge in Coke served in frozen mugs and chips and Dip.

Serendipity.

There was only one Dip in our household.  Not “The Dip.”  Just “Dip” – cream cheese, garlic salt, onion salt, all mashed up and thinned out with a bit of water.  Ooh – and if you’ve got ‘em, some minced up pickled banana peppers.  Ta.  Dah.  “Dip.”

As you might imagine, last week, when Daddy came to visit (to buy an RV – which in itself is an RV-sized story), I automatically reached into the fridge for the Philadelphia Cream Cheese.  For Dip.  With chips.  (Ruffles.  Duh.)

A few days later, though, I pulled a second package from the fridge and examined the nutrition facts.  One brick of that salty, bland, creamy, heavenly cheese has 800 calories.  And let's not talk about portion size.  That single, none-too-slim, silvery packet is a “serving,” is it not?

Which brings me to another “dammit.”

My upcoming 30th high school reunion.

I need to lose 10 pounds.  OK.  If you insist.  Twelve.  In five weeks.

Like that will happen.  A dear friend recently told me that he lost 9 pounds in 21 days just by counting calories.  Really?  ‘Cause I don’t think I can count that high.  But I reckon I do need to start skipping the cream cheese.  And pork chops.  And bacon.  Maybe.

Tell you what, though.  There’s a perfectly fine – no, divine  -- substitute for cream cheese.  Plain Greek Yogurt.

No kidding.  A tub of plain, thick, creamy tangy Greek yogurt is the perfect dip base.  So perfect, in fact, very little seasoning is required.  A little garlic, a few fresh herbs, a squeeze of lemon juice.  Just like ranch dip.  But not.  Ta.  Dah.

And no.  I’m not at all optimistic I can lose those 10 (OK, 12) pounds pre-Reunion.  But I do now know how many calories are an 8-ounce brick of cream cheese.  800.  And in 8 ounces of plain, nonfat Greek yogurt?  120.

Even I can count that high.

Ranch-Style Yogurt Dip

It's important that "Greek" yogurt -- which is very thick and creamy -- be used.
1 16-ounce tub of plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons finely minced fresh parsley
2 tablespoons finely minced fresh chives
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 clove garlic

Mince garlic, as finely as possible.  Now, using knife "cut in" salt, until garlic is so finely minced that the salt becomes part of it -- like a paste.  Combine salty garlic paste with remaining ingredients.  Chill and serve with fresh cut vegetables or crackers.

Have You Made Your Bed Today?

My children love the sound of my voice.  They've never said it, but I know.  Five words, in particular, seem to be music to their ears.  Have.  You.  Made.  Your.  Bed.

To be sure, given that I have to ask the question every single day, I’ve had to come up with variations on this melodious combination of words.  There’s “Is your bed made?”  And, “Your bed’s made, right?”  The gentle, “Have you had a chance to make your bed yet?”  And the sly, “I’m sure your bed’s already made.”

It’s so apparent that Son and Darling Daughter like to hear “Have you made your bed?” that I’ll break my own “You can’t answer a question with a question” rule, just so they can hear it.

Them, “Will you take me to Target so I can buy a bunch of stuff I don’t need and a bag of Sour Patch Kids as big as my head?”  Me, “Have you made your bed?”

Honestly.  They’ve each been wholly responsible for making their own beds – every day of the year except their birthday and Christmas (I know, I’m weak) – since they were five years old.  There’s nothing new here.  Yet, no matter how many times I deliver the expected, “Have you made your bed?” the response is always the same:  “What?”

As if.  As if we’ve never met.  As if I were speaking Swahili.  As if I’d asked, “Can you explain the time space continuum to me?  Or why do your sweaty socks smell so much more foul than mine?”

One thing both Son and Darling Daughter do understand, though, is when I say, “We’re having chicken for dinner.”

Between the two of them, only one likes pasta with red sauce.  One likes fish.  One likes scrambled eggs.  One likes steak.  (Go figure.)

Everyone likes chicken.  And this unusual version – marinated in yogurt -- is particularly tangy and moist – and includes a low fat sauce that’s great on steamed broccoli or baked potatoes.

Before the kids sit down to dinner though, I’m sure there’s one thing they’ll want to hear.

“Have you made your bed?”

Grilled Chicken in Yogurt With Curry

4 boneless chicken breasts

1 cup plain Greek yogurt

½ teaspoon cumin

½ teaspoon curry powder

½ teaspoon kosher salt

¼ teaspoon fresh ground pepper

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Mix all ingredients except chicken, in a gallon-sized, resealable plastic bag.  Squeeze out about half of yogurt sauce, and set aside, to be served later over steamed vegetables or baked potatoes.  Place chicken in bag in remaining yogurt sauce, and refrigerate four to 12 hours.  Grill marinated chicken over indirect heat, just until done.  (Juices will run clear when poked with a toothpick).  When done, remove from grill, allow to rest 10 minutes, then slice and serve.

Getting Things Done. Or, You Know, Not.

Uh oh. Didn’t see this one coming.

Mailman Mike has delivered a letter from Darling Daughter in which she announced that she hopes to earn her NC boating license while at summer camp.

In case I didn’t mention it before, uh oh.

Son and I have made any number of plans to earn our boating licenses this summer. However, if DD comes home July 9 with her license, she may not only be the youngest person Chez Wiles with a boating license. She may be the only one.

Son and I need to get in gear.

It’s always this way, though. The kids go off to camp or back to school or away for the weekend, I think: Finally. I’m going to get some stuff done! That chandelier in the dining room? Out of here! That powder room wallpaper? Incinerated! That fence, house paint, sprinkler system? Replaced, refreshed, repaired!

And on top that that, there’s always that pesky boat license.

To be truthful, DD’s been gone about 10 days now. T-E-N days. Ten. You know what all I’ve accomplished to date? Well, I haven’t posted a blog since she left. How’s that for a clue?

So what have I done?

Hmm. Next question, please.

Even Son – self proclaimed slacker and underachiever -- has accomplished more these past 10 days. He’s actually researched what we need to do to get our boating licenses.  He's visited with friends. He’s been to the lake. He’s been out golfing. He’s compiled a playlist for my 30th class reunion. (As an aside, Son’s playlist is AWESOME. I smile every time I think of it. Who knew a 15-year-old knew so much about Van Halen? Or the BeeGees? Or Meatloaf?) He’s even sliced, diced and interpreted the convoluted World Cup standings, and made them digestible for me.

And I have …

Well, what I meant to do was …

Puh-leeze. It’s not as if she’s coming home next week.

Time passes. Heads turn. Intentions slide. However, the road to hell, as my 11th grade composition teacher pointed out, is paved with good intentions.

OK. I haven’t done anything extraordinary since DD’s been gone. But I have managed to keep up with laundry (True, the laundry is down a third in DD’s absence.) I’ve written a number of letters. And I’ve cooked.

This chicken came about rather haphazardly. I’d intended to make Beer Butt Chicken. But I had no canned beer. Not even any canned Dr. Pepper (which to be honest, works just as well). So I stuffed some, you know, "stuff," in a chicken and grilled it.

Voilà.

But the wallpaper and fence are still up.

Uh oh.
Whole Lemon & Herb Grilled Chicken

One whole chicken
One handful of fresh herbs (I used oregano and chives)
5-6 cloves garlic, peeled
1 lemon, cut in chunks
1 handful kosher salt
1 teaspoon fresh ground pepper'

Tuck chicken wings under the back. Stuff cavity of chicken with herbs, garlic and lemon. Truss chicken legs with twine. Rub exterior of chicken with salt and pepper.

Grill chicken over indirect heat until interior temperature reaches 170, (about 1 hour). Do not overcook.  Let rest 15 minutes. Remove lemon chunks and squeeze over chicken. Carve and serve hot.