What Makes A Man. (One Woman's Opinion.)

Looks like we made it.

Last year, Charlotte NC came home a bridesmaid, but just last week, our hometown finally snagged the coveted, and surely comical, title, “America’s Manliest City.”  (Am I the only one who sees the irony of "The Queen City" being crowned?)

No kidding.  The criteria, as you might imagine, were testosterone intense, including:

•  Number of professional sports teams

•  Number of steakhouses

•  Number of construction workers and pickup trucks

•  Number of home improvement stores and popularity of power tools

•  Frequency of monster truck rallies.

Again, no kidding.  Plainly, someone overlooked, as I noted in Feminine Wiles last year, that we’ve also got that bastion of metrosexuality – IKEA – as well as a Crate and Barrel, and three Trader Joe’s.

If anyone had asked – and believe me, they didn’t – my own criteria would’ve been somewhat different.  In fairness, though, my own criteria at age 47 is likely far different than what I would’ve listed at age 17 – or even 27.

Nowadays, I’d say, among other things, that a “real man” can:

•  Say “I’m sorry.”  And just to be clear, that’s “I’m sorry” without the preamble, “I don’t know exactly what you’re mad about, but …” or "I don't know what I did, but ..."  Indeed, no manly apology includes the word "but."

•  Make a three-year-old smile.  From across a room.  Before even meeting the three-year-old.  Without any words.  Or candy.  A trick eyebrow, wink or animal noise often does the trick.

•  Sing along – enthusiastically -- with The BeeGees.  And Duran Duran.


•  "Teach," as well as "do."  It's almost always easier to do something yourself, than to teach someone else to do it. Giving instruction -- patiently, calmly, kindly and repeatedly -- is a gift.  Teaching someone to drive a boat comes to mind.


•  Let someone else drive.  Again, driving a boat comes to mind.

•  Wipe away tears without embarrassment.  Including those of children and grown women.  And his own.

•  Buy cat litter.  And tampons.  Are details necessary?

•  Let someone else be right.  Even if they are wrong.

The list goes on, of course, but you get the gist.  And please, don’t think I’m encouraging 15-year-old Son to buy feminine hygiene products.  Yet.  On the other hand, we’re not exactly monster truck rally aficionados, either.

However, we do both enjoy a good steak, including this terrific one using a cut I'd never tried before a friend sent me the recipe.  Thank you, Callie!  (Ooh!  Add that one to the list, too.  A real man is totally fine giving someone else the credit.  And always has the good manners to say, "thanks.")


Skillet Sirloin Burgundy

2 USDA Choice (or Prime) Sirloin Steaks or Filets (I chose filets)

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

kosher salt

fresh ground pepper

1 cup dry red wine

1/2 cup beef stock (low sodium)

1 shallot finely chopped

1 clove garlic finely minced

1 tbsp fresh parsley finely cut

1 tbsp fresh rosemary finely cut

Optional -- 8 ounces sliced mushrooms, sauteed in 2 tablespoons of butter

Heat skillet to medium-high heat. Rub steaks with EVOO and season with salt and pepper. Add steaks to hot skillet and cook 3-4 minutes on each side for medium rare doneness. Transfer steaks from skillet to plate and loosely top with foil to keep warm. Add the chopped shallot and garlic to the pan and cook until tender (about 2 min). Add the rosemary and cook for another minute. Add the wine and beef stock and turn heat to high. Bring liquid to a boil scraping the bottom of the skillet to remove browned bits. Once the liquid is reduced to desired thickness, add the parsley and, if using, sauteed mushrooms. Slice steak into 1/4 inch strips (fajita style) and serve with Burgundy sauce drizzled on top.  Pound yourself on the chest.  Very manly, right?

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.