Plan K (Asian Asparagus)

We've had a frantic weekend here at the Wiles household. Every single, best-laid plan was upended, revised, revised again, and in a couple of instances, entirely scrapped. Plan A evolved into Plan B, and suddenly, we were at Plan K, which was shaky at best. Arriving at that rickety plan was an exercise in nimbleness, negotiating, among other things, vomit, flight delays, dog diarrhea, birthday parties, Icee-soaked shoes, the possibility of snow, and car swapping. Plenty of reasons to renege on that idea of a "wine-free" Lent, if you ask me.

But that's the parenting gig. If you're not quick on your feet, you're not dead in the water -- you're just dead. Or you may as well be.

Consider a typical weekend night with a teen and pre-teen. You're going to be home for dinner? Great! You'll be an hour late? OK. Oh -- now half an hour early? I can deal. You're bringing two friends, maybe three? I can stretch. Oh -- it turns out everyone wants to go to the movies and make a meal of Mountain Dew, popcorn and Mike & Ikes?

DO I LOOK INSANE TO YOU? Don't answer that.

Could be time to simplify. I think I'll start by making one of the simplest things I know -- Asian Asparagus. It's not a meal, and since it's served cold, I don't really think of it as a sidedish. I got the recipe from my sister, who claims she could eat the whole dish herself. I actually have. Morning, noon and night, it's simply that good.

Asian Asparagus

1 bunch of asparagus

2 tablespoons soy sauce

2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

1 small clove of garlic, minced

Blanch asparagus for one minute and drain. Immerse in ice water, drain again and pat dry.

Combine asparagus with remaining ingredients in a plastic bag and marinate, refrigerated, up to four days, turning occasionally. (Note: Tastes best if allowed to marinate overnight before the first sampling, but if you just can't wait, give it at least four hours. Otherwise, the garlic taste is too sharp.)

Friday-Night-Pizza-Night (Blue Cheese Dip)

It's Friday-night-pizza-night at the Wiles house.  What started as an end-of-the-week, someone-else-needs-to-cook treat is now a fully established tradition.  Initially, as I saw the custom settling in, I was uncomfortable.  Really, pizza again?  Shouldn't the kids be exposed to more variety?  What if they only eat cheese pizza for the rest of their lives?

Turns out though, we weren't the only ones.  Friday-night-pizza-night is rampant in homes with school-age children.  No matter whose house they're at, kids count on it.  But I am so over it.

When they were little, it was kind of cute.  We'd jump into our jammies, pop in a special movie, munch on some raw vegetables and blue cheese dip (not that the kids would ever actually eat the dip -- gross!), snuggle down and await the man-of-the-day to arrive -- the pizza delivery guy.  Even the dog recognized him.

But sometime after my 332nd slice, I just got over it.  True, we did move on from cheese to one-topping pepperoni (large, hand-tossed), but I'm done.  Would it kill us to add something approximating a vegetable (even olives!) to our order?  Probably.  According to my calculations, it took eight years to add the pepperoni.  In another eight years, it'll just be me, the cat and the dog here.  I'm not ordering pizza for them.  Not even with olives.

The one thing I don't tire of is the blue cheese dip.   It's easy to make and requested by everyone I know but didn't birth.  I suppose I should be proud though, because although the kids won't get close to any dip (not even ranch), they do accept that other people are different.  Darling Daughter will even ask, as we leave to have dinner at someone else's house, "Aren't you supposed to bring dip?"

Good with nearly any raw vegetable, and particularly tasty paired with steamed asparagus or sugar snap peas, blue cheese dip has gotten me through many a pizza night.  Of course, I also like it spooned into baked potatoes.  Or scooped up with Fritos.  Or a spoon.  But I suspect that's just me.

Killer Blue Cheese Dip

(All amounts are approximate.  For the first four ingredients, I use an amount that's about the size of my fist.)

4 oz. blue cheese (and better blue cheese, such as Maytag or sigh, Clemson, really is better), crumbled

About 3/4 cup (or more) of sour cream

About 3/4 cup (or less) of decent mayonnaise

About 3/4 cup (no kidding) of minced fresh Italian parsley

About 1/4 cup of finely minced celery (optional)

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Generous shake of Tabasco

3/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt

Generous grinding of pepper

Stir everything together.  Taste.  If it still needs "something," try a bit more lemon juice or salt.  Then, if you can stand it, stash it in the fridge for an hour or two, to let the flavors mellow.  Serve with fresh celery, carrots, lightly steamed asparagus, radishes, etc.  And a spoon.

Lenten Dilemma, Pt. 2 (Pan Roasted Chicken)

Day Two on the Lenten wine abstinence plan, and a partial bottle of sauvignon blanc in the fridge has made its presence known.

There's no way it'll be drinkable after the 38 remaining days of Lent.  Too bad, because it's the good stuff, not that roll-the-dice stuff I sometimes buy from the half-price, markdown cart at the grocery store, with the questionable labels and even more questionable taste.  Yes.  I get it.  Lent is all about temptation -- resisting it, that is -- but come on!  Am I really supposed to dump it down the drain?

What to do, what to do?  Well today, when life gives you wine, you make pan roasted chicken.  At least I do.

I love a good roast chicken.  Although a simple dish, it can be hard to get right and easy to mess up.  (Fabio, of Top Chef fame, won a cooking challenge by preparing the perfect roast chicken, which the judges declared five-star-restaurant-worthy.  Sadly, he was eliminated the next week.  I'm still grieving.)

Dried-out white meat is a culinary sin, and the only thing to be done with limp, colorless skin is feed it to the cat.  If he hasn't had anything else to eat for a few days, he may deign to nibble at it.

Usually, I roast a whole chicken on the grill, with fresh herbs and lemon slices stuffed under the skin, and a can of beer stuffed in, ahem, its cavity.  Not only is the resulting chicken tasty and moist, but clean-up is minimal.  Cooking outdoors means the mess stays outdoors.

Last month, though, I found this recipe in Food and Wine.  I modified it slightly, but it's still yummy -- simple, with big flavors.  Well worth the time spent cleaning up the pan.  And the perfect way to finish off that bottle of sauvignon blanc.

Pan Roasted Chicken with Pancetta & Olives

1 chicken, cut into pieces, breasts cut in halves

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme

1 teaspoon chopped fresh rosemary

1 teaspoon sea salt (or kosher salt)

fresh ground pepper

pinch of red pepper flakes

5-7 (depending on size) garlic cloves, peeled

4 oz. pancetta, diced fine

1/2 cup (depending on what's left in the bottle) dry white wine

12 oil-cured or Kalamata olives, pitted

Preheat oven to 450.  Toss chicken with oil, herbs and salt and pepper.  Arrange, skin side up, in one layer in a 17 x 11 pan.  Scatter garlic and pancetta on top, and roast until chicken begins to brown -- about 20 minutes.  Drizzle wine over chicken and scatter olives on top, and roast until chicken is done and skin is golden brown -- 20-25 more minutes.  Let stand 10 minutes and serve with noodles and drippings.